Chapter 7 - A Test of Spirit and Cultivation
Lin Ye reappeared on the lower forest paths—scratched, a bit out of breath, but very much alive. Dappled light poured through the canopy in slanted streaks, painting the forest floor in shifting golds and greens. The air was still, thick with the breath of old trees. No birdsong, no breeze—only the low hum of spiritual energy, quiet and pulsing beneath their feet.
He rounded a slope of mossy stone—and there they were. Lin Shen and Mu Fan stood just ahead, already scanning the ground.
They'd split up earlier to cover more ground, but somehow, they'd all ended up here again.
His cousin, Lin Shen, knelt nearby, eyes locked on a faint disturbance in the moss. He leaned closer—and there it was: a single glowing pawprint, delicate and precise, as if the spirit beast had stepped through moonlight itself. He inspected it with exaggerated seriousness.
Mu Fan—nervous as always, sleeves perpetually wrinkled—clutched a handmade charm tightly in both hands, his gaze fixed on the same spot.
Lin Ye cleared his throat softly and offered a casual, "Hey," but neither turned nor responded. Mu Fan glanced at him briefly, then immediately shifted his gaze back to the glowing pawprint.
"Did either of you see a rabbit spirit go this way?" Lin Ye asked, brushing a twig from his collar, voice light and airy.
Lin Shen didn't look up. "I saw you earlier. Charging deep into the forest."
"I was chasing a fox," Lin Ye replied, a little too casually. "Then had to stop someone from swan-diving into a ravine."
Mu Fan's eyes widened. "Wait—what happened? Is someone hurt?"
"Only my pride," Lin Ye sighed, placing one hand dramatically over his chest. "And possibly my chance at impressing anyone important today."
Mu Fan blinked—his crooked smile almost returning. "You saw someone? In that state?"
"We can talk about that later," Lin Ye said quickly, straightening up. "Let's keep our chase. We have to win."
Lin Shen finally looked at him—blinking like Lin Ye had just grown an extra head. "Are you serious right now?"
But before he could say more, something else caught his eye—a second mark in the earth. Not glowing like the first, but recent. The moss was still pressed down, and faint claw points were visible in the soil. He crouched again, fingers grazing its edges.
He straightened, face sharpening.
"Less whining. That's from a spirit weasel. Recent. Come on—we're not far now."
The three boys crept deeper into the woods, spirits high, moving like a single unit. Behind them, the chaos of the trial faded until it was only a faint echo. The forest here was hushed—not dead, but watchful. No rustling leaves, no distant calls. Just the soft crunch of boots on damp earth and the occasional drip of unseen water threading through stone.
They moved in silence, breath steady, spiritual presence drawn inward. The air pressed in gently—like the forest itself was waiting.
Then—a flicker.
A low shimmer crossed the path ahead.
The beast leapt into view like mist catching firelight—part fox, part lynx, its limbs long and graceful, its fur gleaming like melted pearl. Feathers fanned out at the tip of its tail, iridescent and shifting between pale rose and violet-blue. It moved like a spirit between worlds, each step leaving a faint shimmer on the grass, as if moonlight clung to its wake.
Mu Fan's mouth parted, breath catching. "That's… beautiful." He whispered it like a prayer, not wanting to break the moment.
Even Lin Shen, ever stone-faced, exhaled softly. "Whoa."
Lin Ye's eyes gleamed. "That's it. That's the one. We catch it—we win."
Lin Shen didn't take his eyes off the creature.
"Be quiet. And very careful."
The beast flicked its ears—then darted again, silent and swift as starlight on water.
Suddenly—it was gone.
The boys froze, eyes wide in disbelief, scanning the shadows where the creature had vanished.
Lin Ye blinked, breath hitching. "What—where did it go?"
Mu Fan swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. "It just... vanished?"
Lin Shen's jaw tightened, gaze narrowing. "No time to wonder."
The chase began.
They had followed the faint threads of spiritual energy for what felt like ages—tracking the elusive presence through thick undergrowth and half-dissolved footprints. But the trail kept breaking, slipping through their senses like fog through fingers.
Eventually, they stopped.
Mu Fan rested his hands on his knees, breath shallow. His shoulders slumped, and his head dipped—not just tired, but quietly disheartened.
"I didn't fight in the duel," he muttered, mostly to himself. "And now maybe I can't even catch a spirit beast..."
Lin Shen didn't respond, but his gaze flicked toward his friend. His lips pressed into a tight line.
Lin Ye looked between them, then straightened. His eyes gleamed with mischief and sudden resolve. "Then we chase the fox spirit," he declared.
Mu Fan lifted his head. "Huh?"
