By the time the sun began to dip behind the mountains, the sect's outer walls were buzzing with anticipation. Disciples whispered in corners, betting on whether the so-called "outsiders" would be arrogant snobs, stoic beauties, or—Arin's personal guess—people who would instantly regret coming here.
He stood at the gates with the others, brushing dirt from his robes and trying not to look like someone who'd just lost a fight with a boulder.
"Be polite," Yue Lan said.
"I am always polite," Arin replied.
Yura looked at him sideways. "You threatened to bite Jun Bai last week."
"He said I looked like a turnip."
"I said you fought like a turnip," Jun corrected.
"Oh, thank you for clarifying."
Before they could continue their usual routine of bickering and one-sided insults, a horn sounded from the sect tower. The main gate opened.
Two figures stepped through.
The first was a tall woman with crimson robes, twin swords crossed behind her back, and a scar running down one cheek. Her eyes were the pale gray of an incoming storm, and her aura made half the outer disciples take a cautious step back. Her name was General Xian Mei, a rogue cultivator turned mercenary, now representing the allied Crimson Phoenix Sect.
The second was… unexpected.
He looked about Arin's age. Short, messy white hair. A playful smile that never quite reached his eyes. Robes embroidered with gold thread, far too flashy for someone who wore them like they were pajamas.
Arin squinted.
"Wait a second. I know that smile."
Yue Lan's brow furrowed. "You do?"
Arin stepped forward. "That's Zhao Ren. The guy who—when we were both eight—tricked me into eating spirit chili and then told my master I'd done it to boost my yang energy."
Yura's jaw dropped. "The famous Zhao Ren?"
Jun Bai groaned. "Oh no."
Zhao Ren spread his arms. "Arin! My old rival! Still alive and still dramatically underachieving!"
"I will fight you," Arin said immediately.
The Sect Master descended from the stairs, his voice composed as ever. "Welcome, guests. You've come at our request to assist in identifying the origin of the seal discovered beneath Whispering Cliffs."
General Xian Mei gave a curt bow. "I am here as agreed. But know this: if I find this threat tied to demonic forces, my sword will act without waiting for your sect's permission."
Zhao Ren gave a dramatic spin and bowed. "And I am here to offer charm, insight, and cause psychological distress to one man in particular."
He winked at Arin.
Arin whispered to Yura, "Can we send him back?"
"No returns on childhood trauma," she replied.
The Sect Master nodded. "Tomorrow, you will all enter the Spirit Archives together. For now, rest and prepare. The sealed aura has already begun to stir again."
As the group dispersed, Arin stayed behind, arms crossed.
Zhao Ren fell into step beside him.
"Still bitter, huh?"
"You gave me a fake love letter from a spirit beast."
"It was a learning moment."
"I learned violence."
They walked together in awkward silence for a few seconds.
Zhao Ren grinned. "You're still weak."
Arin smiled sweetly. "And you're still a jerk."
Behind them, Serenya watched Zhao Ren carefully.
Jun Bai leaned in. "Do you trust him?"
"No."
Yue Lan's voice was calm. "But he knows something. His arrival wasn't random."
That night, as stars shimmered above, a figure crept through the northern side of the sect walls—hooded, silent, and with eyes that glowed faintly with cursed energy.
In her hand was a scroll bearing an ancient sigil—the same one that had appeared on the Whispering Cliffs pedestal.
And in the shadows, someone whispered:
"The seal must break. He must awaken."