Inside the eatery, Li Ren collected his reduced portion and sat at an empty section of table.
The grain ball felt lighter in his hand than it had any right to.
He ate slowly, methodically, making the small amount last.
Around him, the hall was quieter than usual. The death yesterday had left its mark. People chewed without speaking, eyes downcast, each one aware that the same fate could find them at any moment.
"You look thoughtful."
Li Ren glanced up.
The disciple who sat down across from him was slightly older, face weathered from mountain winds. His posture was relaxed but his eyes were sharp.
Observant.
"Just tired," Li Ren said.
"We're all tired." The disciple took a bite of his own meager portion. "I'm Zhou Han."
"Li Ren."
"I know." Zhou Han smiled faintly. "You collapsed during morning stance four days ago. Most people who collapse once don't recover. But you're still here."
Li Ren said nothing.
He returned his attention to his food, hoping the conversation would end there.
It did not.
"Your breathing is different now," Zhou Han continued, voice low enough that nearby disciples would not hear. "More controlled. Steadier."
Li Ren's grip tightened on the grain ball.
"Everyone's breathing is different."
"True," Zhou Han agreed easily. "But most people don't change deliberately. Most people don't break their own rhythm on purpose when an instructor gets close."
The words landed like stones dropped into still water.
Li Ren met Zhou Han's gaze directly for the first time.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Good answer." Zhou Han nodded approvingly. "That's the right instinct. Deny everything. Trust no one. Very smart."
He leaned back slightly, still eating.
"But you should know something. You're not the first person to notice things. To feel things others can't."
Li Ren forced himself to keep eating, even though his appetite had vanished.
"Three months ago," Zhou Han said quietly, "there was a disciple named Feng Yun. Talented. His circulation stabilized faster than anyone else's. The instructors noticed."
He paused, as if considering how much to say.
"They gave him special attention. Better food. Private lessons. Everyone thought he was being groomed for the inner sect."
Zhou Han's expression didn't change, but something cold entered his eyes.
"Two weeks later, he disappeared. No announcement. No ceremony. One morning his room was just... empty."
Li Ren felt his appetite die completely.
"Where did he go?"
"No one knows for certain. Some say he advanced to the inner sect. Others say he failed a test and was expelled." Zhou Han finished his grain ball and set the bowl aside. "A few think he's still here. Just... not in a way that matters anymore."
The eatery felt colder suddenly.
Li Ren thought of the collapsed disciple from yesterday. The way Elder Kade had watched his breathing rather than his face. The casual declaration about rations.
People as resources.
Efficiency above all else.
"Why are you telling me this?" Li Ren asked.
Zhou Han stood, picking up his empty bowl.
"Because I've been here longer than you. I've seen patterns. And the pattern says you're developing something." He paused at the edge of the table. "The question is whether you know it yet."
He walked away without waiting for a response.
Li Ren sat alone at the table, the grain ball forgotten in his hand.
Developing something.
The words echoed in his mind.
He thought of the awareness that had bloomed twice now. The way the world expanded in his perception. The clarity with which he could sense others' breathing, their circulation, their approaching collapse.
He thought of the instructor's sweeping gaze. The way it had lingered, testing, searching.
And he thought of Feng Yun, talented and noticed and gone.
Li Ren looked down at his empty palm.
The afternoon training session would begin soon.
He needed to make a choice.
Continue developing this awareness and risk being noticed.
Or suppress it entirely and remain ordinary.
Safe.
Invisible.
Ultimately disposable.
Li Ren stood slowly and returned his bowl.
As he walked toward the afternoon training yard, he realized the choice had already been made.
The moment that first awareness had bloomed, the moment he had felt the world expand beyond the ordinary, there had been no turning back.
Suppression was not safety.
It was just a slower kind of failure.
The only question now was how to walk forward without stumbling into whatever had claimed Feng Yun.