Lin Ye's grin widened. "It's fast, yes—but not impossible. I say we give it one last go."
Lin Shen gave a small, reluctant nod.
Mu Fan hesitated… then exhaled and did the same.
Without a word, they exchanged glances—years of friendship allowing them to speak without speaking. Lin Ye flicked two fingers forward; Lin Shen gave a sharp nod; Mu Fan tapped his sleeve once, then pressed his palm to the ground. Silent signals. A quiet pact.
Then—movement. A pulse in the air, like the forest inhaled, and the leaves shimmered faintly, stirred by soundless breath.
The fox-lynx spirit shimmered back into view, crouched between tree roots, half-hidden by light and mist.
They reacted instantly—eyes locking, hands giving the smallest gestures. Lin Shen motioned left. Mu Fan touched two fingers to the charm at his waist. Lin Ye's brows rose in a silent "ready?" The other two gave the faintest nods.
They moved.
They ran—ducking beneath twisted roots, leaping over fallen branches, careful not to trigger the traps left by other competitors. The spirit-beast skimmed across a shallow stream, then bounded up a mossy boulder in one graceful motion.
Lin Shen veered left, cutting off its path with precise steps. Mu Fan tossed his charm in a glowing arc, sending a pulse of harmless energy that curved around the clearing—herding, not threatening.
Lin Ye slid beneath a fallen log, popped up on the other side—and found himself just a breath away from the creature.
He didn't raise a weapon.
Instead, he held out one hand, and let warmth rise in his palm—not aggressive, but inviting. His voice dropped low, steady.
"Not here to harm you," he said. "Just need to borrow your company."
The beast hesitated. Its ears flicked, and its eyes—gentle and luminous—fixed on his.
Then—stillness.
A soft hum filled the air, like the quiet ringing of a distant chime.
Mu Fan and Lin Shen stepped forward, slow and deliberate, hands lowered. The boys aligned themselves around the creature—not to trap, but to guide. Together, their spiritual auras softened, resonating like three notes in harmony.
The energy between them flowed in one unified rhythm—calm, balanced, safe.
The fox-lynx spirit tilted its head, as if hearing a song only it could understand.
Then it took a step. Then another.
It moved forward, following Lin Ye with the curious ease of moonlight drawn by tide
When the three boys emerged from the woods—scratched, muddy, and grinning—the spirit-beast followed like a ripple of mist, silent and surreal.
The trial grounds were alive with movement—some disciples still chasing shadows, others standing empty-handed and frustrated.
As Lin Ye, Mu Fan, and Lin Shen passed a group of Shuilan Pavilion disciples, the senior cultivators turned their heads.
Their gazes followed the spirit-beast—and then shifted to the boys guiding it.
A few gave subtle nods. Others smiled faintly, their expressions touched with quiet respect.
Lin Shen caught the looks and murmured out to Lin Ye the side of his mouth, "Fix your robes and hair. You're about to meet the judges looking like you lost a wrestling match with a tree."
Lin Ye snorted. "I was in a chase competition. I'll clean up when I go home and sleep for two days."
Mu Fan gave a teasing smirk. "Maybe fix your hair a little before we meet the Shuilan disciples. What if the young master is there?"
Lin Ye shot him a glare. "I don't care."
But Mu Fan only leaned closer, eyes playful. "You sure? Maybe you don't want to look like a wild gremlin rolled through a river in front of your idol."
Lin Ye rolled his eyes, lips twitching. "He's not my idol. Besides that Shuilan Master owes me. I saved his life earlier."
Lin Shen stopped walking. His eyes narrowed. 'Wait—you saved the Shuilan Master?' Like... actually saved him?"
Mu Fan's jaw dropped slightly. "The one you stopped from swan-diving into a ravine?"
Lin Ye nodded, lips twitching in that half-grin, half-pout way he always did when he wanted attention but pretended not to. "Yeah, well… I didn't get a thank-you."
They both stared at him.
Mu Fan stepped closer. "What happened? Tell us—"
Lin Ye cut him off with a dramatic yawn. "Nope. Gonna eat first. Then rest. Then maybe I'll talk."
And with that, he picked up the pace, striding ahead with the creature trotting beside him like a loyal ghost.
"Lin Ye!" Mu Fan called. "Hey! Slow down!"
Lin Shen sighed and shook his head.
Mu Fan nodded and called after him again. "Wait, hey! You're just going to drop that and walk away?"
The two of them exchanged a look—half-exasperated, half-amused—before jogging to catch up.
Ahead of them, Lin Ye walked with his hands behind his head, whistling to himself, the picture of smug satisfaction. But there was a glint in his eyes that never stayed still—part laughter, part something unreadable.
Like always.