Cloudrest Peak woke up to light, wind, and stress.
The sunrise was beautiful—gold spilling over the snowcaps, clouds glowing like soft fire. Unfortunately, beauty doesn't cancel terror. Because today was inspection day.
The Heavenly Bureau called it a "Purity Evaluation." The disciples called it "a nightmare with paperwork."
I called it "a brilliant opportunity to faint dramatically and hide."
Too bad fainting wasn't on the schedule.
By the second bell, the main courtyard was full. Every disciple stood in perfect rows, robes straight, eyes down.
In the center, the Heavenly Inspector—Rui Yan—looked like a statue carved out of thunderclouds. Calm. Polished. Dangerous.
Behind him floated a silver mirror the size of a door. It turned slowly in the air, reflecting the mountain, the sky, and nervous faces that didn't want to see themselves.
That was the Purity Mirror—Heaven's favorite toy.
They said it revealed the true nature of anyone who stood before it.
If your heart was clean, you glowed like morning light.
If not… well, let's say you glowed less pleasantly.
And I, personally, was holding a stolen relic that probably counted as "less pleasantly."
Shen Qianhe stood beside the inspector, his posture perfect.
He looked like calm carved into human shape. His hands were folded behind his back, his eyes unreadable.
I took my place near the other assistants, pretending to check a list on my clipboard.
Lists are safe. Lists don't judge.
The first disciples stepped forward one by one. The mirror hummed softly. Some glowed faintly. Others didn't. Heaven's aide made tidy notes.
"Disciple Wei: clear."
"Disciple Long: unstable spirit flow."
"Disciple Ren: overuse of energy pills."
That last one got a collective sigh. Everyone knew about Ren's "study snacks."
When the mirror flashed bright white, the crowd gasped. A small bird had landed on its frame.
The inspector waved his hand. The bird flew off, unbothered, because apparently even sparrows passed faster than we did.
I kept my breathing steady.
All I had to do was stay invisible.
Invisible assistants did not stand near floating divine mirrors.
So naturally, halfway through the test, Rui Yan turned toward me.
"Assistant Lin," he said. His tone was polite, which made it worse. "You help maintain the archives. Please demonstrate for us."
I blinked. "Demonstrate…?"
"Your composure," he said smoothly. "Stand before the mirror."
Ah. Of course.
Shen Qianhe's gaze shifted slightly, but he said nothing.
I bowed. "Of course, Inspector."
Inside, I screamed.
The ground felt far too loud as I walked forward. The mirror loomed taller with each step, its surface rippling like a pond waiting to drown me.
I stopped at the marked line and folded my hands.
The inspector's voice carried easily. "State your name and role."
"Lin Xue. Assistant to the Sect Master."
The mirror brightened.
It started with silver light, soft and harmless. Then gold threads shimmered around the edges. My pulse spiked.
The Heartmirror Fragment—the relic hidden two rooms away—was reacting. The mirror's energy was close enough to wake it.
I could feel its hum in my bones, like someone whispering through my heartbeat.
I forced my breathing to slow. Focus. Control.
I channeled a sliver of neutral energy—the kind that keeps lanterns steady during storms—and let it settle over my core like a blanket.
The glow dimmed.
Not gone. But calm.
The mirror's light softened back to silver.
Rui Yan tilted his head. "Steady. Almost… too steady."
"I'm very good at standing still," I said lightly.
He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched—as if he knew exactly how fast my thoughts were running.
Then Shen Qianhe stepped forward, his robe whispering over the stone.
"The assistant has served faithfully for years," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried. "If you doubt her steadiness, Inspector, you doubt my judgment."
Rui Yan's expression barely shifted. But he inclined his head slightly, the tiniest gesture of concession.
"Of course, Sect Master," he said. "We wouldn't want to doubt Heaven's most efficient assistant."
"Efficiency," I said quickly, "is my middle name."
Neither man laughed. Tough crowd.
