Lin Yao quickly learned that attention was a double-edged blade.
Since the Spirit Valley incident, invitations came in subtle forms—glances held a moment too long, disciples lingering near his cultivation grounds, elders "casually" asking questions whose answers revealed far more than they appeared to.
But Lin Yao did not indulge blindly.
Instead, he cultivated.
Deep within the Stone Pavilion, he sat cross-legged as spirit energy flowed through him in measured cycles. The Primordial Chaos fragment had stabilized enough to allow conscious guidance now, though only barely. Every mistake felt like courting annihilation.
As he circulated his qi, memories surfaced—not his own.
Ancient cultivators. Dao companions seated face-to-face. Palms touching. Breath synchronized.
Dual cultivation again.
But this time, the fragment did not urge indulgence.
It urged restraint.
Lin Yao opened his eyes slowly.
"So the Dao tests desire before rewarding it," he murmured.
A knock echoed from the pavilion entrance.
He stood and opened the door to find Mu Wanqing standing calmly, holding a jade slip.
"I thought you might need this," she said, handing it to him. "A treatise on Spiritual Boundary Agreements."
Lin Yao raised a brow. "That sounds… ominous."
"It's practical," she replied. "Especially for cultivators whose paths naturally attract others."
He studied her for a moment, then smiled. "You're saying I'll cause trouble."
She smiled back, unoffended. "You already are."
Inside the pavilion, she explained further.
High-level dual cultivation often required verbal or karmic acknowledgment—rules set between companions to prevent imbalance. Without them, jealousy could corrode cultivation foundations. Worse, karmic backlash could manifest as heart demons.
"You don't strike me as someone who wants to hurt people unintentionally," Mu Wanqing said.
"I don't," Lin Yao replied honestly. "If I walk with someone, they deserve clarity."
She nodded approvingly.
When she left, Lin Yao activated the jade slip.
A faint projection formed.
Those who walk many paths must set laws before passion, or be devoured by it.
He exhaled slowly.
"So that's the kind of man I'll be," he said. "One who chooses openly."
Far away, Su Qingxue felt an inexplicable chill—and an unfamiliar tension in her chest.