The invitation arrived without formality.
No official seal.
No written order.
Just a thin bamboo slip placed outside Xuanye's cultivation room at dusk.
—A small discussion. Eastern Hall. Tonight.
Xuanye read it once, then set it aside.
He did not ask who sent it.
He already knew.
The Eastern Hall was rarely used—too large for low-ranking disciples, too insignificant for elders. A neutral space. Safe enough to talk. Quiet enough to evaluate someone.
Xuanye arrived on time.
Inside the hall were only four people.
A mid-ranking elder sat on a stone seat, his expression warm, his aura restrained. Beside him stood two gifted disciples, relaxed in posture. And one administrative supervisor—the same one who had questioned Xuanye before.
"Thank you for coming," the elder said with a smile. "This is not an interrogation."
Xuanye gave a shallow bow. "I'm listening."
"We've noticed your cultivation pattern," the elder continued. "You have a solid foundation. Discipline. Stability."
Xuanye remained silent.
"But recently," the elder said, "you seem to be holding yourself back."
"That's a waste," one of the gifted disciples added casually.
"No," Xuanye replied softly. "It's a choice."
A brief silence followed.
The elder did not grow angry. If anything, he seemed intrigued.
"Do you know what the sect offers disciples like you?" he asked.
Xuanye nodded. "Access. Guidance. Opportunity."
"Correct," the elder said. "And all of that comes with one simple thing—trust."
He raised his hand, and a cultivation pill appeared in his palm. High quality. Pure. Valuable.
"Take this," he said lightly. "Advance one step. Prove that you're still walking with us."
Xuanye stared at the pill for a long moment.
There was no trap.
No poison.
No rule being broken.
He could consume it now—and perhaps nothing would happen.
But he remembered Li Wen.
He remembered Elder Mo Yunqiu.
He remembered the world's calm after they were gone.
Xuanye lifted his gaze.
"And if I refuse?" he asked.
The elder's smile thinned, but did not vanish.
"There will be no punishment," he replied. "Only… conclusions."
Xuanye exhaled softly.
He bowed deeper than before—
then gently pushed the pill back toward the elder.
"I'm not ready."
It was a small lie.
And the world approved of it.
No reaction.
No pressure.
No correction.
The elder nodded slowly. "Think carefully, Xuanye. Opportunities don't come twice."
Xuanye turned and left.
In the dark corridor, his heart pounded—not from fear, but from the realization that he had just done something nearly impossible in this world.
He had refused advancement…
openly.
And for the first time, he felt something cold and clear settle within him:
From now on, every safe step
would look like a mistake.