The mountain had been loud all his life.
Thunder rolled through its bones, lightning stitched itself across the peaks, and even on clear days the air carried a promise of violence. Yu Yuanzhen had grown to find comfort in that noise.
Tonight, the mountain was quiet.
He stood alone in the sect master's hall, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the space where his son had stood earlier that evening.
Twenty-nine.
The number sat in his mind like a stone.
It wasn't the rank itself that troubled him. Rank Twenty-Nine was respectable for a child with a weak beast spirit. Many would have praised the boy's diligence, sighed at his misfortune, and moved on.
What troubled Yu Yuanzhen was how Xiaogang had said it.
No frustration.
No anger.
No bargaining.
Just certainty.
Yu Yuanzhen had seen that look before.
Not in children.
In generals, moments before they committed to a battle they already knew would cost them everything.
He exhaled slowly and turned from the window.
"Come out," he said.
The shadows near the pillar shifted.
Elder Mo stepped forward, thin as ever, hands folded inside his sleeves as if he had been waiting there for hours—which, knowing Mo, he probably had.
"You heard," Yu Yuanzhen said.
"I did," Mo replied.
Yu Yuanzhen studied him. "And?"
"And your son is correct."
The words landed heavily.
Yu Yuanzhen closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, the mountain seemed louder again.
"How long have you known?" he asked.
Mo tilted his head. "Known? Or suspected?"
"Either."
"Suspected since Rank Fifteen," Mo said calmly. "Certain by Twenty-Five."
Yu Yuanzhen's jaw tightened. "And you said nothing."
"I observed," Mo corrected. "Which is my role."
Yu Yuanzhen turned sharply. "Your role is also to warn me when something threatens the sect."
Mo met his gaze without flinching. "That depends on what you consider a threat."
Silence stretched.
Outside, a distant roll of thunder echoed, late and muted.
"You think my son is dangerous," Yu Yuanzhen said.
"Yes," Mo replied immediately.
Yu Yuanzhen almost laughed. "He can barely crack a training post."
"That is not what makes him dangerous," Mo said.
Yu Yuanzhen waited.
"He does not struggle," Mo continued. "He does not rage. He does not demand exceptions. He observes limits—and then asks whether they are real."
Yu Yuanzhen looked back toward the empty space where Xiaogang had stood.
"He is six," he said quietly.
"He is young," Mo agreed. "That is not the same thing."
Yu Yuanzhen's fingers flexed once behind his back. "The elders whisper."
"They always do."
"They whisper that I favor him."
Mo's lips twitched. "You do."
Yu Yuanzhen did not deny it. "They whisper that I indulge him because he is weak."
Mo's gaze sharpened. "They whisper because they do not know what else to do with a contradiction."
Yu Yuanzhen turned back to the window. The storm clouds had begun to gather again, slow and patient.
"What would the elders do," he asked, "if Xiaogang were not my son?"
Mo answered without hesitation. "They would suppress him. Quietly, if possible. Thoroughly, if not."
Yu Yuanzhen's voice dropped. "And if his ideas spread?"
Mo was silent for a moment.
"Then," he said carefully, "the sect would fracture."
Yu Yuanzhen felt the truth of that settle into his bones.
The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect was built on lineage, on bloodlines and inherited supremacy. It did not tolerate the idea that systems could be wrong.
Xiaogang's questions did not attack the sect directly.
They undermined it.
"You let him read the failure records," Yu Yuanzhen said.
"I did," Mo replied. "And he read them properly."
Yu Yuanzhen turned. "Meaning?"
"He did not mock them," Mo said. "He did not pity them. He treated them as data."
Yu Yuanzhen closed his eyes.
Of course he did.
The same child who had looked at his own failure and asked why instead of who.
Yu Yuanzhen spoke again, quieter now. "I am sending him to Spirit City."
Mo nodded. "I expected as much."
"The elders will protest."
"They already are."
Yu Yuanzhen's mouth curved slightly, humorless. "Let them."
Mo studied him. "You are pushing him toward Spirit Hall."
Yu Yuanzhen's eyes hardened. "I am pushing him away from knives hidden as concern."
Mo considered that.
"Spirit Hall is not kind," the elder said.
"No," Yu Yuanzhen agreed. "But it is honest about what it wants."
Mo looked back toward the hall entrance. "Your son will be changed there."
Yu Yuanzhen's gaze lingered on the door long after Mo's words faded.
"I know," he said.
Mo hesitated, then asked the question he had been circling all evening.
"You are not telling him everything, are you?"
Yu Yuanzhen's jaw tightened. "No."
"What are you keeping from him?"
Yu Yuanzhen did not answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was low. "If he knew how many eyes are already on him, he would become careful."
Mo frowned. "And that would be bad?"
Yu Yuanzhen shook his head. "That would be fatal."
Mo went very still.
"You believe," the elder said slowly, "that your son's greatest protection is that others still think him harmless."
"Yes."
"And you are willing to risk Spirit Hall discovering him instead?"
Yu Yuanzhen turned, lightning flashing briefly behind him through the window.
"I would rather my son face wolves who show their teeth," he said, "than family who sharpen knives while smiling."
Mo bowed his head slightly.
"I will watch from here," he said.
Yu Yuanzhen nodded once. "Do so quietly."
Mo turned to leave, then paused.
"One more thing," he said.
Yu Yuanzhen looked at him.
"If Xiaogang is correct—if martial souls can outgrow their vessels—then your son will not simply change the sect."
Mo's eyes were sharp now.
"He will change the world."
Yu Yuanzhen did not deny it.
When Mo was gone, Yu Yuanzhen remained by the window long after the storm finally broke, rain hammering the mountain with familiar force.
Somewhere below, his son packed his belongings, unaware of how many futures had just been quietly closed behind him—and how many dangers waited ahead.
Yu Yuanzhen rested a hand against the cold stone.
"Live," he murmured, not as a command, but as a plea.
Because for the first time since taking the sect master's seat, Yu Yuanzhen was no longer afraid of losing power.
He was afraid of losing his son to a world that would not forgive a boy who asked the wrong questions.