The forest lay in quiet hush, sunlight filtering through the dense canopy in angled streams. Dew clung to the underbrush, glistening like scattered crystals. Somewhere in the thickets, a blue sparrow sang a lonely tune before fluttering deeper into the woods.
Yan Qingyue stood in the clearing with her arms folded behind her back, her robes swaying gently with the breeze. The dark green and silver of her outer sect uniform matched the colors of the foliage around her. She didn't move for several breaths.
Her eyes scanned the trees.
Not with divine sense—she was no Golden Core cultivator. But she didn't need to be. Years of careful observation, of missions spent dodging beasts and rival disciples, had honed her instincts sharp. She knew when she was being watched.
And today, something pricked at her skin.
The leaves didn't rustle the way they should. The birds were too silent. And her footsteps, soft though they were, had echoed too clearly for the past hour.
She turned her head slowly, not enough to alarm a pursuer, but enough to view the upper boughs of the trees.
Nothing.
Yet she knew.
Someone was there.
She reached into her robe and adjusted the satchel of nightgrass she'd collected earlier. Her mind, however, wasn't on herbs.
He will come.
She had been careful. Subtle.
Wei Zhi hadn't remembered what he saw. But his behavior had changed. That made her certain. He had encountered something, someone, and she had traced the shift in his temperament to a single moment of fear. Something had left a mark on him—not physical, but deeper.
And if she could find out what, it might elevate her beyond outer sect mediocrity.
Yan Qingyue didn't just want to be strong. She wanted to rise. Not just to the inner sect, not even to core disciple status. Those were stepping stones. Her eyes were on the world beyond the sect, on the great clans and unclaimed legacies.
To get there, she needed an edge. And whatever technique Wei Zhi had witnessed, the blood he'd mumbled about in his panic, it could be that edge.
She placed a hand on the bark of the nearest tree, grounding herself. Then she moved deeper into the forest.
---
Xue Mo crouched high in the branches of an old ironwood tree, his presence folded into the canopy's shadow. He had been following her for half an hour, every step calculated, every breath muted.
She was good. Better than he'd expected. But not enough.
He'd prepared the route, mapped it the night before. He knew where she would stop, where the path thinned and narrowed into a ridge that hung above a low gully. The trees there were old, their roots arching out like crooked spines. Even an adept disciple would have to slow down.
That would be where he struck.
He had watched, learned. Yan Qingyue had talent, but her arrogance bled through in small ways—her steady pace, her lone travel, her faith that no one in the outer sect would dare touch her.
And she was right.
No one else would.
But Xue Mo wasn't anyone else.
He waited, the waxed packet of poison already applied to the edge of his blade. A single cut, even minor, and her qi would slow. Reaction time would drop. She would falter.
His plan was simple.
Strike. Silence. Bury.
No trace.
He followed her through the trees as she turned north.
Then he paused.
Voices.
From behind.
Xue Mo twisted his stance and peered down the trail.
Three disciples.
He recognized two. Lin Yao and Meng Xiu—ordinary but loyal to Elder Min, the man currently overseeing sect resource distribution. The third was unfamiliar, a boy with ink-black hair and a cloud-patterned token dangling at his waist. That token marked him as a recent transfer from another sect.
They were laughing. Loud. Careless.
"This part of the forest is good for beast tracks," Lin Yao said, kicking at a stone. "Senior told me they found silver-striped panther claws here two seasons ago."
"Why not just go to the eastern ridge?" asked Meng Xiu. "That place is quiet."
"Too quiet," the third muttered.
Their steps veered toward the gully path.
Xue Mo's brow furrowed.
Wrong timing.
He moved silently along a parallel branch, tracking Yan Qingyue as she also paused, having heard them. Her body stiffened. She turned around and began walking back, expression unreadable.
If she runs into them…
It would be too risky to kill her now. Too many eyes.
He clenched his jaw. The perfect opportunity slipping through his fingers.
Yan Qingyue slowed and knelt again by a patch of cloud fern, pretending to inspect it.
From his perch, Xue Mo exhaled softly. Not today.
But soon.
---
Back at the sect, Liang Fu carried a basket of dried herbs as he returned from the collection hut. He spotted Wei Zhi seated on a flat stone beneath a willow tree.
Wei Zhi didn't notice him at first, his eyes locked on something unseen. Liang set down the basket.
"Still spacing out?"
Wei Zhi jolted. "Ah. Sorry."
Liang Fu sat beside him. "You're worse than usual today."
Wei Zhi said nothing.
"She talk to you again?"
Wei Zhi nodded slowly. "She asked about what I said before. But I couldn't remember it. Not a thing."
Liang Fu narrowed his eyes. "She believe you?"
"Hard to tell. She looked like she was trying to see through me."
"Be careful," Liang said. "She's not the type to let go of a thread once she grabs it."
"I know. But I really don't remember anything. It's like the whole thing's been scooped out of my head."
Liang Fu leaned forward. "Wei. If something feels wrong again, or if you suddenly do remember… don't go to her. Come to me."
Wei Zhi nodded.
---
Elsewhere in the sect, Meng Xiu walked ahead of the other two disciples, his hand brushing the hilt of the curved blade at his side.
"That was her, wasn't it?" he asked.
"Who?"
"The one who trains alone. Yan Qingyue."
Lin Yao nodded. "Yeah. She's been showing up around here a lot."
"Odd place for a mission."
"Maybe," Lin Yao said. "Or maybe she's waiting for someone."
The third boy looked toward the trees.
"Or hiding."
---
Far from their voices, Xue Mo walked the longer way back to his cave, his steps muted, his expression calm.
He had missed the opportunity. But that meant little. He could make another.
And next time, there would be no interruptions.