Chapter 5 — Snow Without Winter
The caravan had barely cleared the bend of the mountain road when Ye Wuchen slowed his steps.
The village was no longer visible.
Only smoke drifting above treetops.
Grandma Yu's courtyard.
The river bend.
The small shed with uneven floorboards.
He did not turn back.
But he memorized the direction.
If he ever desired a place untouched by ambition…
If he ever chose to live quietly—
Not as sovereign.
Not as cultivator.
Not as strategist.
Just as a man.
It would be there.
By that river.
He did not speak the thought aloud.
He stored it.
Carefully.
Then he continued walking.
---
The Qinghe Sect lay three days north.
The caravan moved efficiently.
No idle chatter from the disciples.
Liang whispered constantly.
Zhang Rui walked in heavy silence.
Ye Wuchen listened.
To wind direction.
To carriage wheels.
To subtle qi fluctuations from sect disciples.
Third-stage peak.
Two approaching fourth-stage.
Disciplined.
But not exceptional.
That was good.
It meant the sect was strong enough to grow in—
But not so powerful that attention would immediately follow.
---
On the third day, the mountains opened.
Stone stairways carved directly into cliffs.
White banners fluttered high above.
The sect compound rested like a crescent between two ridges.
Disciplined.
Structured.
Predictable.
Ye Wuchen felt dozens of qi signatures at once.
Outer disciples.
Inner disciples.
Elders.
The rhythm was different here.
Tighter.
Less forgiving.
---
The outer trial grounds were wide and circular.
Stone floor.
Observation platform above.
Several elders seated behind long tables.
The lead disciple who escorted them stepped forward and announced:
"Village recruits. Initial screening complete. Requesting outer trial authorization."
An elder nodded lazily.
"Begin."
---
The first test was simple.
Endurance.
Each recruit was instructed to circulate qi while standing beneath a pressure formation.
A faint hum activated beneath the stone floor.
Gravity subtly increased.
Liang's breathing immediately destabilized.
Zhang Rui gritted his teeth.
Ye Wuchen remained still.
He adjusted his breath to match the pressure rhythm.
Inhale.
Pause.
Exhale.
The formation intensified.
Some recruits collapsed within minutes.
A disciple shouted, "Remove them."
Liang trembled violently.
"Wuchen—" Liang whispered through clenched teeth.
"Slow your exhale," Ye Wuchen said calmly.
Liang obeyed.
Stabilized.
Barely.
Above them, one elder frowned slightly.
"He's blind," the elder murmured.
"Yet stable," another replied.
---
The second test involved controlled sparring.
Zhang Rui stepped into the ring first.
He faced a sect disciple already at second-stage peak.
The exchange was swift.
Zhang Rui's foundation remained imperfect.
But his breathing had improved.
He lost.
Yet he did not embarrass himself.
When he returned, breathing hard, he muttered, "They're faster."
"Yes," Ye Wuchen agreed.
"You could beat him," Zhang Rui said quietly.
"Perhaps," Ye Wuchen replied.
"But I will not."
Zhang Rui stared at him.
"Why?"
"Unnecessary visibility," Ye Wuchen answered.
---
Then her name was called.
"Lin Xueyao."
The air shifted.
Not dramatically.
But noticeably.
Her footsteps were light.
Measured.
Her qi was cold.
Clear.
Refined beyond the average recruit.
Ye Wuchen felt it before she stepped into the ring.
Lin Xueyao did not speak unnecessarily.
Her white robes were simple.
Her expression neutral.
Her opponent bowed lightly.
She returned the bow.
The spar began.
It ended in three breaths.
Her movement was not explosive.
It was precise.
Her strikes cut angles others did not perceive.
She disarmed without overextension.
Her opponent fell cleanly.
No wasted motion.
The elders nodded.
"Inner disciple potential," one murmured.
Ye Wuchen listened carefully.
Her breathing pattern was disciplined.
But not rigid.
Flexible within structure.
Interesting.
---
Then his name was called.
"Ye Wuchen."
Murmurs followed.
"The blind one?"
He stepped forward.
Calm.
Unhurried.
His opponent smirked slightly.
"You can withdraw now" the opponent said.
"I will not," Ye Wuchen replied evenly.
The spar began.
The opponent struck quickly.
Testing.
Ye Wuchen shifted half a step.
Minimal movement.
The strike grazed air.
The opponent attacked again.
Faster.
Ye Wuchen pivoted.
Not faster.
Earlier.
Predictive.
The watching disciples began whispering.
"He's not panicking."
"He can't see."
"He doesn't need to," another muttered.
The opponent grew irritated.
He lunged aggressively.
Ye Wuchen sidestepped and tapped lightly against the opponent's elbow.
The motion disrupted balance.
The opponent stumbled.
Gasps rippled across the trial ground.
Ye Wuchen did not press advantage.
Instead, he stepped back.
The opponent regained footing.
Charged again.
This time Ye Wuchen allowed the exchange to extend.
Three more movements.
A final redirect.
The opponent fell.
Not violently.
But decisively.
Silence followed.
An elder leaned forward.
"You concealed movement intentionally," the elder said.
"Yes," Ye Wuchen replied.
"Why?"
"Efficiency," Ye Wuchen answered.
The elder studied him.
"You pass."
---
As Ye Wuchen stepped down from the platform, he felt it.
Lin Xueyao's gaze.
Not warm.
Not hostile.
Assessing.
She spoke for the first time near him.
"You predicted foot placement."
Her voice was calm.
Controlled.
"Yes," Ye Wuchen replied.
"You did not strike decisively when you could."
"Correct."
"Why?"
"Because it was unnecessary."
There was a brief pause.
Then Lin Xueyao said quietly, "You are strange."
"Yes."
For the first time—
Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Not amusement.
Recognition.
---
By sunset, the accepted recruits stood in a new formation.
Outer disciples.
Temporary quarters assigned.
Liang nearly cried from relief.
Zhang Rui exhaled deeply.
Ye Wuchen stood quietly.
Another beginning.
Another layer.
As the outer disciples dispersed, Lin Xueyao passed beside him once more.
She did not slow.
But she said clearly:
"You move like someone who has already lost something."
Ye Wuchen did not respond immediately.
Then he said, "Everyone has."
She did not answer.
But she did not dismiss him either.
---
That night, in the outer disciple dormitory, Ye Wuchen sat cross-legged once more.
The sect's qi density was slightly stronger.
Better for rebuilding.
He placed his palm lightly against his chest.
The seal remained heavy.
Silent.
Mu Lian's absence remained quiet.
But the foundation beneath it grew.
Stone by stone.
Breath by breath.
Far away—
The village river continued flowing.
He did not need to see it.
He knew its rhythm.
And if ever he desired peace—
He would return.
But not yet.
Not until strength no longer required sacrifice.