By the next morning, the whispers had become a storm. Every courtyard echoed with his name.
"The cripple who mastered Seven Stars overnight."
"The boy who teaches while fighting."
"Or perhaps… the shadow of a demon in disciple's robes."
No matter how they spoke it—praise or venom—one thing was certain: no one ignored Lin Xuan now.
Wu Ming followed him, grumbling loudly. "Senior Brother, you've officially broken the sect's favorite pastime. They can't laugh at you anymore, so now they invent ghost stories."
Lin Xuan said nothing. His calm eyes scanned the courtyard. The laughter had died, but envy sharpened into a new weapon: suspicion. And suspicion, if nurtured by the wrong hands, could kill as surely as any blade.
That afternoon, an Outer Sect instructor arrived with a folded scroll. His expression was stiff.
"Lin Xuan," he barked, "report to the Elder Council chamber at sunset."
Gasps rippled among disciples. Few Outer Sect names ever reached the elders, and when they did, it was seldom for rewards.
Wu Ming nearly swallowed his tongue. "Elders?! Senior Brother, you either just earned a palace of treasures… or they're going to incinerate you!"
Lin Xuan accepted the scroll without a change of expression. "Then we'll see which."
At sunset, the chamber doors opened. Ancient cedar beams towered above, carved with runes that hummed faintly with qi. Seven elders sat in a crescent, robes heavy with authority, faces carved from stone.
Lin Xuan stepped onto the jade floor, bowing calmly.
Elder Ji, his beard like falling snow, spoke first. "Lin Xuan. Outer Sect disciple. Rumors swirl like smoke around your name. Some call you gifted. Others call you heretic. Tell us—how do you explain yourself?"
Lin Xuan's gaze was steady. "There is nothing to explain. I watch. I learn. I correct mistakes. If that seems impossible, perhaps it is because others refuse to see clearly."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
One elder leaned forward, eyes sharp as knives. "Arrogant. He speaks as though the rest of the sect is blind!"
Another chuckled softly. "Or perhaps he simply has eyes keener than most. Shouldn't such clarity be nurtured?"
The council divided at once.
Faction One: "He is too strange. To replicate sword forms instantly, to guide formations without study… it reeks of demonic possession. Better to purge a hidden threat than regret later."
Faction Two: "Nonsense. If he thrives where others falter, it is talent. Our sect needs more like him. Shall we crush a seed that might grow into a great tree?"
Voices clashed, sharp as swords. Some argued for suppression, others for protection.
At the edge of the chamber, Meng Zhao stood as a "witness," his Core disciple robes immaculate, his expression humble. He bowed.
"Honored elders, I speak only for the safety of the sect. Lin Xuan's… unnatural gifts disturb the peace of the Outer Court. Already, disciples whisper of sorcery. If we allow this to fester, envy and fear will consume the sect from within."
His words were honey over poison. Several elders nodded grimly.
Lin Xuan met his gaze once, calmly. He said nothing.
Elder Ji raised his hand, silencing the chamber. His voice was heavy with authority.
"Enough. The boy will not be punished—for now. But he will be tested. If his gifts are truth, let them serve the sect. If they are false, they will be exposed in trial."
Murmurs of agreement filled the hall.
Ji's eyes locked on Lin Xuan. "Prepare yourself. The sect has a mission in three days. You will join it. If you succeed, whispers will fade. If you fail… the sect will judge."
Lin Xuan bowed once, expression unchanged. Inside, his pulse was steady, but his thoughts sharpened.
A mission. No ordinary trial—this is Meng Zhao's blade hidden in the elders' decree.
As he left the chamber, Wu Ming darted to his side, eyes wide. "Senior Brother! They're sending you on a mission? Already? That's either a trap, or…"
"Both," Lin Xuan said quietly.
The bells tolled in the distance, echoing across the mountains. Shadows stretched long over the sect halls.
For the first time, Lin Xuan realized—he was no longer playing only against petty disciples. The elders' eyes were upon him now.