For the first time since the coronation attack, the Heng Ming Sect experienced something that almost resembled peace.
The mountain remained sealed.
The investigation remained active.
Patrols continued day and night.
Yet the fear that had gripped the sect was gradually beginning to fade.
Disciples returned to training.
Markets reopened.
The sounds of daily life slowly returned to the mountain peaks.
It was a fragile peace.
The kind that could shatter at any moment.
But peace nonetheless.
---
The morning sun had barely risen when Xiaoyu found herself standing before a heavily guarded stone hall.
Beside her stood Shen Wei.
Several disciples stationed outside immediately bowed.
"Sect Master."
The massive doors slowly opened.
A cold breeze escaped from within.
Xiaoyu instinctively tightened her robes.
The hall served as a temporary preservation chamber.
A place where important figures rested before burial.
Today, only one person lay inside.
Elder Han.
The elder's body rested atop a stone platform surrounded by burning candles.
The sight was unsettling.
No matter how many corpses she had seen since arriving in this world, she still wasn't used to them.
Shen Wei stepped forward.
The white cloth covering the elder was carefully folded back.
The fatal wound became visible.
One strike.
Clean.
Precise.
Merciless.
The killer had not given Elder Han any opportunity to fight back.
"He died instantly?"
Xiaoyu asked.
"Yes."
Shen Wei nodded.
"There were no signs of struggle."
That answer bothered her.
A lot.
Because it meant Elder Han had either trusted his killer...
Or never realized he was in danger.
Neither possibility was comforting.
Several disciples responsible for the investigation stood nearby.
One stepped forward respectfully.
"We have discovered no poison, Sect Master."
"No hidden injuries."
"No signs of forced entry."
Xiaoyu frowned.
Nothing.
Again.
Every answer seemed to lead nowhere.
The more perfect the murder appeared, the more suspicious it became.
Slowly, she circled the platform.
Examining every detail.
The elder's robes.
His hands.
His injuries.
Anything that might have been overlooked.
Then her eyes stopped.
Near Elder Han's wrist.
A small mark.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
"What is that?"
The investigating disciples immediately gathered.
One carefully examined it.
His expression shifted.
"A burn mark."
"A burn mark?"
The disciple nodded.
"Very small."
Shen Wei stepped closer.
For a brief moment, something flickered across his face.
Recognition.
Then it vanished.
Xiaoyu noticed immediately.
"You've seen something similar."
Shen Wei remained silent.
Several moments passed.
Then he slowly shook his head.
"It feels familiar."
The answer only deepened the mystery.
---
By the time they left the preservation hall, the atmosphere of the sect had noticeably changed.
The mountain no longer felt consumed by fear.
Disciples could be seen moving between peaks.
Training grounds had reopened.
Even conversations seemed louder than before.
Life was slowly returning.
Unfortunately for Xiaoyu—
Her own suffering was just beginning.
"Sect Master."
The moment Shen Wei spoke, she felt danger.
"What?"
"The training schedule has resumed."
Her expression froze.
"...Training?"
Shen Wei looked mildly confused.
"As scheduled."
Xiaoyu suddenly regretted being alive.
---
Half an hour later, she stood inside the Sect Master's private training grounds.
A place specifically designed for martial practice.
Weapon racks lined the walls.
Targets filled the distance.
Training dummies occupied nearly every corner.
Several disciples stood nearby awaiting instruction.
Their eyes carried the same expectation they always did.
Respect.
Admiration.
Confidence.
It was honestly terrifying.
Because Xiaoyu possessed none of the abilities they believed she had.
---
"Sword practice."
Shen Wei handed her a wooden sword.
The moment she grabbed it—
The weapon nearly slipped from her hand.
Fortunately, she caught it.
Barely.
---
Silence.
---
Several disciples blinked.
One appeared deeply concerned.
---
Xiaoyu pretended nothing had happened.
---
"Begin."
Shen Wei stepped back.
The disciples watched.
Xiaoyu watched.
The sword watched.
Everyone watched.
---
Then she swung.
---
The wooden sword almost escaped her grip.
Again.
---
One disciple immediately looked away.
His shoulders trembling suspiciously.
---
Another lowered his head.
Perhaps to preserve his life.
---
Xiaoyu wanted the mountain to collapse.
Preferably on top of her.
---
The training continued.
And somehow became worse.
---
Archery.
---
The bow felt like an instrument specifically created to humiliate her.
---
"Please hit the target."
Shen Wei's voice contained a surprising amount of hope.
---
Xiaoyu pulled the string.
Aimed.
Released.
---
The arrow flew.
Past the target.
Past the training field.
Past everyone's expectations.
And struck a distant tree.
---
A startled bird immediately flew away.
---
Silence descended upon the training grounds.
---
One disciple slowly sat down.
Perhaps from shock.
---
Another stared at the target.
Then at the tree.
Then back at the target.
Trying to understand what had happened.
---
Even Shen Wei appeared momentarily stunned.
---
Xiaoyu considered faking her death.
---
Then movement in the distance caught her attention.
A separate training ground occupied the neighboring terrace.
Two familiar figures stood there.
Tianyu.
And Li Jianhong.
The pair appeared to be sparring.
Wooden swords collided repeatedly.
Fast.
Sharp.
Precise.
Even from afar, Xiaoyu could tell their skill far surpassed anything she could hope to achieve.
A few moments later—
Li Jianhong was sent tumbling off the platform.
The surrounding disciples burst into laughter.
Even from this distance, Xiaoyu could see him complaining.
Tianyu simply stood there.
Calm.
Unmoved.
Then something happened.
Something she had never seen before.
Tianyu laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Not a smile.
Not a polite expression.
A real laugh.
The sight completely stunned her.
For a brief moment, the stern cultivator looked like an ordinary young man enjoying time with a friend.
"They're close."
The words escaped before she realized it.
Shen Wei followed her gaze.
"They always have been."
His answer came naturally.
As though everyone already knew.
As though there was nothing remarkable about it.
Xiaoyu continued watching.
The ease between them.
The trust.
The friendship.
A strange feeling surfaced inside her chest.
Envy.
Because she suddenly realized something.
Everyone around her seemed to have someone.
Tianyu had Li Jianhong.
Zichen had half the sect running after him.
Even Shen Wei had duties that gave him purpose.
Yet she alone carried a secret she could never share.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
Xiaoyu felt genuinely lonely.
Far below, laughter continued echoing across the mountain.
Yet somehow, it felt very far away.