The outer courtyard buzzed with the sounds of midseason drills. Shadows shifted beneath the training pavilions as dozens of outer disciples moved in coordinated stances, feet pounding against packed earth. Instructors barked corrections. The sun, high and white, spilled heat onto every stone tile.
Kai moved in rhythm, his limbs controlled, his breathing deep. His muscles no longer screamed like they had once. Now they hummed—a low, ever-present readiness beneath the skin. With every movement, he could feel the flow of strength through his limbs, growing sharper, denser, more precise.
He was improving. Stronger. Faster. More aware. But not softer. Not warmer. The longer he remained here, the more the cold settled in his chest like a second heart.
"Keep your stance level, deadweight," someone muttered near him. A boy he didn't know. One of the louder ones. Always surrounded by laughter that faded when instructors neared. Kai said nothing. He adjusted his form, silent and sharp. The boy scoffed and moved away. It wasn't the first comment that week. It wouldn't be the last.
He could feel it now. The subtle shift. How his silence, once a shield, was becoming a target. They didn't like him. He was too quiet. Too distant. Too strange. They didn't understand why he never sparred at full strength, or how he always finished drills without breaking. So they filled the gaps with suspicion. Then jealousy. Then hate.
Kai filed it all away. Quietly. Carefully. Let them talk. Let them watch. He'd remember every word, every glance, every breath.
---
That evening, he skipped the mess hall and found a quiet patch of grass near the inner garden walls. The trees here grew taller, older. Their roots knotted through mossy stone and traced paths that led to nowhere. The scent of flowering spirit grass mingled with distant incense smoke. Crickets chirped beneath the cooling canopy of twilight.
He sat beneath one of the oldest trees, arms folded, breath steady. The voice in his mind had returned lately, but less often. More like a whisper that passed in the corner of his awareness. It spoke rarely now. But its presence lingered, coiled deep behind his thoughts. Watching. Waiting.
He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to settle. A long breath. In. Out. Let the noise fade.
"Didn't think you were the meditating type."
The voice was real. Not in his mind.
Kai opened his eyes slowly.
A girl stood nearby, arms folded across her waist. Her dark braid hung over one shoulder, the edge of her outer robe catching the wind. Calm, composed, assessing him like a puzzle she half-solved already.
Lin Yue.
He'd seen her before—in classes, across training grounds, at meals. She rarely spoke unless spoken to. Held herself with quiet authority, the kind that didn't shout to be heard. Others watched her the way they watched swordmasters, unsure whether they were about to be cut or instructed.
"I prefer quiet places," Kai said, his tone neutral.
Yue raised a brow. "You hide well for someone who stands out."
He blinked. "Do I?"
"You do." She stepped closer, not invading, just present. "Most people try to blend in because they want to survive. You do it because you don't want to be known."
Kai didn't answer. Her words weren't wrong. He watched her gaze flick to the bruises near his knuckles. The fading scrapes along his wrists. The fine posture, despite it all. She was reading him like a formation map.
"They're starting to test you," she said.
"I know."
"And you let them."
"For now."
She studied him a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly. "I thought you might be spineless," Yue admitted. "But maybe you're just patient."
Kai tilted his head. "Why are you talking to me?"
She smirked faintly. "Because curiosity is stronger than caution. And I don't like unanswered questions."
Her gaze lingered for another breath before she turned to leave. But after a few steps, she paused.
"There's a cultivation challenge next week. Small. Quiet. Held near the back ranges. Only body tempering disciples. No instructors. They think it's for bragging rights. But the strong get noticed."
She didn't look back when she added:
"Show up. Or don't. Either way, I'll know what you are."
Kai watched her silhouette vanish among the trees. He didn't move for a long time. The grass beneath him felt colder now. Not from her presence. From the decision that had just been made.
He would show up.
Not for her.
For himself.
---
The following days passed under a veil of new weight. The taunts didn't stop. If anything, they grew more frequent. Small jabs. Shoves in the corridor. A cup knocked from his hand. Nothing major. Just persistent. Intentional.
He said nothing.
But his eyes grew colder.
Yue didn't approach him again. But he caught her watching once. During sparring, when he deflected a strike that should have broken his balance, she watched. Said nothing. But he felt it.
Others began to take note too. The way his robes never looked rumpled despite how much he trained. How he never limped. Never panted. Just existed, quiet and unmoved.
The night before the challenge, Kai sat beneath the same tree again. The stars hung low and bright, shimmering with quiet indifference.
The voice stirred.
**Are you going to keep pretending forever?**
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.