The wind on Azure Peak always carried the scent of pine and the faint warmth of spiritual energy. For most disciples, it was comforting. For Lin Yan, today, it was a warning.
He stood in the training courtyard, wooden practice sword in hand, sweat dampening his hair. The morning drills had ended, but his heartbeat refused to slow.
It's watching me again.
He couldn't explain it, but every time the breeze shifted from the northern cliffs, the jade pendant at his chest warmed faintly — as if reacting to something far beyond sight.
"Lin Yan!"
The shout broke his thoughts. It was Duan Fei, the thin, sharp-eyed senior disciple who oversaw the outer courtyard drills. "You're still here? Go fetch your uniform from the storage hall before Master Wu sees you wearing that rag."
Lin Yan lowered his head. "Yes, Senior Brother."
Duan Fei smirked as Lin Yan passed. "And try not to trip over your own feet this time."
The snickers from a few other disciples burned more than the early sun. Lin Yan ignored them. He was used to this. Back in Yunhe Village, he had been the boy with no father, no background, and no chance. Here in the sect, he was just the peasant who got lucky enough to pass the entrance trial.
---
The storage hall was dim and smelled faintly of dust and cedar oil. Rows of shelves lined the walls, each stacked with folded robes marked by rank and duty.
As Lin Yan searched for the one marked with his name, the pendant at his chest grew warm again.
He froze.
The warmth was stronger this time — steady, pulsing like a heartbeat. His gaze drifted toward the back of the hall, where a wooden door sat half-hidden behind old crates. It wasn't locked, but it was covered in a thin layer of dust, as if no one had opened it for years.
The pendant's warmth became an insistent throb.
Go inside.
The whisper was faint, almost lost in the sound of his own breathing, but it was there — a voice, neither male nor female, brushing against his mind.
Lin Yan swallowed hard. "I… must be imagining things."
Yet his feet carried him forward.
The door creaked as he pushed it open. Beyond was a narrow stairwell leading down into darkness. The air was cooler here, tinged with something ancient, like rainwater trapped in stone.
---
Halfway down the steps, a sharp voice cut through the silence.
"What are you doing here?"
Lin Yan spun around.
A young woman stood at the top of the stairs, her outer disciple robes perfectly pressed, her black hair tied in a simple ribbon. But it wasn't her appearance that made Lin Yan's pulse race — it was her eyes.
Silver. Like the moon reflected on still water.
"I— I was just—"
She tilted her head, studying him. "You shouldn't be here. This part of the hall is off-limits to new disciples."
Lin Yan stepped back up the stairs. "I didn't know. I was only—"
The pendant burned suddenly, sending a jolt through his chest. The girl's eyes flicked to the faint outline beneath his robe.
"That pendant," she murmured.
Her tone had changed — softer, almost… interested.
Before Lin Yan could reply, heavy footsteps echoed from outside.
"Bai Qian! Are you in here?"
The girl — Bai Qian — glanced toward the door, then back at Lin Yan. Her expression hardened. "We'll talk later. Not here."
With a swirl of her robe, she vanished through another side door, leaving only the fading echo of her presence.
---
Lin Yan returned to his quarters with the new robe in hand, but his thoughts were far from the uniform.
The voice. The pendant. Bai Qian's silver eyes.
He had seen strange things before — the glowing patterns on the arena floor during the entrance trial, the way the pendant had shielded him from that falling boulder — but this was different. It felt like the world beneath the surface was reaching for him, one thread at a time.
That night, as moonlight spilled through the small window, he took the pendant in his hand.
"What are you?" he whispered.
The cool jade pulsed once. Then again.
This time, the whisper was clearer.
Find the door.
Lin Yan's eyes flew open. He sat up, heart pounding. "What door? The one beneath the hall?"
No answer. Only the faint throb of warmth fading back into stillness.
---
The next morning's drills were harder than usual. Elder Wu had taken over training personally, pushing every outer disciple to the edge of exhaustion.
By midday, Lin Yan's arms felt like lead. He could barely hold the practice spear steady as he faced his sparring partner — and rival — Wei Feng.
Wei Feng's smirk was sharper than any blade. "Careful, village rat. Wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of the Elder."
The match began. Wei Feng's spear came at him like a serpent, fast and precise. Lin Yan parried once, twice — then stumbled on the third strike, the spearhead stopping a hair's breadth from his throat.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Wei Feng stepped back, bowing mockingly. "A pity. Some people just don't belong here."
Lin Yan clenched his jaw.
But just as Wei Feng turned away, the pendant flared against Lin Yan's chest — a sudden, fierce heat.
The ground beneath them trembled faintly.
Elder Wu's eyes narrowed. "Enough for today."
---
That night, Lin Yan dreamt of wind rushing through a vast cavern, of stone doors carved with dragons, and of silver eyes watching from the shadows.
When he woke, the pendant was warm again.
He knew one thing for certain.
If he wanted answers… he would have to go back beneath the storage hall.