Night hung heavy over the Whispering Blades Sect. Lanterns flickered along the corridors, their soft light bending in the mountain wind. Disciples had long since retired, but one figure still lingered under the plum trees — Lin Feng, quietly sipping from a small gourd of wine.
It wasn't good wine, not really — sharp, bitter, too earthy — but it did its job.
He leaned against the wooden railing, watching moonlight filter through the mist.
Wei Qing appeared, holding a small paper bag of steamed buns. "You're still awake."
"Sleep is for the content," Lin Feng replied. "And I'm still negotiating with mine."
Wei Qing sighed, handing him a bun. "You're impossible to read sometimes."
"Good," Lin Feng said. "Mystery improves longevity. Keeps people from trying to stab you too early."
Wei Qing laughed, half-amused, half-tired. "You're joking, right?"
Lin Feng didn't answer. His eyes had drifted toward the mountain peak — or rather, what lay beyond it. There was a faint distortion in the night, a subtle ripple that danced in and out of perception. It wasn't natural.
Someone was weaving energy in secret.
---
The next morning, the sect was buzzing.
Elder Jian Mu summoned Lin Feng to the main hall, his face unusually grim. A faint pressure hung in the air — the kind that made lesser cultivators uneasy.
"Last night," the elder began, "one of our storehouses was breached. The defensive seals were dismantled — not broken, but unwoven."
Lin Feng raised a brow. "Unwoven? So whoever did it had patience and understanding."
"Indeed. They took nothing of value, yet their intent is unclear."
Lin Feng folded his arms. "Sometimes, not stealing is the most interesting theft."
Elder Jian Mu frowned. "You think this was a message?"
"Perhaps," Lin Feng said. "Or a test. People who move without greed tend to move with purpose."
Wei Qing, standing nearby, muttered, "And you sound like you're complimenting them."
"Maybe I am," Lin Feng said lightly. "I appreciate craftsmanship when I see it."
---
Later that day, Lin Feng wandered alone near the storehouse. The air was faintly disturbed — tiny traces of spiritual residue shimmered like motes of dust. He crouched, letting his fingers hover just above the floorboards.
He could feel it — the faint tug of energy lines, drawn with expert care. Whoever had done this was no novice. More than that… their technique carried an echo, something hauntingly familiar.
"Old habits die hard," Lin Feng murmured under his breath.
He followed the faint residual lines until they disappeared behind a stone wall — then smiled softly.
"Clever. But not clever enough."
He pressed a palm against the wall, channeling the smallest flicker of energy. The wall shivered — then a hidden passage revealed itself, winding downward into the earth.
Lin Feng tilted his head. "A secret tunnel. Every sect loves a good secret."
He stepped inside.
---
The tunnel was narrow, dimly lit by faint spirit stones embedded in the ceiling. The air smelled of dust and old iron.
At the end, a small underground chamber opened up — filled with scrolls, broken weapons, and one dimly glowing sigil on the wall. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
Lin Feng walked closer. His eyes softened. "So that's your source…"
The sigil was a binding seal — ancient, older than the sect itself. The faint black markings etched into it spoke of something far more dangerous than mortal ambition.
Then, without warning, a voice echoed from the shadows.
"You shouldn't be here, traveler."
Lin Feng didn't turn immediately. He smiled instead. "I keep hearing that. And yet, I always seem to end up in the right place."
From the darkness emerged a young man dressed in disciple robes — but his aura was off. Too cold. Too controlled. His eyes glimmered faintly red in the dim light.
"You saw too much," the man said, drawing a short blade. "Forgive me."
Lin Feng sighed. "You people really love your dramatics."
The man lunged. The blade flashed — swift, clean, deadly. But it sliced through nothing. Lin Feng had simply… moved aside, his step so casual it was almost insulting.
"Fast," Lin Feng noted, "but you lack subtlety."
He tapped the man's wrist gently — and the disciple's arm locked, muscles frozen. The blade clattered to the ground. Lin Feng's gaze softened. "Tell me, who's holding your strings?"
The disciple's eyes flickered. For a moment, something fought within him — then the red glow dimmed.
"They… they watch… through the seal," the man stammered, voice shaking. "They promised… strength… for loyalty…"
Lin Feng frowned slightly, crouching beside him. "And you believed them?"
"I… wanted to rise. I thought I could control it."
Lin Feng's tone was almost kind. "Control is an illusion we sell ourselves to avoid guilt. You're lucky you met me before you paid the full price."
He placed two fingers on the man's forehead — a soft flicker of light passed between them. The crimson haze in the disciple's eyes vanished.
The man slumped, unconscious but breathing steadily.
---
By evening, Lin Feng returned to the surface. The air felt different now — heavier, as though the mountain itself was aware of what had been uncovered.
Elder Jian Mu met him halfway, his expression dark. "You found something."
"An old seal beneath your mountain," Lin Feng said simply. "It's being used as a channel by someone outside your sect."
The elder's face went pale. "That's impossible. The foundation of this sect—"
"—wasn't built by your ancestors," Lin Feng interrupted gently. "You merely inherited it."
He met the elder's eyes. "Someone is drawing power through your mountain's core. Slowly. Quietly. You won't notice until it's too late."
Jian Mu hesitated. "Can it be destroyed?"
Lin Feng looked up at the mist-covered peaks, expression unreadable. "Destroyed? No. But it can be silenced."
---
That night, Lin Feng stood once more at the underground seal, fingers tracing the ancient lines. It pulsed faintly — almost like it recognized him.
"I thought I left all of you behind," he murmured. "Yet here you are, hiding in someone else's mountain."
A faint whisper answered him. A voice — low, distant, familiar.
"You cannot hide forever, Sovereign."
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed slightly, though his smile remained calm.
"Hide? No. I'm just taking the scenic route."
He pressed his palm against the sigil — a faint surge of energy spread, weaving through the chamber. The seal dimmed, its power folding inward, silenced for now.
Lin Feng stepped back. "Sleep, old friend. The world's not ready for you yet."
---
Outside, dawn was breaking. Wei Qing approached, yawning, holding two cups of tea. "You're up early again."
"Or late," Lin Feng replied, taking the cup. "Time is relative when you're arguing with ancient seals."
Wei Qing blinked. "You're not joking, are you?"
Lin Feng smiled faintly. "Not entirely."
They stood quietly as the sun rose. The Whispering Blades Sect shimmered in the morning light, unaware of the silent storm beneath its foundation.
Wei Qing looked at him curiously. "You're not going to tell anyone what really happened, are you?"
Lin Feng took a slow sip of tea. "Would you believe me if I did?"
"Probably not."
"Exactly."
---