The mountain shuddered.
Not violently. Not enough to send people running. Just a deep, wrong vibration that rolled through stone and bone alike, like something large turning in its sleep beneath their feet.
Mo Xian'er's fingers tightened in Lu Yan's sleeve before she seemed to realize she'd grabbed him.
She didn't let go.
Around them, the path clogged with bodies—outer disciples hesitating, inner ones pushing past with tight faces and hands already near weapons. Someone laughed nervously. Someone else swore under their breath.
Lu Yan didn't move.
Not because he was brave.
Because Mo Xian'er was close enough now that he could feel her breath when she spoke.
"That sound," she murmured, eyes flicking toward the inner grounds, "doesn't belong here."
"No," he said. "It doesn't."
Her gaze snapped back to him. Sharp. Searching. As if she expected him to add something else.
He didn't.
The silence stretched.
Uncomfortable.
Interesting.
She notices when you don't fill it, the Manual whispered. Most men rush.
Lu Yan shifted just enough to free his sleeve from her grip, not pulling away completely. The loss of contact was small. Immediate.
Mo Xian'er noticed.
Her smile didn't falter, but something in her eyes did. A spark. Possessive irritation, quick and gone.
"Outer disciples are supposed to disperse," she said lightly. "You planning to get punished on your first day?"
He glanced past her, toward the inner grounds where elders were moving now, fast and controlled. "Seems like a bad time to follow rules."
She laughed under her breath. "You're either stupid or confident."
"Those aren't opposites."
Her gaze lingered again, longer this time. Not playful now. Curious in a way that weighed.
Before she could respond, a wave of pressure rolled over them.
Not the elders' spiritual weight.
Something else.
Cold. Dry. Hungry.
Conversations cut off mid-word. Bodies stiffened. Even the air felt thinner, scraped raw.
Lu Yan inhaled slowly.
The Manual stirred, alert.
Careful, it murmured. This one disrupts emotions.
Golden text flared—uninvited, intrusive.
—
[External Influence Detected]
Emotional Interference: Mild]
—
Mo Xian'er swore softly. "That's not a beast."
"No," Lu Yan said. "It isn't."
She shot him a look. "How do you know?"
He didn't answer.
Because answering meant explaining. Explaining meant exposure. And something told him—quiet, instinctive—that being seen too clearly right now would be dangerous.
A figure stumbled onto the path ahead.
Blood streaked his robe, dark and wet. An inner disciple. Older. His eyes were unfocused, breath coming in ragged pulls.
"Barrier—" he gasped. "Something's wrong with the barrier."
Hands caught him before he fell. Voices rose. Questions fired.
Lu Yan's attention drifted, pulled not by the chaos but by a familiar cold.
Lin Yue stood at the edge of the gathering, frost mist curling faintly around her sleeves. Her face was pale, jaw set too tightly. She wasn't injured.
But she was listening harder than anyone else.
When her gaze lifted, it found Lu Yan immediately.
This time, there was no hesitation.
No distance.
Just a clean, direct look that struck him like a hand closing around his throat.
The Manual hummed.
Low. Appreciative.
—
[Yin Resonance: Stabilizing]
Target: Lin Yue
Bond Status: Stranger (fluctuating)
—
Lu Yan held her gaze for a breath.
Then another.
Not smiling. Not backing down.
Something eased in her expression. Not warmth. Recognition.
Then an elder barked an order, sharp as a blade cracking stone.
"Clear the path! Inner disciples with ice affinity, forward!"
Lin Yue moved instantly.
As she passed Lu Yan, close enough that the hem of her robe brushed his wrist, she spoke without looking at him.
"Stay alive," she said.
It wasn't a plea.
It wasn't gentle.
It was an expectation.
His fingers curled slightly, chasing the cold she left behind.
You see? the Manual whispered. She already assumes you will.
The path erupted into motion after that. Orders. Footsteps. The injured disciple was carried away. Outer disciples were herded back, voices raised, patience thinning.
Mo Xian'er lingered a moment longer, watching Lin Yue's retreating back with narrowed eyes.
"You know her," she said.
"Barely."
"Mm." She leaned closer, voice dropping. "Then why does she look at you like you're already a problem?"
Lu Yan met her gaze, calm and unreadable. "I tend to have that effect."
She laughed, sharp and bright—and a little too loud. "Careful. I bite problems."
"I'll remember that."
They were pushed apart then, the flow of bodies forcing distance where tension had been. Mo Xian'er let herself be carried back, but not before shooting him a look that promised unfinished thoughts.
Lu Yan found himself alone near the edge of the path, the mountain's shadow stretching long and uneven across stone.
The pressure hadn't faded.
It lingered. Waiting.
You should leave, the Manual said idly. Or you could stay. Staying is more interesting.
"What happens if I stay?"
A pause.
Possession, it replied. Jealousy. Fear. Desire sharpened by danger.
Lu Yan exhaled slowly.
"Figures."
He turned away from the inner grounds—and nearly collided with Su Mei.
Again.
She stood close, closer than necessary, eyes scanning him with unsettling focus. There was a faint smear of blood on her sleeve. Not hers.
"You're still here," she said.
"Yes."
A beat. Her gaze dropped to his hands. Empty. Steady.
"You weren't summoned."
"I know."
"Then why—"
The mountain groaned again.
This time, louder.
The sound tore through the air like something ripping free.
Su Mei's head snapped toward the inner grounds, composure cracking for the first time. "Damn it."
She looked back at Lu Yan, decision flashing across her face.
"Come with me," she said.
That wasn't an invitation.
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm an outer disciple."
"And you're in my way," she snapped, then caught herself. Softer, controlled. "I need an extra pair of hands. Ones that don't shake."
He held her gaze, measuring. "And if I say no?"
Her lips pressed together. Then curved, faint and dangerous. "Then I'll remember."
The Manual purred.
Ah. Authority mixed with need. Delicious.
Lu Yan stepped aside, letting her pass—but didn't follow.
Su Mei took two steps, then stopped.
She didn't turn around.
"You're making a choice," she said quietly.
"So are you."
Silence stretched between them, thick and charged.
Finally, she exhaled through her nose. "Stubborn."
She walked on.
Lu Yan watched her go, pulse steady, thoughts anything but.
The mountain shuddered a third time.
Somewhere deep within the sect, something laughed.
Not aloud.
But in the bones.
The pressure spiked, sharp enough that even outer disciples cried out, clutching their heads. Lu Yan staggered, vision blurring—
And the Manual surged, heat flooding his chest, anchoring him.
—
[Desire Level: 3% → 6%]
Stability Increased
—
He sucked in a breath, grounding himself, senses snapping back into focus.
Around him, chaos bloomed.
And through it all, one thought settled, clear and unsettling.
This world wasn't reacting to the breach.
It was reacting to him.
Lu Yan straightened slowly, eyes lifting toward the inner grounds, where frost and flame collided in the distance.
Welcome, the Manual whispered, pleased. To your first ripple.
The mountain roared.
And Lu Yan smiled—just a little—as everything began to tilt.