Zhou Wei smelled incense before he heard anything.
Not the clean kind used in morning rites, but the thick, cloying sort burned too long, sweet to the point of nausea. It hung in the corridor like a damp cloth pressed over the nose. He slowed without realizing it, the wooden tray in his hands suddenly heavier.
Night patrols were supposed to be quiet.
The Clear Stream Sect liked to pretend discipline flowed through its halls like water orderly, pure, unbroken. Servants like Zhou Wei existed to keep that illusion polished. Sweep the floors. Refill the lamps. Deliver offerings. Don't look. Don't listen.
Especially don't listen.
A sound slipped through the incense.
A muffled breath. Sharp. Panicked.
Zhou Wei stopped.
The corridor ahead curved toward the guest chambers where inner disciples stayed when they wanted privacy. Elder Zhang had taken one earlier that evening. Zhou Wei remembered because he'd been ordered to carry the incense himself, bowing low as the elder passed.
"Go," Zhang had said mildly. "You're done here."
Zhou Wei should have gone.
Instead, he stood there, heart ticking faster, fingers tightening around the tray until the wood creaked.
Another sound. Softer this time. A whimper, quickly swallowed.
"No…" a woman whispered. The word cracked in the middle, like it had been stepped on.
Zhou Wei's stomach turned.
His feet moved before his mind caught up.
The door to the chamber was half-closed, lantern light leaking out in a thin yellow blade. Zhou Wei told himself he was only checking only making sure nothing was wrong. Elders were righteous. The sect said so. Elder Zhang especially. Known for discipline. Known for purity.
That was what made the scene inside feel unreal, like a badly written dream.
The incense burner lay tipped over, ash scattered across the floor like dirty snow. A young woman was pressed against the wall, half-dressed, hair loose and tangled. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. A new inner disciple Zhou Wei recognized the pale blue trim of her robe.
Elder Zhang stood in front of her.
His outer robe was still perfectly arranged. Only his hands betrayed him one gripping her wrist hard enough that Zhou Wei could see the skin whitening beneath his fingers, the other cupping her chin, forcing her face up.
"Lower your voice," Zhang said calmly. "This is for your own good."
She shook her head, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Please… Elder… I don't understand, I-"
Zhang sighed, as if disappointed. "Naive child. You think cultivation is free? That purity alone grants favor?"
His thumb brushed her lower lip. She flinched.
Zhou Wei's vision tunneled. His ears rang. He tasted metal.
He had seen cruelty before. Servants saw everything disciples kicked for spilling tea, beaten for asking questions. But this… this was wrapped in righteousness, spoken with the tone of instruction.
That was what made it unbearable.
The girl turned her head suddenly.
Her eyes met Zhou Wei's.
For half a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then Elder Zhang followed her gaze.
The calm slid off his face like a mask.
"Oh," he said softly.
Zhou Wei's body locked up. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs felt carved from stone.
"How long have you been standing there?" Zhang asked.
Zhou Wei's mouth opened. No sound came out.
The elder released the girl, who sagged against the wall, sobbing silently, arms wrapped around herself. Zhang stepped toward Zhou Wei, movements unhurried.
"I told you to leave," Zhang said. His voice was still mild, still reasonable. "Servants should know when they're dismissed."
"I.. - I didn't-" Zhou Wei swallowed. "I heard something. I thought-"
"You thought," Zhang repeated. His eyes were cold now. Assessing. Calculating.
Zhou Wei realized, dimly, that this wasn't the first time.
Zhang smiled.
"That's unfortunate."
The next moment exploded into motion.
Zhang's hand snapped out. Zhou Wei felt the impact before he saw it an invisible force slamming into his chest, lifting him off his feet. The tray shattered against the wall. Wood splinters bit into his arms as he crashed to the floor.
Pain detonated through his ribs. He gasped, air refusing to come.
"Mercyy-!" the girl cried weakly.
"Quiet," Zhang said.
Zhou Wei rolled onto his side, coughing, vision swimming. He tried to push himself up. Failed. His arms shook uselessly beneath him.
"You saw something you shouldn't have," Zhang continued, stepping closer. "That leaves me with two problems."
Zhou Wei looked up at him, eyes burning.
"One," Zhang said, raising a finger, "loose tongues."
The finger lowered.
"Two," Zhang said calmly, "witnesses."
Zhou Wei's heart slammed against his ribs. Panic surged, hot and wild.
He rolled, scrambling, fingers clawing at the stone floor. Another invisible blow struck his back, sending him skidding forward. Something cracked maybe stone, maybe bone. White-hot pain flared down his spine.
He screamed.
The corridor ahead yawned open dark, narrow, sloping downward.
The forbidden caves.
Zhou Wei didn't think. He crawled, then staggered, then ran, feet slipping on ash and blood. He heard Zhang behind him, footsteps unhurried, confident.
"You won't get far," the elder called. "You're injured."
The cave mouth swallowed Zhou Wei whole.
Darkness crashed down around him, thick and wet. The air smelled wrong—old water, rot, something metallic that coated the tongue. He stumbled, caught himself on the wall, palms scraping against cold stone.
Another blow grazed past him, shattering rock inches from his head. Stone fragments rained down, cutting his cheek.
Zhou Wei didn't stop.
He didn't know where he was going. Only that stopping meant dying.
The cave sloped sharply downward. His foot missed purchase. The ground vanished.
He fell.
The world turned inside out. He hit stone, rolled, hit again. Pain flared everywhere at once. Something tore in his side. He tasted blood, thick and coppery.
At last, he stopped.
Silence rushed in, broken only by his ragged breathing.
Zhou Wei lay there, chest heaving, staring into nothing. His body felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Warmth spread beneath him blood pooling slowly.
Footsteps echoed above.
Measured. Unhurried.
Zhang appeared at the edge of the chamber, lantern light spilling down like judgment. He looked almost disappointed.
"Still breathing," he said. "You're persistent."
Zhou Wei tried to speak. His throat burned. No sound came out.
Zhang raised his hand.
"I can't allow rumors," he said. "The sect would misunderstand."
The lantern light flickered.
For the briefest instant, Zhou Wei felt something else beneath the pain.
Hatred.
Not wild rage. Not fear.
A cold, focused loathing that cut through the chaos like a blade.
He saw Elder Zhang as he truly was not righteous, not pure, just another man hiding rot behind robes and rules. And he saw himself, bleeding on the floor, disposable.
Something inside Zhou Wei snapped into place.
The cave trembled.
Zhang's expression changed. "What-"
The lantern shattered.
Darkness surged, thicker than before. Zhou Wei felt himself falling not physically, but inward, dragged toward something deep and waiting.
The last thing he saw before everything went black was Elder Zhang's face finally afraid.