Moonlight filtered through the jade branches above, casting the Ink Courtyard in streaks of silver and shadow.
This part of the sect was seldom spoken of. No signs marked its path, and no disciples dared linger near its ink-black gate. The ground here was different — smooth obsidian tiles, veined with silver, humming with a quiet warding Qi.
Fang Xi walked alone, footsteps silent, eyes cold.
He stepped into the courtyard.
And was surrounded.
Four figures emerged from the shadows.
All wore the same Inner Sect robes, but with subtle modifications — darker tones, tighter fits, blades woven into their sleeves. They moved with precision.
From the center, a fifth figure stepped forward. Young. Handsome. Smiling too warmly.
"Fang Xi," the man said, bowing theatrically. "Welcome to the Ink."
He wore no weapon. But his Qi — it coiled like smoke.
Mid Foundation Layer at least. Dangerous.
"Who are you?" Fang Xi asked evenly.
The man gestured around. "Names are currency, so let's not trade too freely. Here, we deal in influence. Information. Elimination."
He tilted his head.
"You impressed certain observers during the dome trial. Quick hands. Cold heart. Useful traits."
"And now?" Fang Xi asked.
"Now we offer a test."
A Test in Blood
One of the four handed the leader a scroll.
He opened it with a flick of his finger, revealing an ink drawing of a face.
Young. Arrogant-looking. Familiar.
Fang Xi recognized the boy — an Inner Disciple who had mocked him during morning drills.
"His name is Han Mu," the leader said. "Son of Elder Han. A spoiled insect who's forgotten how fragile flesh is."
He passed the scroll to Fang Xi.
"Ruin his cultivation. Quietly. Leave no proof. Do it within five days, and you'll earn the Ink's favor. Refuse, and you'll earn our curiosity."
Fang Xi stared at the image for a moment.
A trap? A loyalty test?
Either way… it's a chance.
"I accept," he said.
The man grinned.
"Good. I hoped you would."
Back in the Darkness
That night, Fang Xi sat cross-legged in his stone room, the scroll burning slowly in the candle flame.
He memorized Han Mu's routine. His teachers. His allies. His weaknesses.
He planned.
If I do this right, I gain shadow. Protection. Access.
If I do it poorly, I die.
And if I do it brilliantly… they'll fear me.
His sixth Qi thread pulsed faintly. Soon, the seventh would follow.
And when it did, he would begin cutting his path into the sect — one silent step at a time.