They returned to the road the following morning.
Su Yao walked behind Lin Qiu, her steps measured, her posture composed—but to anyone watching closely, something was off. Her aura was faint. Not hidden. Not restrained. Simply… thin.
Too thin.
A passing cultivator glanced at her, then looked again with faint surprise. His gaze flicked to Shen Yuan, confusion creasing his brow, before he moved on without comment.
Lin Qiu noticed.
He said nothing.
But unease stirred quietly in his chest.
By midday, they reached a small waystation—little more than a cluster of stalls and an open yard where travelers rested. Cultivators gathered here often, exchanging news, trading supplies, and, when bored, judging one another.
Su Yao fetched water as instructed.
She moved calmly, without haste, without the stiffness she had once carried.
A woman nearby scoffed.
"Didn't you feel that?" she muttered to her companion, nodding toward Su Yao. "That girl's cultivation is worse than a mortal's."
Her companion laughed. "Probably broke herself trying to be clever."
The words reached Su Yao's ears.
Her fingers tightened briefly around the bucket.
Then relaxed.
The seal stirred.
But did not tighten.
Shen Yuan watched from where he sat, expression unchanged.
Good, he thought.
Lin Qiu struggled.
That afternoon, as they rested beneath a canvas awning, he finally spoke in a low voice.
"Master… her aura is weaker than before."
"Yes," Shen Yuan replied.
"…Won't that attract trouble?"
"Yes."
Lin Qiu frowned. "Then why—"
"Because stability is visible only after collapse," Shen Yuan said calmly. "Until then, it looks like failure."
Lin Qiu fell silent.
He remembered his own early days—how others had mocked his regression, how his foundation had been rebuilt in obscurity.
Understanding dawned slowly.
Trouble came before sunset.
A trio of cultivators entered the waystation, their robes marked with a minor sect insignia. Their leader's gaze swept the yard lazily—then paused on Su Yao.
He smiled.
"Interesting," he said, stepping closer. "A cultivator who dares to destroy her own foundation."
Su Yao stiffened—but did not retreat.
"That takes courage," he continued lightly. "Or stupidity."
Lin Qiu tensed.
Shen Yuan did not move.
"Tell me," the man said, "who taught you to cultivate like this?"
Su Yao hesitated.
Shen Yuan's voice cut in, calm and unhurried.
"I did."
The cultivator turned.
For the first time, he really looked at Shen Yuan.
Not aggressively.Not dismissively.
Just… attentively.
Something about Shen Yuan did not register properly. His appearance was striking, yes—but more than that, his presence felt settled, like a stone resting where it belonged.
The cultivator frowned slightly.
"You?" he asked. "And who are you supposed to be?"
Shen Yuan met his gaze.
"Passing through," he said.
No aura flared.No pressure descended.
But the air seemed to pause anyway.
The cultivator hesitated—just a fraction longer than he should have.
"…I see," he said at last, though it was clear he didn't.
He laughed it off, stepping back. "Well, break your disciples if you like. It's none of my business."
He turned and left.
Only once he was gone did Lin Qiu exhale.
That night, they camped away from the road.
Su Yao practiced her cultivation at dusk, sitting quietly as instructed, allowing her Qi to settle rather than circulate forcefully.
It felt wrong.
It felt like doing nothing.
And yet—
Beneath the surface, her meridians smoothed. Old abrasions faded. The seal adjusted again, responding to stillness instead of fear.
Progress without movement.
Su Yao opened her eyes slowly.
"…Master," she said softly. "If I continue like this… when will I know I'm improving?"
Shen Yuan looked at her.
"When your cultivation stops demanding proof," he replied.
She considered that, then nodded.
"I understand."
And for the first time, she truly did.
Later, when Lin Qiu slept and Su Yao rested, Shen Yuan stood alone beneath the stars.
The system stirred faintly.
"Progress Update: Second Disciple — Stabilization Phase."
No reward.No urgency.
Just confirmation.
Shen Yuan gazed toward the horizon.
Two disciples walked behind him now—both appearing weaker than before.
The world would misunderstand.
That was acceptable.
Strength that needed to announce itself was rarely worth having.