Morning light spilled across the Celestial Veil Sect, warm and bright—but beneath the sunlight, an uneasy current threaded through the air. After the warnings of the previous night, none of the disciples slept soundly, least of all the four who now stood at the forefront of the Sect's preparation for the upcoming Grand Sects Gathering.
Ling Wei tightened the bindings around his wrist before stepping out into the training courtyard. Shen Yu was already there, swinging his sword in a steady rhythm, each movement precise, more controlled than in past days. Ling Wei watched him for a moment, the corner of his lips softening despite the weight in his chest. Shen Yu sensed the gaze and turned, offering a grin that was too bright for the heaviness lingering between them.
"You're up early," Shen Yu said, lowering his sword. "Couldn't sleep?"
Ling Wei didn't answer right away; he stepped closer, adjusting Shen Yu's grip without a word. "Your stance is still too stiff. Relax your shoulder."
Shen Yu did—and the change brought immediate improvement. "You always notice everything," he murmured, softer this time.
Ling Wei didn't comment, but the shadow in his eyes said enough. He hadn't forgotten the invisible presence brushing against the Sect barrier—the feeling of a predator circling just out of sight. If danger was coming, Shen Yu needed to be ready.
Across another courtyard, Yu Zhen was sorting scrolls and talismans with cold efficiency while Xiao Rong tried—and failed—to sit properly beside him. He kept shifting, bouncing his leg, leaning close, then far, then close again, clearly too restless for disciplined tasks.
"Xiao Rong," Yu Zhen finally said, tone flat, "you're making the table shake."
"I'm nervous!" Xiao Rong burst out. "All the sects will be there—their geniuses, their elders, their annoying prodigy types—"
"You are also a Celestial Veil disciple," Yu Zhen interrupted calmly. "Act like it."
Xiao Rong straightened immediately, clearing his throat. "Right, right. Discipline. Dignity. Grace."
"You lack all three," Yu Zhen replied without looking up. But there was a tiny twitch at the corner of his lips that betrayed him.
Xiao Rong noticed it instantly, leaning in with a grin. "Hey~ you smiled."
"I did not," Yu Zhen said quickly, but the faint pink on his ears told a different story.
Despite the moment, Yu Zhen felt the tension too—the strange shift in the air, Ling Wei's unease from the night before. Preparing for the Grand Gathering wasn't just about displaying the Sect's strength anymore; it was about being ready for whatever danger might lurk behind polite smiles from other sects.
By noon, both couples assembled with the Sect Master to receive instructions. Preparations were thorough: reinforcing talismans, reviewing combat formations, discussing alliances with other sects. But beneath every strategic explanation was an unspoken fear: the enemy was already moving somewhere in the dark.
While Celestial Veil bustled with activity, far away in a secluded valley, the villains were preparing in a very different way.
Mo Qing stood before a pond still as obsidian, its surface reflecting the sky like a perfect mirror. His fingers traced slow patterns in the air, each movement releasing faint ripples of dark spiritual energy. The surface shifted, forming a scene: Celestial Veil disciples gathering supplies, repairing talismans, training with renewed urgency.
Beside him, Feng Lan rested against a rock, watching the images flicker. "They look like ants," he said quietly. "Rushing around without knowing we're ready to crush their hill."
Mo Qing did not smile. "They have sensed us. That speeds things up. The Gathering is the perfect entry point. During the chaos, we will slip through unnoticed."
Feng Lan tilted his head, curious. "You're certain your disguise arrays will work?"
"I crafted them myself," Mo Qing replied, voice as soft as drifting snow. "No one will see through us unless they already suspect us."
"And they don't," Feng Lan said with a hint of satisfaction. "Not truly. Not yet."
But in the dimness reflected in the pond, there was something darker—Feng Lan's gaze lingering not on the Celestial Veil Sect, but on Mo Qing himself. Devotion twisted with obsession, growing deeper and more dangerous every day. It would help the plan, Mo Qing knew. Just as easily, it might ruin everything.
Back at the Sect, preparations continued long into the evening. Shen Yu walked beside Ling Wei, carrying supplies down a lantern-lit path. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, each touch grounding them in a way neither voiced aloud. Shen Yu finally broke the silence. "Wei… do you think something will happen at the Gathering?"
Ling Wei didn't lie. "Yes."
Shen Yu swallowed hard. "But we'll face it together, right?"
Ling Wei stopped walking, turning toward him fully. For a rarely unguarded moment, he lifted his hand and rested it lightly on Shen Yu's cheek. "Always."
Nearby, Yu Zhen was lecturing Xiao Rong, who pretended to listen but kept watching Ling Wei and Shen Yu out of the corner of his eye. "Xiao Rong," Yu Zhen snapped.
"What? I am listening!"
"You are obviously not."
Xiao Rong grinned sheepishly. "I mean… it was a cute moment."
Yu Zhen exhaled slowly, defeated. "Just focus."
"I am focusing! On you."
Yu Zhen froze. The silence that followed was almost comical—except today, even that moment carried a weight beneath it.
Celestial Veil's lanterns glowed late into the night as everyone prepared—sharpening blades, refining techniques, repairing robes, packing supplies. By midnight, the Sect felt ready.
But readiness was an illusion.
Because deep in the forest, Mo Qing murmured one final instruction to Feng Lan:
"At the Gathering… no matter what happens, do not harm Shen Yu yet."
Feng Lan blinked. "Why? He's just another disciple."
Mo Qing's eyes gleamed with cold amusement. "No. He's exactly the variable we need untouched."
And with that, their plan clicked into place like a final piece sliding into a lock—one that would open the path toward destruction.