## Chapter Twenty-Five: The Growing Rift
Yan Zhen's life in the Inner Court became a grueling gauntlet. The **probation period** hung over him like a storm cloud, every minor stumble amplified, every moment of frustration keenly observed. He poured himself into his training, desperately trying to prove his worth, but the harder he tried, the more elusive that perfect "control" seemed. The **siphoned qi**, still wild, flared unpredictably, often at the most inopportune moments, reinforcing the very image of instability Lin Feng had so carefully crafted. He felt like he was running in place, pushing against an invisible wall.
Lin Feng, meanwhile, continued his subtle, masterful performance. To Yan Zhen, he was the **ever-supportive brother**, offering words of encouragement, sharing insights from advanced scrolls, and always, always subtly reinforcing the narrative that Yan Zhen's volatile qi and temper were his true obstacles. "It's a test of will, Zhen," Lin Feng would advise, his voice calm. "Master your inner demons, and the qi will follow." He even arranged a few "chance encounters" where Yan Zhen would observe him effortlessly performing the very qi control techniques that baffled Yan Zhen, a stark reminder of his own perceived failings.
However, Lin Feng's true focus remained on deepening his bond with **Ling Xia**, and using that connection to further isolate Yan Zhen. He noticed the increasingly frequent "sect missions" Ling Xia arranged, often in secluded, picturesque areas of the sect grounds or even beyond. He also noted the chillingly direct threats she sometimes leveled at Yan Zhen, unseen by others. Lin Feng recognized this as a sign of Ling Xia's deepening emotional investment in him, and her growing possessiveness.
He met Ling Xia's demands with a perfect blend of duty and subtle flirtation. When she would approach him, hinting at a "confidential task" requiring his unique insight, Lin Feng would respond with a respectful smile. "Of course, Disciple Ling Xia. Your judgment is always impeccable. I am honored to assist." These private "missions" allowed them extended periods of time together, fostering a sense of shared secrets and quiet intimacy. They would discuss complex cultivation theories, the sect's future, and occasionally, with Lin Feng's careful guidance, the "challenges" posed by disciples who lacked the necessary discipline. Ling Xia, feeling truly seen and respected by Lin Feng, shared her deepest thoughts, and her **disdain for Yan Zhen's "unpredictability" intensified**.
"Yan Zhen needs to understand his place," Ling Xia confided in Lin Feng one evening, as they returned from a supposedly crucial intelligence-gathering mission on the sect's outer perimeter. The moon cast long shadows, cloaking their words in secrecy. "His raw strength is a blessing, but his lack of control... it's a curse. It puts the sect at risk, and it consumes your time, Lin Feng. You have too much potential to be constantly managing a wild force."
Lin Feng listened, his expression grave. "I agree, Disciple Ling Xia. His temperament is indeed a significant concern. I only hope he understands the gravity of his situation before it's too late. The Inner Court values harmony above all else." He subtly reinforced her perception, making her feel her concerns were not only valid but shared by him, the one she admired.
Yan Zhen, meanwhile, grew increasingly bewildered. He felt the cold shoulder from many Inner Disciples, the subtle avoidance, the unvoiced judgments. His direct access to Lin Feng became almost non-existent. When he did manage to find Lin Feng, it was often brief, with Lin Feng appearing distracted, often called away by an urgent summons, usually from Ling Xia.
One day, Yan Zhen, desperate for guidance, tried to approach Lin Feng during a rare moment of downtime. As he walked towards him, Ling Xia stepped smoothly between them, her jade eyes like chips of ice. "Disciple Yan Zhen," she stated, her voice carrying an edge of authority, "Lin Feng is currently assisting with a vital sect matter. He does not have time for minor distractions. You should focus on your personal refinement. Do not impede the progress of others with your personal struggles." Her words were a **public humiliation**, delivered with chilling composure.
Yan Zhen reeled back, stunned. The dismissal was absolute, the contempt palpable. He looked to Lin Feng, who, with a deep, concerned frown, offered a **brief, apologetic shrug** and a **sorrowful shake of his head**, as if to say, *'I'm so sorry, Zhen, but my hands are tied. Sect duties call, and she holds authority here.'* Yan Zhen's jaw clenched. He felt a deep, raw ache, a sense of being abandoned by everyone except the very man who seemed to be slipping away. He still trusted Lin Feng, believing him to be caught in circumstances beyond his control, but the sense of being cast aside was immense.
The rift between them widened with each passing day. Yan Zhen grew more isolated, more embittered, his initial gratitude towards Lin Feng slowly morphing into a desperate dependence. Lin Feng, for his part, felt his mastery grow. He was steering the currents of perception, manipulating relationships, and building an unassailable position for himself, all while Yan Zhen spiraled deeper into the abyss of his own manufactured flaws. The stage was being set for something far greater than a mere tournament victory.
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