The outer sword platform sat on a low rise at the eastern edge of the Lin Clan grounds—far enough from the main residences that the morning mist still clung to the bamboo groves like reluctant ghosts. Dawn light filtered through in thin silver shafts, turning the dew on the wooden planks into scattered diamonds.
Yue Li was already there.
She stood motionless at the center of the platform, plain practice sword held loosely in her right hand, tip resting against the boards. Her violet robes had been exchanged for simpler gray training garb; sleeves tied back, hair bound high in a warrior's knot. No jewelry. No unnecessary movement. Just quiet readiness.
She didn't acknowledge Lin Feng's approach until his shadow fell across the first plank.
"You came," she said without turning.
"You asked."
A small breath escaped her—almost amusement.
"Most people would have found an excuse after last night."
"I'm not most people."
She turned then.
Her gray eyes swept over him once: the same patched outer disciple robe, the same unremarkable posture. Nothing about him screamed danger or promise. Yet something in the way he stood—weight balanced perfectly, hands loose at his sides—made the fine hairs on her arms rise for no reason she could name.
She lifted her sword in a casual salute. Not formal. Not mocking. Just… testing.
"Show me."
Lin Feng regarded the blade. Then her.
"I have no sword."
Her brow lifted.
"You expect me to believe the 'eternal trash' never trained with one?"
"I trained." His voice stayed even. "I just never finished learning how to lose gracefully."
She considered that for a moment.
Then she stepped forward and tossed her practice sword to him—underhand, gentle arc.
He caught it by the hilt without looking. Fingers closed around the worn grip like they belonged there.
Yue Li drew a second blade from the rack at the platform's edge—identical, unadorned.
"No qi. No techniques. Just movement. I want to see what's left when the rumors are stripped away."
Lin Feng inclined his head once.
They faced each other.
She moved first.
A single, clean horizontal cut—fast enough to whistle, controlled enough not to overcommit. A probing strike meant to force reaction, not draw blood.
Lin Feng didn't block.
He swayed—just enough. The blade passed a finger's width from his throat. He felt the displaced air cool against his skin.
Her eyes narrowed.
Again.
This time a diagonal descending cut, followed by a rising counter if he dodged low.
He stepped inside her reach instead.
Not aggressively. Not slowly. Precisely.
The flat of her blade met empty space where his shoulder had been. His own sword rested lightly against the side of her neck—edge not touching, but close enough she could feel the faint warmth of steel.
She froze.
For one long heartbeat neither moved.
Then she exhaled slowly.
"You let me think you were open."
"I let you think many things."
He withdrew the blade and stepped back, lowering it to his side.
Yue Li studied him again—this time with something new in her gaze. Not suspicion exactly. Not admiration yet.
Curiosity edged toward interest.
"Where did you learn that?"
"Watching." He shrugged once. "People don't guard their movements when they think no one worth watching is present."
She lowered her sword.
"You watched me train?"
"Among others."
A faint flush touched her cheeks—not embarrassment. Something sharper. Awareness.
"You've been here longer than people realize."
"Ten years is a long time to be invisible."
She sheathed her blade with a soft click.
"Why reveal yourself now?"
"Because you asked without demanding."
Simple. Honest. And somehow more dangerous for it.
Yue Li looked away for the first time—toward the rising sun, where the thin black scar in the sky had grown noticeably wider overnight. Violet mist now trailed from it like smoke from a dying fire.
"The first gate opens today," she said quietly. "Outer disciples will be conscripted to form the forward line. Most won't return."
"I know."
She turned back to him.
"You don't seem afraid."
"Fear is a luxury I spent a long time ago."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Then why bother coming here at dawn? If survival is all that matters—"
"It isn't."
The words came out quieter than he intended.
She searched his face.
He let her.
After a moment she stepped closer—close enough that he could smell the faint trace of frost dew and sword oil on her.
"If we both survive the gate today," she said, voice low, "promise me something."
He waited.
"Don't disappear again. Not completely."
A request. Not an order.
Something fragile beneath the steel.
Lin Feng felt the black thread inside him stir—not toward devouring, but toward… listening.
"I won't promise what I can't keep," he said. "But I'll remember the request."
Her gaze held his.
Then she reached out—slowly—and adjusted the collar of his robe where it had twisted during their exchange. Her fingers brushed the skin at his throat for less than a second.
The touch lingered in the air longer than it lasted.
She stepped back.
"Dawn patrol assembles in an hour. Don't be late."
She turned and walked toward the bamboo grove.
Halfway there she paused without looking back.
"And Lin Feng?"
"Yes?"
"If you die out there today… I'll be disappointed."
She continued walking.
He watched until the mist swallowed her silhouette.
Only then did the notification chime—soft, almost hesitant.
[Ding! Emotional Resonance with Target: Yue Li — Increased to 12%]
[New Hidden Status Unlocked: Anchor of Restraint]
[Description: Certain marked individuals may temporarily suppress Devour Instinct when resonance exceeds 10%. Effect strengthens with emotional progression. Warning: Excessive attachment risks diluting Sovereign Path.]
Lin Feng closed his eyes once.
When he opened them again, the faint curve that wasn't quite a smile had returned.
He turned toward the assembly grounds.
The first monster wave would arrive with the gate's full opening.
Lin Hao would be there—gleaming, confident, already gathering a small circle of admirers who thought themselves untouchable.
And somewhere among the conscripts, Wei Shun—the one who had wielded the needle—would be sweating, unaware that the black mark on his soul had already begun to spread.
Lin Feng adjusted his grip on the borrowed practice sword.
Today wasn't about winning.
Today was about beginning.
And some beginnings… required witnesses.
He started walking.
The mist parted around him like it knew better than to linger.
**To be continued...**