Lauri hit the ground first.
Not hard, not softly—just a muted impact, as if the world beneath him had wrapped itself in a thin layer of snow to cushion the fall. His breath escaped in a pale mist. For a moment he couldn't tell whether the mist came from him or from the air around him.
Dim shapes shifted in the darkness.
A scent of cold pine.
Distant bells chiming.
A whisper of metal sliding across silk.
Then light bloomed.
A ring of lanterns ignited above them, their flames dancing in colors he had no words for—jade, frost‑white, and a pale shimmering blue that reminded him of star‑reflections on a frozen lake.
Mei landed beside him, rolling to her knees, still gripping his wrist. Yanmei followed a heartbeat later, collapsing but upright, one hand clutching her cracked sword.
They had made it.
The teleportation was over.
But its consequences were only beginning.
Mei stood, her eyes adjusting rapidly. "This is the outer courtyard," she breathed. "We're inside the Jade Frost Pavilion."
Yanmei forced herself onto her feet, shoulders straightening as discipline overrode pain.
"Prepare yourselves," she warned. "The Pavilion does not take kindly to intruders. Especially not to tear‑jumpers."
As if on cue, a flurry of shadows detached themselves from the pillars around them—disciples, dozens of them, robes flowing with the chill of cultivated frost‑qi. Their weapons glimmered like moonlit ice. Their steps were silent.
Their gazes were not.
"Yanmei!" one barked. "You return injured? And you bring—outsiders?"
"More than outsiders," another spat. "I sense foreign qi… unstable qi."
Several eyes locked onto Lauri.
It felt like being scanned by a winter storm.
Mei stepped forward instinctively, shielding him with her presence. The air around her crackled with jade ripples, so subtle yet undeniably potent.
Yanmei raised a trembling but authoritative hand.
"Stand down! They came with me."
A moment of hesitation rippled through the disciples—until a senior stepped into the lantern light. His robes bore frost‑embroidered sigils, and the qi around him was so sharp Lauri felt it slice the air.
Elder Yao.
Yanmei's expression tightened.
"Report," Elder Yao commanded.
Yanmei bowed—imperfectly, painfully, but sincerely.
"Elder… a rift‑class entity breached the valley. A sovereign intervened. This man—" she gestured toward Lauri, "—is tied to the disturbance. Both the sovereign and the invader were after him."
Elder Yao's gaze turned into an icy blade.
"And why," he asked slowly, "did you bring the epicenter of such danger here?"
Before Yanmei could answer, Mei stepped forward.
"Because he would have died otherwise," she said.
Her tone was calm.
Her eyes were not.
Elder Yao regarded her for a heartbeat. "Your accent… your qi… You are not of any Pavilion. Who are you?"
Mei's expression didn't change, but something in her aura tightened—like snow beginning to fall before a storm breaks.
"I am Mei," she said.
"And Lauri needs protection."
A murmur swept through the disciples. Elder Yao did not blink.
"And what," he asked softly, "makes you believe this place is where he should be?"
Lauri swallowed. The elder's qi pressed against him, probing, testing, searching for weakness.
He felt exposed.
Out of place.
Like stepping out of the sauna into an avalanche.
Old Finnish instincts whispered:
Say nothing unless necessary.
Do not boast.
Do not flinch.
Stand your ground quietly.
So he met the elder's gaze—without aggression, without submission.
"I didn't choose to come here," Lauri said. "But I'm not here to cause harm."
The elder studied him, then extended a single finger.
"Approach."
Mei stiffened. "Elder—"
"It's a qi‑assessment," Yanmei murmured. "He must face it."
Lauri stepped forward.
The elder's fingertip touched Lauri's forehead—
—And the world exploded in frost‑light.
Lanterns shattered.
Air rippled.
Qi flared like a snowstorm made of stars.
Disciples staggered backward.
The elder's eyes widened—not with anger.
With shock.
"This qi…" he whispered.
"…it's ancient. It's cold. It's—"
He stopped.
Everyone felt it.
A pulse from Lauri's chest—white, slow, steady.
His newly awakened meridian was glowing.
Mei grabbed his arm, fear in her voice. "It's unstable—Lauri, breathe—!"
Yanmei's jaw clenched. "He can't control it yet—!"
The elder stepped back, robes swirling as frost‑qi coiled around him defensively.
"Yanmei," he said sharply. "Bring them to the Inner Hall. Now. If this is truly what I think it is—"
The ground trembled.
Not from attack.
From resonance.
A ripple of aurora‑white light unfurled across the entire Pavilion, reflecting off rooftops, cliffs, clouds. Disciples stared upward in awe and dread.
The elder's voice dropped to a whisper:
"…the Pavilion Master must be informed."
Mei pulled Lauri close.
"Hold on," she whispered. "Things are about to get complicated."
Lauri nodded, breath steadying.
"Just… tell me one thing."
Mei looked at him, eyes softening.
"What is this place going to do with me?"
The elder answered instead.
"That," he said, "depends on how you survive your first trial."
The lanterns around them flickered—
as if listening.