The morning after the bridge was hushed.
Xu Tian returned to his courtyard before dawn, robes dusted faintly with fallen blossoms. He closed his gates and sat once more in meditation, sword across his knees. His breathing slowed, steady as water through stone.
Qi pulsed in his dantian, fierce and insistent. His veins thrummed with the weight of a breakthrough. He had severed the knots of Foundation Blooming, and now Yin and Yang began to spiral, intertwining like twin serpents in the dark sea of his core.
Where others spent years preparing, Xu Tian's Dao cut aside hesitation. Already, his foundation cracked and re-formed, edging toward the Core of Yin and Yang, early stage.
To the sect, such speed would be unthinkable. To Heaven, it was intolerable. Xu Tian kept his brilliance sheathed. For now.
By dusk, the silver slip from the Pavilion burned faintly in his sleeve, guiding him once more beyond the sect's walls.
The Fragrant Bridge of Fallen Petals awaited again, bathed now not in pale moonlight but in the crimson fire of sunset. Blossoms drifted slower in the evening air, tinged gold as they fell.
He stepped onto the bridge.
This time, more figures stood waiting. At the center, the veiled emissary in white, serene as before. To her left, an elder man in layered blue robes, veil lifted just enough to show a lined jaw. To her right, a younger man in black silk, his mask carved into a crescent moon.
The air was thick with fragrance, but beneath it lurked tension.
The emissary inclined her head. "Xu Tian. You came again."
Xu Tian's gaze swept the others. "The Pavilion multiplies."
"Indeed." Her voice remained smooth, but a subtle sharpness edged it now. "The Pavilion is no monolith. We observe storms, but even observers argue whether to shelter beneath roofs or walk into the rain."
The older man stepped forward. His voice was steady, low. "Disciple Xu Tian, your brilliance is beyond doubt. But brilliance is a torch. Unshielded, it attracts not only moths but fire. The Pavilion would see you protected."
The younger man in black laughed softly, his tone sharp as broken glass. "Protected? Or bound? Xu Tian, understand — storms do not choose their course. They must be guided. If you wish to rise, place your Dao beneath wiser hands. Otherwise, you will be extinguished before your first thunderclap."
Xu Tian's eyes did not waver. "And what would the Pavilion ask in return for this… protection or guidance?"
The emissary's voice drifted like petals. "Only that you allow us to witness. That is all."
The elder in blue spoke: "No — we would bind Heaven's gaze, shield you from the Court, teach you to sheath your edge until the hour comes."
The man in black interrupted, voice cold: "Or we seize the blade before it cuts us all. Brilliance uncontrolled burns the hand that wields it."
Their words clashed like blades beneath the calm fragrance.
Xu Tian listened. His hand rested upon his sword, though it did not move. His voice was calm, measured:
"Storms cannot be guided by leashes. They carve their path. To offer witness is one thing. To demand chains is another."
The emissary's veil dipped faintly, but the man in black stepped forward sharply, fury in his voice. "Arrogant whelp. Do you think your silence will cut the world forever? One strike, and you think you may defy Heaven itself?"
He gestured. Petals swirled suddenly. The stream beneath the bridge darkened.
A fourth figure rose silently from the drifting blossoms — cloaked in gray, mask plain, sword already drawn. The air around him was sharp with killing intent.
This was no test. This was assassination.
The assassin struck without word. His sword gleamed with cold light, thrust aimed directly for Xu Tian's throat.
Xu Tian's eyes narrowed. Threads flared before his sight — not only the assassin's strike, but the very petals themselves, drifting in hidden currents of fate.
He moved.
His blade whispered free, not to meet steel, but to cut the silence that followed.
The Severed Echo surged. The assassin's thrust slowed for a breath, as though time itself hesitated. Xu Tian stepped past the blade, turned his wrist, and his sword traced a single arc.
Petals swirled upward in a sudden storm. The assassin's mask split in two. He staggered, blood blooming faintly across his chest.
Silence returned.
Gasps broke it.
The elder in blue stepped forward, fury flashing. "Who dares turn test into murder?"
The man in black laughed coldly, though sweat gleamed faintly at his temple. "Perhaps Heaven itself wished to see if the boy truly lives up to rumor."
Xu Tian sheathed his sword calmly, cloth whispering. His voice was soft, carrying across the bridge like wind through reeds:
"Storms need no witness to prove they are storms."
The emissary's veil fluttered in the breeze. For the first time, her voice carried tension. "Enough. Xu Tian has proven his edge twice now. To test further is to risk breaking what you wish to study. The Pavilion will not waste storms."
Her words cut short argument. The assassin, wounded but alive, vanished into petals. The elder in blue turned away in disgust. The man in black lingered, gaze sharp with malice.
The emissary stepped forward and placed a second silver slip into Xu Tian's hand. "This token is not given lightly. It is not merely permission to attend our gatherings. It is recognition."
Xu Tian accepted it silently.
As he turned to leave, the emissary's voice drifted behind him:
"Remember, Xu Tian: the Pavilion observes. Some wish to protect. Some wish to bind. Some wish only to see you fall. Choose what storm you will be."
He walked away across the bridge, petals swirling in his wake.
Above, thunder rumbled faintly. Heaven had listened once more.
In his courtyard that night, Xu Tian sat once more upon his mat, sword at his knees. Qi surged wildly within him, spurred by battle, by Severed Echo, by the weight of his father's words.
The bottleneck shattered.
His dantian blazed, Yin and Yang coiling into a perfect balance. The foundation re-forged, the sea within him deepened, and a radiant core formed.
Core of Yin and Yang — early stage.
At his age, such progress was unthinkable. Within a single year, he had leapt where others lingered for decades. The sect would not believe it — nor forgive it if they knew.
Xu Tian opened his eyes. The lantern flame wavered, reflected sharp in his gaze. His voice was soft, steady.
"Witness, bind, protect, kill. Let them all try."
He touched the silver token of the Pavilion, cold in his palm.
"My blade severs all threads — even theirs."