The days after the Ember Hall summons passed quietly. Too quietly.
The sect didn't call Lin Tian in for further questioning. No new punishments were issued. No inner court inquisitors came pounding at his door. Elder Hu didn't send any fresh hell disguised as labor duty.
And that, in itself, was the problem.
"This is what's known as the calm before the face-smashing," Chen Mu said from the ring, which hung lazily on Lin Tian's finger as the disciple swept the courtyard outside the storage hall.
Lin Tian said nothing. His eyes flicked toward the far side of the stone path, where two outer sect disciples were pretending to talk. But their eyes never really left him.
"That's the third time today," Chen Mu added. "Same guys?"
"Yes," Lin Tian said softly. "They're not subtle."
"They're not supposed to be. That's the point. They want you to know you're being watched."
Lin Tian moved the broom in slow, measured arcs, pushing the same leaves across the stones again and again.
Chen Mu watched through the ring's awareness.
"They don't know what to do with you," he continued. "Too weak to be a threat. Too visible to ignore. So now they're playing the game: make you paranoid, make you crack."
"I won't."
"No, you won't. But that's not the game they're actually playing. They don't want you to break. They want you to react."
Lin Tian paused, then moved the leaves back the other way.
"I should act like I belong."
Chen Mu perked up. "Now you're thinking like a real cultivator."
[+2 BP for disciple manipulation through paranoia.]
"You want them confused," Chen Mu said. "Afraid. Let's throw some mystery on this fire. Talk to no one, except to correct them. Say less. Stare more. Look distant, like you're listening to your master's guidance from the spirit realm."
"I already do that."
"Yes, but now do it dramatically."
[+3 BP for spiritual fashion advice.]
They moved through the day like that—carefully, slowly, making sure every gesture said "I know something you don't."
Lin Tian didn't speak unless spoken to.
He offered no bows unless required.
He corrected two junior disciples on their formation alignment with a single sentence—softly spoken, but correct enough that they looked at him with wide eyes and whispered after he left.
Chen Mu practically vibrated with smug satisfaction.
"I could get used to this," he muttered.
By nightfall, they'd earned several stares, two respectful nods, and a very awkward inquiry from a senior outer disciple who asked, "Has the artifact spirit… awakened again?"
Lin Tian just smiled faintly and walked away.
[+4 BP for implied mystical presence.]
Back at the hut, Lin Tian began cultivation.
The familiar warmth filled his lower dantian, cycling more smoothly now, and Chen Mu watched closely as the energy drifted up the spine before curling back to center.
"You've plateaued," Chen Mu said. "You're on the edge of Mid-stage."
"I can feel it," Lin Tian said. "But it's like the energy disperses too soon."
Chen Mu flipped through the system manual. "That's because your third minor meridian isn't stable yet. It bends when it should bow. We need to train the flow to compress slightly as it rises."
"Can you show me how?"
"I can read you a diagram."
"That's not the same."
"Tough. My fingers are imaginary."
Chen Mu projected the image into Lin Tian's mental space—an overlay of the energy pathways and the manual's notes beside it.
"Right there," Chen Mu said. "See that curve? You're too open. Tension will help hold it."
Lin Tian nodded and began the cycle again, this time tightening the movement of the energy, using breath and pressure to control the flow.
It held.
Not perfectly, but longer than before.
"You're getting it."
"I just wish it didn't feel like walking on thin ice with no boots."
"That's cultivation," Chen Mu said. "Only the ice is your soul and the boots are humility."
[+2 BP for metaphorical cultivation guidance.]
They trained until Lin Tian's robes were soaked with sweat and his fingers trembled. Then he sat back, panting, letting the internal glow fade slowly.
A knock came.
Not loud.
Not urgent.
Just… present.
Chen Mu dimmed.
Lin Tian opened the door to find a disciple he didn't recognize—a boy with delicate features and a nervous expression.
He bowed low. "Outer Disciple Lin Tian?"
"Yes."
"I've been asked to deliver a message. From Instructor Yan."
Chen Mu whispered, "That's one of Elder Hu's lieutenants. Mid-tier. Handles sect resource distribution."
The boy offered a scroll, still sealed.
Lin Tian opened it.
"You are hereby assigned to supervise tomorrow's basic formations class for entry-level disciples. Your 'unique insights' have drawn attention. You will be watched."
Chen Mu stared at the text.
"Okay," he said. "That's a test."
"Obviously."
"No—I mean it's a test within a test. They want to see how you act with authority. And they want to see if you slip."
Lin Tian's grip tightened.
"What do I do?"
Chen Mu chuckled. "You teach. With confidence. You don't say anything direct about your 'master,' but you quote me liberally. And you make sure whatever you say sounds like the word of a dead sage."
[+3 BP for spiritual pedagogy.]
The next morning, Lin Tian stood before seven junior disciples in the outer formation yard. They ranged in age from twelve to fifteen, all in new robes, all holding brushes for drawing spiritual runes.
He was handed a teaching slip with basic outline: posture, brush control, Qi infusion 101.
The instructor, a tired-looking man with gray temples, stood nearby with arms crossed, watching.
Chen Mu floated quietly. "Alright. Time to fake being ancient."
Lin Tian addressed the class.
"When drawing a ward, your hand must be steady—but your spirit steadier. If you draw with fear, your brush will stutter. If you draw with arrogance, your stroke will falter."
One of the students raised a hand. "But how do we stay calm if we're not used to it?"
Lin Tian replied without thinking. "The spirit must move before the brush."
He paused.
Chen Mu blinked.
"I didn't tell you that," he whispered.
"It felt right."
The rest of the lesson continued in a haze of quiet awe. Lin Tian walked among the students, correcting stances, offering quiet tips. He quoted from the manual where he could and improvised when he couldn't.
And the instructor said nothing.
Until the end.
As the students bowed and filed out, the instructor approached.
"You spoke well," he said. "Too well for someone of your rank."
Lin Tian bowed. "Thank you, honored instructor."
"I heard you've been receiving... guidance."
"I am only a vessel," Lin Tian said. "The words are not mine."
The instructor studied him for a long moment.
Then he walked away.
Chen Mu pulsed slowly.
"That may have been the most sect-appropriate lie I've ever heard."
[+5 BP for elegant deflection under pressure.]
That night, Lin Tian cultivated again.
And this time, the cycle completed three full passes before stuttering.
"You're right there," Chen Mu said. "One more push, and you'll hit Mid."
"Then we keep pushing."
The ring pulsed in quiet agreement.
And outside, two more disciples passed by the hut—neither looking at the door directly, but both slowing their steps just long enough to show they were watching.