A light misty rain fell over the courtyard of Tianhan Sect.
The Inner Pavilion sat on the deeper slope of the mountain, an old building with tight stone walls and windows only shoulder-high.
Inside, Yanzhi sat cross-legged on a bamboo mat. A faint heat pulsed from the fragment embedded in his arm, spreading slowly across his chest. He held his breath, fingers brushing the skin near his pulse—right where the shard rested beneath the surface.
The Spirit (low voice, smooth but calm, getting closer):
"So? How does it feel? Sitting here quietly… while the thing they're all hunting is hidden inside you. You could rise above them, you know—if you're willing."
Yanzhi (a quiet hiss, short murmur):
"You want me dead on the altar? If this seal breaks again, it'll be my head on display at the sect gate."
The spirit chuckled softly, its whisper brushing the back of his neck like cold wind.
The Spirit:
"If you stay weak, you'll die first anyway. But if you're strong… even Elder Fan won't be able to lay a finger on you."
Yanzhi opened his eyes, staring at the half-dim oil lantern flickering in the corner. His fingers gripped his sleeve tightly, pressing down on the heat from the fragment.
Yanzhi (low murmur):
"What do I have to do?"
The spirit hissed with satisfaction.
"Take a deep breath. Let the warmth spread into your veins. That seal fragment—it's not just a cover. It's a tiny gate. You can draw out the energy inside... slowly."
Yanzhi inhaled and held his breath. Both hands rested on his knees as his eyes shut. The faint sound of misty rain outside slipped through the cracks of the window. His breath trembled. The fragment's warmth flowed, then stabbed into the veins of his arms and chest. Pain flared—sharp and biting—but beneath it, a stream of spiritual energy began to rise, threading into his chest.
Suddenly, the pavilion door creaked open. Han Ye stood at the threshold, leaning against the doorframe, his sword slung across his back.
Han Ye (quietly, cold tone):
"What do you think you're doing? You're not supposed to be messing with energy while locked up."
Yanzhi's eyes flew open. His breath caught.
Yanzhi (half-nervous, trying to play it off):
"What else? Just sitting here. If you're gonna guard me, then do it outside."
Han Ye stepped in and shut the door with his shoulder. His gaze was piercing, but his tone had softened, like he was holding something back.
Han Ye:
"Don't lie. You weren't just sitting. Are you trying to burn yourself from the inside out?"
Yanzhi gave a small laugh, though his eyes never left Han Ye's face.
Yanzhi:
"Afraid I'll run away?"
Han Ye sighed, his gaze flickering softer for a moment.
"I'm afraid you'll die first, idiot."
The spirit snickered in Yanzhi's mind, its voice taunting.
The Spirit (in Yanzhi's head only):
"Look at that—your little guard dog showed up. Think he cares? He's just scared he'll get dragged down if you're caught."
Yanzhi tightened his grip on his knees and exhaled slowly, locking eyes with Han Ye.
Yanzhi (quietly, voice strained):
"You don't need to be here, Han Ye. If Elder Fan wants to punish me… I'll take it on my own."
Han Ye moved closer and dropped to one knee in front of him, his voice barely above a whisper.
Han Ye:
"You think I want you dead? If you fall, I fall too. And if you open that crack again, the entire Tianhan Sect could fall with you."
Yanzhi closed his eyes again. The spirit's whisper slipped through once more.
"See? One person behind you. But he can't protect you from everything. The only way out… is to grow stronger."
Yanzhi drew a deep breath and looked straight at Han Ye, eyes sharp.
Yanzhi (low, through clenched teeth, bitter tone):
"If I want to survive… then I only have one choice. I need more power, don't I?"
Han Ye (voice low and cold, eyes piercing):
"If you choose the wrong path, you won't grow stronger—you'll just open a door that should've stayed sealed."
Yanzhi lowered his head, lips trembling with held-back frustration.
Yanzhi (inner thought, heavy, nearly bitter):
"I won't be your pawn… but if this is the only way, then teach me. Just don't lie to me again."
The spirit's reply was soft, its smile practically pressed to the back of his neck.
The Spirit:
"Good. Now you understand who you really need. Don't worry… I'll be right here, guiding you… slowly."
Outside, the night wind tapped against the window. The lantern in the corner flickered out.
Inside Yanzhi's chest, the shard pulsed once more—warm, dangerous, and alive with a growing fire in his veins.
---
A few nights after his confinement, in the Inner Pavilion.
Misty rain drifted down over the stone courtyard. Inside, the lantern was nearly out of oil. Yanzhi sat cross-legged, his breath uneven, face pale. His left hand pressed tightly against his arm, right over the thin skin where the fragment was embedded.
The spirit whispered, its voice hissing low in Yanzhi's mind.
"Just a little more. Breathe deeper. Let the heat flow through your veins. You want power, don't you?"
Yanzhi let out a soft groan. Sweat rolled down his temple.
He muttered inwardly, voice tense in his thoughts.
"Keep talking in my head… When I've had enough, we'll drown together."
The spirit chuckled, mocking.
"You think I'd die with you? If you fail, I'll just find another body."
Yanzhi held his breath. The veins around the fragment pulsed, its warmth spreading toward his chest, burning slowly.
