Xu Han did not sleep that night.
Not because he was worried about his reputation, nor even about his immediate future. What kept him awake was something far more concrete: the loss of control. Until recently, every problem could be postponed with seals, favors, or soft threats. Now, each of those tools was turning against him, as if the world itself had decided to rearrange its priorities.
—It can't be just him… —he muttered, pacing back and forth in his residence—. He doesn't carry that kind of weight.
But the facts did not lie.
The administrative review had not stopped at a superficial inspection. The books were opened. The routes were audited. And, most dangerously, others began to talk. Lesser people, nameless, without ambition, who saw an opportunity to protect themselves by pointing upward.
Xu Han clenched his fists.
—If I go down alone… no —he whispered—. I'll drag something with me.
He took out a sealed tablet marked with sigils he had not used in years. It was not official. It was not legal. It was an old, nearly forgotten channel—one that connected to those who did not need permission to act.
—I need something to happen —he said into the tablet—. Something that changes the focus.
The response took a few seconds.
—Price —a distorted voice replied—. And we don't guarantee cleanliness.
Xu Han closed his eyes.
—I accept.
In the refuge, Lin Ye felt the change before anyone said a word.
It wasn't a vision.
It wasn't the Threshold activating.
It was a sudden absence.
He stopped sensing a presence that, until that moment, had always hovered at the edge of his perception. Not close. Not important. But constant.
—Yan Mo —he said, opening his eyes—. Someone's missing.
Yan Mo raised his head immediately.
—Who?
Lin Ye frowned.
—The courier —he replied—. The one who brought supplies from the Lower District. The one who never spoke.
Su Yanlin tensed.
—He didn't come back this morning.
Yan Mo was already on his feet.
—That's no coincidence.
It didn't take long to confirm what had happened.
The body was found on a side street, between two warehouses. There were no signs of prolonged torture. No dramatics. A single, well-executed strike aimed at a vital point, followed by a dispersal technique to prevent obvious traces of qi.
Professional.
—He wasn't a cultivator —Su Yanlin said quietly—. Just… someone doing his job.
Lin Ye stared at the covered body without moving.
The qi within him did not react.
It didn't flow.
It didn't block.
It grew heavy.
—This —he said at last—. This isn't an open debt.
Yan Mo watched him closely.
—Then what is it?
—An imposed closure —Lin Ye replied—. The world decided this matter had to end… like this.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
—Xu Han —Su Yanlin said coldly.
Lin Ye nodded.
—He tried to shift the focus —he said—. Create noise. Show that he can still cause losses.
Yan Mo pressed his lips together.
—And he succeeded.
Lin Ye closed his eyes for a moment.
There was no explosive rage.
No grandiose vow.
Only a bitter understanding: if he didn't intervene now, the world would consider this "resolved." And that kind of resolution always charged interest later.
—If I act —he said—, I break the local balance again.
—If you don't act —Su Yanlin replied—, you accept that others pay for you.
Lin Ye opened his eyes.
The Threshold did not respond.
But the qi… did.
Not with force. With clarity.
—Then this is mine —he said—. Not as revenge. As a decision.
Yan Mo studied him for several seconds.
—If you do this —he said—, Xu Han will stop being a minor problem. He'll become an example.
—I know.
—And others will start measuring you differently.
Lin Ye bent slightly to cover the courier's body with the remaining cloth.
—They already do —he replied—. Now they'll just have data.
That same night, Xu Han received news.
Not through official channels.
Through the others.
—He's moving —said the voice on the other end—. Not fast. But straight.
A chill ran down Xu Han's spine.
—He can't attack me openly —he replied—. Not without consequences.
The voice chuckled softly.
—He doesn't need to —it said—. Sometimes it's enough for the world to stop protecting you.
Xu Han looked out the window, toward the lights of Huo'an.
For the first time, they didn't seem stable.
Xu Han chose to flee at dawn.
Not out of cowardice—or so he told himself—but because he understood the language of administrative power better than anyone: when paperwork stops protecting you, only margin remains. And his had become dangerously narrow.
He left his residence without an official escort, wearing a robe without emblems and using a minor concealment art that wouldn't fool a true expert, but was enough to blend into the early crowd. His destination wasn't a way out of the city. It was somewhere worse for someone like him: an intermediate district where rules were flexible and favors were paid back with immediate interest.
