Ling Ruxin remained seated long after Lao Xie had left the stage. Around her, the martial hall still buzzed with noise—disciples debating, elders murmuring among themselves—but none of it truly reached her. Her mind lingered only on that fleeting curve of his lips, the expression that hovered between smirk and smile.
"Was I imagining things? Was he really… calling for me?"
Her heart stirred restlessly. Elder Yao's word still echoed in her mind, but the memory of that unreadable smile pulled stronger. After a long moment of hesitation, she rose to her feet.
When she reached the lobby of the martial hall, she spotted him immediately.
Lao Xie was leaning casually against the great doors that led outside, his posture unhurried, almost as if he owned the space. A few passing disciples whispered in hushed tones.
"Look—over there. Isn't that Lao Xie?"
"He's just standing there like he doesn't care at all…"
Ling Ruxin ignored their voices. Her steps carried her closer, until she stopped just a few paces away.
Lao Xie lifted his gaze, calm and steady, as though her arrival had been inevitable. His lips curved faintly.
"You actually understood what I meant earlier," he said, his tone smooth with a hint of teasing. "I was wondering how much longer I'd have to wait here."
Ling Ruxin's brows lifted slightly, her tone even but edged with curiosity. "So you admit it—you were calling me?"
Lao Xie's chuckle was soft, almost careless. "If that's how you want to see it, then sure. If not, then think of it as your imagination. Either way, you're here."
Her lips curved faintly, not backing down. "You're good at twisting words, aren't you? Always keeping yourself half-hidden."
He tilted his head, studying her with quiet amusement. "And yet, you still came. That says enough."
Ling Ruxin stopped in front of him, her gaze steady. "Then tell me—why did you call me?"
Lao Xie's lips quirked. "Couldn't I?" His tone carried that same lazy tease, as though no answer was needed at all.
Her brows drew together slightly, but before she could speak again, he added, "How was it?"
She blinked. For a breath she said nothing, then her lips curved faintly. "You're asking me that, huh…"
Their voices carried only between them, quiet, while the murmurs around the lobby began to shift.
"Hey, look—who's Lao Xie talking to?"
"Wait, isn't that Ling Ruxin? From Flowing Note Peak?"
"She doesn't look like an outer disciple at all."
"I told you, he has connections! No wonder he's so calm."
The whispers rippled through the hall. Lao Xie caught them easily—every word like a breeze brushing his ears. His gaze returned to Ling Ruxin—curious, "You're not bothered by this?"
She tilted her head, eyes clear, her tone light. "This?" A small smile touched her lips. "Why would I be?"
For a moment, the faintest glint flickered in Lao Xie's eyes. His smirk deepened, but he said nothing more. Instead, he pushed himself off the doorframe with unhurried ease and started toward the exit.
Ling Ruxin followed without needing to think, her steps falling in beside his. The noise of the martial hall faded behind them as they stepped into the open air.
For a time, neither spoke. The quiet stretched, broken only by the rhythm of their steps and the faint rustle of leaves in the courtyard. After several moments, Ling Ruxin finally turned her gaze toward him.
"So, where are we going?"
Lao Xie didn't answer her question directly. Instead, his lips curved faintly, and his reply came vague, teasing.
"Somewhere."
But behind that simple word, his mind was elsewhere.
Whispers. They had already begun to take root, murmurs born in the martial hall spreading like ripples across a pond. The more they passed from mouth to mouth, the less anyone would remember their source. Rumors had no need for proof—they only needed voices to carry them, and he had given them exactly that. Soon, without lifting a finger, his name would walk through the sect faster than he ever could.
By the time the gossip hardened into truth, his standing would already be carved.
A ghost of amusement flickered in his eyes as his attention returned to the present. His pace remained calm, steady, never hurried. Ling Ruxin walked beside him in silence, her steps light, her expression unreadable.
It wasn't long before the path curved, and she noticed where he was leading her. Recognition stirred in her chest.
"Azure Sky Waterfall Garden…?"
The same place where Lao Xie had met Hai Mu.
When they arrived, the sound of falling water filled the air, soft yet clear. Mist drifted lightly across the surface of the pond, catching the faint glow of the evening sun.
Without hesitation, Lao Xie walked to the pond's edge and lowered himself onto a flat stone, the water rippling faintly at his side. He leaned back slightly, posture relaxed, as if he were sitting in a place that had long belonged to him.
His gaze shifted toward her, calm yet expectant.
"Come," he said, his tone steady but leaving no room for doubt. "Sit."
They sat side by side by the pond, the sound of falling water soft in the background. For a while, neither spoke. Then Lao Xie's voice broke the stillness, calm and steady.
"So," he said, his gaze drifting over the ripples. "What do you think of the tournament so far?"
Ling Ruxin tilted her head slightly, her lips curving with a knowing hint. "Better than the previous ones. After all… this year has an unexpected variable."
Her words lingered in the air, her meaning clear. Lao Xie met her eyes briefly, understanding without needing her to say more. His reply was quiet, almost dismissive. "Is that so, huh…"
Ling Ruxin's smile grew faintly playful. "Honestly, not many inner disciples would bother coming all the way to watch the outer disciple tournament. And here I am… spending my time watching your match."
Her tone carried a teasing lilt, but her gaze held steady.
"Oh?" Lao Xie's lips curved faintly, his voice smooth. "Then should I be honored?"
"Perhaps," she answered lightly, her amusement slipping through.
A pause stretched between them, comfortable in its own way. Then Lao Xie turned to her again, his voice shifting, curious yet steady. "You're a Flowing Note Peak disciple. Tell me—what does your Dao of Music mean to you?"
Her brows rose a little, surprised. Few ever asked her that. Most saw only the reputation she carried, the so-called talent of her peak. Yet his question felt… different.
She drew in a breath before answering softly, "The guqin is not only music. To me, each string carries intention, each note reflects a state of heart. It can soothe, it can stir, it can even suppress. Music can reach places others cannot."
Lao Xie listened, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he let out a quiet sound, somewhere between agreement and amusement. "Sounds like a weapon to me—dressed in silk."
Ling Ruxin tilted her head slightly at his words, but before she could reply, his voice shifted again, calm yet probing.
"Still," Lao Xie said at last, his eyes flicking toward her. "You're a Flowing Note Peak disciple, yet during our first meeting, you drew a sword against that demonic wolf."
He let the thought hang before continuing, his tone calm but edged with curiosity. "Why was that?"