The gates of Green Willow Pavilion stood wide. They did not look like a fortress holding power. They looked like a mouth. Welcoming. Smiling. Waiting to close.
Yan Shen stepped through.
The air changed. It grew clearer, sharper, thick with a scent he could not name. Not incense. Not wood. It was the smell of a place that had long ago decided it was important.
A broad stone courtyard stretched ahead, flanked by perfect gardens and narrow bamboo groves. Tall pavilions lined the edges, painted in deep greens and grays, their tiled roofs curling like dragon spines. The place was beautiful. And wrong. Not loudly. Not obviously. But beneath the perfection, something in the design whispered: We see everything. And we remember.
In the center of the courtyard stood the Welcome Hall.
A dozen cultivators waited there, dressed in the crisp white and green of the outer sect. The Willow sigil was etched in silver on each chest. Their hair was neat. Their posture was perfect. Most looked calm. Two looked bored. One looked hungry-not for food, but for status. His eyes flicked over each new arrival, assessing them like livestock. He smiled too easily, but never for long.
A carved wooden placard hung between two white pillars. The script was precise, filled with dark ink:
✦ **Registration Pavilion – Outer Disciples** ✦
Please present proof of lineage, sect token, or invitation seal.
Combat evaluation follows. No exceptions.
A long table sat beneath the sign. Polished wood held rows of paper slips, jade tablets, and small glowing stones that pulsed with soft Qi. Behind the table stood two young women. Their robes were lined in muted jade, their belts hung with talisman keys. Outer disciples already.
The taller girl offered a polite nod and a faint smile. Her voice was low and almost kind.
The other was expressionless. She did not speak unless required. Her hair was bound tight. Her sleeves were spotless. Her eyes were sharp as needles. If the first girl was welcoming formality, the second was bureaucratic execution.
A line had formed. Fifteen youths stood shifting anxiously. Yan Shen joined the back without a word. He stood behind a trio of boys from a neighboring village. He recognized them. They had passed through Qinghe once, bragging about touching a cultivator's blade.
They whispered among themselves.
"Do you think they'll test our Qi roots again?"
"No, that was for the invitations. This is combat potential."
"I heard someone broke a testing stone last year. Got bumped straight to inner training."
"No way. That's a myth. Probably some sect brat."
Yan Shen said nothing. He watched everything. The movement of the girl's fingers as she adjusted her sleeve. The subtle pause the stern one made when someone offered a forged token. The placement of the guards-not just nearby, but concealed. This was not a welcoming ceremony. This was a filter.
Three people ahead, a thin girl in plain robes stepped up. She presented a small token carved like a leaf. The kind disciple took it with both hands and swept a thread of Qi through it. A pale glow flared.
"Stoneweight Province. Low-grade Earth Root. Accepted." She offered a quiet smile. "You'll begin with the basic breathing trials in the west wing. Instructor Hu Lin will mark you."
The girl bowed, relieved.
Next came a tall boy with clean boots and a practiced grin. He swaggered forward and dropped a thick, polished gold coin onto the table. It glinted in the sun-flashy, oversized, fake.
"My uncle's a guard in the North Pavilion. Told me I could skip the entry test."
A beat of silence.
The expressionless girl did not look up. She raised her jade-ringed hand and tapped a black formation stone embedded in the table.
The coin shattered. Not melted. Not cracked. Turned to dust.
The boy's mouth fell open.
"Fraud. Disqualified. You'll be escorted off sect grounds. Immediately."
No raised voice. No anger. Just procedure.
Two guards emerged from behind a bamboo panel. Their movements were patient, inevitable. The boy tried to argue. "Wait..no, it's real! My uncle..!"
He didn't finish. His scream echoed as they dragged him away. The sound vanished down a hallway.
The line stood silent. Some tried not to look. Others shifted nervously.
Yan Shen's gaze stayed on the black formation stone. His breath was steady. Not at the cruelty. At the efficiency. There were no second chances here. Only vetted entries. Only roles you were allowed to play. He was nothing special. Not yet. And he liked it that way.
