Part Two
The plaza dispersed slowly.
Disciples returned to their courtyards in subdued silence.
Conversations would happen tonight.
Quiet ones.
Dangerous ones.
Seeds had been planted.
Not rebellion.
Doubt.
And doubt was more persistent.
Inside the Tower of Alignment, the seven elders gathered privately.
The chamber was sealed by triple-layer formations.
No fluctuation could escape.
The elder who had ordered escalation spoke first.
"He destabilizes structure."
"He stabilized the formation," another corrected calmly.
"He redirected it," the first snapped. "That is not stabilization."
The eldest among them, robed in muted grey, finally spoke.
"Heaven intervened."
Silence followed.
That fact outweighed all argument.
"We cannot eliminate him now," one elder muttered.
"If we attempt to, Heaven will measure motive."
"And if motive is found impure?" another asked.
No one answered.
Because all of them had felt it.
When the pale light shifted toward the platform—
It had not felt like approval.
It had felt like assessment.
"We redefine orthodoxy," the grey-robed elder said at last.
The chamber stilled.
"You would alter doctrine for one outer disciple?" the escalatory elder demanded.
"I would preserve the sect."
"By surrendering alignment?"
"By expanding it."
That word hung dangerously.
Expand.
If integration became recognized—
Severance would no longer be absolute.
The foundation of cultivation philosophy would shift.
"You risk doctrinal fracture," the escalatory elder warned.
"I risk extinction if we resist evolution," the grey-robed elder replied.
And there it was.
The fracture was no longer about Zheng Wen Te.
It was about survival.
Not of power.
Of relevance.