Late afternoon light slanted into the inner courtyard, stretching long shadows across stone paths and trimmed hedges. The air carried the scent of drying cloth and warm earth.
Chen Ming walked slowly along the path, hands clasped behind his back in an imitation of how he had seen adults stroll. Around him, the manor moved with its usual rhythm. Maids passed with folded linens balanced against their arms. Servants swept fallen leaves into neat piles or carried baskets toward the kitchens.
"Young Master," one of the maids called softly as she passed, smiling. She slipped a small steamed bun into his hand before moving on.
Chen Ming accepted it without stopping, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully. A little farther along, an older servant laughed and reached out to pat his head, leaving his hair slightly rumpled.
"Careful not to run today," the servant said. "Your mother was looking everywhere for you yesterday."
Chen Ming nodded vaguely and kept walking.
A few steps behind him, the guard followed.
Chen Ming's eyes slid sideways more than once, catching the reflection of armor in the corner of his vision. His pace slowed. He took another bite of the bun, then stopped altogether.
He turned.
"Why are you following me from the morning?" he asked.
The guard halted at once and straightened. "Your safety is my responsibility, Young Master," he said without hesitation. "Of course I must follow you. What if you run off somewhere again?"
Chen Ming frowned. "But I'm inside the manor."
The guard nodded. "What if you run from here?"
Chen Ming placed his hands on his waist and puffed out his cheeks. "I won't," he said. "You go and do your own duties. I'm not going outside the manor today."
The guard studied him closely, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you certain, Young Master?"
Chen Ming's irritation flickered, then shifted as he realized the guard was actually listening. He straightened and lifted his chin. "I really won't," he said. "If I do, you can complain to Father. Or Mother."
The guard hesitated.
Chen Ming nodded eagerly. "Yes. Yes. Go."
For a moment, the guard remained where he was, as if weighing the words. Then he finally inclined his head. "Very well," he said. "But I will be nearby."
He turned and walked back toward the main corridor, glancing over his shoulder once before disappearing around the corner.
Chen Ming waited until the sound of footsteps faded. He let out a long breath and relaxed his shoulders.
The quieter side of the manor lay beyond a narrow passage, where the stone walls rose higher and the sounds of work thinned. The path curved around a small garden left mostly unattended, its stones uneven and its shrubs grown a little wild.
Chen Ming slowed as he reached it.
He glanced back once, then again, toward the corridor he had come from. No footsteps followed. The air here felt still, shaded despite the slanting sun.
He stepped into the garden and moved toward the far wall, where the stone caught the last warmth of the day. There, he stopped and slipped the booklet from inside his robe.
He did not sit this time.
Instead, he held the booklet open with both hands and studied the page for a long moment before lowering it carefully to the ground. He stood over it, feet together, as if preparing himself.
He spread his feet apart, copying the drawing.
His knees bent slightly, then a little more. The familiar pull came at once, tight along the backs of his legs. He sucked in a breath through his teeth but did not straighten.
"Stand as earth," he said quietly.
He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight until it felt less likely to tip him over. His balance wavered anyway. He planted his feet harder, jaw tightening as he tried to hold still.
He raised his arms, elbows bent as shown in the drawing. His hands lifted too high at first. He lowered them, then raised them again, slower this time.
He inhaled.
The breath caught halfway down. His shoulders lifted without his permission.
"No," he muttered.
He let the air out and tried again, breathing more carefully, watching the arrows on the page as if they might guide him if he stared hard enough. His chest still rose first, but less than before.
His legs began to shake.
He held on for as long as he could, counting silently in his head. By the time he reached five, the trembling had crept into his arms as well.
He lost the position and stepped back quickly, hands brushing the wall to steady himself. He stood there for a moment, breathing through his nose, then bent to look at the booklet again.
"Like this," he said, pointing at the drawing, as if it might listen.
He tried again.
This time he did not bend as low. The ache came slower. He managed to hold the stance for a few breaths before his balance tilted and he had to step aside.
He did not sit down.
He straightened, rolled his shoulders once, and flipped the page.
The next drawing showed the forward stance again. He studied it, then placed one foot ahead of the other. His step was too long. He corrected it at once, pulling his foot back until the stance felt less strained.
He extended his arms, palms open.
His breath rushed out without warning. He frowned and reset himself, inhaling more carefully the second time.
He held the stance for two breaths.
On the third, his back foot slid slightly on the stone. He caught himself before falling, heart jumping at the sudden movement.
He stood still afterward, arms dropping to his sides.
His legs hurt now, a dull ache that sat deep and refused to fade. He swallowed and glanced at the booklet again.
He did not close it.
He adjusted his feet and lifted his arms once more, slower than before, careful not to overreach. His breathing was uneven, his posture imperfect, but he stayed upright.
When he finally stepped out of the stance, he bent forward slightly, hands on his knees, catching his breath. Sweat darkened the collar of his robe.
He straightened after a moment and wiped his face with his sleeve.
"That's enough," he said, though he did not sound certain.
He picked up the booklet and held it against his chest, standing quietly as the light shifted around him. The ache in his legs lingered, steady and insistent, but it no longer surprised him.
After a short while, he turned and walked back toward the inner paths of the manor, his steps slower now, but more deliberate than before.
***
The discussion hall felt colder than it had earlier.
