The evening lanterns cast flickering shadows across the outer courtyard, their light dancing like uneasy spirits on the stone paths. A cool breeze drifted through the open corridors, carrying faint murmurs from distant courtyards where disciples gathered in hushed groups. Lin Wei stood at his window a moment longer, watching the academy settle into night. The whispers of the day lingered in his mind—not as distractions, but as reminders. Change brought attention, and attention brought pressure.
He could feel it now, like a tightening net woven from glances and unspoken calculations.
A soft knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.
Not loud.
Not hesitant.
He opened it without haste.
Zhao Feng stood there, robe immaculate, expression composed. But there was a subtle tension in his stance—the way his hands were clasped a little too tightly behind his back. The faint glow of lantern light traced sharp lines across his face, emphasizing the discipline carved into every movement.
"Lin Wei," Zhao Feng said, voice low and even. "May I come in? This won't take long."
Lin Wei stepped aside, gesturing to the small table. "Speak freely."
Zhao Feng entered but remained standing, glancing briefly at the sparse room—the mat, the basin, the unsheathed sword resting against the wall. His eyes lingered on the blade for a fraction too long before returning to Lin Wei.
Something unreadable flickered behind his gaze, then vanished.
"The elder has been waiting for your response," Zhao Feng said. "Our proposal—sponsorship, recommendation to a greater sect, resources to match your potential. Have you given it thought?"
Lin Wei met his gaze steadily. He had anticipated this visit. The Zhao family didn't leave loose ends dangling.
They tightened them.
"I have," Lin Wei replied, his tone calm, without defensiveness. "I've considered it carefully."
Zhao Feng's posture relaxed slightly, a hint of expectation in his eyes. "And? The Zhao family values talent like yours. Affiliation would benefit us both."
His words were smooth, practiced—offered countless times before to others who had not dared refuse.
Lin Wei paused, letting the words hang for a breath. Silence stretched, heavy but controlled. "I must refuse."
The room seemed to still.
Even the lantern outside flickered once, then steadied.
Zhao Feng's expression didn't change immediately, but a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he masked it. "Refuse? May I ask why? This isn't an offer made lightly. Protection, guidance—the path ahead is treacherous without allies."
Lin Wei's voice remained even. "That's precisely the reason. I want to walk my journey alone, without affiliation to any force or sect. Obligations create dependencies. I prefer to forge my own path, free of chains."
His words carried no challenge—only certainty.
Zhao Feng studied him for a long moment, as if weighing the words. There was no anger in his response—only a quiet intensity. "Admirable sentiment. But in this world, independence is a luxury few can afford. The greater sects, the clans—they see lone cultivators as threats or tools. You could rise higher with us."
A warning hid beneath the calm phrasing.
Lin Wei shook his head slightly. "Higher, perhaps. But not freer. My answer stands."
Zhao Feng nodded slowly, though his eyes hardened. "I see. The elder will be... disappointed. But the offer remains open—for a time. If circumstances change..."
The unspoken implication lingered, sharp and deliberate.
He left the sentence unfinished, bowed curtly, and turned to leave. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room in silence.
Footsteps faded down the corridor, measured and controlled.
Lin Wei exhaled, the weight of the refusal settling like a familiar burden. It felt right—unburdened—but he knew it would invite consequences. The Zhao family didn't accept rejection gracefully.
They remembered.
For now, though, action called.
Points. Resources. Progress.
The Mission Hall awaited.