When I stepped back into line, my knees wanted to melt. I kept my face calm, but my hands trembled behind the clipboard.
The mirror continued testing others, humming softly. Each flash of light sent tiny echoes through the mountain's air—a rhythm like breathing.
Half an hour later, the tests were done.
No traitors.
No impurities.
Just one assistant who'd nearly aged ten years in public.
After the crowd dispersed, I slipped into the side courtyard to breathe.
The sunlight was warm now, drying the last of the rain. A few petals from the high plum trees drifted down like lazy snow.
I leaned against the railing and exhaled. "Still alive. Still unburned. That's a win."
"Is it?"
I jumped. Shen Qianhe was there—silent, sudden, like he'd walked out of the air itself.
"Sect Master," I said quickly. "I was just—uh—admiring the view."
"Of the railing?"
"It's very… horizontal."
He looked faintly amused, though that might've been a trick of the light.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The sound of training swords clashed faintly in the distance.
Finally, he said, "You stayed calm under the mirror."
"I've practiced being calm."
"Why?"
"Because panic wrinkles paperwork," I said, straight-faced.
That earned the smallest breath of laughter—quiet, almost invisible. But it was there.
Then he looked at me properly. "You deflected its energy."
My stomach dipped. "I—I what?"
"The mirror's resonance," he said. "I saw the light shift. You dampened it."
"Oh. That. Yes, it was… accidental professional reflex."
He raised an eyebrow. "Most people don't have professional reflexes for divine artifacts."
I smiled tightly. "I'm very proactive."
He studied me for a long moment—too long. Then, softly: "Be careful, Assistant Lin. Heaven's eyes are sharper than that mirror."
Before I could answer, he turned and walked away.
The wind stirred, carrying the faint scent of sandalwood—the same as his study. The same place where a very incriminating relic was still hiding under incense.
I pressed a hand over my heart and muttered, "Sharp eyes, sharp mirrors, sharp everything."
Then, louder: "Why can't the heavens just take a nap?"
That evening, the sect felt heavier. The air itself seemed to hum with tension.
Heaven's team had started marking wards on the outer gates, sealing anyone from leaving without permission. Glowing sigils floated above the stair paths like watchful lanterns.
Inside my room, the relic pulsed faintly through the walls. Not visible, not loud, but there.
I unrolled a clean sheet of paper, dipped my brush in ink, and began to write a fake report for Heaven's records. If Rui Yan compared notes later, he'd find everything perfectly ordinary.
Except, maybe, the part where I doodled a small angry face next to his name. For morale.
Halfway through the report, a knock sounded at my door.
I froze. "Who is it?"
"It's Mei," came the voice—Elder Mei, calm and gravelly as ever.
I opened the door quickly. "Elder! Shouldn't you be resting?"
"Resting is for the young," she said dryly, stepping inside. "I came to warn you. Heaven's people will be reviewing staff quarters tomorrow. Don't leave anything suspicious lying around."
My heart dropped. "Suspicious like… what?"
She shrugged. "Anything shiny. Anything that glows. Anything that hums or whistles or sings."
I smiled stiffly. "Who keeps things that sing?"
"You'd be surprised," she said, giving me a look that said she absolutely would not be surprised.
When she left, I sat back down, staring at the ink-stained paper and the candle flame flickering beside it.
Tomorrow, they'd come searching.
The relic had to move again. But where?
The next morning dawned pale and cold. Clouds gathered like waiting judges above the mountain.
I wrapped the relic carefully in a scrap of cloth and held it against my chest. It was warm—too warm.
"Don't glow," I whispered. "Don't hum. Don't—"
The relic pulsed, soft as a heartbeat.
I sighed. "Fine. Glow a little. But look natural."
Outside, bells rang again—sharp, bright, echoing across the peaks. Heaven's rhythm.
And I started walking toward the one place no one would dare inspect without permission:
the Sect Master's meditation chamber.