Gray clouds rolled slowly above the valley. The wind carried the scent of wet earth. In the midst of the silence, a sharp voice broke through the air.
"You're hiding something, aren't you?"
The voice came from Kao Lin, one of the newer inhabitants of the valley. His gaze was fixed on Lu Wen, who was sitting with his eyes closed.
Lu Wen slowly opened them. "What do you mean?"
Kao Lin stepped forward. "After sitting here for days, you've started touching the same kind of energy as Heng Zhen. But you haven't told us how. You just sit there in silence."
A few others began to gather. Their eyes held confusion, caution, and doubt. It wasn't open anger, but something smaller a seed of conflict born from not knowing.
San Lie stepped between them. "Enough. This path is not something that can be handed down like a weapon. If you sit only to imitate, then all you'll find is false silence."
Kao Lin stared back. "Easy for you to say. You're close to the Master. But what about those of us who don't even know where to begin?"
Li Rou spoke softly, "That's exactly why it can't be taught. Because there isn't one way. Each of us begins from a different place... and that's why Yuanqi belongs to no one."
Finally, Heng Zhen spoke from afar. "Your question isn't wrong, Kao Lin. But impatience will close a door that was almost open."
He walked into the center of the gathering.
"Yuanqi isn't something you can steal, seize, or inherit. It grows... when you stop forcing it to appear."
Silence settled over the place. Kao Lin lowered his head. He didn't reply, but he didn't walk away either. And in that stillness, Heng Zhen knew — a seed of conflict had been planted, but so had the seed of understanding.
The moment did not end in battle. But it left behind something deeper: the realization that even on a quiet path like Yuanqi, people still carry the shadow of their ego.