The silence stretched across the platform area. No one spoke for several seconds. There was no laughter, no murmurs, no nervous comments. Only the unconscious body of the follower lying at the far end, his arm bent at an impossible angle… and Jin, collapsed in Lian Xuan's arms.
That was when something didn't add up.
Lian Xuan clenched his jaw and swept his gaze across the perimeter of the platforms almost by reflex. He looked toward the nearby paths, the stone stairways, the adjacent pavilions.
Nothing.
He frowned.
Normally, whenever a sparring match between outer disciples was agreed upon, there was always at least one deacon watching—not to intervene at the slightest issue, but to make sure things didn't spiral out of control.
And this had spiraled out of control a long time ago.
Where is the deacon? Lian thought, an uncomfortable sensation crawling up his spine.
He tightened his hold on Jin when he felt his breathing grow irregular.
—Come on —he murmured—. We need to get you to the medical hall.
He tried to move forward.
—Wait.
The voice was firm, authoritative.
Lian Xuan stopped short.
The senior brother stepped forward, slowly regaining his composure. There was no surprise left on his face now—only a forced, rehearsed calm.
—Not so fast —he said, looking at Jin with a stern expression—. This matter isn't settled yet.
Lian turned his head, pure disbelief on his face.
—Settled? —he repeated—. My companion is unconscious. What else is there to settle?
The senior brother gestured with his chin toward the follower lying on the ground.
—A disciple gravely injured. A broken arm. Damaged meridians. —His voice hardened.— This was not a simple test bout.
Several followers nodded immediately, as if they had already prepared the speech.
—It was excessive.
—Cruel.
—Disproportionate.
Lian ground his teeth.
—He used Qi first! —he shot back.— He broke the rules in front of everyone!
The senior brother didn't deny it. He only narrowed his eyes.
—And yet —he replied—, this is the result. —He pointed again at the unconscious follower.— Jin was the one who chose to use an extreme method. No one forced him to break his arm like that.
A chill ran through Lian's chest.
He's trying to change the narrative.
—We need to take him to the medical area —he insisted.— Now.
The senior brother watched him for a moment, assessing him.
—Later —he said at last.— Responsibility will be determined first. Until then, no one moves.
The atmosphere tightened.
In that instant, Lian Xuan understood something else. It wasn't just arrogance.
This had been prepared.
His gaze swept the area again, and the absence of the deacon weighed even heavier.
Meanwhile, the senior brother kept an impassive face, but inside, his mind was anything but calm.
Damn it…
This had come dangerously close to completely spiraling out of control.
He recalled the hidden item inside his spatial ring: a small jade token, cracked, with remnants of spiritual energy nearly extinguished. It wasn't an impressive treasure for a Foundation Establishment cultivator, but it contained something valuable—purified spiritual essence, enough to refine an auxiliary pill.
It had been just enough.
Lucky.
Without it, that old deacon wouldn't have agreed to look the other way. He didn't want a disciplinary sanction, nor an investigation, nor the elders getting involved.
But now…
He looked at Jin, unconscious; at the trembling arm; at the shattered follower.
If I can shift most of the blame onto him… this could still be resolved.
He clenched his fists inside his sleeves.
—Bring the injured one —he ordered his followers.— And keep an eye on the other.
The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps climbing the stone steps.
—What's going on here?
The voice wasn't imposing, nor laden with spiritual pressure, but it carried authority. Several disciples turned their heads at the same time.
A middle-aged deacon appeared at the top of the platform. He wore the gray robes of the outer sect—plain, without flashy ornaments. His hair was neatly tied, lightly streaked with gray, and his face was ordinary, forgettable: unremarkable brows, eyes without any special luster, a tired expression. He didn't radiate greatness, but his position was enough.
The senior disciple saw him and inwardly sighed in relief.
Good… he's here.
Outwardly, his expression hardened immediately.
—Deacon! —he stepped forward, clasping his fists respectfully.— I ask for justice.
