The morning after the basin's ripple felt different.
Xu Yan stood alone on the outer terrace of the Silent Flame Guild, watching pale light spill over the mountain ridges. The air was clear, almost painfully so, as if the world had been washed clean during the night. Below him, disciples had already begun their routines—measured strikes, controlled breathing, the steady rhythm of wooden staves cutting through wind.
He had passed.
Not gloriously.
Not loudly.
But undeniably.
The compass rested against his chest, quiet now. The golden beast sat near the edge of the terrace, tail wrapped around its paws, its cosmic-flecked scales reflecting the dawn like scattered stars. It watched him, not with curiosity—but with expectation.
Xu Yan exhaled slowly.
"Ling Xiu," he said inwardly, fingers brushing the ring.
The response came immediately, warm and amused.
"So now you call for me before pretending you don't need help?"
Her voice carried a teasing lilt, elegant yet sharp, like silk drawn over steel.
A faint shimmer gathered beside him. She did not fully manifest—only a translucent outline visible to him alone. Her features were refined, her posture poised. The family name they shared—Nangong—felt less like coincidence and more like inevitability.
Nangong Ling Xiu.
She folded her arms lightly, eyes scanning him. "You did not embarrass us yesterday."
"That's high praise," Xu Yan replied dryly.
"For you? It is."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Her gaze softened by a fraction. "You felt it, didn't you? When the water responded."
"Yes."
"It recognized what you were."
Xu Yan turned toward the mountains. "And what am I?"
Ling Xiu moved closer, her voice lowering—not weaker, but more intimate.
"You were a man who stood at the center of five paths and mastered them all without allowing any to dominate you. That balance made you dangerous. It also made you difficult to erase."
His pulse steadied.
"Five paths," he repeated.
She nodded.
"Medicine. Martial discipline. Alchemy. Formation architecture. Artifact forging." Her eyes sharpened. "These are not hobbies. They are pillars. Together, they form the foundation of power that does not depend on anyone else."
"And you're giving them back to me," he said.
She tilted her head slightly.
"I am not giving you power. I am returning inheritance. You must still earn mastery."
The ring warmed.
Suddenly, knowledge pressed lightly against his mind—not overwhelming, not chaotic. Structured. Ordered.
Five streams.
The First Inheritance — Medicine
A current of understanding unfolded within him.
Meridian mapping. Pulse diagnosis. Herb compatibility beyond common theory. Not simply healing wounds—but restoring structural balance within the body.
"You excelled in medicine not because you were kind," Ling Xiu said calmly, "but because you understood that control over life's fragility is leverage."
Xu Yan absorbed the knowledge.
He saw how injuries formed before they became visible. How toxins layered themselves within organs. How spiritual deviation began as subtle disharmony long before collapse.
"With this," she continued, "you can treat disciples. Elders. Even rivals. Gratitude builds alliances. Cures build reputation."
"And reputation builds coin," Xu Yan finished.
She smiled faintly. "You are learning."
The Second Inheritance — Martial Discipline
The next stream ignited differently.
This was not brute strength. It was precision.
Footwork that minimized wasted motion. Breath patterns that extended endurance. Impact angles designed to break structure rather than simply injure.
"You were not the strongest cultivator," Ling Xiu said. "You were the most efficient."
He saw himself—another lifetime—moving through opponents like flowing water cutting stone. No dramatic gestures. No arrogance. Just inevitability.
"This inheritance will refine what you already train here," she added. "You will advance faster because you will waste less."
The golden beast gave a low approving sound.
Xu Yan rolled his shoulders slightly, feeling subtle corrections align within his stance.
The Third Inheritance — Alchemy
Heat without chaos.
The knowledge entered like controlled flame.
Temperature thresholds. Ingredient sequencing. Stabilization through breath rather than brute spiritual force.
"You once refined pills that others considered impossible at your realm," Ling Xiu said, tone carrying unmistakable pride.
Xu Yan noticed it.
"You sound impressed."
"I am selective with my admiration."
Alchemy meant resources.
Resources meant independence.
He would not rely solely on guild stipends or favors.
The Fourth Inheritance — Formation Architecture
This knowledge was geometric, almost architectural in nature.
Energy flow diagrams. Anchoring nodes. Concealment arrays.
"You designed formations that protected entire estates," Ling Xiu said. "Not merely traps—systems."
Xu Yan's mind traced patterns across the terrace stones.
With time, he could build private training grounds. Hidden chambers. Defensive barriers.
A slow breath left him.
This was stability.
The Fifth Inheritance — Artifact Forging
The final stream settled deeper than the rest.
Metal memory. Spiritual infusion timing. Binding inscriptions.
Objects that lasted.
Weapons that amplified.
Robes that concealed.
Ling Xiu extended her hand.
The air shimmered.
From the space between worlds, fabric unfolded—dark as midnight, threaded faintly with silver patterns that resembled distant constellations.
Xu Yan stared.
"These were yours," she said quietly.
He accepted the robes.
The material was light—but layered with subtle formation stitching. He could feel it.
"What do they do?" he asked.
"They obscure."
Her expression grew serious.
"Not from everyone. But from casual divination. From wandering spiritual scans. From those who search broadly rather than precisely."
He understood immediately.
In a world where strength attracted predators, subtlety was survival.
"You're thinking long-term," he said.
"I always do."
He changed into the robes beneath the cedar's cover.
The fabric settled naturally across his shoulders—as if it remembered him.
The golden beast circled once and approved with a soft huff.
Ling Xiu studied him.
"Yes," she said quietly. "That is closer."
Xu Yan faced the rising sun.
"Medicine builds influence. Martial skill builds protection. Alchemy builds wealth. Formations build territory. Artifacts build permanence."
Ling Xiu nodded once.
"Five pillars. Stand them correctly, and no storm will uproot you."
"And you?" he asked.
Her gaze softened—not weak, but personal.
"I walk beside you. I advise. I correct you when you grow arrogant."
"That sounds likely."
She smirked faintly.
"I am Nangong. We do not tolerate mediocrity in our own blood."
A rare warmth flickered in his chest.
Not dependence.
Partnership.
Footsteps echoed from the stairway below.
Liu Shen approached.
His eyes paused briefly on Xu Yan's new robes—but he said nothing.
"You look different," Liu Shen observed.
"Better posture," Xu Yan replied evenly.
Liu Shen studied him longer than usual.
"The elders will begin allocating internal roles soon. Disciples who contribute beyond combat advance faster."
Xu Yan inclined his head.
"I understand."
Ling Xiu's voice brushed his thoughts.
"Begin with medicine. Quietly. Let them seek you."
He did not outwardly react.
Liu Shen turned to leave, then paused.
"Do not become complacent because you passed one measure."
"I won't."
After Liu Shen left, Ling Xiu spoke again.
"You see? Opportunity arrives quickly."
Xu Yan looked across the training grounds.
He was still at the beginning.
Still technically weak.
But now—
He possessed direction.
Not wild ambition.
Structured ascent.
He flexed his hand slightly.
Five inheritances did not make him invincible.
They made him prepared.
And preparation, in a world ruled by power, was the most dangerous advantage of all.
Ling Xiu's voice softened.
"We will proceed step by step. No reckless leaps. No exposure."
Xu Yan nodded once.
"Step by step."
The golden beast rose.
The morning bell sounded across the Silent Flame Guild.
Xu Yan descended the terrace—not as someone who had merely survived a trial—
But as someone quietly building an empire from within.
And beneath the dark constellations woven into his robes, unseen by prying eyes, the name Nangong began its return.