The sun had barely risen, but the Nine Gates Sect grounds were already awake.
Mist curled along the stone paths as disciples moved like shadows in training. The clinking of swords. The hum of qi. A rhythm of discipline only powerful sects possessed.
Shen Yun stood in the corner of the training field, clutching a wooden sword tightly. He had barely slept the night before, mind still reeling from yesterday's events — Wei Lan's coldness, the polite distance in Li Feng's words, and the strange warmth that flickered in his chest when he remembered how their eyes met.
He didn't know what he was feeling anymore.
All he knew was this: he had to stay. He had to grow strong. And he could trust no one.
Across the courtyard, Li Feng stood on the high terrace, arms crossed.
He hadn't come to observe the disciples. He came to observe him.
Shen Yun.
He had the mark. The power that could tip the balance of the martial world. And yet, Li Feng found himself intrigued in a way that had nothing to do with power.
How does someone so quiet carry such storm in his eyes?
"Your gaze is intense, Young Master," Wei Lan's voice cut in from behind.
Li Feng didn't turn. "Do you have something to say?"
Wei Lan stepped beside him, his smile careful. "I simply wonder why he's allowed to train among the inner disciples so soon. He hasn't even passed the basic assessment."
Li Feng's lips curled slightly. "If you're so concerned, test him yourself."
Wei Lan blinked. "Test?"
Li Feng finally looked at him, cold and calm. "If he's weak, he'll fail. If not, perhaps he deserves his place."
Wei Lan clenched his jaw but bowed. "As you command."
The match was arranged just after the morning drills. Disciples gathered around the stone platform, buzzing with quiet excitement.
Shen Yun stood at the center, wooden sword in hand, facing Wei Lan — a well-known prodigy of the sect, elegant in form but deadly in combat.
"This is unfair," someone whispered.
But Shen Yun didn't flinch. He had fought worse. He had survived fire and loss. This… was just another fight.
Wei Lan smiled politely as he stepped onto the platform. "I'll go easy on you," he said. "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face."
Shen Yun said nothing.
The match began.
Wei Lan lunged forward, fast. Shen Yun barely blocked the first strike, wood cracking against wood. He stumbled back.
Another slash — this one aimed at his side. He parried, turned, dodged. Wei Lan was graceful, fluid like water, but Shen Yun was stubborn — moving with pure instinct.
From the terrace, Li Feng watched intently, his fingers twitching at every close call.
He's holding back, Li Feng thought. But why?
A strike grazed Shen Yun's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
The crowd gasped.
Wei Lan tilted his head. "You can surrender, you know. You've lasted longer than I thought."
Shen Yun didn't respond.
Instead, he shifted his stance, closed his eyes for a moment… and then moved.
Fast. Precise.
His next attack wasn't just a block — it was a counter. Wei Lan stumbled, eyes wide.
Shen Yun spun, delivering a strike that landed squarely on Wei Lan's shoulder.
The wooden sword snapped in half.
The courtyard went silent.
Wei Lan's eyes darkened. "Lucky hit," he muttered, and walked off the platform without bowing.
Li Feng's lips twitched. Interesting.
He descended the stairs.
The disciples quickly moved aside as Li Feng approached the platform, his crimson robes trailing behind him.
Shen Yun looked up.
Their eyes met.
"Where did you learn that footwork?" Li Feng asked.
Shen Yun hesitated. "My sect… Crimson Wing."
Li Feng nodded slowly. "Come with me."
In the quiet meditation chamber, Shen Yun sat on the floor as Li Feng poured him tea.
It was strange. The man who had just watched him fight now sat across from him like an old friend.
"You didn't use spiritual energy during the duel," Li Feng said casually.
Shen Yun paused. "I didn't think I needed to."
Li Feng raised a brow. "Modest or cautious?"
Shen Yun looked down. "Both."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Li Feng said softly, "You fight like someone who's lost everything."
Shen Yun's eyes widened. He looked away, fingers tightening around the tea cup.
"…I did."
Li Feng leaned forward. "Then stop fighting like you're alone."
Shen Yun looked up.
"I can teach you," Li Feng said. "You have talent, but no discipline. No path. If you let me… I'll give you both."
Shen Yun didn't know what to say. The man in front of him wasn't cruel, or cold. He seemed sincere.
And yet… something in his eyes felt unreadable.
Why would someone so powerful help a stranger?
Still…
"…Alright," Shen Yun said finally. "I'll learn."
Li Feng smiled.
But behind that smile was a mind already calculating.
Good. Get close. Gain his trust. Let him open the vessel on his own… and then…
But before he could finish that thought — Shen Yun spoke again.
"…Thank you."
It was soft. Real.
Something in Li Feng's chest twisted.
He didn't reply.
He only poured more tea.
That night, Wei Lan stood alone outside the main hall.
He clenched his fists, replaying the fight in his mind. That boy — no background, no history — had beaten him.
And now Li Feng was interested in him?
"Shen Yun…" Wei Lan muttered. "You're not special. You're just… convenient."
His eyes narrowed.
I'll prove it.
In the shadows, a disciple approached quietly. "Senior Wei… the scroll you asked for."
Wei Lan took it, eyes gleaming with cold intent.
"Let's see what secrets you're hiding… Crimson Wing boy."
Meanwhile…
Shen Yun stood alone in the guest room, staring at his mark. It pulsed faintly under the moonlight, as if responding to something… someone.
He thought of Li Feng's words. His offer.
For the first time in days… he felt hope.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning echoed — a memory of his master's voice:
"Don't trust too easily… The flames that warm you now can burn you later."
And yet, despite the warning, Shen Yun lay down and whispered:
"…Maybe I'm just tired of running."
Outside, the wind howled — like a storm waiting to come.
End of Chapter 5