Morning practice always began the same way in Azure Heaven Sect: rows of disciples moving in unison, blades flashing, qi flowing, voices raised in chants.
Today, however, the rhythm faltered. Every time Jiang Hao passed by the training grounds, movements grew sloppy, voices wavered, and heads turned to follow him.
He pretended not to notice.
"Senior Brother Jiang Hao!" one disciple suddenly called, bowing with exaggerated respect. "Would you… would you mind correcting my sword stance?"
Jiang Hao, sipping from a cup of tea he had carried into the courtyard, blinked once. "Your grip is wrong. Fix it."
The disciple hurried to adjust, beaming as if Jiang Hao had bestowed a secret divine technique upon him. "Yes! Thank you, Senior Brother!"
Another disciple scrambled forward. "Senior Brother, could you—"
"No." Jiang Hao cut him off without even glancing his way.
The boy froze, mouth still open, before retreating like a scolded puppy. The other disciples bit back laughter, trying to keep their forms steady.
Lin Xueyao stood at the edge of the training grounds, arms folded, watching. Her lips twitched in spite of herself.
He really doesn't care what anyone thinks. Not about fame, not about gratitude. Nothing touches him.
Her heart squeezed unexpectedly. That indifference was what made him so different from the others. The more he pushed people away, the more they seemed drawn to him. And she… she was no exception.
By midday, Jiang Hao found himself cornered near the library pavilion. A group of disciples—three men and two women—bowed low in unison, blocking his path.
"Senior Brother Jiang Hao, please, accept us as your followers!" one of them declared dramatically.
Jiang Hao stared at them. "Followers?"
"Yes!" the young man continued earnestly. "We admire your strength, your calm demeanor, your hidden depths! We swear to serve you faithfully!"
The other four nodded vigorously, their eyes shining with determination.
Jiang Hao sipped from his flask, unhurried. Then he turned to leave. "No."
The disciples scrambled after him. "Please reconsider!"
"I don't accept followers."
"But—"
"I work nine to five," Jiang Hao said flatly. "Training followers would be overtime."
The group blinked in unison, stunned into silence. One of the women whispered, "Nine… to five?" as if it were some ancient cultivation mantra.
Jiang Hao left them behind without another word, his robes fluttering lightly in the breeze.
From a distance, Elder Tian watched the exchange with a hidden smile tugging at his lips. Even refusing disciples, he turns it into wisdom. This boy… no, this son of mine, he truly walks a path no one else can touch.
That night, Lin Xueyao found herself wandering toward the quiet pavilion by the lotus pond. She had hoped to clear her thoughts, but she wasn't surprised when she saw Jiang Hao already seated there, tea steaming faintly beside him.
"You're everywhere I go lately," she muttered, though her tone lacked heat.
He didn't open his eyes. "The pond was here before you came. I'm simply sitting."
She huffed softly, settling down across from him. The moonlight shimmered across the water, illuminating her delicate features. For a while, they sat in companionable silence, broken only by the occasional splash of a fish.
Finally, she said, "Do you ever think about what you want?"
Jiang Hao's eyes opened, dark and calm. "I already have it."
"What is it, then?" she pressed.
"Peace. Simplicity. Tea. No overtime." His lips curved slightly, almost imperceptibly.
Her breath caught. To anyone else, those words would sound laughable. To her, they were disarming. She wanted to tell him that peace was fleeting, that demons would not let him live quietly, that he couldn't hold the world at bay forever.
But when she looked into his eyes, she saw the immovable certainty there. It silenced her.
She turned her gaze back to the water, hiding the turmoil in her chest.
Far from the sect, in a cavern hidden beneath jagged cliffs, shadows gathered. Demon Sect elders cloaked in black robes knelt before a stone altar, their voices low and venomous.
"The Azure Heaven Sect grows bolder," one rasped. "Their defenses held even against our assassins. This cannot continue."
Another sneered. "And that boy… Jiang Hao. The reports are troubling. A nameless disciple wielding such force? He is a threat."
The eldest among them raised a skeletal hand. "Do not underestimate him. Do not overestimate him. If his strength is real, then we will draw it out. If it is false, he will crumble under pressure. Either way… he must be tested."
The cavern echoed with sinister laughter, their whispers weaving plans of blood and shadow.
Back in his quarters, Jiang Hao poured the last of his tea into his cup. He sipped slowly, eyes half-closed.
He could sense the malice brewing in the distance, faint threads of killing intent brushing against the edges of his sealed power.
He did not tense. He did not frown.
He simply placed the empty cup on the table and leaned back.
"They'll come soon," he murmured to the silence. "I'll deal with it. Within working hours."
The candle flame wavered, throwing long shadows across the room. Outside, the sect prepared for dawn. Inside, Jiang Hao drifted into calm meditation, as if the entire world were nothing more than another day's routine.
And somewhere nearby, Lin Xueyao sat awake again, restless, her thoughts consumed by a man who refused to step into the light—yet shone brighter than anyone she had ever known.
The night air was cool, touched with the faint sweetness of blooming plum blossoms. Azure Heaven Sect, normally a bastion of calm, carried an unease that could not be ignored. Patrols doubled, lanterns burned brighter, and disciples lingered awake longer than usual.
