When the guards left me at the courtyard gate, I expected the air to feel different—to taste of freedom, or defiance, or even loss.It only smelled of rain again.
Puddles quilted the stone in broken mirrors, each reflecting a different corner of the sky.For a while, I simply stood there, not sure if the world was welcoming me back or measuring my steps.Then a voice, familiar and cracked by laughter that had known better days, reached across the yard.
"About time they found your good sense, boy."
Old Bro Han sat on the steps with a clay jug balanced between his knees.He looked older in the gray light, lines deepened by worry, but his grin was the same patient mischief that had seen generations of disciples through worse storms.I walked toward him and, for once, didn't bother to hide the exhaustion.
"They found sense," I said, lowering myself beside him, "but it wasn't theirs."
He chuckled. "Still think like a scholar."He poured a measure of watered wine into a chipped cup and passed it over.The drink was thin and honest, the sort that kept men grounded.
For a few breaths, we watched the rain bead on the courtyard stones.The sect bustled around us, pretending not to stare; rumors moved faster than lightning here.But none of them came close. Perhaps they saw the look in Bro Han's eyes, or the quiet that sat between us like a shrine.
"They said you argued with Master Qi himself."His tone was half disbelief, half pride."I expected you to come back missing an ear."
"I kept all my parts," I said. "Mostly by listening."
He nodded, pleased. "Good start for a man who wants to teach the world to listen back."
We sat there until the lamps along the walkways began to bloom one by one, their reflections trembling on the wet ground.The Codex was silent tonight, a resting heartbeat somewhere behind my ribs.I let myself imagine that silence meant approval.
Xue Lan appeared then, carrying a basket of herbs and a look that scolded before her mouth moved."You shouldn't be outside yet," she said, setting the basket down. "The air's damp and your body's still recovering."
"Recovery's earned," I said, echoing an old insult, but I smiled as I said it.
She caught the tone and shook her head, unable to keep her own smile from answering. "Then earn it slowly. You don't have to fight every storm that passes."
"I might," I said. "Some storms are lessons."
Bro Han raised his cup in mock salute. "Spoken like a man planning to get drenched."
The laughter that followed was quiet, genuine, the kind that eases the edges off memory.For the first time since my rebirth, I felt something like belonging—thin and fragile as a new flame, but real.
The rain eased to mist. Lantern light brushed the faces around the yard—students finishing chores, elders crossing toward the hall—and for a heartbeat, the sect looked almost whole again.The broken walls, the bruised pride, even Master Qi's ledger all seemed small against that simple, ordinary peace.
I looked at my hands, still bearing faint impressions of the iron seal, and thought of the threads I had seen in the dark.They shimmered somewhere beyond sight now, but I could sense their quiet vibration: Bro Han's thread a steady hum beside mine, Xue Lan's a gentle warmth weaving through both.
"I'll keep to my duties," I said softly, more to myself than to them. "But I won't stop seeing what others refuse to look at."
Bro Han tapped the jug against my knee. "Just remember to see the good with the bad, lad. Light needs a place to land."
Xue Lan nodded, gathering her herbs. "Then start with supper. There's broth left from noon."
I rose with them. The clouds thinned, revealing a slip of moonlight that turned the puddles silver. Each reflected lantern looked like a small, patient star fallen to earth, waiting to be lifted again.
Perhaps that was what the Codex wanted all along—not conquest or revelation, but the courage to notice small lights and keep them burning.
We walked back toward the kitchens, three shadows in the soft drizzle, and for the first time since my death, I felt the world breathe with me rather than against me.