Night had already settled over the Chu family grounds.
Moonlight spilled across tiled rooftops, but it failed to touch one particular shadow that moved soundlessly along the outer walls.
Tian Wuyan.
His figure merged with the darkness as he stepped onto the stone wall, his feet barely making contact. With a slight shift of breath, his body grew lighter, his presence thinner—until even the night seemed to overlook him.
Below, the Chu family's security formations pulsed faintly, thin lines of spiritual light crisscrossing the courtyards. Patrol disciples passed by at measured intervals, their footsteps steady and unaware.
Wuyan's eyes flickered.
One step.
His body slid along the wall like mist, avoiding the formation nodes by mere inches. When a patrol turned, his shadow bent unnaturally, clinging to the curve of a pillar before dissolving into the darkness once more.
No alarms stirred.
No guards noticed.
Within a few breaths, he was already inside the inner grounds.
Ahead lay the Refinement Courtyard.
Lantern light glowed softly there, illuminating a shallow pond that reflected the moon like polished jade. Spiritual mist drifted lazily through the air, orderly and calm—completely different from the shadows Wuyan walked through.
At the center of the courtyard sat Chu Jingxia.
Cross-legged upon a stone platform, her posture was straight, her breathing slow and even. Each breath carried a rhythm of refinement, as if her body and spirit were being polished with every cycle.
Wuyan stopped at the edge of the lantern light.
He did not step closer.
For a long moment, he simply stood there—silent, unseen—watching the stillness that his world lacked.
The lantern flames trembled slightly, stirred by a breeze that never reached him.
Tian Wuyan's fingers tightened around the folded fan in his hand, the carved wood cold against his palm. His gaze never left the girl at the center of the courtyard.
Chu Jingxia.
Her cultivation rhythm was flawless—steady, refined, free of impatience. Each cycle drew the surrounding spiritual mist inward, tempering her qi like water smoothing jade. Even the pond beside her responded, faint ripples forming in time with her breath.
Wuyan felt it then.
A faint disturbance in his own heart.
He suppressed it instantly.
The Still Shadow Heart circulated on its own, pressing down every stray emotion, every ripple of intent. If even a thread escaped, the formations would react. He could not allow that—not here.
Not tonight.
He shifted half a step back, retreating deeper into the overlapping shadows of the courtyard pillars. His presence thinned further, until even the lantern light passed through where he stood as if nothing existed there at all.
This was not a meeting.
This was merely confirmation.
That she was safe. That she was growing stronger. That the path before her remained untouched by darkness.
Wuyan exhaled silently.
Just as he prepared to withdraw, the spiritual mist around Jingxia stirred—only slightly, as if responding to something unseen. Her brows knit for a fraction of a moment, her breathing faltering by the smallest margin.
Then it stabilized.
She did not open her eyes.
She sensed nothing.
From the shadows, Tian Wuyan turned away.
His figure blurred, dissolving into the night like an unspoken thought—leaving behind only the still courtyard, the quiet pond, and a moon that never knew he had been there.
***********
While the night concealed secrets within the Chu family grounds, a very different kind of activity unfolded within the Fang Family Manor.
Lanterns were being hung one after another, their warm golden light illuminating the wide courtyards and long corridors. Servants moved briskly yet carefully, carrying trays of spirit fruits, jade cups, and sealed wine jars infused with mild qi. The air itself seemed livelier, faint traces of spiritual aroma drifting through the manor.
This was no ordinary banquet.
At the center courtyard, long wooden tables were arranged in perfect symmetry, covered with fresh silk cloths embroidered with subtle cloud patterns. Elder servants supervised every detail, their expressions serious—no one dared to make a mistake tonight.
After all, this banquet was being prepared for Fang Lin.
An A-grade aptitude awakener.
Such an event had not occurred in the Fang family for generations.
From the main hall balcony, Fang Qinxian stood with his hands behind his back, watching the preparations below. His face carried undisguised pride, his posture straighter than usual. Every command he gave was firm and decisive, as if the entire manor reflected his elevated mood.
"Make sure the invitation tokens are delivered before dawn," he ordered calmly.
"Tomorrow's guests must arrive with respect."
Nearby, Fang Hanbo assisted in overseeing the arrangements, though his gaze occasionally drifted toward the inner courtyard—toward the direction Fang Lin had left earlier. Beside him, Su'er quietly coordinated with the servants, her movements efficient yet her eyes filled with lingering concern that had yet to fully fade.
As for Fang Qing, he stood at the edge of the courtyard, fists clenched inside his sleeves.
Laughter, praise, and celebration filled the manor—but none of it reached his heart.
Above the Fang family manor, the lanterns glowed brighter and brighter, as if announcing to the night sky that something within this household had irrevocably changed.
And at the center of it all—
Fang Lin's name echoed silently in every corner.
Amid the busy preparations, Ling'er was also working, carrying folded silk cloths from one table to another. Her movements were practiced, yet her eyes seemed distant, as if her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
Just then, a familiar voice called out to her.
It was one of the servant girls—someone who often came to the Fang manor with her parents and had grown close to Ling'er over time.
She leaned in slightly and whispered teasingly,
"Hey, Ling'er… why do you look so empty today?"
Ling'er paused for a brief moment but did not answer.
The servant girl chuckled softly and continued, her tone filled with envy,
"You should be happy now. After all, you've been given the chance to stay by the side of a future limitless swordsman."
Her words carried admiration, but Ling'er's expression only grew more complicated, her fingers tightening slightly around the cloth she was holding.
Ling'er lowered her gaze, the servant girl's words echoing in her mind.
A future limitless swordsman…
The phrase sounded grand, almost unreal.
Her lips parted slightly, yet no words came out. Instead, a quiet sigh escaped her chest as she resumed her work, her hands moving on instinct.
If only it were that simple, she thought.
She had been with Fang Lin since childhood—long before titles, before aptitude grades, before the entire manor began to look at him with different eyes. Back then, no one spoke of "limitless futures." There had only been ridicule, cold glances, and silent endurance.
And she had seen all of it.
Now everyone is smiling… now everyone is praising him, Ling'er thought, a faint ache spreading in her chest. But will they still remember how he was treated before?
Her eyes drifted toward the inner courtyard, where lanterns were being hung for the banquet.
He's walking a different path now, she realized. One that's far brighter… and much farther from where I stand.
For the first time since the preparations began, Ling'er felt a quiet fear settle in her heart—not fear of Fang Lin's rise, but fear of being left behind by it.
She clenched her hands, then slowly relaxed them.
No matter what, she told herself firmly, I'll keep doing what I can. Even if the distance grows… I won't forget who he was.
With that thought, Ling'er straightened her back and returned fully to her duties, her expression calm once more—though something deep within her had already begun to change.