His turn came. He stepped forward: no hesitation, no flair. He placed his hands calmly on the edge of the table. The wood was cool.
The smiling disciple glanced up. "Name?"
"Yan Shen."
"Invitation token?"
He shook his head.
"Recommendation?"
"None."
Her brow creased slightly. "Then… how did you..?"
The stern girl touched her arm. "Let him test." That was all. No explanation.
She stood and gestured toward the courtyard's edge. A raised platform held a stone disc inlaid with copper and jade runes
---a Qi Pressure Disc. Etched tiles circled it:
❖ Level 1: Entry Threshold – Minimal Qi
❖ Level 2–4: Common Practitioners
❖ Level 5–6: Core-Rooted Talent
❖ Level 7+: Exceptional Density or Rare Constitution
Most never passed Level Five without rare roots or lineage.
"Pressure test," the cold girl said. "Stand at the center and release your Qi. Not how much. Not how bright. We measure quality and weight. Let it flow."
Yan Shen nodded once. Then walked. He didn't swagger. Didn't slouch. Didn't carry the nerves the others had. He moved like the earth agreed with every step.
The other applicants turned to watch. Some were curious. Some were hopeful. A few smirked. Just another mountain rat. No token. No glow. Nothing special.
He stepped onto the disc. The runes hummed softly. He took a breath. Held it. Then exhaled. Not a roar. Not a burst. A slow, measured leak-a glimpse of what was coiled inside.
The runes lit immediately, flaring past Level Two, hovering around Three.
Some in the crowd chuckled. "Low output. He's barely passing."
But then the formation groaned. The runes darkened - not fading, but compressing. Shrinking inward like gravity had taken hold. A tremor ran beneath the platform. Dust lifted off the edges. The jade spiral began to sink into the stone.
The indicators didn't climb. They didn't need to. The pressure in the air spiked. Dense. Sharp. It felt like trying to breathe underwater.
One boy staggered back. Another rubbed his eyes.
Yan Shen wasn't glowing. He wasn't radiating Qi. He just stood there- a well with no ripples.
The cold girl's eyes narrowed. "Qi level: Three point seven." She checked the dial. "Density reading?"
A faint ring of light circled the outer edge of the disc. She stared at it. Then turned toward the other disciple. "Pressure ratio… above seven. That can't be right."
"That's above Body Refinement realm pressure."
They looked at Yan Shen again. Still calm. Still unmoved.
He stepped down smoothly. The air returned to normal. The formation cooled. The silence remained. Not impressed. Confused.
"Accepted." The cold-eyed girl marked a jade slip. "West Training Ring. Group Five." She paused. "Keep your Qi suppressed during drills. If you disrupt another disciple's rhythm... you'll be punished." Her tone was firm, but her eyes flicked toward the disc one last time.
The West Training Ring was quiet in the early hours. Mist clung to the stone paths. Yan Shen moved through the garden walkways, arms tucked into his sleeves, posture modest. He had been told this was the route to the outer disciple dorm. He went where they directed.
Then someone crashed into him from the side...hard.
A blur of movement. Fabric. Silver trim. A grunt and a thud.
The girl landed on her side, slid a few feet, and came up coughing, a hand on her ribs.
Yan Shen stopped. Not startled. Confused.
She was older- maybe sixteen. Slim, long-limbed, dressed in the refined robes of an inner court disciple. Pale eyes. Cold features. The scent of incense clung to her sleeves.
"…What the hell?" she muttered, staring at him.
He offered a hand. She ignored it. She stood on her own and stepped in close. Very close. Her gaze sharpened.
"What's your realm?"
The question was clipped. Accusatory.
Yan Shen blinked once. "…Early Qi Gathering. Close to Middle. Still accumulating."
She stared. Like the answer was offensive. Then she reached forward and touched his shoulder. Her fingers pressed into the robe-just a tap-and she withdrew slowly.
"You didn't budge," she whispered.
He tilted his head. "You ran into me."
"No. I ran into a wall."
There was a pause. Her weight shifted. Her gaze changed. No longer assessing. Predatory.
