The sunlight outside the cave felt wrong.It wasn't that it was too bright—Dove Peak \
had always been bright when the clouds thinned—but today the light carried a sharpness that Lin couldn't name.
It fell on his skin like thin needles, as if his body had suddenly become sensitive to the world.He stood at the entrance for a moment, letting the wind comb through his hair and the smell of pine and damp stone settle into his lungs.
The fatigue from yesterday was gone, as if it had been scraped clean from his bones.
In its place there was a quiet, restless energy—an unfamiliar lightness inside his abdomen.His dantian.It still felt unreal, like a dream that might break if he breathed too hard.
His senior brother waited nearby, arms crossed, looking as if he had been carved out of impatience. Yet Lin could sense something else in him today
: a tightness around the eyes, a stiffness in the shoulders.
The kind of tension that came from someone who had decided something and didn't want to talk about it."Come," the senior brother said
.He didn't ask if Lin was ready. He didn't ask if Lin had eaten. He simply lifted his hand.A clear, metallic sword chime rang out
.A flying sword streaked in from the sky and hovered before them, gleaming with cold light. It was not the cheap iron blade Lin held earlier in the cave.
This sword carried an invisible weight—sharp, clean, disciplined. It looked like the kind of weapon that didn't merely cut flesh, but cut intent.
Lin swallowed."H-hop on?" he asked, though he already knew the answer."Hop on," his senior brother repeated.
Lin climbed onto the sword and held onto the back of his senior brother's robe. The fabric was smooth, and it smelled faintly of incense and steel.
The sword rose.
The ground fell away.
Lin's stomach sank like a stone into deep water.Then the direction changed.They did not fly toward the mountain trails or toward the quiet abodes hidden among cliffs.They flew the opposite way.
Lin's confusion quickly piled into a knot in his chest. "Senior Brother… where are we going?""Hold onto me," his brother replied, voice clipped.
That answer was both reassurance and warning.Lin shut his mouth.
He had learned long ago that when his senior spoke like that, forcing more words out would only invite a blow to the head.
Still, his thoughts ran wild as the flying sword pierced through cloud after cloud.Why the opposite direction?Was something wrong? He forced himself to stay steady.Trust your brother.
Even if you don't understand, trust him.The clouds finally thinned.Below them, the sect's outer market appeared—wide stone paths and wooden stalls arranged like veins, bustling with movement.
It wasn't the solemn, silent world of training courtyards. It was noisy, full of life, and faintly chaotic, like a river that refused to be controlled.
They descended.The sword landed with a soft hiss.
The moment Lin's feet touched the ground, sound flooded him."Sister! Fresh spirit ink—one bottle, only one contribution point!""Firewood talismans! Guaranteed to burn even in rain!""Two low-grade spirit stones for a half-jin of thunder pepper—cheap, cheap!"Disciples moved like schools of fish, robes of different peaks and halls brushing against each other.
Some carried scroll tubes and sword cases. Others walked with servants trailing behind them, faces full of pride as if the market itself was a stage.
The air was thick with smells: fried oil, medicinal herbs, incense, leather, spice. Under it all was another scent Lin couldn't ignore—the faint metallic tang of weapons and the faint sharpness of Qi residue, left behind by cultivators who didn't bother to conceal themselves
.Lin stood still for a heartbeat, overwhelmed.This place made the cave feel like a forgotten world.His senior brother tapped Lin's shoulder.
"Follow."Lin hurried after him.They moved through the crowd with a strange ease. People didn't openly step aside, but they shifted—subtly, instinctively.
Lin began to notice it: the way some disciples glanced at his senior brother's waist, the way their eyes flicked over the sword, the way their bodies unconsciously made space.Respect.Fear.
They turned onto a cleaner street where stalls were fewer and buildings were larger, the kind of place where only inner disciples and those with backing dared to shop.
Ahead, a grand clothing store appeared, with lacquered wood panels and hanging silk robes fluttering like banners.At the entrance, a row of martial robes hung in neat display—dark, disciplined colors, but with subtle embroidery that revealed craftsmanship meant for people who could afford to care about appearances
."Do you have clothes to wear tonight?"Lin's throat tightened. His robe—his current robe—was worn thin, patched at the elbow, and stained from cave dust.
In the sect, no one said it aloud, but robes were like mirrors. They reflected your position, your resources, your backing.Lin lowered his head.
"No, Senior Brother."A faint smile finally appeared on his face "I knew it."Before Lin could react, Fang Yi pushed him forward into the shop.
Lin stumbled inside.The interior was cool, scented with sandalwood and new cloth. Rows of folded robes lay behind glass counters.
Threads of silk and embroidered waist sashes were stacked with unnatural neatness.
A few disciples glanced over, then looked away, pretending they hadn't been curious.Behind the counter, a shopkeeper lifted his head with a practiced, bored expression .
