Han Yue arrived with blood on his sleeve and rage in his eyes.
He did not climb the mountain with humility.
He did not ask for an audience.
He did not ask whether he was welcome.
He appeared at the edge of the last stone steps dragging a broken spear, while two men followed him at a distance that was too far to look allied and too close to deny pursuit.
Jian Mu saw him first and gave the warning by striking the post in the courtyard with a stone. Bai Lian pulled out her box of bandages at once. Mo Qian slid toward the side wall from where he could watch the slope without showing himself. Gu Tian stood up with a resigned grunt.
Lin Yuan stepped out of the hall just as the young man reached the first stair.
He was older than Jian Mu, nearly Lin Yuan's age, with broad shoulders, hair bound carelessly by a red strip dark with dust, and that dangerous sort of presence that did not come only from the body but from the way he moved as if anything around him might become an enemy.
His eyes locked onto Lin Yuan.
"You're the founder."
It was not a question.
Lin Yuan looked at the broken spear, the bloodied sleeve, and the two men below who were hesitating more than advancing.
"That depends on who is asking."
Han Yue smiled without warmth.
"I'm asking. The men below only want to bury me—or collect me."
From the wall, Mo Qian spoke.
"That sounds like bad business to bring straight to a poor sect."
"I didn't come for shelter," Han Yue said without taking his eyes off Lin Yuan. "I came because I heard rumors. An orphan with broken meridians. A sect raised out of ruins. A place that accepts discarded talent."
Gu Tian snorted.
"What flattering publicity."
Han Yue lifted the broken spear.
"I want to know if it's true."
The two pursuers began climbing again. Jian Mu tightened his grip on the branch. Bai Lian stepped back without actually fleeing. Lin Yuan measured the scene in a heartbeat.
He could close the gate and let the youth be taken.
He could use him as bait.
He could ignore him.
But the system had already appeared.
**Priority evaluation detected.**
**Target: Han Yue**
**Primary talent: frontal combat / spiritual fire / spear affinity**
**Potential: very high**
**Emotional state: unstable**
**Potential loyalty: difficult, but valuable**
**Risk if rejected: elevated**
Lin Yuan stepped toward the edge of the courtyard.
"Bai Lian, back. Jian Mu, don't move unless I order it. Mo Qian, tell me who they are."
Mo Qian observed for another beat.
"Debt mercenaries. Not from a sect. They care about money, not honor."
Lin Yuan nodded.
"Then they bleed like anyone else."
The line drew a short laugh from Han Yue.
"Good. I already like you more."
The mercenaries came up breathing harder than before. One carried a curved machete; the other, an iron rod with barbed ends. Seeing the group assembled in the courtyard, they hesitated.
"That boy belongs to a patron," said the man with the machete. "Hand him over and we'll have no trouble with your mountain."
"It is not our custom to hand over what climbs here on its own feet," Lin Yuan answered.
"Then it won't be your custom for long."
It was not a great battle.
Not yet.
It was quick, dirty, and enough to prove several things at once.
Jian Mu obeyed the first order even though every muscle in him wanted to leap forward.
Mo Qian moved at the right time and dropped a stone that broke the second mercenary's footing.
Han Yue, despite his wound, spun the broken spear with enough force to show that under normal conditions those men would never have approached him cheaply.
And Lin Yuan understood something decisive:
the youth was not merely strong.
He fought as if he had learned that pausing to measure consequences was another way to die.
When it ended, one mercenary lay unconscious near the path and the other had fled downhill with one arm hanging useless. Han Yue stood breathing hard, leaning on the splintered half of his spear.
Bai Lian approached immediately.
"If you stay on your feet, you'll tear it open farther."
"If I sit, I'll look weak."
"You already look foolish," she replied.
Mo Qian laughed.
Lin Yuan watched Han Yue without softening his expression.
"Why were they chasing you?"
The young man spat blood to one side.
"I killed the wrong man."
Gu Tian raised a brow.
"That usually complicates things."
"He was an instructor from a minor sect," Han Yue continued. "He wanted me kneeling. Offered to make me his dog. Then tried to sell my sister as payment for a false debt. So I put my spear through his throat."
Bai Lian went still.
Jian Mu lowered the branch slightly.
Lin Yuan kept staring at him.
"And now you come here thinking a place born from rejection will want to shelter you."
Han Yue held his gaze.
"No. I came thinking that if this place is real, at least no one here will ask me to crawl before accepting my strength."
The wind passed through the ruins.
Lin Yuan saw too many things at once:
the open wound in the youth's side,
the stiffness with which he refused to look weak,
the violence still burning under his skin,
and that specific kind of pride born in those to whom the world had offered only chains or knives.
"Bai Lian," Lin Yuan said at last, "treat him.
Jian Mu, watch the path.
Mo Qian, check the bodies.
Gu Tian, I want to know whether the mercenaries' story and his match."
Han Yue frowned.
"That wasn't a yes."
"No," Lin Yuan said. "It was permission for you to keep breathing while I decide."
The young man's half-smile returned—fiercer than friendly.
"That still sounds better than what everyone else offered."
As Bai Lian began cleaning the wound, Han Yue did not complain. He only tightened his jaw and kept watching Lin Yuan as if he were evaluating a weapon he still had not decided whether to use—or challenge.
The system lit up again.
**Sect event: arrival of untamed talent**
**Result pending**
**Recommendation: test before acceptance**
Lin Yuan dismissed the interface and looked out at the dusk sliding down the slope.
The sect was still gathering the world's cast-offs.
But some cast-offs burned like whole fires.