The faint scent of rain lingered in the air, though the skies had long cleared. Morning light crept through the lattice windows in pale slivers, barely reaching the floor of Yun Qingxue's residence. The world outside was quiet—unnaturally so. No footsteps. No voices. Not even the rustle of robes passing by the corridor.
They were all still watching, waiting, uncertain of which direction the wind would blow.
Yun sat alone at the low table, her back straight, her sleeves resting neatly in her lap. Her posture, like the room around her, was composed. Perfect. Still.
But her eyes—dark, thoughtful—lingered on the door as if expecting someone to enter.
No one did.
Behind her, the soft patter of slippered steps approached, cautious yet practiced. Her maid entered without announcing herself, bowing her head slightly before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Is that okay?" she asked. "Those two… they seem like they only want to find out your identity."
The words hung in the air.
Yun didn't answer at once. She reached for the tea before her, lifting the cup with care. But when she brought it to her lips, she didn't drink. Her gaze stayed fixed on the steam, as if something lay hidden within its curl.
"So they didn't come for loyalty, or greed," she murmured. "Only curiosity."
She smiled faintly—small, distant, and tired. "Expected, I suppose… Still, a little disappointing."
She set the cup down, the sound light yet sharp in the silence.
"Let them be," she said at last. Her voice was calm, clear. But beneath it was something else. A flicker of hurt, buried deep and smothered with control. "No matter how cunning they are… I'm fairly certain you can kill both of them if they threaten my safety, right?"
The maid straightened slightly. Her voice, in contrast, carried no hesitation. "That's right."
She paused, then added more softly, "But what about your plan, Young Miss? Will it really work?"
Yun looked at her now. Not sharply. Just patiently. Silently.
The maid continued, her tone growing more unsure. "Even if I'm stronger than the both of them… if it turns into a two-on-one, I won't be able to restrain them. And your family…" Her voice dropped. "Your family won't help you. You know the rule. Not unless you're in open danger."
Yun didn't respond.
Instead, she stood, her movements graceful and deliberate, and stepped closer to where the maid stood. Her gaze remained steady, almost gentle, as she raised a hand.
She touched her maid's cheek—not in comfort, but in acknowledgment. The back of her knuckle brushed against the skin with a cold softness, like the edge of falling snow.
"Don't worry," she said. "No matter how cold-blooded they are, if it's for my safety… they'll act. Especially that guardian."
Her voice was low, but filled with certainty. It wasn't just trust. It was understanding—of how power worked, how people moved, and how far the strings she held could stretch.
The maid looked at her, troubled. For a moment, she seemed as though she might say nothing at all.
Then quietly, hesitantly: "Do you really want to kill Elder Han?"
Yun's hand fell back to her side. She turned away, walking slowly back toward the table. She picked up the teacup again, but the steam had already begun to fade.
"Well… not a kill," she said.
She didn't explain further.
The maid opened her mouth slightly, as though she might press the question—but seeing the expression on Yun's face, she stopped herself.
The silence returned—thicker now, like the pause before a storm. In the distance, a crow cried once, and then the wind shifted outside the window.
Some truths were too sharp to name outright.
So neither of them said anything more.
But high above, where the shadows thickened along the tiled roofs and wind dared not howl, someone else listened.
A figure cloaked in silence stood beneath the curved edge of the roof, half-veiled by the dancing light of the courtyard lantern. Not a word he missed. Not a single breath slipped past him unnoticed.
When Yun's voice faded, and the tension ebbed like a retreating tide, the figure turned.
"Interesting," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His tone was soft, but not without weight. "I have to report this."
And with that, the guardian vanished into the night.
…
Inside the sect master's hall…
The room was dark, silent save for the slow crackle of incense that coiled toward the high ceilings. The floor was polished jade, the windows draped in black silk, and at the far end of the hall, the sect master sat like a mountain—unmoving, unmoved.
The guardian knelt before the jade steps, lowering his head.
"My lord," he began slowly, voice calm but thoughtful, "she's intelligent. Incredibly so. She doesn't speak much, but her mind… it's moving constantly. Even I, who have been by her side all these years, can no longer predict what she'll do next."
He lifted his gaze slightly, enough to glimpse the man before him.
The sect master did not look at him. His eyes were fixed ahead, as if peering through time itself.
"Of course," he said, finally. His voice was as steady as the earth, and just as cold. "She is, after all, the future sect master. That was never in doubt."
He shifted his fingers, folding them atop the armrest. "As long as no one stronger than us lays eyes on her, I am certain she will shake the world."
The guardian stayed silent.
He knew what that meant. The sect master wasn't just acknowledging Yun's potential. He was issuing a warning. If someone too powerful noticed her…
They'd either try to take her.
Or kill her.
The sect master continued, his voice dipping lower, more distant. "She's indeed intelligent. The move is already set. You don't need to understand her. Just keep watching. And you'll be surprised by what comes next."
There was a strange stillness in the air. Not calm. But contained chaos.
The guardian hesitated. His hands curled slightly at his sides, unseen in the folds of his sleeves.
"…Yes, my lord," he said finally. "I will return to cultivation. I doubt she'll act too quickly. She's still watching—still testing the waters."
He stood, bowed deeply, and turned toward the doors.
With each step away, a chill settled deeper into his bones. Not fear. Not yet.
But anticipation.
He had seen many brilliant cultivators. Arrogant geniuses. Cold tacticians. Talented monsters.
But Yun?
She was something else entirely.
The doors closed behind him with a soft, resounding thud.
The sect master remained in his seat, unmoved. The incense continued to burn.
And though his expression did not shift even slightly, deep within his gaze flickered something distant. Not affection. Not concern.
But expectation.