Chen Yuan stood beside the long table as the guards finished their report. They spoke carefully, choosing their words as though afraid of saying too much or too little.
"There were no witnesses," one of them said. "No signs of a struggle. The shop was locked as it always is, and the street outside was quiet through the night."
Chen Yuan's hand remained at his temple for a moment longer before he lowered it slowly. His gaze drifted across the floor, then toward the open doorway, as though expecting something to appear there unbidden.
"A grown woman does not simply disappear," he said at last, his voice steady but strained. "Not from a street she walks every day. Not without leaving something behind."
The guards exchanged brief glances but did not interrupt.
Chen Yuan drew a breath and straightened. "Send two men to the nearby villages," he said. "Do it quietly. Speak to innkeepers, ferry hands, market sellers. Anyone who watches people come and go. If she passed through, someone will remember her, even if they didn't think it mattered at the time."
"Yes, my lord," the attendant replied at once, turning to relay the order.
Not long after, the hall filled again.
Elders and senior members of the Chen family took their places, their expressions varied but their unease shared. The air grew heavy as one voice gave way to another.
"The northern villages have already sent word," an elder said. "They are asking when the next pill shipment will arrive."
"A merchant from Hechuan left this morning," another added. "He said his buyers will not wait indefinitely."
"Our reputation is being tested," a third said. "If this continues, others will step into the gap we leave behind."
Murmurs followed. Concern layered over concern, each voice adding weight to the room.
Chen Yuan listened without interruption.
When the last voice fell quiet, he lifted his head. His expression had hardened, the lines around his eyes drawn tight.
"That will be all," he said. "You may disperse."
The elders hesitated, then rose one by one and left the hall. Their footsteps faded down the corridor, the echoes lingering longer than the voices had.
Chen Yuan turned slightly. "Have Elder Chen Zhen come," he said to the attendant.
The attendant bowed and departed.
Silence returned.
It did not last long.
An old man remained standing near the edge of the hall, his back bent slightly, hands folded before him. Chen Yuan noticed him only when he moved.
"Why didn't you leave, Old Hao?" Chen Yuan asked.
Old Hao stepped forward and bowed deeply, holding the position longer than courtesy required. When he straightened, his eyes were lowered.
"My lord," he said, "this difficulty you face comes because of us. Because of the common people."
Chen Yuan did not respond.
Old Hao continued, his voice quiet but steady. "You do not need to think about us. Think of your family. We are like dust on the road, scattered by the wind. We have no future worth weighing against yours."
His shoulders dipped further. "Young Master Ming is still a child. If the family struggles, how will it affect him?"
Chen Yuan's gaze sharpened.
"Enough," he said.
Old Hao stopped at once.
"You don't need to say more," Chen Yuan continued. "I may not be a king or an emperor, but I remember my debts. That decision will not change."
Old Hao bowed his head, the breath leaving him in a long sigh.
Chen Yuan let the silence sit for a moment before speaking again. "When is your daughter's marriage?"
Old Hao looked up, surprised. A small smile crept onto his face despite himself. "Soon, my lord. The groom and his family will arrive shortly."
"From outside Qingshi?" Chen Yuan asked.
"Yes," Old Hao replied. "They are respectable, well-off, and known for their conduct. What more could this old man hope for?"
Chen Yuan nodded. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
Old Hao shook his head and bowed again. "You have already done enough."
He withdrew from the hall, leaving Chen Yuan alone once more.
Chen Yuan remained standing beneath the lamps, his hands resting against the edge of the table.
Footsteps sounded from the corridor outside.
He looked up as the doors opened and Elder Chen Zhen stepped into the hall, his expression already set, the lamplight catching along the lines of his face.
***
[Black Furnace Sect]
The inner hall of the Black Furnace Sect lay steeped in shadow, the air heavy with the scent of incense and old stone. Braziers burned low along the walls, their flames steady, casting wavering light across carved pillars darkened by years of smoke.
Hei Yan sat upon the high seat at the far end of the hall. His posture was loose, one arm resting along the side of the chair, his gaze lowered.
Below him, the elders and attendants of the sect stood in ordered lines.
One stepped forward and bowed. "The Chen family has been investigated," he said. "Their strength is shallow. Their foundation is weak."
Another followed without pause. "Their patriarch, Chen Yuan, is only at the third level of Blood Refinement. He is the strongest among them."
A murmur passed through the line, subdued and brief.
"They have no cultivators beyond that," a third reported. "Two at the first level of Blood Refinement. Around ten who have barely entered Body Reinforcement. The rest are ordinary guards."
Hei Yan's fingers tapped once against the armrest.
"Compared to us," the elder continued, choosing his words carefully, "they are no more than a lame horse among donkeys."
Hei Yan lifted his head.
A smile touched his mouth.
"So little," he said.
No one spoke.
He leaned forward slightly, the movement drawing every gaze toward him. "Then there is no need to trouble the entire sect."
His eyes swept over those assembled. "I will go myself. A few of the new blood will come with me. That will be enough."
He rose from the seat, descending one step before stopping.
"Let them taste blood," he said calmly.
His tongue passed briefly over his lips. His eyes shone.
"I want to see this spirit stone mine with my own eyes."
He turned back toward the hall. "Make the preparations."
Every figure present bowed deeply.
"Yes, my lord."