The sect learned to lie to itself.
Zhou Wei noticed it in the way conversations cut off mid-sentence, in the way eyes slid away too quickly when certain names were mentioned. After the failed summons, tension did not explode. It settled. Sank into corners. Curled behind doors.
That was worse.
He spent the morning doing work that did not need to be done. Recounting inventory that had already been counted. Replacing roof tiles that were not cracked. Mundane tasks made him invisible, and invisibility gave him time.
Time to listen.
Desire Sense brushed against the sect gently, never lingering long enough to be noticed. He caught fragments as he moved. Old fear resurfacing. Old resentment stirred awake. Regret that had never been allowed to speak.
Elder Zhang's name hovered at the edge of many of them.
Not spoken. Felt.
Zhou Wei followed the trail where it led, not directly, not obviously. He began with the storerooms and servant quarters, the places where people spoke when they thought no one important was listening. He did not ask questions. He complained.
Complaints invited agreement.
"He's stricter lately," Zhou Wei muttered one afternoon as he stacked crates beside an older woman whose hands shook from years of work.
She snorted quietly. "Strict is a polite word."
Zhou Wei said nothing. He waited.
The woman glanced around, then leaned closer, voice dropping. "It's not new. Just louder now."
"Louder how," Zhou Wei asked, keeping his tone careless.
She hesitated, fingers tightening on the crate edge. "You didn't hear this from me."
"I won't hear anything," Zhou Wei replied.
That earned a thin smile.
"There was a girl," the woman said. "Years ago. Before you came. Served the inner halls. Quiet. Same as the rest."
Zhou Wei felt the warmth inside him tighten, attentive.
"She disappeared," the woman continued. "They said she ran. Took coins and fled. But no one runs without shoes. Or a cloak."
Zhou Wei nodded slowly. "Who last saw her."
The woman did not answer immediately. When she did, her voice was barely audible.
"Zhang."
The word landed heavy.
Zhou Wei thanked her and moved on before silence grew suspicious. He did not press. Pressure made people retreat. He needed threads, not confessions.
By midday, he had three.
A junior servant who remembered cleaning blood from a corridor and being told it was from an injured disciple.
A former outer disciple who left the sect abruptly after refusing an elder's "guidance."
A cook who had been paid extra to forget a scream.
None of it was proof.
Together, it was a pattern.
Zhou Wei retreated to the herb sheds and thought. The Heavenly Purity inspection loomed closer now, its presence felt even when unseen. Zhang would not act openly under that scrutiny.
Which meant he would act quietly.
Zhou Wei needed something that could not be dismissed as rumor.
He found it by accident.
Late afternoon rain drove most people indoors. Zhou Wei took shelter near the old records room, a narrow space rarely used now that the sect preferred newer halls. The door stood ajar, left open by someone careless or in a hurry.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old ink.
Zhou Wei hesitated only a moment before slipping in.
Scrolls lined the walls, stacked without order. Disciplinary records. Assignment logs. Reassignment notices. Most were dull. Names, dates, seals.
He moved carefully, fingers skimming parchment until something caught.
A reassignment record from twelve years ago.
A servant transferred to outer duties, effective immediately.
No destination listed.
No follow-up record.
Zhou Wei's pulse quickened. He checked the seal. Elder Zhang's personal mark.
That alone meant little. Elders signed many documents.
He searched further.
Another record. Five years later. Similar wording. Same missing destination. Same seal.
Three names.
Three disappearances.
Zhou Wei copied the seals in his mind, then replaced the scrolls exactly as he had found them. He left without a trace, rain masking his footsteps.
By the time he reached the south wall, the sky had darkened again. Mei Lin was waiting, eyes sharp.
"You're late," she said.
"Yes."
She studied him. "You found something."
"Yes."
He did not tell her everything. Not yet. He gave her what she needed.
"He's done this before," Zhou Wei said. "More than once."
Her jaw tightened. "And the sect let it happen."
"The sect did not look," Zhou Wei replied. "That's different. And useful."
"How."
"Because Heavenly Purity looks," he said.
Mei Lin was quiet for a long moment.
"He'll try to silence people," she said finally.
"Yes."
"Starting with me."
"Starting with anyone who threatens control," Zhou Wei corrected.
She straightened. "Then we don't hide anymore."
"Not openly," Zhou Wei said. "But we prepare."
He met her gaze. "If you are summoned again, you do not refuse. You delay. You insist on witnesses. You make noise without accusing."
Her eyes narrowed. "And you."
"I gather more," he said. "Enough that when he moves, it looks like desperation."
She exhaled slowly. "You're building a net."
"Yes."
Outside, footsteps passed, heavier than before. A patrol. Zhang was tightening his grip.
Zhou Wei felt the elder's intent sharpen somewhere in the sect, cold and focused now. Not irritation.
Decision.
That was fine.
Evidence had weight.
And weight pulled things down when they fell.