The sky had long since darkened. Snow drifted from the heavens like ash over a battlefield, and the wind whispered secrets between the crooked trees lining the outer edges of the Black Cloud Sect. No disciples lingered in the cold this deep into night. No patrols passed by. No lanterns burned.
Only one window flickered with weak, yellow light.
Wei Lian stood beside it, hands tucked behind his back, watching the faint silhouettes dance across the cracked paper pane. His breath fogged the air, but he didn't shiver. His Qi, now swirling calmly in the sixth layer of Qi Refinement, warmed his bones even in this frozen hour.
He didn't knock.
He let the silence thicken until unease brewed on the other side. Then, with a slow breath, he slid the door open.
Lin Yu sat up in a panic, nearly toppling the oil lamp on the floor. He scrambled to kneel, his face pale and hollow-eyed.
"Senior Wei… I didn't expect—"
Wei Lian stepped inside and closed the door behind him without a word. He stared down at the boy.
"You've been listening."
Lin Yu swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes. I—I have something new. About Liu Wen."
Wei Lian gestured for him to speak. Lin Yu reached under a floorboard and pulled out a folded piece of rough parchment.
"He's not just close with Elder Mu's assistant… he's been sneaking off during the night. East woods. Same place, same hour. I followed once, but didn't get too close."
Wei Lian took the parchment and examined the crude map drawn on it. He folded it once and tucked it into his sleeve.
"Good," he murmured.
Then he crouched beside Lin Yu, looking the boy directly in the eye.
"You're getting useful, Lin Yu."
The boy's expression twisted, unsure whether to feel pride or fear.
Wei Lian leaned in closer, his voice a blade.
"Useful things are kept alive."
He stood, his shadow stretching long across the dirt floor. "Keep watching. And if you ever feel tempted to speak to someone else…"
He didn't finish the threat. He simply let the silence do the bleeding.
Lin Yu nodded quickly. "I won't. I promise."
Wei Lian left without another word.
By the time he reached the woods, the moon had emerged in slivers through torn clouds, silvering the frost-covered pines. Wei Lian moved like a ghost between the trees. No crunching footsteps. No sound beyond his breath.
He found the spot easily.
East slope. Near the old well. Just as marked.
And there, standing in a half-circle clearing surrounded by bone-white roots, was Liu Wen.
The man was alone, crouched over something on the ground. A small pouch of herbs. Some kind of salve. Spirit beast blood. A crude mix, but not entirely amateur.
"Poison?" Wei Lian whispered to himself.
The man worked quickly, wiping his hands and packing the contents into a gourd. Wei Lian didn't need to see more. He'd seen enough.
Liu Wen wasn't loyal.
He was preparing something.
Either for Elder Mu… or against him.
Either way, it made him a liability. Or an opportunity.
Wei Lian stepped into view.
Liu Wen spun around, hand dropping to the short blade at his hip.
"Who's—oh, Wei Lian."
He relaxed slightly.
Too much.
Always a mistake.
"You're out late," Liu said, trying to sound casual. "Trouble sleeping?"
Wei Lian tilted his head. "I could ask the same."
The other disciple chuckled. "Herb gathering. Thought I'd make something for Elder Mu's assistant. He's been coughing."
Lie.
Amateur lie.
Wei Lian's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Generous of you."
Liu Wen shifted. "What about you?"
Wei Lian took two steps forward, slow and silent. "Training. Testing my senses in the cold."
Liu Wen laughed awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable.
"Still trying to catch up, huh? Not all of us were born to lead."
Wei Lian struck in silence.
His palm whipped upward into Liu Wen's throat before the man could blink. The crunch was sickening. Liu reeled back, choking on his own breath, blade half-drawn.
Wei Lian caught his wrist and twisted.
A muffled pop.
The blade clattered uselessly into snow.
Liu fell to his knees, gasping, wheezing, eyes wide with terror.
Wei Lian crouched beside him and seized the man's jaw.
"Your biggest mistake," he said softly, "was thinking no one was watching."
Blood trickled from Liu's lips.
"P-please… I was only trying… to rise…"
Wei Lian's voice dropped to a whisper.
"So am I."
He pressed two fingers against Liu's neck and forced his Qi through them—disrupting the man's meridians. Liu spasmed, spine arching in agony.
Then he was still.
Not dead. Not yet.
But paralyzed.
Wei Lian stood slowly.
"Die slow," he said.
"And serve my rise with silence."
He dragged the body through the trees and buried it in the hollow roots of a tree.
Not deep enough to be missed forever.
Just deep enough to be forgotten for now.
He left the pouch and bloodied tools beside it.
Let Elder Mu discover them, if he wished.
A buried betrayal. Or a message. Either would do.
By the time dawn threatened the horizon, Wei Lian stood at the edge of the southern ridge again, overlooking the vast expanse of the outer sect.
Snow blew across the rooftops like sand across stone graves.
He clenched his fists slowly.
His Qi surged. Firm. Controlled.
The sixth layer hummed within him like a blade on the edge of being drawn.
A month remained before the trial.
He would climb higher.
He would rise further.
He would paint the sect with smiles—
—while sharpening the knife behind them.
He turned back toward the dorms.
Another name awaited.
Another pawn to move.
Another blade to forge.
The game had barely begun.