The moonlight bathed Azure Cloud Peak in soft silver, casting long, pale shadows across the training fields. The sect was asleep, wrapped in silence and the gentle whisper of wind through pine trees. Only one figure moved beneath the heavens—Lin Yuan, sword in hand, his breath slow and steady.
He had always found solace in these quiet hours. In a world brimming with competition, pride, and ambition, the night offered a rare kind of stillness—one where the only thing he had to face was himself.
Each swing of his sword felt lighter than the last. His movements were fluid, dancing between precision and instinct, a silent conversation between body and spirit. The Orb nestled in his core pulsed gently, absorbing the moon's qi like a lotus drinking rain. It nurtured his cultivation effortlessly, as though the heavens themselves had chosen to guide him.
But tonight, he wasn't alone.
A presence—subtle but sharp—pricked his senses. Lin Yuan stilled mid-movement, his gaze flicking to the shadows near the cliffside trees. A moment later, a figure stepped into the moonlight.
She was ethereal—tall, graceful, and cloaked in midnight-blue robes that shimmered faintly in the silver glow. Her long, silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of starlight. Her eyes, cold and piercing, watched him like a hawk studying unfamiliar prey.
She did not bow. She did not speak.
Lin Yuan lowered his sword, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Did I disturb your solitude?" he asked calmly, though curiosity stirred beneath his voice.
"No," she said coolly. Her voice was as clear as ice cracking over a frozen lake. "I was passing through."
She didn't move to leave.
Lin Yuan studied her for a moment. Something about her presence demanded respect—not through arrogance, but sheer control. She didn't try to dominate the space, yet she filled it effortlessly.
"I'm Lin Yuan," he said, offering a polite nod. "Outer disciple."
"Xia Zhi," she replied, her tone clipped. "Inner sect."
He had heard the name whispered before. The Snowflower Sword Fairy. A prodigy among prodigies, cold and untouchable. Many admired her from afar; few dared speak to her directly. Now here she was, standing before him in the moonlight, expression unreadable.
"I didn't know inner disciples trained at this hour," he said lightly.
"I prefer silence," she replied. "The day is too loud."
Lin Yuan smiled faintly. "Then we have that in common."
"I didn't expect you to help Mei," she said suddenly, not looking at him. "Most disciples ignore the servants."
Lin Yuan shrugged. "She was struggling. That's all."
"No, it wasn't 'just that.'" Her eyes turned toward him—sharp, searching. "You're not like the others."
He met her gaze evenly. "And is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"
She looked away, thoughtful. "I'm not sure yet."
He chuckled softly. "Fair enough."
A brief silence fell. Lin Yuan returned his sword to its sheath and sat on a flat stone, gazing out over the edge of the cliff. Below them, clouds drifted lazily between mountain peaks. "Would you like to sit?"
Xia Zhi hesitated, then surprised him by stepping forward and settling on a boulder a short distance away. She sat straight-backed, hands resting on her lap.
"You're not like most outer disciples," she said suddenly.
"How so?"
"You aren't afraid of me."
Lin Yuan looked over, intrigued. "Should I be?"
She met his eyes. There was a flicker there—surprise, perhaps, or amusement—but it vanished quickly. "Most are," she said simply. "Fear keeps people predictable."
"I don't believe in judging someone based on reputation," he said. "Besides, I've met many dangerous people. You don't seem one of them."
That earned him a long, searching look. "And what do I seem like to you?"
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Cold. Guarded. But... not cruel."
Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable. For a while, neither spoke. The wind rustled the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and distant plum blossoms. Lin Yuan leaned back, letting the night air cool the warmth from his sword practice.
Finally, Xia Zhi broke the silence. "You move like someone who was taught by life, not a master."
Lin Yuan raised a brow. "You can tell?"
"I've seen enough swordplay to know. You fight like someone who had to, not someone who wanted to."
Lin Yuan's smile dimmed slightly, the weight of Earth pressing briefly on his shoulders. "You're not wrong."
She looked away, then said in a quieter voice, "Neither am I."
Another pause. Then she stood, her figure silhouetted by the moonlight.
"I should go," she said.
"Will we meet again?" Lin Yuan asked.
Xia Zhi hesitated, then gave a rare, subtle nod. "Perhaps. If the night is quiet enough."
And with that, she stepped back into the shadows, vanishing like a snowflake on the wind.
Lin Yuan remained seated, watching the space she had left behind. Beneath the frost moon, something had changed. A chance encounter, a spark in the dark.
And deep within the Orb, a faint resonance stirred—as if it, too, had sensed the beginning of something greater.