Fear had a way of gnawing at the edges of silence.
In the eastern quarter, two guards whispered as they walked their route.
"Did you hear? Elder Tian nearly shouted down Elder Zhou at the council.""I heard. All because of Jiang Hao. They're saying he's either a hidden prodigy… or a hidden threat.""What do you think?""…I think I want to live. Which means I'll never speak his name too loudly."
Their laughter was nervous, hollow. They passed beneath the lantern light, shadows stretching long across the stone path.
High above, on a tiled rooftop, a pair of eyes glowed faintly red. A figure cloaked in darkness crouched there, watching.
The spy slipped away silently, vanishing into the night.
In his modest quarters, Jiang Hao sat cross-legged, a book propped open in one hand. He read slowly, turning each page with quiet deliberation. The candle beside him flickered but did not waver, as though even the flame bowed to his calm.
He had sensed the eyes, of course. The Demon Sect spy had practically screamed malice. But Jiang Hao hadn't bothered to move.
Let them look, he thought. The more they think they see, the less they understand.
He placed a bookmark between the pages and shut the book. His gaze drifted toward the window, where the moon hung bright and cold.
Somewhere out there, plans were being laid. Swords were being sharpened. Yet within his room, time seemed to stand still.
Jiang Hao leaned back, his voice little more than a murmur. "Tomorrow's a new day. Work as usual. Within hours only."
He doused the candle and lay down to sleep, as if the world outside had no claim on his peace.
Not everyone slept so easily.
Lin Xueyao stood alone atop the sect's northern wall, her long robes stirring in the wind. She gazed out into the dark forests below, her heart unsettled.
Every rumor, every whisper about Jiang Hao replayed in her mind. The disciples' chatter, the elders' suspicions, her own confusion.
She remembered the way he had dismissed the idea of followers. The way he sipped tea even in the aftermath of battle. The way his eyes held the stillness of a bottomless lake.
She pressed a hand against her chest, scowling at the quick rhythm of her heartbeat. "Why him? Of all people… why him?"
No answer came from the silent woods. Only the sigh of the wind and the distant hoot of an owl.
Unseen in the shadows beyond the wall, a Demon Sect assassin crouched low, eyes fixed on her figure. His orders were clear: test the sect's defenses, strike if possible, retreat if not.
But when his gaze shifted past Lin Xueyao to the inner courtyard, he froze.
There, barely visible through a thin veil of lantern light, Jiang Hao walked leisurely, carrying a flask of tea in one hand and yawning as if the night itself was a burden.
The assassin's body went rigid. Even from this distance, he felt it—an invisible weight pressing on his chest.
It was not killing intent. It was not spiritual pressure.
It was something far worse: the crushing realization that this man had noticed him, acknowledged him, and dismissed him all in the same moment.
The assassin's breath stuttered. Sweat trickled down his neck. Then he vanished into the trees, fleeing without daring a strike.
At dawn, Elder Tian found Jiang Hao seated by the lotus pond, sipping tea as usual.
"You knew he was there," the elder said simply.
Jiang Hao nodded. "He was clumsy."
"And you let him go."
"I had no overtime left." Jiang Hao set his cup down, looking his master in the eye. "Besides, killing him would have stirred trouble. This way, they'll waste more time plotting. That's worth more than blood on my hands."
Elder Tian chuckled softly, though his eyes were heavy with thought. "You always calculate so carefully, even while pretending not to care. You remind me of someone."
Jiang Hao tilted his head. "Who?"
"My younger self." Elder Tian smiled faintly, a rare warmth breaking through his usually stern features. "Though I lacked your stubbornness for peace."
Jiang Hao's lips curved slightly. It was the closest thing he gave to a smile.
By evening, rumors once again swept the sect like wildfire. Some claimed Jiang Hao had single-handedly scared off a Demon Sect assassin with a mere glance. Others insisted he had slain three spies and hidden the bodies in the woods.
Jiang Hao, meanwhile, was sitting in the dining hall, eating steamed buns with quiet contentment.
"Senior Brother," a wide-eyed junior whispered from across the table, "is it true you defeated the assassin last night?"
Jiang Hao swallowed his bite and took a sip of tea before answering. "I was asleep."
The juniors blinked, utterly confused.
Lin Xueyao, sitting at another table, pressed a hand to her mouth to hide a laugh. For the first time in days, her chest felt lighter.
Far away, in the cavern temple of the Demon Sect, the spy who had fled knelt before the elders, trembling.
"What did you see?" the eldest demanded.
The spy's voice quavered. "I… I saw him. Jiang Hao. He looked at me. He didn't move, he didn't strike. But I could not breathe. I could not stay. Forgive me—I could not raise a hand against him."
The cavern filled with silence, heavy and suffocating.
Then the eldest elder leaned back, eyes narrowing. "Interesting. Very interesting. A man who terrifies without lifting a blade. Such a one cannot be ignored."
The spy dared not raise his head. His body shook as whispers filled the chamber, dark and eager.
Plans shifted. Shadows thickened. The storm gathered.
And at its center, Jiang Hao drank tea by lantern light, utterly unconcerned, his world still governed by the simplest of rules: nine to five, no overtime.