The Inner Sect did not welcome Yao Yi.
Despite passing the trial with impossible precision, or perhaps because of it, a cold wall of silence followed him wherever he went. In the disciples' quarters, conversations fell quiet when he entered. In the mess hall, eyes flicked toward him, quickly looking away.
He had become a ripple in still water—and that ripple was feared.
The dorm he was assigned was on the edge of the inner courtyard, near a forest of dark green bamboo. Solitary, but clean. His name was etched in fresh ink on the plaque: "Yao Yi – Initiate".
Inside, it smelled of sandalwood and old paper. A bedroll, a writing desk, a meditation mat. Nothing more.
He unpacked the cloth-wrapped bundle the silver-robed elder had given him before departure. Inside lay a dark jade token bearing the emblem of the Ten Sun Sect—ten tiny orbs revolving around a central flame. Beneath it, an envelope.
It was sealed with wax. The scent made Yao Yi pause: plum blossom.
He broke it open. The handwriting was elegant, precise:
"If you're reading this, then you've stepped onto the path you were meant to walk. That mirror chose you for a reason. Trust its voice. Do not seek answers in old scrolls. Instead, watch the birds. They know more than you think."
—Father
Yao Yi reread the note three times, his breath shallow.
His father had been dead for ten years.
—
The next morning, he reported to the Inner Sect Hall as required. Dozens of new initiates gathered under the jade-tiled eaves, each standing by a stone tablet with their names.
An inner elder, bearded and stern, stepped forward with a scroll in hand.
"Disciples will be assigned their first tasks," he said. "Outer missions, beast subjugation, escort duties. You will not learn in meditation alone."
When he reached Yao Yi's name, he paused.
"Hm. Personal directive. From Elder Silvermoon."
That drew murmurs.
Yao Yi was handed a scroll. Sealed.
He opened it once he returned to his quarters. It read:
"Report to Bamboo Grove at midnight. Come alone."
No signature.
—
The Bamboo Grove at night was not silent.
Cicadas sang like whispering fire. The stalks swayed though no wind stirred. Yao Yi moved barefoot across the moss, his mirror tied tightly at his waist.
A black-cloaked figure stood waiting.
"You came," the voice was feminine—young, but calm.
From the shadows stepped a girl in inner sect robes, though hers bore a silver edge. She removed her hood.
White hair. Silver eyes. A face too serene for her age.
"I'm Ling Yue. Personal disciple of Elder Silvermoon. He sent me."
"To test me?"
"No. To warn you."
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a bloodstained scrap of parchment.
"This was found outside the sect walls. Marked with your name."
Yao Yi stared.
The symbol etched into the blood… was the same as the one beneath the trial arena. Ten suns, broken.
"They know," she said. "About your bloodline."
Yao Yi clenched his fists. "Who?"
Ling Yue looked at the sky.
"The ones who sent the crow."