Three days passed.
Li Shen returned to sweeping the training yard outside the outer disciple hall. He made no comment. Showed no change. Wore the same robes, bowed to the same seniors, listened to the same sermons.
But beneath the mask, his mind dissected everything.
He traced the thread of a falling leaf and calculated its path before it hit the ground.He severed the flame from a candle in his quarters without touching it.He watched ants crawl across a tile and noticed how their life-thread shimmered right before death.
The world was no longer solid. It was stitched.
And he had learned how to pull the threads.
Jin Tai, an inner disciple known for his arrogance and temper, caught sight of him sweeping alone.
"Still playing servant, Li Shen? How cute."
Li Shen didn't respond.
Jin Tai stepped closer, sneering. "Did you go mute, rat? Or are you too stupid to talk after failing another Qi Condensation trial?"
Li Shen raised his eyes, calm and cold.
"You waste Qi with every breath," he said. "I'm simply listening to you die inefficiently."
Gasps. Others in the courtyard turned.
Jin Tai's face darkened with fury. "You want a duel? You'll get one."
The courtyard was cleared. Onlookers gathered fast. Outer disciples salivated for drama. A few elders watched from high walkways, not intervening. This wasn't new.
Li Shen stood across from Jin Tai, hands folded behind his back. No weapon. No stance.
Jin Tai activated his Tempest Flame Art, fire wreathing his fists. A rush of wind, then a roar of flame.
"Try not to die too quickly," he shouted, leaping forward.
Li Shen's eyes narrowed.
He saw everything.
Jin Tai's fire-thread was unbalanced.His right meridian loop had overextended due to prior misuse.His Qi pulsed in a twelve-beat rhythm.His rotation depended on a timing-thread coiled through his solar plexus.
Li Shen waited until the third rotation.
Then he raised two fingers and plucked.
Not air.
Not Qi.
The coordination thread—the one that timed Jin Tai's internal movement flow.
Snap.
Jin Tai's limbs jerked. His body twisted awkwardly in mid-air. His Qi combusted inward rather than forward. A sickening crunch as he hit the ground shoulder-first, the flame in his chest backfiring violently.
Screams. Panic.
The crowd backed away.
Jin Tai lay motionless, arm dislocated, mouth open in silent agony.
An elder descended. "What did you do?"
Li Shen turned his head slightly.
"I corrected his technique," he said quietly. "He should thank me."
Then he turned, dusted off his robe, and walked away.
No one stopped him.
They simply watched the thread he left behind — cold, invisible, and sharp as fate itself.