The air around the Celestial Veil training grounds buzzed with energy as disciples hurried about—testing their weapons, adjusting uniforms, and practicing stances with nervous excitement. The sect's internal competition was only a week away, and the entire mountain seemed to pulse with anticipation.
Shen Yu, however, was sulking behind a tree.
He peeked around the trunk, watching Ling Wei run through a graceful sword form. His movements were precise and fluid, like a flowing river. Meanwhile, Shen Yu… well… Shen Yu's body still insisted on behaving like a runaway duck.
Xiao Rong found him instantly.
"There you are!" he announced with unnecessary volume. "Hiding like a scared squirrel!"
"I'm not scared," Shen Yu protested. "I'm… thinking."
"Thinking about Senior Brother Ling's lips?" Xiao Rong grinned wickedly.
Shen Yu jumped. "W-WHAT?!"
Before Shen Yu could strangle him, Yu Zhen approached and flicked Xiao Rong's forehead.
"Stop teasing him," Yu Zhen said. "The competition is soon."
Xiao Rong rubbed his forehead, grumbling, "But he gets so red, it's funny…"
Before Shen Yu could reply, Ling Wei finished his sword form and sheathed his blade with the kind of elegance that made Shen Yu weak in the knees.
"Shen Yu," Ling Wei called.
Shen Yu froze.
Xiao Rong whispered, "He sounds like he's summoning you."
Yu Zhen added calmly, "He usually only uses that tone when he's serious."
Shen Yu swallowed his panic and walked over, trying very hard not to trip over his own feet.
Ling Wei looked him over once, eyes lingering on Shen Yu's hands. "We're practicing your balance today. Your footwork collapses whenever you panic."
Shen Yu turned bright red. "I don't panic!"
"Yes," Ling Wei said simply. "You do."
To prove his point, he stepped into Shen Yu's space—too close, too sudden.
Shen Yu instantly stumbled backward.
Ling Wei caught him by the wrist. "Case in point."
Shen Yu wanted to vanish into a hole.
But Ling Wei didn't tease him. Instead, he steadied Shen Yu with gentle hands and guided him to the center of the field.
"Relax your shoulders. Breathe slowly. Keep your stance firm."
Shen Yu nodded… only to immediately lose balance again. He would have crashed into the dirt if Ling Wei hadn't grabbed him—again.
Behind them, Xiao Rong was trying not to laugh.
Yu Zhen elbowed him. "Focus on your own training."
"Focusing," Xiao Rong replied innocently—while watching Shen Yu nearly fall for the fourth time.
Yu Zhen sighed and adjusted Xiao Rong's posture. "Your stance is wrong. Lift your elbow."
"Like this?"
"No. You look like you're signaling a passing bird."
Xiao Rong pouted but obeyed.
They began sparring lightly, but their training quickly turned chaotic when Xiao Rong lunged too enthusiastically and ended up entangling his wrist with Yu Zhen's. Yu Zhen caught him by the waist before he toppled over.
For a moment, they froze—close enough to feel each other's breath.
Xiao Rong blinked up at him. "Uh…"
Yu Zhen cleared his throat and stepped back instantly. "Maintain distance."
"R-Right… distance," Xiao Rong muttered while secretly smiling to himself.
Meanwhile, Shen Yu was a disaster in motion.
"Shen Yu," Ling Wei said calmly for the twentieth time, "stop leaning forward. You'll fall."
"I won't fall—AH—!"
He fell.
Ling Wei sighed and caught him again, arms easily circling around Shen Yu's waist. Shen Yu's face was so red it could light the lanterns at night.
"Should I wrap you in protective padding?" Ling Wei murmured.
Shen Yu squeaked. "N-No!"
Ling Wei's lips curved faintly. "Then try again."
Their training continued like this for a long, chaotic hour—Shen Yu tripping, Ling Wei catching; Xiao Rong teasing, Yu Zhen pretending not to notice the warmth creeping into his chest every time Xiao Rong laughed too loudly.
But while the four of them stumbled through their comedy-filled practice, a pair of eyes watched from the upper ridge of the training ground.
Mo Qing leaned against a tree, arms crossed, smile sharp and dangerous. His gaze lingered on Ling Wei—the calm golden disciple—then shifted to Shen Yu, who radiated raw, untamed potential even in his clumsiness.
Feng Lan stood beside him, expression unreadable. But Mo Qing saw the tension in his jaw. "You recognize the strength in that one?" Mo Qing asked softly.
Feng Lan nodded. "Yes. Ling Wei is strong."
Mo Qing's gaze narrowed with interest. "But the other one—the awkward boy—is more interesting to me."
Feng Lan's brows furrowed. "Shen Yu?"
Mo Qing's smile widened. "Yes. He has… something."
His voice sank into the shadows like a whisper of danger.
"We'll keep an eye on him."
Feng Lan didn't reply. His eyes weren't on Shen Yu—they were on Mo Qing, as always.
Below them, Shen Yu fell for the sixth time.
Ling Wei caught him for the sixth time.
Mo Qing chuckled. "This will be amusing."
The wind shifted. Ling Wei's head lifted suddenly—sharp instincts sensing danger—but by the time he looked toward the ridge, both figures had already vanished into the trees.
Shen Yu blinked. "Ling Wei? What's wrong?"
"…Nothing," Ling Wei said, though his eyes remained cold, alert. "Let's end for today."
Shen Yu, Xiao Rong, and Yu Zhen didn't notice the chill in his voice.
But the night did.
Something had begun.