Suddenly—
The pavilion door creaked. Han Ye appeared without a sound, standing at the threshold, eyes sharp.
Han Ye's voice was cold, laced with suspicion.
"Sleeping with your eyes open, Yanzhi?"
Yanzhi opened his eyes, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths.
"I was just breathing," he rasped, pretending to dismiss it. "What now, you're checking if your disciples are still breathing too?"
Han Ye stepped forward, glancing at the bamboo mat and faint incense smoke. His gaze narrowed.
"You were channeling energy, weren't you? Are you trying to kill yourself? These walls can't contain a wild energy surge."
Yanzhi steadied his trembling fingers, pressing down on the fragment beneath his sleeve.
"If I wanted to escape, I would've already. I was just sitting," he said flatly, feigning defiance.
Han Ye took a deep breath, jaw tight.
"If you mess with your energy channels in here, you could cripple yourself. And if that happens, the Sect will use you as a sacrifice to the seal. Do you understand?"
Yanzhi lowered his gaze, breath hissing through his teeth.
The spirit laughed quietly in his mind.
"Perfect. He suspects nothing. Just stay still… I'll guide your meridians tonight."
Yanzhi stared at the dimming lantern, voice bitter in his heart.
"If you try to control me, let's see who breaks first."
Han Ye rested a hand lightly on Yanzhi's shoulder, his voice still cold.
"Stop it. If you die from your own stupidity, I'm the one who gets dragged into the elders' hall. Don't make this harder for the rest of us."
Yanzhi drew a slow breath, casting his eyes down to the floor.
Outside, the mist soaked through the bamboo fences. Rumors about Wei Ren had begun spreading through the guards in the corridor.
The spirit's voice drifted in again.
"Tomorrow the rumors will be worse. Are you ready to stand at the altar… or stand above them all?"
The fragment in Yanzhi's arm pulsed once—warm, dangerous, but to him, the only way to survive.
---
Cold wind swept down from the mountains, carrying a fine mist into the main courtyard. Inside the hall, several disciples stood in orderly lines. Wei Ren stood slightly ahead, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips. Beside him, Bai Lin bowed stiffly, not daring to meet anyone's eyes.
Elder Fan sat on a long stone seat. Beside him stood Lu Ming, arms folded within his robe. Han Ye remained a step behind, sword at his waist, gaze strained as if holding something back.
Elder Fan spoke, his voice cold and flat.
"Several disciples stationed on the path reported a strange mist reappearing in the ravine. Wei Ren claims he heard it himself. Is that true?"
Wei Ren dipped his head slightly, voice sweet yet sharp beneath the surface.
"Yes, Elder. A few disciples heard cracking sounds from the mouth of the valley. They were too afraid to go further. I believe it's evidence the altar seal is weakening. And… some said Yanzhi was seen leaving the Inner Pavilion at night."
Han Ye instantly shot a glare at Wei Ren, breath caught.
"That's nonsense," he said coldly, anger barely contained. "The Pavilion is guarded in shifts. If he'd left, I would've dragged him before Elder Fan myself—yesterday."
Wei Ren feigned surprise, but the corners of his lips curved with smug amusement.
"I'm just repeating what I heard, Senior Han Ye. If it's untrue, I apologize. But if it's not… a cracked seal is no trivial matter."
Elder Fan tapped the stone table with his fingertip, gaze cutting past Han Ye and landing on Lu Ming. His tone grew low and pressing.
"Lu Ming. You led the ravine patrol back then. Can you guarantee your disciple is clean of all this?"
Lu Ming held Elder Fan's gaze, shoulders rising and falling with restrained words.
"Yanzhi's stubborn, yes. But if he opened the seal path again, he'd be the first to die. I know my disciple, Elder Fan."
Wei Ren sighed softly, his voice drifting behind Lu Ming like smoke.
"But if he's tampering with the remains of a broken seal, who takes responsibility if the guardians break loose again? Tianhan Sect could fall because of one reckless disciple."
Han Ye let out a short hiss, eyes sharp on Wei Ren.
"If you're so worried, why don't you go reinforce the seal yourself, Wei Ren? Stop acting like a rotten tongue in the hall."
Wei Ren simply smiled and lowered his head, though his eyes remained fixed on Han Ye, full of mockery.
Elder Fan rose slowly, the brush of his robes scraping the stone floor. His eyes moved between the two men.
"That's enough. If the cracks in the ravine have shifted again, the seal path must be inspected. Lu Ming, prepare a few core disciples. Han Ye… you continue to watch over Yanzhi. If he steps even one foot outside the Pavilion, bring me his head."
Han Ye met Elder Fan's eyes, his breath heavy.
He murmured softly, low enough that only Lu Ming could hear.
"If the cracks have moved again… he's not the one who opened them."
Lu Ming gave Han Ye's arm a gentle pat, as if to steady him.
Meanwhile, far away in the Inner Pavilion, Yanzhi sat slumped on the bamboo mat, breath shallow, eyes half-closed.
The spirit's voice curled at the base of his neck.
"They're too busy pointing fingers. Good. While they bicker, you draw in just a bit more. That gate in the ravine… it's waiting. And you're the key."
The fragment in his arm throbbed again, heat bleeding into his veins.
Outside the window, the misting rain tapped softly—like it too was guarding the secrets behind stone walls.