The pale sun of early morning hung over the Azure Sky Cloud Sect, bathing the cloud-carved stone steps and swaying silken banners in a golden shimmer. The winds, always gentle atop the peaks, whispered lowly across the open courtyards like monks offering morning chants.
At the entrance to the inner disciples' pavilion, Lan Wu bowed with folded arms. His robes were still dirt-streaked from travel, his eyes lined with the weariness of days spent fighting and surviving alone. Yet, his face glowed with pride—his mission had been completed.
Inside, seated beside the table of scrolls and herbal incense, Mei Lian looked up from her writing brush.
"You've returned."
Her voice, as always, was neither harsh nor gentle—sharp enough to cut through lies, soft enough not to bruise truth.
Lan Wu stepped forward, bowed once more, and handed her the sealed parchment scroll.
"Yes, Teacher Mei Lian. The western region of the Moon Blossom Forest has been cleared. I encountered a small number of corrupted beasts… I handled them."
He smiled—a soft one, as fragile as early snow.
Mei Lian studied him. He was speaking truthfully. But something about it was off.
She accepted the scroll but did not open it.
"You handled them," she repeated. "And are fine?"
"Yes, Teacher," Lan Wu said, his voice quiet but warm. "No serious wounds. Only tired."
But there was a moment—barely more than the flick of an eyelash—when his gaze drifted.
A pause.
Not fear. But hesitation.
A Storm That Left No Cloud
Later that afternoon, Mei Lian stood at the very edge of the battlefield Lan Wu had described.
The soil was cracked and caved inward, the trees leaning away from the center as if bowing in fear. Corrupted Qi still lingered faintly in the air—dead and rotting. The corpses of the wolves had long been consumed by scavengers or scavenged by spiritual decomposition.
But the evidence remained.
And what she saw was not the work of a first-level cultivator at the mid-stage of First Awakening.
"This was too clean. Too absolute," Mei Lian murmured, lifting a stone seared black on one side. "The energy here was not Lan Wu's…"
Her fingers tightened around her sleeve.
Still, she returned and did not accuse him.
Instead, that evening, she asked him directly—her tone softer than expected.
"Lan Wu. Are you hiding anything from me?"
He blinked.
"No, Teacher."
His voice was sincere. Honest. Yet he looked down, hand tugging faintly at his sleeve.
Mei Lian noted it.
"If you are ever in danger again… speak. You are not alone."
Lan Wu's smile returned—shy, delicate.
"I will, Teacher. I promise."
She didn't believe him.
Not fully.
But she smiled back. Just a little.
"You're either lying to protect yourself… or because you don't know what haunts you."
She decided to keep watch, silently.
Not as a jailor.
But as someone who cared.
The Veil in His Spirit
Two days later, Lan Wu attended private Qi channeling lessons under Elder Suyin, a wizened, calm cultivator known for his quiet methods and deep perception.
He had Lan Wu sit cross-legged upon an ancient jade mat. Their hands linked by a thin cord of silken energy, he observed the flow of Lan Wu's Qi as it circled through his channels.
"Good control," Suyin muttered. "Remarkably good. But…"
His brow furrowed.
"There's a… veil," he said. "Like a thread that turns a river darker, but never poisons it. Curious."
Lan Wu tilted his head.
"I don't feel anything wrong, Elder."
Lan Wu thought the elder was talking about the qi channeling
"I don't think you do."
The elder removed a small talisman from his sleeve, shaped like a leaf with silver embroidery around its edges. It shimmered faintly in his palm.
"This charm will calm your heart if ever your emotions grow strained. If you are in danger… break it."
Lan Wu bowed deeply, receiving it with both hands.
"Thank you, Elder. I'll treasure it."
A Smile Behind Bars
Far within the soulscape—beyond the awareness of Lan Wu, beyond his mind and senses—Wuxie sat chained.
But this time… he was not snarling. Nor brooding. Nor screaming at the sky.
He was smiling.
A wicked curl of the lips, like a child finding a crack in the door to a room he was never allowed in.
"He's grown," Wuxie whispered, closing one eye. "Stronger than I expected. The body we share… handles Qi with elegance."
He lifted a chained hand, mimicking the exact flow Lan Wu had used earlier. It left a faint spiral in the air.
"Interesting," he said, amused. "So even I, cursed to sit here… can learn."
The Devouring Moon Beast, eyes half-closed on a ledge above, exhaled like a dragon snoring.
"You look pleased, little wraith."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Wuxie mused. "I may not grow in realm… but I can sharpen my technique. I watched his stance. I felt the tension in his limbs. His form is... poetic."
He licked his teeth, voice low.
"I will copy him. I will evolve my own form from his. His sword will become my memory."
He clenched his fist, and dark Qi pulsed around his body in rhythmic patterns. With every repetition, his control improved, even if by fractions.
"One day," he whispered, "I'll perfect a method so devastating… even Heaven won't see it coming."
The beast let out a deep grunt.
"The more you strive toward the sky… the more the abyss drags you down."
Wuxie stilled.
He stared forward. The smile didn't vanish.
"Let it drag," he said. "The sky's too boring anyway."
His voice held neither rage nor hate—just a cruel kind of joy.
A child-like thirst for something forbidden.
"Let him grow. Let Lan Wu shine. For his path is mine too. A stepping stone... that blooms."
A Hand Raised, A Smile Given:
Later that night, Lan Wu returned from his lessons, walking through the sect garden beneath a pale moon. He passed juniors, some of whom waved. Others nodded with faint respect.
One little girl even ran up and handed him a flower.
"You're nice," she said. "Not like the other senior brothers."
He smiled, kneeling low.
"I'll keep trying to be."
And above him, on a distant roof, Mei Lian watched, arms crossed, heart unsure.
"You're kind, Lan Wu," she thought. "But what lies beneath your skin?"
She turned and vanished into the night wind.