He flicked an emblem onto the table.It clattered once, spun, and settled.The shopkeeper's expression changed instantly.
His eyes widened as if the emblem had turned into a blade aimed at his throat."Dove Peak," Fang Yi said, voice calm, loud enough for nearby customers to hear.
"Peak Lord's direct disciple—Fang Yi."The shopkeeper nearly choked on air. He bowed so fast Lin thought his forehead might crack the counter.
"Young master! Young master Fang! How may I serve you today?"Lin froze.Direct disciple .Lin slowly turned his head, eyes wide, staring at Fang Yi as if he had just discovered his brother was not a man but a mountain disguised in human skin."Senior Brother…" Lin whispered. "You're… a Soul Harmony realm expert? Or above?"Fang Yi's eyes remained steady, as if he had expected this reaction."Everything has a proper time," Fang Yi replied.
"If something is revealed before its time, it disrupts the natural order."Lin blinked at him.The sentence sounded profound.
It sounded like something an elder would say with a white beard and a thousand years of regret.Lin's lips twitched despite himself.
"Senior Brother… you just wrote that up right now, didn't you?"A light punch landed on Lin's arm. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make him lose balance and shut up."Don't speak too much," Fang Yi said, expression unchanged.
Then he looked back at the shopkeeper."I don't need anything," Fang Yi said. "I'm here for him. Prepare the best robe. One that makes him shine differently.
Tonight, everyone should know that Dove Peak disciples are not to be underestimated.""Yes, yes!" The shopkeeper nodded rapidly. "Of course! The best! The absolute best!"He rushed into the back room like his life depended on it.
Lin stood there awkwardly, feeling the stares around him. Some were curious. Some were envious. Some were the kind of cold, measuring stares that made Lin's skin tighten.He realized something then.
Fang Yi wasn't only buying him a robe.
He was placing him on a stage.A stage where eyes could become knives.
Lin swallowed, and for the first time since forming his dantian, he felt a different kind of danger—one that wasn't in his meridians, but in the sect's invisible hierarchy.A moment later, the shopkeeper returned, carrying a large wooden box with both hands, as if it contained a sacred relic.
He opened it with careful fingers.Inside lay a robe the color of a deep, storm-dark sky—darkish blue, edged with thin red stripes that looked like restrained flames.
On the chest, a small dragon was embroidered in subtle threadwork, coiled and sleeping, but fierce even in stillness.Lin's breath caught.
He had never owned anything so… clean.So expensive.So belonging.The shopkeeper's voice turned reverent. "Young master Fang… this is our best work. The dragon thread is dyed with spirit ink.
The cloth is woven to resist dust and minor blade cuts. Even ordinary Qi can't stain it easily."Fang Yi nodded once. "Good. Put it on him."
"Right now?" Lin asked, instinctively stepping back.Fang Yi's gaze didn't soften. "Now."Lin obeyed.The fabric slid over his skin like cool water.
The inner lining was smooth, not rough like cheap cloth. When he tied the sash, the robe settled perfectly, hugging his shoulders and falling straight down, making his thin frame look steadier, cleaner—like he had finally stepped into the shape of a disciple.The shopkeeper's eyes shone.
"It suits him… truly suits him."Lin glanced at his reflection in a polished bronze mirror on the wall.For a heartbeat, he didn't recognize himself.
He looked… like someone with backing.Like someone who could be envied.Like someone who could be targeted.
Fang Yi didn't let Lin drown in his own thoughts. He quickly had the robe packed again, the box tied shut, the emblem returned without fuss.
The shopkeeper bowed until his spine looked ready to snap.They left.Outside, the market noise swallowed them again. But Lin noticed the difference now: people looked longer. Their eyes lingered on the box. On Fang Yi.
On Lin's face, trying to remember it.Lin's heartbeat quickened.They climbed onto the flying sword once more. As it rose, Lin looked down at the market shrinking beneath them, and something hot blurred his vision.
He didn't know why the tears came so suddenly. He tried to blink them away, ashamed of showing weakness.But the truth was simple
.This was the first time someone had gifted him something without asking for anything back .A brother.Lin's arms wrapped around Fang Yi from behind, hugging him tightly.Fang Yi stiffened for a heartbeat, then exhaled slowly
.He reached back and rested his hand on Lin's head, pressing gently, as if reminding him that he was still there, that the world hadn't turned into a dream.
"Grow up strong," Fang Yi said, voice quiet against the wind. "Strong enough that you don't have to borrow anyone's shadow."Lin nodded hard, throat tight.
"Yes," Lin whispered.Then, louder, with something that felt like a vow forming inside his new dantian:"Yes, Senior Brother. I will."
The flying sword pierced the clouds again, heading toward Dove Peak—toward night, toward a ceremony, toward eyes that would judge him before he even spoke
.And somewhere in Lin's chest, joy and fear twisted together into the same knot.
To be continued…