The inner sect of Clear Wind Pavilion was not a place for the soft-hearted.
Carved into the highest peak of the mountain range, it overlooked the valley like a hawk—beautiful, cold, and distant. Even the air was thinner here, the sky clearer, as though only those with exceptional spiritual force were permitted to breathe freely.
Li Xiyan walked through the towering jade gates with nothing but a satchel and her fox spirit, Xiǎo Bai, perched quietly on her shoulder.
She kept her steps even, though each echo on the polished stone beneath her feet reminded her: she did not belong. Not yet.
Disciples in finely embroidered robes passed her with sidelong glances—curious, guarded, or openly mocking.
"That's the one they say disarmed Yue Lan without throwing a punch."
"She's from the outer sect. Did she really get promoted for healing foxes?"
"She's the one Mu Chen's been seen with."
Xiyan kept walking, unbothered on the surface, though her hand gently stroked Xiǎo Bai's fur for calm.
She was led to her quarters by a silver-robed attendant. They were more spacious than she'd expected—one of the smaller inner courtyards, but with a garden and a small pond that mirrored the sky. It was peaceful. Solitary.
Just how she liked it.
A knock came at her door not long after she'd unpacked.
She opened it to find an unexpected visitor.
Mu Chen.
He stood there, arms crossed, sword slung across his back as always, eyes unreadable.
"You're early," she said softly.
"I expected them to delay your transfer. You surprised me."
"I surprised myself."
A beat of silence passed. Then, unexpectedly, Mu Chen stepped inside without waiting for invitation. He reached into his sleeve and held out a small cloth bundle.
"Gift," he said shortly.
Xiyan blinked. "A gift?"
"Inner sect's initiation trials begin in two days," he said. "They won't wait for you to adjust. You'll need this."
She unwrapped the cloth carefully to find a set of engraved talismans—protective charms reinforced with sword qi.
"This is advanced talisman work," she murmured. "You made these?"
Mu Chen didn't answer. But the red tinge on his ears was answer enough.
She smiled, quietly touched. "Thank you, Mu Chen."
He shifted awkwardly, then turned. "Don't die."
"I'll try not to," she said wryly.
When the door closed behind him, Xiyan felt something curious stir inside her.
Warmth.
The kind that came not from fire—but from the steady light of someone choosing to care.
Two days later, the trial grounds of the inner sect loomed before her.
The Jade Steps.
A towering staircase of white stone carved into the side of the cliff, leading up to the Pavilion of Echoes. It was said to test not just physical stamina or spiritual force—but the disciple's soul.
With each step climbed, illusions from the past would emerge. Regrets. Fears. Memories best left buried.
The higher you climbed, the more painful it became.
Only those who reached the Pavilion could truly claim a place in the inner sect.
Xiyan bowed before the steps and began her ascent.
The first ten were easy.
Then came the whispers.
"Why do you keep smiling when no one notices you?"
"Your mother died in agony while you begged your sect for help."
"You'll never be strong enough."
She staggered.
Images rose before her. Her childhood in a quiet valley. Her mother coughing blood. The elders turning her away.
She gasped, heart pounding.
But then she remembered Mei Yu's tearful gratitude.
She remembered the sword talismans in her satchel.
She remembered Mu Chen saying, "Don't die."
And she climbed.
Step after step.
The illusions clawed at her, screaming, crying, accusing.
But she walked.
And with every step, the pain grew quieter.
Until, at the seventieth stair, a new illusion emerged.
It was her.
Older.
Standing in the herb garden, smiling. Children laughed around her. The sect behind her was whole, united.
She wasn't a weapon.
She was a heart.
She was their heart.
With tears in her eyes, she stepped onto the final stair.
The Pavilion of Echoes loomed before her—silent, glowing with golden light.
As she reached the platform, the elders stirred.
"She reached the top."
"And the illusions failed to break her."
"She has no sword. No martial background. But she held her soul steady."
"She is qualified."
Elder Hao smiled. "She is more than qualified."
That evening, as she returned to her courtyard, she found three surprises waiting.
The first: a hand-carved wooden box with medicinal seeds and rare herbs. No name, but Mei Yu's handwriting was unmistakable.
The second: A beautiful jade hairpin wrapped in red silk. From Elder Hao, with a note: 'To anchor your heart, and remind you of your roots.'
The third: Mu Chen.
Again.
This time, he brought nothing. Just himself.
"You passed," he said.
"You doubted me?" she teased.
"No. Just wanted to see it for myself."
She laughed softly. "Thank you for coming."
He looked at her long. "You're different from them. You make people care, even when they try not to."
She tilted her head. "Is that what I've done to you?"
He didn't answer. But he didn't leave either.
That night, they stood under the stars—two souls in silence.
One forged by the blade.
The other by the heart.
And above them, the sky shone brighter than it had in years.