—I just need to disappear for a few days —he muttered—. When this cools down…
He didn't finish the sentence.
On a nearby rooftop, Lin Ye was watching.
He didn't activate the Threshold.
He didn't need to hide.
He had learned something essential in recent weeks: when a decision is ripe, the world helps carry it out.
—Don't run —he thought—. You only arrive at the end sooner.
He descended a side stairway and followed Xu Han at a distance. He wasn't pursuing him like a hunter. He was accompanying him like a consequence.
Xu Han turned a corner and entered a narrow courtyard, flanked by tall walls and closed warehouses. A place chosen deliberately: no clear witnesses, no obvious exits at first glance.
—Come out —Xu Han said suddenly, stopping—. I know you're there.
Lin Ye stepped out of the shadows without haste.
—You're not that bad at sensing —he said—. You just got used to not needing it.
Xu Han turned, his face pale but his voice still firm.
—This isn't in your interest —he said—. If you touch me, others will ask why.
—I'm not going to touch you —Lin Ye replied—. I'm going to finish something.
Xu Han clenched his teeth and activated his qi. It wasn't impressive, but it wasn't useless. His hands moved through a sequence learned by rote.
—Sliding Seal Art —he murmured—. Threefold Reflection Step.
The air distorted, and his figure multiplied into three overlapping images, each moving in a different direction. A classic escape technique: it didn't buy time, it bought confusion.
Lin Ye took a step.
Not forward.
Into the instant between movements.
The Threshold didn't open.
He didn't force it.
He simply recognized the point where the three images shared a common transition: the exact moment when Xu Han had to decide which body was real.
—There —Lin Ye murmured.
He raised his hand and executed a new technique, born from his incomplete method—still unnamed, but clear in intent.
Space refused to choose.
The three images collapsed into one… and Xu Han dropped to his knees, dizzy, with the sensation of having been shoved out of his own decision.
—What… what did you do? —he gasped.
Lin Ye took one more step forward. The qi moved with difficulty, but it moved.
—I didn't attack you —he said—. I took away your margin.
Xu Han tried to gather energy again. This time, the qi responded… and stopped halfway. Not because of an external block, but because something inside him couldn't find continuity.
—This isn't possible… —he whispered—. You don't have that level.
Lin Ye looked at him calmly.
—I don't —he replied—. That's why this is expensive.
Pain tore through his back like a dry shock. Blood rose in his throat, but he didn't stop.
—Do you know why the world accepted the messenger's death as a closure? —he asked—. Because no one decided otherwise.
Xu Han looked up, genuine fear appearing for the first time.
—I… I didn't order him killed —he said—. I just asked for noise.
—Noise kills —Lin Ye replied—. Just like indifference.
He stopped in front of him.
—This isn't punishment —he continued—. It's finalization.
He extended his hand and touched the air in front of Xu Han's chest, without physically touching him.
The Threshold reacted inward.
It didn't tear anything away.
It didn't destroy anything.
It simply closed.
Xu Han's qi lost cohesion. His techniques didn't break—they stopped making sense. He could continue cultivating… but every advance would require a will that no longer had external backing.
Xu Han fell backward, breathing hard, alive, conscious… irrelevant.
Lin Ye stepped back immediately. The world returned the price with interest: his legs trembled, his vision blurred, and he had to lean against the wall.
—Alright… —he gasped—. That was… costly.
When he straightened up, Xu Han was no longer looking at him with hatred.
He was looking at him with belated understanding.
—So… this is how you decide now —he murmured.
Lin Ye didn't answer.
He turned and left.
That same afternoon, the rumors changed tone.
—Xu Han withdrew from all positions.
—They say he fell ill.
—No… that he lost his backing.
—Either way, it doesn't matter anymore.
At the refuge, Su Yanlin was waiting for him.
—Is it finished? —she asked.
Lin Ye nodded and dropped into the nearest seat.
—Yes —he replied—. And the world accepted it.
Yan Mo watched him in silence.
—You paid a high price —he said.
Lin Ye closed his eyes.
The qi moved.
A little more smoothly than before.
—But I advanced —he murmured.
Yan Mo nodded.
—Then prepare yourself —he said—. Because when the world sees that you can close things… it starts offering you bigger closures.
In the distance, someone marked a tablet with a new notation.
Local conflict: escalated.