Before Lian Xuan could speak, the senior continued.
—This match was only a test spar. No techniques, no Qi. My follower restrained himself the entire time… but this disciple —he pointed at Jin, unconscious and supported by Lian— lost control and used an extreme method. The result —he glanced at the fallen body— speaks for itself.
Some disciples exchanged uneasy looks.
—A broken arm, loss of consciousness. Even if it was an agreed duel, this exceeds any reasonable limit between brothers of the outer sect. If this isn't treated seriously… what example does it set for the rest?
The deacon frowned slightly and stepped forward, first examining the injured follower and then Jin. He said nothing.
Lian Xuan clenched his jaw.
Something didn't fit.
That deacon should have been watching from the beginning. There was always one nearby when the platforms were in use. And yet, he appeared only now. Right now.
Too convenient.
The murmuring erupted.
—That's not how it happened!
—The senior used Qi first!
—That strike was a technique!
The deacon took a single step forward.
—Silence.
The word fell heavily. Conversations died down until only restrained breathing remained.
Lian Xuan raised his voice.
—Deacon. With respect, what you just said isn't true. My brother Jin was provoked from the start. The other disciple used Qi first, broke the rules of the match, and launched a technique—
—Enough.
Two words were all it took.
The deacon turned to him, expression neutral.
—Junior brother, I understand your concern. But the facts are simple: a disciple was gravely injured after a bout that should not have resulted in this level of damage. And your companion exceeded what is acceptable for a test spar.
He did not allow Lian to interrupt.
—Furthermore, there is no clear proof of who used Qi first. In situations like this, judgment is based on the outcome, not on assumptions or emotions.
Silence fell again.
It sounded objective. Cold. Orderly.
And yet, the direction of the decision was obvious.
The deacon turned halfway to leave.
Then his body stiffened.
The step he was about to take never landed.
A cold sweat slid down his back without warning. It wasn't Qi pressure. It wasn't killing intent. It was something more primitive—an instinctive sensation, as if a silent predator had fixed its gaze on him from very close by.
His heart jolted.
Instinctively, he turned his head.
Jin was standing.
He shouldn't have been. His arm still hung limp at his side, his face pale, his breathing uneven. But his eyes were open.
There was no anger in them. No fear. Not even defiance.
Only understanding.
As if, somewhere between pain and unconsciousness, he had pieced everything together: the bribe, the deacon's absence during the fight, the twisted version of events, the rush to close the matter.
Everything fit.
Jin said nothing. He simply held the deacon's gaze with an ironic calm that did not belong to someone in his condition. It wasn't the look of a wronged youth, but of someone who remembers.
The deacon felt a chill creep up his neck.
Ridiculous. He was just a first-level outer disciple.
And yet he was the first to look away.
—Take them —he said, his voice slightly tighter than before.— Let's not waste any more time.
He resumed walking without looking back.
Jin watched him leave in silence. A simple thought settled clearly in his mind: not today, but karma always finds its way.
Lian Xuan snapped out of his daze. He turned and saw Jin standing there, pale, unsteady but upright.
—Jin…? When did you…?
He rushed to his side.
—Hey, are you okay? Can you walk? If you need support—
Jin looked away from the deacon. The strange pressure in the air vanished as if it had never existed. Then, to Lian's absolute bewilderment, he smiled—a wide, shameless grin.
—Relax. I can walk on my own.
He took a step. It was clumsy, but steady.
—And your arm? You're a mess. Don't act like it's nothing.
Jin attempted a shrug with one shoulder.
—It hurts like hell. I can't feel it properly, and every heartbeat feels like needles stabbing me from the inside.
He tilted his head, amused.
—But it's fine. Pain is part of the fun too, right?
Lian stared at him.
—You're definitely out of your mind.
Jin let out a low laugh and walked forward without looking back.
A few steps away, the deacon felt a faint shiver run down his spine, without knowing why.