The sun rose like a blade through mist.Its light spilled across the Azure Spirit Sect, gilding towers and terraces in molten gold.
Outer Sect disciples filled the training fields early, their energy renewed by a strange undercurrent of excitement.
Lin Xuan had become more than a name — he had become a myth.
Whispers spread faster than morning dew:
"Did you hear? He fought assassins in his sleep.""I heard he meditated through a lightning storm and came out glowing.""No, no — Yue Shuang herself sent him an ice talisman as thanks for saving her in the Borderlands!"
Each retelling grew more absurd, more glorious, and yet… none of them were entirely untrue.
As Lin Xuan passed through the fields, dozens of gazes followed him. Some bowed slightly; others whispered prayers as though to a spirit.
Wu Ming puffed out his chest proudly beside him. "Senior Brother, look! They actually moved aside when we walked through! Usually, they step on me!"
Li Mei sighed. "That's because they think you're his shadow."
Chen Yu added dryly, "You're also stepping on my foot."
But Lin Xuan didn't react to the whispers. His expression remained calm, eyes forward. Every step, every breath was measured — balanced between humility and quiet confidence.
And that made him even more untouchable.
In the Frost Pavilion, Yue Shuang stood before her mirror, combing her long silver hair.
Her attendant bowed. "Miss, the rumors have spread. They now say you and Lin Xuan share a bond of fate."
Her hand paused mid-stroke.
"…A bond of fate?"
"Yes, Miss. Some say your frost complemented his flame in battle. Others say you've chosen him as your protector."
The brush slipped. A faint crack appeared in the mirror's frost.
"Protector," she murmured, voice soft but cold. "That's new."
The attendant swallowed nervously. "Should I… deny it, Miss?"
Yue Shuang smiled faintly, setting down the brush. "No. Let them wonder."
She turned toward the open balcony, her robes fluttering in the chill wind.
"Let them see how rumors can burn brighter than truth."
Far above, in the Core Pavilion, Meng Zhao listened as his informants reported the growing tales.
"…so now, the Outer Sect believes Lin Xuan is a chosen one blessed by the heavens," the first whispered."…and the Frost Pavilion has neither confirmed nor denied Yue Shuang's connection," added another.
Meng Zhao leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Perfect. Hope is the sweetest poison."
He tapped his fingers against the table rhythmically. "Spread more. Say he's arrogant. Say he refuses orders. Say Yue Shuang shields him from punishment."
The spies bowed. "And the elders?"
Meng Zhao's eyes gleamed. "They'll grow restless soon enough. No sect tolerates a legend it didn't build."
Over the next week, Lin Xuan's courtyard became the quiet center of chaos.
Disciples came seeking advice, sparring lessons, even blessings.Some brought offerings — herbs, scrolls, even spirit stones — left silently at his door.
Wu Ming nearly tripped over the pile one morning. "Senior Brother, we're rich!"
Li Mei stared at the growing stack of gifts. "No, we're bait."
Lin Xuan glanced at them once, then said calmly, "Return everything."
"What?!" Wu Ming yelped.
"The sect doesn't give without taking," Lin Xuan said. "And those who offer freely often expect you to owe them later."
Chen Yu nodded. "Then it begins. Favors are the first shackles."
By the fourth day, the tone of whispers shifted.
"Who does he think he is, refusing gifts?""He's pretending to be humble so elders praise him more.""Maybe Yue Shuang taught him to act that way."
The jealousy that Meng Zhao had planted began to bloom.
Disciples started avoiding Lin Xuan's circle again. Some stewards "accidentally" misplaced their rations. Others stopped greeting them at all.
Wu Ming frowned. "I thought they liked us last week."
"They did," Li Mei said. "Now they've realized they never could be us."
The sect announced a new series of sparring exhibitions — a chance for Outer Disciples to showcase progress before the Inner Elders.
On the surface, it was honor. In truth, it was a stage.
Lin Xuan's name topped the roster.
He understood instantly. Meng Zhao was no longer hiding behind rumor — he was forcing Lin Xuan back into the open, where jealousy could strike under the guise of "testing."
Chen Yu's brows furrowed. "Senior Brother, if you hold back, they'll call you coward. If you win too easily, they'll call you arrogant."
Lin Xuan's lips curved faintly. "Then I'll let them choose which they prefer."
That night, Meng Zhao met privately with Elder Qian — the hawk-eyed elder who despised Lin Xuan's unorthodox methods.
"The exhibition will be the perfect measure," Meng Zhao said smoothly. "If he wins too brilliantly, you can accuse him of reckless arrogance. If he loses, of course, his reputation ends naturally."
Elder Qian chuckled darkly. "You play politics like an elder yourself."
Meng Zhao inclined his head modestly. "I merely clean what others refuse to see."
The elder's eyes gleamed. "And when the storm breaks?"
Meng Zhao smiled thinly. "I'll be standing where the sky clears."
The following morning, Wu Ming noticed something different.
Disciples who used to greet them now whispered from afar.The timid girl, Li Mei, who had once laughed at his jokes, avoided his eyes.Even Chen Yu's small group of trainees hesitated before approaching.
Doubt — subtle, invisible, spreading like rot.
Wu Ming kicked a pebble hard. "Senior Brother, I swear, if I find whoever's starting these rumors, I'll—"
"Laugh," Lin Xuan said.
"What?"
"Laugh loudly," he continued, tone light. "Nothing frightens liars more than being unafraid."
Elsewhere, the silver-haired elder observed through her scrying orb, expression thoughtful.
"He does not deny nor defend," she murmured. "He lets the sect's tongue burn itself out."
Elder Ji, standing beside her, nodded faintly. "And the more silent he is, the louder the storm becomes."
Her gaze softened. "He reminds me of someone… someone who refused to bow to truth or lie."
"Then?" Ji asked.
She smiled faintly. "Then the heavens bowed to him instead."
As the date of the exhibition approached, tension in the sect reached a boiling point.
Posters and scrolls declared: "Lin Xuan, the Firestorm Prodigy — to demonstrate before the Elders."
For some, it was spectacle. For others, it was justice.
Yue Shuang stood in the frost gardens that night, looking down toward the lit courtyards below. Her eyes reflected both warmth and warning.
"Storm-child," she murmured, "you walk where lightning sleeps. Be careful when it wakes."
That night, Lin Xuan meditated quietly, his spear laid across his knees.
The Omni-Talent System flickered into view.
[Public Perception variable critical: Dual Influence active.][Faith + Envy resonance detected.][Temporary ability unlocked: Dual Flow — convert negative intent into kinetic insight.]
His eyes opened. For the first time, faint amusement glimmered within them.
"So even hate can be learned from…" he whispered. "Interesting."
The next morning, the sect drums rolled across the valley — deep, booming, ceremonial.
Disciples poured into the outer arena, forming rings upon rings of spectators. Elders took their seats above, robes fluttering.
At the center, Lin Xuan stood alone, calm and unreadable, the wind tugging lightly at his black sleeves.
Opposite him, six disciples stood in formation — all Core-backed, all handpicked.
Wu Ming whispered nervously, "Senior Brother… they're smiling."
Lin Xuan's grip tightened on his spear. "Good. That means they think they've already won."
The horn blew. The air trembled.