The room was plain.
No incense. No banners. No sect insignia.
Just stone walls that had never echoed loudly enough to remember secrets.
Bai Jingyu stood at the center of the room, posture relaxed, staff resting lightly against her shoulder. The blindfold was already in place—not because it was required, but because she had learned that once it was tied, the world behaved more predictably.
Across from her, Bai Yi poured tea.
She did not look hurried. She never did.
"You will take the escort," she said, setting one cup aside. "Jiang Clan. Southern route."
Bai Jingyu inclined her head slightly. Not a bow. Acknowledgment.
"Primary objective?" she asked.
"Ensure completion," Bai Yi replied. "No losses among the core members. The caravan itself is… acceptable collateral."
Bai Jingyu's fingers tightened—just a fraction—around the staff.
"Secondary?" she asked.
Bai Yi finally looked at her.
"Observe."
She waited.
"Su Xiaoyue," she continued. "Courtesy name, Su Wenxin, Inner disciple. Escort leader in name. Sword cultivator."
Bai Jingyu tilted her head. "In name?"
Bai Yi's lips curved faintly. "She is competent. But she has been shaped."
"By whom?" Jingyu asked.
"By grief," Bai Yi said simply.
That earned silence.
"Your presence," she continued, "is not to guide her. Not to correct her. And certainly not to interfere unless necessary."
Bai Jingyu nodded once. "I will not take command."
"Good," Bai Yi said. "Because you will not reveal yourself."
That was expected.
"No name," she added. "No lineage. No realm."
"And my cultivation?" Jingyu asked.
"Suppress it," Bai Yi said without hesitation. "Let it read as… inconveniently unclear."
Bai Jingyu exhaled softly. "That will attract attention."
"Yes," Bai Yi agreed. "But the wrong kind."
She slid the second cup of tea toward her.
"You are an independent cultivator," she continued. "Specialization: suppression, escort, medical support."
Bai Jingyu accepted the cup but did not drink.
"And termination?" she asked.
Bai Yi's gaze sharpened—not in warning, but in precision.
"Conditional," she said. "Only if containment fails."
She nodded.
A pause.
"Do not kill unless there is no other path," Bai Yi added. "Not because you cannot."
Bai Jingyu's mouth curved faintly. "Because it would be remembered."
"Yes," Bai Yi said. "And you are not ready to be remembered yet."
She sipped the tea. It tasted faintly bitter.
"Beasts?" she asked.
Bai Yi did not answer immediately.
"If you encounter them," she said at last, "do not deny what you are."
Bai Jingyu's hand stilled.
"But do not confirm it either," he finished.
She understood.
"Your heirloom," Bai Yi continued, "wear it openly. Do not explain it."
"That is risky," Bai Jingyu said.
Bai Yi met her gaze—through the blindfold, through the silence.
"So is hiding it," she replied.
Another pause.
"You are not there to change the world," Bai Yi said finally. "You are there to pass through it."
Bai Jingyu set the empty cup down.
"And if the world refuses to let me?" she asked.
Bai Yi's expression softened—just a little.
"Then," she said, "you endure."
She inclined her head again.
This time, it was closer to a bow.
"I will complete the escort," Bai Jingyu said.
"I know," Bai Yi replied.
As she turned to leave, she spoke once more.
"Jingyu."
She stopped.
"Do not underestimate the sword cultivator," Bai Yi said quietly. "She has been taught to endure alone."
Bai Jingyu's grip tightened on Qingliang.
"…Then she has learned the wrong lesson," she said.
Bai Yi did not correct her.
The door closed softly behind her.