The chaos in the outer sect hadn't died—it had merely gone quiet.
Like embers beneath ash, it smoldered.
Three days after Elder Mu's sudden reappearance, patrols doubled. Disciplinary disciples now watched the yards like hawks. Meetings were banned without approval. Factions scattered, licking wounds and pointing fingers in secret.
But Wei Lian remained invisible.
He wore no faction's colors. Held no seat. Spoke to no elder.
He was a ghost who'd once broken bones in a public duel, then vanished from gossip just as quickly.
And that's exactly how he wanted it.
"The Cave of Qi," Lin Yu said, "is still open for the quarter. But it closes in five days."
Wei Lian glanced up from the scroll he was studying, ink brush still in hand. "And?"
"They've rotated the access list," Lin Yu continued. "Only twelve outer sect disciples can enter this time. Two from each faction, four neutral."
Wei Lian smirked.
"And I'm one of the four?"
Lin Yu hesitated. "No. You weren't chosen."
Wei Lian's gaze darkened.
Lin Yu swallowed hard. "But one of them—Jiang He from the Jade Flare faction—owes me a favor. I convinced him to pass the badge to you. Quietly."
Wei Lian nodded. "Good."
He turned the scroll sideways and began writing again, slow strokes of the brush dragging ink like veins across the page.
"Tell me who the other eleven are."
By nightfall, he had memorized every name.
Four belonged to Stone Vow. Three to Tiger Fang. The rest were scattered across lesser cliques or unaffiliated. It didn't matter.
Each had something in common.
They'd all cultivated faster than their peers—not because of talent, but because of access.
The Cave of Qi was the reason.
Nestled deep beneath the sect's western ridge, the cave contained a natural well of Qi-rich water—a rare convergence point formed by a collapsed spiritual vein centuries ago. Every season, the sect allowed a handful of disciples to meditate inside and absorb that Qi to speed their breakthroughs.
Most considered it a reward.
Wei Lian saw an opportunity.
The entrance to the cave was carved into the cliffside, concealed behind a waterfall that veiled the stone in shimmering mist. Wei Lian arrived at dawn, his sect robes clean, badge tucked into his inner sleeve.
The guards nodded him through after verifying his token. They didn't recognize him.
Just another outer sect disciple. Another nameless face seeking power.
Perfect.
Inside, the air grew thick with spiritual humidity. The cave walls glowed faintly, streaked with luminous moss. Deeper in, the stone path opened into a wide basin of water—clear, pristine, and swirling with motes of silver Qi.
Wei Lian's eyes flicked to the stone pillars around the pool—twelve in total, each marked with a number. Each disciple would be assigned one for meditation.
He noted his: Pillar Seven.
He sat beside it, cross-legged, and waited.
The others began arriving shortly after.
Jiang He arrived first, nodding toward Wei Lian with a flicker of recognition, but said nothing.
Two Tiger Fang disciples followed, laughing about some private joke. Their faces twisted with smug arrogance as they settled near Pillars Two and Four.
Wei Lian's eyes narrowed slightly. One of them, he remembered, had cheered for Xu Rong during the duel. He hadn't forgotten.
The rest trickled in quietly.
By the hour's end, all twelve pillars were occupied.
A sect elder appeared, robed in grey, and gave the same speech he gave every quarter: meditate, cultivate, show respect. No fighting. No disruption. Misconduct would be punished severely.
When he left, silence fell like snow.
The cave echoed with breathwork and subtle mantras.
Wei Lian waited fifteen minutes.
Then he moved.
Hidden inside the lining of his sleeve was a small vial—less than a finger's length, sealed with wax.
Inside was a thin, oily liquid—black as ink, scentless, tasteless, and impossible to detect by ordinary means. He had traded three spirit stones and a rare root to Lin Yu's apothecary contact for it.
Its name: Ghostblight Resin.
Not deadly. Not obvious.
But when introduced into Qi-rich water, it would alter the absorption process. Slow the natural circulation of Qi within the dantian, leading to stagnation, pain, and eventual deviation if not corrected by a skilled physician.
Subtle.
Damaging.
Perfect.
Wei Lian waited until the others had slipped into deeper meditation—breaths slowed, minds still.
Then, with the motion of brushing a hand through his hair, he uncorked the vial, leaned over the edge of the basin, and dipped his fingers in.
Just one drop was enough.
The resin dispersed like a shadow beneath the water's surface.
He withdrew his hand and resumed meditating.
No one noticed.
Over the next three hours, Wei Lian kept his eyes closed, but his mind remained sharp.
He listened.
He waited.
He felt the shift before anyone else.
It started with one of the Tiger Fang disciples grunting softly—his breath catching in his throat. Then another shifted, visibly sweating despite the cool cave air.
Jiang He frowned. His aura flickered once, then stilled.
A ripple of Qi ran through the pool—disjointed, unsteady.
Wei Lian opened his eyes slowly.
A thin layer of steam had begun to rise from the water—not from heat, but from resistance. The Qi was no longer flowing smoothly. It clashed against itself.
Soon, one of the Stone Vow disciples stood up, groaning. His face was pale, lips trembling.
"I—I don't feel right."
Another doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Jiang He stood suddenly. "Something's wrong with the pool."
The cave erupted into shouts.
Disciples scrambled away from the basin. Some vomited. Others staggered, sweating, veins bulging along their arms and necks.
Wei Lian stayed seated.
Calm.
Centered.
Untouched.
An inner sect elder burst into the cave minutes later, summoned by emergency talismans. His eyes swept the chaos, then locked onto the pool.
He raised a hand and performed a quick incantation.
The water turned black.
The elder's expression darkened.
"This is poison."
A collective gasp followed.
The elder turned toward the twelve.
"Who did this?!"
Wei Lian slowly stood, gaze calm. "I was meditating. I didn't see anything."
He wasn't the only one.
Everyone had been too deep in cultivation to notice.
Everyone but him.
The elder scowled and swept his sleeve, erecting a barrier around the cave. "All of you—quarantined. You'll be questioned one by one."
He turned to another elder, whispering a command.
More guards would come.
Wei Lian bowed slightly.
Inside, he smiled.
Later that evening, inside his quarters, Wei Lian burned the sleeve that had held the vial.
The fire flickered blue for a moment, then turned to ash.
He stared at the flames, thoughts distant.
The factions were wounded. Their prodigies now crippled or sickened. And suspicion would spread again—this time internal. Even allies would question each other.
By tomorrow, Jiang He would tell Lin Yu what happened.
And Lin Yu would tell the others what Wei Lian wanted him to tell.
That the poison had been traced to a batch of pills distributed by the Tiger Fang faction.
It wasn't true.
But it didn't need to be.
Wei Lian poured himself tea and took a slow sip.
Let the factions burn from the inside.
Let the elders chase shadows.
He would walk forward, untouched.