She reached out again, brushing her palm along his arm. "You're not body refinement, are you?" Voice low, almost amused.
"No."
Her eyes narrowed. "No treasures. No physique glow. But your bones…" She smiled faintly. "I felt the impact in my teeth."
She stepped in again... Too close- then walked a slow circle around him, fingers trailing the air. Yan Shen didn't move. He felt her presence press in at angles. Like a cold hand measuring a warm bowl.
"You're a little monster in the making. Does anyone know what you are?"
"I'm just here for training."
She laughed once- not cruel, not loud: but it echoed in the empty corridor. "Oh, they'll love you in the Pavilion." She leaned forward, voice breathless. "I will."
Before she turned to leave, she leaned closer and whispered in his ear: "Don't let them take you first."
She was gone the next second- back into the shadows.
Yan Shen stood still for a long moment. He looked down where her fingers had rested. Her grip hadn't been firm. But she made him feel like a piece of meat. Her last words weren't advice. They were a warning.
Ji Suyin walked quickly across the upper courtyard path. Every step was calculated. Every breath was steady. But her left wrist throbbed. Her ribs were bruised. She didn't wince. She didn't limp. But she felt it. Deep.
"If I hadn't just entered the final stage of Body Refinement… that boy would've broken me."
And he wasn't even in Body Refinement yet. No body glow. No external reinforcement. No defensive talismans. Not even a spiritual fluctuation. He'd just stood there calm, still, passive. And she had rebounded like she'd slammed into a sacred pillar.
Her mind raced, but her face remained blank. The way all inner disciples are trained to hide impulse, hunger, danger.
She touched the slim jade slip hidden beneath her sleeve, a recording talisman. It had captured everything. The collision. His Qi. His words. His weight.
But she wouldn't report it. Not yet. Because she had never felt that kind of resistance before- not even from duels in the Core Pavilion.
"That boy… isn't normal."
She thought of his face. Quiet. Calm. Watching. "He doesn't even know where he is yet."
Her lips curled slowly, the pain in her ribs blooming like warmth. "Perfect."
If she moved quickly: made the first move marked him as hers before the elders noticed… she could lock it in. The Pavilion had rules. But ownership? That was about leverage. About claiming a thing before someone else saw its value. And Ji Suyin always noticed value first.
"Let them whisper about Companion Paths and Furnace Paths." She knew what he was. She knew what she wanted. And she'd bleed for it.
Tomorrow, bruises would bloom across her ribs- a deep blue reminder. But tonight? She smiled as she slipped between the bamboo groves. "Next time, I'll touch more carefully."
Moonlight spilled through her lattice window, catching on silk sheets. Ji Suyin sat cross-legged on a jade mat, sleeves loose, hair down. Her breathing was steady, her Qi circulating through the final layers of marrow cleansing, a state that should've brought serenity.
But her mind spiraled back to the collision. To him. Yan Shen. That name pulsed in her mind.
She hadn't needed a second spiritual scan. His realm was barely at Qi Gathering. Yet her bones still ached.
She flexed her fingers, remembering the solid pressure of his body. Her palm had brushed his chest smooth, unarmored, yet it felt like touching star-forged iron beneath silk.
My cultivation couldn't move him… and I'm in the sixth stage of Body Refinement.
It wasn't just strength. It was density. Pressure. Resistance. And the way he'd looked at her like she wasn't worth reacting to. That should have angered her. Instead, it made her stomach twist with dark curiosity.
She shifted on the mat, annoyed. The Qi spiral frayed. Focus wavered.
She tried again. But her thoughts returned to the potential. The uses. Companions, furnaces, dual-pulse anchors, every forbidden path she'd studied. She could feel how he would respond. How his body would amplify hers. What it would mean to own him. To cultivate through him.
She bit her lip, eyes half-lidded. "Mine," she whispered aloud, not out of affection, but claim. A desire not for love. But power.
Tomorrow, she would begin weaving the trap. Carefully. Slowly. She would own him. Before the Sect Elders even knew what he was.