The Vermilion Phoenix Sect's main hall felt colder after Luna's unintended performance.
Elder Melodious Wind escorted her through sweeping corridors, his earlier playfulness now restrained. Disciples in flowing robes of crimson and gold paused to stare, their whispers harmonizing into a hushed, judgmental chorus.
"No core… but she healed the Silent One?"
"Her aura is strange… like a broken chord."
"The Sect Leader will decide her fate."
Luna's mind raced. Cultivation. Sects. Qi. Terms from the web novels she'd guiltily read late at night—now her reality. Her fingers brushed the red jade pendant. It hummed softly, like a muted amplifier.
They stopped before towering double doors engraved with a magnificent phoenix, its feathers styled like musical staves. Two guards—each holding erhu instruments that doubled as spiritual weapons—nodded, and the doors swung open silently.
The Sect Hall.
It was vast, with a high ceiling where floating lanterns glowed like captive stars. At the far end, on a dais, sat Sect Leader Zhu Yan upon a throne of polished resonant wood. She was a woman in her prime, sharp-eyed, with hair piled high like a crown, adorned with phoenix hairpins that tinkled with every movement. Her presence wasn't just powerful—it was audible. A low, constant hum of authority, like the bass note of a grand orchestra.
Elder Melodious Wind bowed. "Sect Leader, this is the girl who fell from the heavens during the ritual."
Luna followed his lead, bowing awkwardly. She could feel Zhu Yan's gaze scanning her, not like a person, but like a piece of sheet music being assessed for errors.
"Rise," Zhu Yan's voice was melodic yet sharp, each syllable precise. "You demonstrated a Life-Restoring Harmony without training. Explain."
Luna straightened. "I… don't know how it happened. I just… felt his pain, and I hummed."
"Felt his pain," Zhu Yan repeated, her fingers tapping the armrest. "Emotional resonance channeled directly into qi. Unorthodox. Potentially dangerous." She stood, robes swirling. "The Vermilion Phoenix Sect cultivates through disciplined musical forms—the 'Thousand Verse Sutras,' the 'Harmonic Arrays.' What you did was raw, untamed… like screaming into a storm."
Luna felt a chill. Dangerous.
"However," Zhu Yan's eyes narrowed, "it was also potent. The Silent Sword Immortal's injury was laced with Nether-Whisper Qi. Even our healers struggled to purify it. Yet your… hum… did in moments what would have taken days." She stepped closer. "What is your name, girl?"
"Luna."
"A celestial name. Fitting." Zhu Yan paused. "You will be accommodated in the 'Unheard Quarter,' where guests and anomalies reside. You will attend basic cultivation theory. You will not practice any musical cultivation without supervision." Her tone left no room for argument. "We must study you. Understand your resonance. If you prove stable, you may yet become an asset. If not…" She didn't finish, but the unplayed note of threat hung in the air.
Luna's jaw tightened. An asset or a lab rat. Same as the music industry, she thought bitterly.
---
Later, in a secluded courtyard garden, Luna was left alone with her thoughts. The Unheard Quarter was peaceful, with a small koi pond and plum trees. Yet she felt like a discordant note in a perfectly composed song.
A soft, resonant pluck broke the silence.
She turned. There, beneath a willow tree, sat the Silent Sword Immortal. His silver robes were clean, his injury hidden beneath layers of silk. His guqin lay across his lap, whole again. His eyes were on her—calm, but penetrating.
He plucked a single string.
The sound was clear, questioning.
"I don't speak guqin," Luna said weakly.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He played a short sequence—a melancholic but gentle melody. Then, he gestured to the stone bench beside him.
Hesitating, Luna sat. Up close, he was even more striking, but also… tired. The kind of tired she knew well—the tired that comes from carrying silent weights.
He wrote in the air with qi again:
'Your song. It held grief. But also hope.'
Luna blinked. "You… understood that?"
He nodded. Then, his fingers danced over the strings, not to communicate, but to play.
It was a piece slow and flowing, like a quiet river under moonlight. No words, but Luna felt it—loneliness, duty, a faint longing for something unnamed. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.
When he finished, she had tears in her eyes.
'You listen with your soul,' he wrote. 'Not just your ears. Rare.'
"Thank you," she whispered. "For the music."
He studied her, then pointed to her pendant.
"This? It's from my… old life." She clutched it. "It's a microphone. For singing."
'Micro… phone?' The characters formed awkwardly.
"A tool to make your voice reach farther."
'Ah.' He nodded slowly. 'Like a resonance amplifier.' He paused, then wrote carefully: 'This world is not kind to strange notes. Be careful. Even the Phoenix can scorch.'
Before she could respond, he stood, guqin vanishing into a storage ring. With a final, deep look, he turned and walked away, silent as a shadow.
---
That night, in her simple room, Luna stared at the ceiling.
The Sect Leader saw her as a tool.
The Silent Sword Immortal saw her as… a mystery.
But for the first time since arriving, she felt a flicker of purpose.
Her voice had power here. Not just to heal wounds—but to touch souls.
Maybe she wasn't just out of tune.
Maybe this world needed a new kind of song.
And she would learn to sing it—properly.