Gurgle.
Li Shen's stomach voiced its protest, a deep, echoing reminder that cultivation alone could not feed the body. He pressed a hand against his abdomen and exhaled. "Right… even cultivators must eat," he muttered. The faint dusk filtering through the edges of the jade slip on his hand — Cutter's Vital Rhythm. He spared it one last glance before walking.
The sect at dusk was quiet. Pathways paved with pale stone gleamed faintly under lantern light, and the night wind carried the fragrance of blooming spirit lotuses from the inner ponds. Disciples passed by in small groups, their laughter carried softly by the breeze.
As Li Shen turned toward the cafeteria, he collided gently with someone.
"Ah—sorry," he said instinctively, stepping back.
The girl before him blinked, her expression calm but eyes sharp as frost. Her robes bore the same green-trimmed white of the outer disciples, yet they seemed almost regal on her. Her hair, the color of raven feathers, was tied loosely with a silver thread, and a faint scent of plum lingered in the air around her.
"...Li Shen?" she asked after a moment, her voice cool and measured.
Li Shen paused, then nodded. "Lan Xue."
Lan Xue — the name stirred faint memories from the body's past. She had worked beside the previous Li Shen during Ironwood harvesting. Though she rarely spoke, her actions had always been straightforward and loyal. When others mocked him for his slow progress, she simply ignored them and continued working beside him in silence.
Her coldness, Li Shen realized, wasn't arrogance — it was armor.
"Heading to eat?" he asked, testing his words carefully.
She gave a quiet nod. "Mn."
They walked together down the stone path, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps blending with the rustling of spirit leaves. Neither spoke further. Lan Xue seemed comfortable in silence, and Li Shen, cautious not to reveal that he was not the same Li Shen she once knew, kept his words few.
When they reached the cafeteria, the air was thick with the scent of steaming rice and roasted spirit beast meat. The two found a corner table and ate quietly. Around them, other disciples chatted about new cultivation rumors, mission rewards, and sparring duels. For Li Shen, however, the meal was simple — a moment of stillness.
Afterward, Lan Xue rose first. "Bye she said suddenly, eyes lingering on him for a moment.
Before he could reply, she turned and walked away, her silhouette fading into the soft glow of lantern light.
Returning to his quarters, he sat cross-legged on the floor and placed the jade slip before him.
Tracing the breathing patterns described in the jade slip. Li Shen followed them carefully, inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth — steady, rhythmic.
Hours passed. His breath quickened. His mind blurred. Yet the promised steam of awakening breath never appeared.
He gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his brow. "Again…"
But each attempt ended the same — silence, frustration, exhaustion.
At last, near midnight, Li Shen collapsed backward, breathing heavily. His body felt hollow, his mind weary.
He closed his eyes. "Tomorrow, then…" he murmured, voice heavy with fatigue.
The room dimmed. Outside, the moon hung high, pale and distant. The jade slip still at the desk, as if waiting patiently for him to understand its rhythm.