The roof was empty. A sparrow landed on the tile, chirping happily.
But Yoriichi knew.
He felt it. A prickling sensation on the back of his neck. The feeling of being weighed, measured, and judged. It was the sensation of a prey animal knowing a hawk is circling, even if the sky looks clear.
"I was watched," Yoriichi thought, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
His Selfless State was weak, only extending a few meters. He hadn't sensed the presence itself—the observer was too strong. But he sensed the intent, and a faint, lingering familiarity. It was the same hidden presence he had sensed two days ago, hovering invisibly in the background when Xiao Xun'er had come to see him.
"Always under surveillance," Yoriichi murmured, finishing the knot on his bandage with a sharp tug using his teeth.
He walked back to his room, his mind racing.
"First, shadowing that girl. Now, watching my morning training. Someone high-level is keeping an eye on me. Is it an enemy? Or just a neutral observer?"
He sat on his bed, the damp towel resting on his lap.
"If it were an enemy, I would be dead. They are observing. But observation is dangerous. If they see the Sun Breathing... if they see the Total Concentration constant... they will have questions I cannot answer."
Knock. Knock.
The sudden sound at the courtyard gate broke his concentration.
Yoriichi sat up straighter. "Enter."
The gate creaked open. It wasn't Xiao Yu or his Grandfather.
It was a young servant boy, barely twelve years old, dressed in the gray rough-spun clothes of the lowest caste. He was carrying a wooden food tray, and he was trembling.
The servant, Little Liu, had drawn the short straw. The entire kitchen staff was terrified of Xiao Ning after the "Kitchen Raid" incident. Rumors had spread that the Young Master was a gluttonous demon who would eat raw meat if not fed on time.
"Y-Young Master," Little Liu stammered, keeping his eyes on the ground. "I... I brought your lunch."
He stepped into the courtyard.
Little Liu looked up.
His eyes widened in horror.
Directly in front of him was the old ironwood tree. The trunk was decimated, a massive crater blasted into the wood. But what made Little Liu's blood run cold was the blood.
The bark was smeared with fresh, bright red blood. Droplets of it stained the grass below. It looked like a torture scene.
Little Liu's gaze snapped to Yoriichi.
The Young Master was sitting on the edge of his bed. His upper body was naked, revealing the new, wiry muscles. But his hands... his hands were wrapped in thick white bandages that were already spotting with red.
"He... he beat the tree until he bled?" Little Liu thought, his imagination running wild. "Is he practicing a demonic art? Is he insane?"
The tray in Little Liu's hands rattled violently. The soup bowl clattered against the plate.
"I-I'm sorry!" Little Liu squeaked, terrified that the 'demon' would lash out at him for the noise. "I didn't mean to—"
"It is fine," Yoriichi said.
His voice was calm. Too calm. To Little Liu, it sounded like the calm before a storm.
Yoriichi stood up and walked over. Little Liu flinched, closing his eyes, expecting a blow.
Instead, gentle hands took the tray from him.
"Thank you for the food," Yoriichi said politely. "It smells good."
Little Liu opened one eye. The Young Master wasn't glaring. He wasn't screaming. He was looking at him with deep, red eyes that felt strangely heavy, yet not malicious.
"Y-yes! P-please enjoy!" Little Liu shouted, bowing so fast he almost headbutted his knees.
He turned and ran. He sprinted out of the courtyard as if the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels, leaving the gate swinging in the wind.
Yoriichi watched him go, holding the tray. He blinked.
"Why was he running?" Yoriichi wondered aloud. He looked at the bloody tree, then at his bandaged hands.
"Ah."
He realized the optics of the situation. To a normal person, this scene looked like the lair of a madman.
"Misunderstandings will happen," he sighed, carrying the tray back to his room. "I cannot control what they think. I can only control what I do."
He sat down and began to eat. It was simple fare—steamed fish and vegetables—but he ate it with gratitude.
As he ate, his mind returned to the problem of the observer on the roof.
"I cannot fight them," he admitted, chewing slowly. "I am an ant compared to the presence I felt. So I must outsmart them. I need to learn how to hide my aura better. I need to understand the sensory abilities of this world so I can blind them."
He thought of asking Grandfather.
"No. Grandfather is a Da Dou Shi, but his knowledge is limited to clan affairs. He wouldn't know high-level stealth mechanics. And asking him would worry him. He would think I am in trouble."
He needed knowledge. Neutral, vast, and accessible.
An idea struck him.
"The Library."
The Xiao Clan possessed the Scripture Pavilion (Dou Qi Pavilion) where techniques were stored, but they also had a general archives library for history, geography, and theory. It was the largest in Wu Tan City, filled with books collected over generations.
"I can find answers there," Yoriichi plotted. "I can research 'Soul Perception.' I can research metals for the sword. I can research the geography of the Magic Beast Mountains for my future training."
He nodded to himself. It was a solid plan.
"I will go at noon," he decided. "When the sun is high and the shadows are short."
He finished his meal, feeling the energy replenish his body.
The day was long. The tasks were many. But Yoriichi Tsugikuni was no longer just recovering; he was preparing.
He stood up, adjusted his robes over his bandaged hands, and stepped out into the sun.