The herb gathering mission departed at dawn.
Liang Yu watched from the garden as the group assembled—twenty outer disciples, three inner disciples including Lin Fei, two elders for supervision. Zhang Hu was there, standing at the edge of the group, his face carefully blank. Wu Chen was there too, laughing with friends, playing the role of ordinary disciple.
They didn't know. None of them knew.
Lin Fei caught Liang Yu's eye across the courtyard. Held his gaze for just a moment. Then looked away.
The group departed through the sect gates and disappeared into the mountain path.
Liang Yu went back to weeding.
They returned at dusk.
Twenty-one outer disciples. Three inner disciples. Two elders.
Zhang Hu was not among them. Neither was Wu Chen. Neither were the two unknowns.
Liang Yu watched from the well as the group filed through the gates, their faces shadowed and strange. Something had happened. Something that showed in the way they walked, the way they didn't look at each other, the way the elders moved with purpose toward the Sect Leader's pavilion.
Lin Fei walked at the front of the group. Unharmed. Unmarked. His face revealed nothing.
He didn't look toward Liang Yu.
The news spread by morning.
Wu Chen and Zhang Hu had attempted to assassinate Lin Fei during the herb gathering. They had been discovered—Lin Fei had been prepared, had turned their ambush against them. Wu Chen was dead. Zhang Hu was in custody, awaiting judgment. The other two had fled into the mountains; search parties were being organized.
The sect was in shock. Assassination attempts were almost unheard of at Verdant Sky. Disciples argued, whispered, speculated. Some defended Wu Chen—he'd always been ambitious, but murder? Others shook their heads and said they'd seen it coming. Zhang Hu's years of resentment had finally borne fruit.
Liang Yu listened to it all. Said nothing. Weeded his garden.
On the third day, Zhang Hu was executed.
They did it publicly, in the main courtyard, at noon. All disciples were required to watch. The Sect Leader herself delivered the judgment—a single stroke that severed his head from his body. His cultivation meant nothing. His five years of service meant nothing. In the end, he was just meat, bleeding onto the stones.
Liang Yu watched. Felt something twist in his chest. Kept his face still.
He made his choice. I made mine.
That's what you'll tell yourself.
It's true.
Is it?
He didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
Mission Complete: The Fork
Path chosen: Warn Lin Fei
Outcome: Plot exposed. Plotters eliminated. Lin Fei unharmed.
Consequences: Zhang Hu executed. Wu Chen dead. Two fugitives at large. Sect shaken but stable.
Primary Reward: Lin Fei's gratitude (significant)
Secondary Reward: +10 reputation (cautious, with those who know)
Hidden Consequence: The fugitives may seek revenge. They know someone warned Lin Fei. They may eventually learn who.
Liang Fu read the notification and felt cold settle into his bones.
The fugitives.
He hadn't considered them. Two outer disciples, names unknown, now running for their lives in the mountains. They'd lost everything—their place in the sect, their futures, their friends. And they'd want someone to blame.
They'll blame Lin Fei first. But if they can't reach him—
They'll look for the source. The warning. The one who turned their plan to ash.
Me.
He sat on his pallet, the two pills still hidden beneath it, and faced the reality of what he'd done.
He'd made an enemy. Not a rival, not a competitor—an enemy. Someone who would kill him if they could. Someone with nothing left to lose.
This is what the system means by consequences.
Yes.
I should have—
What? Let Lin Fei die? Helped the plotters? Done nothing and hoped for the best?
I don't know. Something. Something that didn't end with people trying to kill me.
Then you should have stayed in your room and never gotten involved. But you didn't. You chose. And now you live with it.
The system's voice was cold, but not unsympathetic. It was the coldness of reality, of cause and effect, of a universe that didn't care about comfort.
Liang Yu sat with it for a long time.
Then he took out one of the pills and swallowed it.
The effect was immediate and agonizing.
Fire raced through his meridians—what few of them were open—burning through blockages that had been there since birth. He doubled over, gasping, sweat pouring down his face. His vision went white. His muscles spasmed. For a long, terrible moment, he thought he was dying.
Then it stopped.
He lay on the floor, trembling, breathing in ragged gasps. His body felt strange—lighter, somehow. More present. When he reached for qi, he found it.
Not much. A trickle, where before there'd been nothing. But a trickle that actually moved, actually flowed through his meridians instead of pooling uselessly in his dantian.
He could cultivate now. Slowly. Painfully. But actually cultivate.
Congratulations. You are no longer completely talentless. You are now merely very untalented.
Thanks.
The second pill will have less effect. Meridian cleansing has diminishing returns. You'll need better resources to make real progress.
I know.
He sat up. Wiped his face. Looked at his hands—still young, still uncallused, but now belonging to someone who could change.
Two fugitives in the mountains. Lin Fei's gratitude. A reputation as someone who warned the rising star. Two pills, one used, one remaining.
This is my life now. Calculated risks. Unintended consequences. Choices that echo.
He stood. Walked to the door. Opened it.
The sect was going about its business. Disciples trained, talked, lived. The stones where Zhang Hu died had been washed clean. No one looked at him. No one knew what he'd done.
But he knew.
And somewhere in the mountains, two men knew someone had betrayed them.
Liang Yu stepped into the sunlight and went back to weeding.