The courtyard was quieter than usual. Whispers followed Kael wherever he walked, like the rustle of dry leaves before a storm. Some disciples glanced at him with curiosity, others with faint hostility, but all remembered the public spar with Jin Tao.
Kael didn't gloat. He couldn't. That reflex—whatever it was—still lingered in his mind like a coiled ember, ready to spark at the wrong moment. It wasn't just a trick; it was something primal, something dangerous. And the more eyes on him, the more dangerous it became.
From the edge of the courtyard, Jin Tao stood surrounded by his usual circle. His expression was calm—too calm. He spoke in low tones, hands clasped behind his back, like a man discussing the weather. But his gaze met Kael's once, and in that moment, Kael felt it: the promise of trouble, not in the open… but in the shadows.
By the next morning, the trouble began to stir.A sparring schedule was posted for the week, and somehow, Kael's name appeared three times more than usual. His partners weren't just ordinary disciples either—they were known for their speed, their precision, their tendency to leave their opponents limping away.
"Strange coincidence, isn't it?" murmured Liang, one of the few who didn't avoid Kael. "Or maybe someone's making sure you stay busy… and tired."
Kael didn't answer. He didn't need to. He could almost see Jin Tao's smirk in his mind.
The days blurred together in a haze of wooden staves, bruised knuckles, and stinging blows. Kael pushed himself through each match, never letting the ember flare too openly. But it was costing him. His muscles ached longer, his breath came shorter.
In the evenings, while most disciples rested, Kael slipped away to a secluded part of the outer grounds. There, in the half-light, he tested the reflex—letting it trigger, then pulling it back, again and again. It wasn't about speed alone. It was… awareness. A sense that reached past the eye and ear, warning him before an attack even came.
The problem was, the more he used it, the sharper it burned through him, leaving his mind restless and his body humming with tension long after training.
The elders began to notice.
Elder Han watched him during a morning drill, his gaze unreadable. Elder Wu, who rarely left the library, lingered by the courtyard steps longer than usual when Kael was practicing. Even the Sect Leader's personal aide stopped Kael once, asking his name with a faint smile before walking away.
For most disciples, such attention would be a gift. For Kael, it was a blade with no hilt—valuable, but just as likely to cut the hand that held it.
That night, as Kael returned to his quarters, he found a folded note slipped under his door. No signature. Just a few words in neat, deliberate strokes:
The fire you hide will either warm your path… or burn it away.
He stared at it for a long moment, the paper crinkling slightly in his grip. He didn't know if it was a warning, a challenge, or something else entirely.
But one thing was certain—Jin Tao's first move was only the beginning.