The battlefield stank of blood and frost. Survivors shuffled like ghosts, their voices hushed. The beasts had fled. The assassins had melted into shadow. And Yue Shuang was gone, leaving only the echo of her presence behind.
But the whispers she left were louder than any beast's roar.
"Who was she—?""Did you see? The wolves froze…""She spoke, and they obeyed.""Lin Xuan… and she—they looked—"
Every tongue wagged, but none dared speak too boldly. The elders' unseen eyes still weighed the clearing, and disciples knew when to keep awe quiet.
Zhou Ren, arm in his sling, forced a laugh that sounded like breaking pottery. "Hah. A Core girl saves a cripple. How fitting. Even his victories are borrowed."
But his words rang hollow. His men looked away. Even envy could not mask what they had seen.
Lin Xuan walked back to the column without hurry. His spear rested lightly on his shoulder, as though blood and frost hadn't dripped from its tip a breath ago.
Wu Ming scrambled after him, still babbling. "Senior Brother—tell me we're keeping her. No, seriously. Circle expansion! Recruitment drive! Who says a circle can't have a goddess in white?"
Li Mei smacked him again. "Idiot."
Chen Yu, voice quieter, said: "That was no ordinary Core disciple. Her qi… it pressed even the air. If she takes interest in you, Senior Brother, it won't be only disciples who notice."
Lin Xuan said nothing. He let the murmurs swirl like wind through reeds. He did not feed them. He did not deny them. He simply breathed, calm, steady.
Far away, in the Azure Spirit Sect's high pavilion, jade mirrors flickered.
Elders had watched through the scrying lens—every strike, every whisper, every silver glimmer of Yue Shuang's hand.
"She moved," one elder muttered. "She was not meant to reveal herself so soon."
"She chose," another replied. "Just as she chose him."
Meng Zhao's patron—an elder with eyes sharp as frost—snorted. "A cripple with borrowed strength and a Core girl's favor. Dangerous. Nothing more poisonous than rumor in a sect."
The silver-haired elder traced her staff against the floor, smile thin. "Dangerous? Or necessary? The sect forgets what storms look like. Perhaps it needs a reminder."
"Or a scapegoat," the hawk-eyed elder said. "When storm breaks walls, you must throw something to the wind."
Silence followed. The elders knew what was at stake: Lin Xuan's rise had ceased to be a quiet ripple. Yue Shuang's hand had made it a wave.
In the Core Pavilion, Meng Zhao crushed a porcelain teacup in his grip. Jade shards cut into his palm, blood dripping. He didn't notice.
"She intervened. For him." His voice cracked with fury. "A cripple, a nobody—how dare she—"
His attendant bowed low. "Young Master, perhaps it is only passing interest—"
Meng Zhao's hand snapped up, striking him across the face. "Interest is enough. A seed is enough. Do you understand what happens if whispers turn into belief? If disciples start thinking he is chosen?"
The attendant bowed lower, blood dripping from his lip.
Meng Zhao paced, qi leaking in dangerous ripples. "No. He cannot live past this trial. Zhou Ren failed, the beasts failed, assassins failed. Then I'll ensure the elders themselves bind him."
He flung his bleeding hand aside, splattering the floor. "Mark me: Lin Xuan will not walk into the Inner Sect. I will break him long before that gate opens."
Meanwhile, Zhou Ren sat in his tent, bandaged but alive, nursing bruises that throbbed like drums. He smiled faintly to himself, fingers brushing over a hidden talisman.
"So. Yue Shuang takes an interest." His voice was soft, cold. "That makes it all the sweeter. Let them all watch. Let him climb higher."
His eyes gleamed, hungry. "The higher he climbs, the more delicious the fall."
Night deepened. The column set camp again, weary fires flickering. Disciples whispered still of Yue Shuang and Lin Xuan, their voices shifting from envy to awe, from awe to fear, and back again.
Wu Ming fell asleep mid-sentence, snoring like thunder. Li Mei sharpened her blade until sparks danced. Chen Yu watched the shadows, ever wary.
And Lin Xuan sat apart, spear across his knees, gaze on the moon.
The Omni-Talent System pulsed quietly.
[System Update: Observation logged.External interference detected (unknown Qi).Notice: Growth trajectory accelerated.]
He closed his eyes. He did not chase excitement. He did not savor the awe. He only breathed, as always.
Storms pass. Anchors hold. The tide will come again.
High above, Yue Shuang stood once more on a ridge, moonlight silvering her robe. Her gaze lingered on the camp below, on the faint glow where Lin Xuan sat unmoving.
"Interesting," she murmured again. "But will you hold when the sect itself decides to crush you?"
Her fingers curled, faint frost spiraling.
Somewhere deeper in the sect, Meng Zhao's schemes tightened. Somewhere darker still, the assassins licked their wounds and whispered of another strike.
The trial was not yet over. And the deadliest storm had only begun.