The sect was quieter than usual.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet—
but the kind that pressed against the ears and refused to leave.
Lin Xuan noticed it the moment he stepped out of his courtyard at dawn. The outer disciples were training as always. Wooden swords struck against practice dummies. Spiritual techniques flickered in short bursts of light.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
He slowed his breathing and let his spiritual sense expand—just slightly. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough to feel the flow of qi in the air.
There were gaps.
Tiny distortions. Like something had passed through recently and deliberately smoothed over its tracks.
Lin Xuan lowered his gaze.
I might be overthinking.
Ever since the incident in the forest and the strange tension within the sect, his instincts had sharpened. Or perhaps his paranoia had grown.
He couldn't tell which.
At noon, he visited the supply hall.
The elder on duty barely looked at him before handing over his monthly spirit stones.
"Practice diligently," the elder said flatly.
Lin Xuan bowed.
But as he turned to leave, he felt it again.
A glance.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just… measuring.
When he looked back, no one was watching.
That evening, a rumor spread quietly among the outer disciples.
One of them had "requested leave" and departed the sect.
No farewell.
No announcement.
Just gone.
Lin Xuan asked casually during training.
"Who?"
A disciple shrugged. "Zhao Ming. From the eastern dormitory."
Lin Xuan's expression did not change.
Zhao Ming was ambitious. Loud. Always competing for attention.
He would never leave quietly.
Night fell.
Lin Xuan sat cross-legged inside his room, circulating his qi.
One cycle.
Two cycles.
Three.
His mind refused to settle.
Halfway through meditation, he stopped.
The spiritual energy outside his courtyard shifted.
Faint.
Almost imperceptible.
But wrong.
Someone was there.
Not moving.
Just… present.
Lin Xuan did not open his eyes.
Instead, he slowed his breathing further, letting his aura sink until it was barely noticeable. His heart rate dropped. His qi circulation softened.
He made himself appear completely immersed in cultivation.
Minutes passed.
The presence remained.
Watching.
Measuring.
Judging.
Sweat gathered at his back, but his face stayed calm.
If I move now, I confirm it.
So he waited.
Another minute.
Another.
Then—
The pressure vanished.
Not retreating.
Not walking away.
Simply… gone.
As if it had never existed.
Only then did Lin Xuan open his eyes.
The courtyard outside was empty.
The moonlight revealed nothing unusual. No footprints. No spiritual residue.
Clean.
Too clean.
He stepped outside slowly and scanned the area again.
Nothing.
But the silence felt heavier now.
Not peaceful.
Expectant.
Like prey pretending to sleep while hunters circled in the dark.
Back inside, Lin Xuan sat on the edge of his bed.
His thoughts aligned carefully.
Zhao Ming disappears.
The sect feels strained.
Someone observes him at night.
These were not coincidences.
But neither were they proof.
Accusing someone without evidence inside a sect could be fatal.
If there were hunters within the sect…
Then making the first move blindly would only expose him.
He needed information.
And patience.
Before extinguishing the lamp, Lin Xuan glanced toward the window one last time.
For a brief second—
He thought he saw a shadow shift beyond the wall.
He did not move.
Did not react.
But this time, he was certain of one thing.
He was no longer just cultivating in peace.
Someone had begun evaluating him.
And in this sect—
Those who were evaluated were rarely left alive for long.
The night deepened.
And Lin Xuan did not sleep.