The needle lay at Ye Tian's feet, black as wet bark.
The night held its breath.
One shape stood between him and the cloister, hood low, sleeves wide.
Another stood behind him, quiet as fog.
The roofline watched like a row of still cats.
The Origin did not whisper.
[Hostile intent confirmed]
[One utility, Minor Concealment]
[One utility, Minor Sting]
[Recommendation: do not step back]
Ye Tian stepped in.
The right fan opened a finger's width and closed.
Metal caught a thread of starlight, then swallowed it.
The nearest shape moved. No wasted motion. No extra breath. A palm slid toward his throat, not to crush, but to take his balance and leave him slow for the blade that would follow.
[Minor Qi Shield, ready]
[Body Reinforcement, ready]
[Pain Dampener, ready]
Light breathed along his collar bone.
The palm struck and lost its teeth.
Ye Tian turned the wrist with two fingers and a thumb, gentle, placed, the way a door is turned when it has learned to stick in summer. The hooded head tilted a fraction. The second shape came in from behind, the faint scent of bitter herbs floating ahead like a warning that arrived too late.
The left fan did not open. It touched down on the blade hand in a small circle that said no without raising its voice. The blade kissed wood and rolled away into the dark. A whisper ran across the stones as it fled.
[Target: Sun Ruo]
[System: Minor Concealment]
[Seizure chance: moderate during slip step contact]
[Optimal trigger: body contact at the moment presence fades]
Presence faded.
Sun Ruo slipped sideways, a step that makes even honest eyes choose to forget for a heartbeat. The air felt thinner where he had stood.
Ye Tian did not chase where the body had been. He stepped into where the absence had gone.
The right fan opened a quarter and brushed the shoulder that was suddenly there again. The contact was a question asked softly and answered without words.
[Seizure window forming]
[Alignment, 41 percent]
[Hold rhythm, do not strike]
The second attacker flowed low, quick hands reaching for Ye Tian's ankle and knee together, an old trick to take a man's ground without taking his blood. The left fan met the wrist and rolled, not to hurt, but to move the line of force into the empty space between stones. The hand fell where balance is not.
The night exhaled and pulled the breath back in.
A cicada rasped once and went still.
Sun Ruo's slip step tried to vanish again. Ye Tian walked with it, heel to toe, as if he had been asked to listen to music other people could not hear. The fan touched him a second time, then a third.
[Alignment, 63 percent]
[Maintain contact at reappear points: shoulder, elbow, ribs]
[Warning: Minor Sting user preparing at your back]
The smell of bitter herbs came nearer.
The needle flicked for his neck, thin and fast, a line cut into the night.
Light woke along his forearm before the thought finished forming. The needle struck glow and fell, ringing once against stone. The second attacker did not curse. He breathed in and out like a person who had taught his lungs to make no noise at all.
Ye Tian did not look back.
He stepped into Sun Ruo's shadow and let the right fan close. The metal clicked once. The sound did not belong to threat. It belonged to counting.
Sun Ruo reached for his wrist. Their hands touched.
Presence thinned.
The world forgot there were two people standing in that spot.
Ye Tian remembered.
[Seizure window, 78 percent]
[Proceed on next inhale]
He did not hurry the inhale.
He let it come, slow and clean.
The left fan rose and settled under Sun Ruo's elbow, an offer, not a command. The right fan rested against the ribs. The hood turned, confused by the lack of force where force should have been.
"Now," the Origin said with no voice at all.
Ye Tian answered with the smallest pressure.
There was no light to see.
Minor Concealment did not bloom or crack. It loosened, like a knot taught to behave finally choosing to relax. Something left Sun Ruo's skin and came to his palms, cold at first, then warm the way a hand can be warm after it has been cold too long.
[Seizure complete]
[Acquired: Minor Concealment]
[Integration available, light mode advised]
[Note: do not celebrate]
The second attacker moved the instant the pressure changed. He did not shout. He did not declare. He came with both hands, ten small needles held between fingers like a comb.
Ye Tian turned.
The fans opened.
Metal drew two crescents in the air and closed with a pair of clicks that stitched the night back together. The needles rang and fell. One slid across his cheek and left a line that felt like ice when the wind touched it.
[Minor Sting user adapting]
[Projection: next volley wide, then close]
[Recommendation: step off line, take wrist on close]
Ye Tian stepped. The needles came wide, then close. He let the wide pass. He welcomed the close. The left fan folded the wrist into his palm. The right fan kissed the back of the hand once, where tendons ask for kindness.
The needles spilled.
A soft curse that was not a word colored the air.
"Enough," a voice said from the roof.
Calm.
Neat.
The neat handed elder looked down from the edge of the tiles with the moon behind him, his sleeves straight, his expression patient.
"We drew a line," he said. "We did not say where."
Sun Ruo stepped back without sound. The second attacker slipped away along the wall as if the mortar were a friend.
Ye Tian did not bow.
He did not speak.
The elder made a small motion with two fingers. "You kept your cup," he said. "The morning bell will still find you in the north court. Bring your fans. Bring your patience."
The roof went back to being a roof.
The yard remembered it had crickets.
Ye Tian stood until the wind moved across his cheek again.
It stung.
He touched the line with the back of his knuckle and looked at the smear that was not blood. Bitter herb. A test, not a kill.
Mu Qing stepped from the shadow of the crooked pine.
She had been there.
Of course she had been there.
"You kept your breath," she said.
"I kept my cup," he said.
Her eyes flicked to his cheek. "And your face."
"It will remember tonight," he said.
She nodded once. "Do not integrate fully. Light only. The elder will have eyes at the morning ring." She paused. "You felt it, yes. The way Concealment is not only a hide. It is an ask. You ask the air to forget. It agrees for a little while."
"It agreed," he said. "Then it came with me."
She looked almost pleased. "Good."
They walked toward the outer quarters. The stones held a little warmth still. The stars were sharper. The banners did not move.
At his door, Mu Qing stopped. "Second bell," she said.
He nodded.
She looked at his hands. "The fans will speak well for you tomorrow," she said.
"They are honest," he said.
She left.
He went inside.
The room was a dark square with a mat and a copper mirror that reflected a small silver smudge. He sat and let the night pour through the open window and into him until it became something quieter.
[Minor Concealment available]
[Integration mode, light]
[Effect: softens presence, narrows notice, slips small movements past attention]
[Side feature: reduces step sound on stone]
He guided the merge with the same patience he used to count.
Warmth did not come.
Cool did, like water finding low places.
[Integration complete, light mode]
[Cooldown minimal, utility moderate]
[Note: do not overuse under direct scrutiny]
He lay back for a breath.
Then three.
Then ten.
The morning would arrive with bells and eyes.
The cup would be waiting again.
He closed his eyes.
The yard turned slowly, like a wheel that did not know it had already begun to move.
The Origin settled like a river after rain.
[Devotion +6]
[Visibility rising]
[You are being studied]
He slept while the crickets stitched the last seam in the night.
And the chapter ended with a bell that had not rung yet already waiting in his ear.