When the pressure lifted, no one celebrated.
That alone told Li Chen everything he needed to know.
The sect entered a strange phase—neither tense nor relaxed, neither under threat nor truly safe. It was like standing in the quiet after thunder, knowing full well that the sky had not finished speaking.
For the first time in weeks, Li Chen allowed himself to stop reinforcing formations.
Not remove them—just… stop adding more.
Xu Ming noticed immediately.
"Senior Brother," he said cautiously, peering around the courtyard, "are we… safe now?"
Li Chen considered the question seriously.
"No," he replied.
Xu Ming nodded solemnly. "…Understood."
He then proceeded to reduce his breathing, adjust his stance, and activate three defensive talismans anyway.
Mo Yun, passing by, watched the scene and sighed. "You've trained him too well."
Li Chen responded calmly. "He trains himself."
The sect's official stance was simple:
Normal operations resume.
Training schedules returned. Resource distributions stabilized. Patrols were reduced. The joint investigation was quietly archived under "resolved anomalies."
Too neat.
Shen Yue reviewed the records one evening and frowned. "They closed the matter without conclusions."
Mo Yun nodded. "Which means someone else is continuing it."
Li Chen listened, silent.
He knew better than to assume the Upper Realm had lost interest.
They had merely delegated it.
The comedy slipped in through routine.
Xu Ming, now firmly established as Li Chen's shadow, followed him everywhere with meticulous seriousness. He prepared tea before Li Chen realized he was thirsty. He rearranged rooms to eliminate "potential ambush angles." He once refused to sit facing a window because "unknown variables often prefer windows."
Li Chen did not correct him.
Statistically speaking, Xu Ming was not wrong.
The other core disciples began treating this behavior as… doctrine.
"Senior Brother Li's disciple doesn't face doors," one whispered.
"There must be a reason."
Xu Ming overheard and immediately adjusted his seating accordingly.
Mo Yun stopped trying to understand.
Three days later, the first sign of the new arc arrived.
A minor sect on the western border collapsed.
Not destroyed.
Not invaded.
Collapsed.
Its disciples scattered. Its elders vanished. Its records were sealed by unknown authority. No beast tide. No visible conflict. Just… absence.
The news reached the sect quietly, through unofficial channels.
Shen Yue brought the report to Mo Yun and Li Chen.
"No Upper Realm decree," she said. "No explanation. But witnesses describe cultivators wearing righteous sect robes—acting with absolute authority."
Mo Yun's jaw tightened. "False flags?"
Li Chen shook his head. "No. Sanctioned deniability."
That phrase settled heavily.
Someone was acting on behalf of higher powers—but without standing openly above the Lower Realm.
A proxy.
That night, Li Chen sat alone, staring at the sky.
For the first time, his instincts whispered not of pressure—but of direction.
The Upper Realm had stopped pushing.
Which meant someone else was pulling.
Far away, in a region deliberately left vague in every report, a man closed a jade slip.
His robes bore no insignia.
His cultivation was carefully masked.
And his smile was… satisfied.
"So," he murmured, "they noticed the silence."
He turned to a subordinate kneeling behind him.
"Continue phase one. Do not approach the anomaly directly."
The subordinate hesitated. "And if Li Chen intervenes?"
The man's smile widened slightly. "He won't."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because he values survival," the man replied calmly. "And I value inevitability."
Back at the sect, Xu Ming approached Li Chen with a cup of tea.
"Senior Brother," he said, hesitating, "may I ask something?"
"Yes."
"If danger is coming… why do you look calmer?"
Li Chen accepted the tea.
"Because danger that moves openly can be avoided," he said. "Danger that hides eventually makes mistakes."
Xu Ming nodded, then frowned. "So… should I increase night patrols?"
Li Chen paused. "…By a reasonable amount."
Xu Ming doubled them.
Mo Yun watched from a distance and muttered, "We're doomed."
The chapter of overt pressure had ended.
What followed was quieter. More patient. More human.
And far more dangerous.
Because the next enemy would not descend from the heavens.
He would walk the earth.
Smile politely.
And never once announce himself as a threat.
Somewhere beyond the sect's borders, the board was being rearranged again.
This time—
Not by gods.
But by someone who understood how cultivators thought.
And Li Chen, unknowingly, had just entered the most dangerous phase of all:
A story where survival itself would be challenged—not by force, but by inevitability.