Chapter 11: The Hidden Pulse
Morning mist rolled over the mountaintops like silent waves, brushing past the Temple of Silent Clarity. Clinton stood at the edge of a cliff, practicing footwork alone. His steps were almost invisible—each motion blending with the wind, each breath syncing with the mountain's rhythm.
He wasn't training for flash.
He was training to disappear.
> "Stealth mode: 84% synchronization with Wind Veil Steps. Remarkable progress," Narvek noted.
Clinton exhaled slowly. "Can we get that closer to 100% without breaking my legs?"
> "Only if you increase tendon density by 13% and integrate minor spirit enhancements. Risk of exposure: 22.3%."
"Then no spirit enhancements. I'm not ready to be found out."
Behind him, the low hum of sect life began again—disciples gathering for chores, drills, gossip. Clinton quietly stepped into the current of life like a shadow, unnoticed.
No one suspected that the "quiet Earth boy" was already cultivating like an Inner Disciple.
"Clint!" a familiar voice called.
He turned as Suyin jogged toward him, holding a scroll.
"You were supposed to help with beast pen repairs. I had to cover for you!"
Clinton scratched his head. "Sorry. Got… lost in training."
"You always say that." She handed him the scroll. "Here. Instructor Liao says we're getting a new mission soon."
Clinton raised an eyebrow. "Outer Sect getting a mission? That's rare."
"Exactly. Something's off."
He unrolled the scroll.
"Herbal expedition. Azure Fog Valley. High mist levels. Possible spirit beasts. Recovery mission."
Suyin leaned closer. "They usually send Inner Disciples for this kind of job. Why us?"
"Maybe they're testing us," Clinton offered.
"Or maybe we're bait," she muttered.
Clinton didn't laugh.
---
That night, Clinton sat cross-legged in his cave-dwelling, the glowing lines of Narvek's interface floating before him.
> "Mission analysis: 63% probability of trap. 34% chance of encountering Tier-2 spirit beast. 3% chance of random survival scenario."
"I love those odds."
> "Sarcasm detected. Recommending escape contingency plan."
"No. I'm going. If something's up, I need to see it myself."
He opened his eyes, glowing faintly from the internal flow of his Qi. Outside, the wind shifted. The moon seemed dimmer than usual.
---
Meanwhile...
In a hidden room beneath the Inner Sect library, two robed figures stood before a jade mirror, whispering.
"…the foreign essence still hasn't awakened," one murmured. "But the way his core is adapting—it's not natural."
"You believe it's him?"
"The one from beyond… the Whispered Starfall."
"But he's just a boy."
"He won't stay one for long."
The mirror shimmered. A hazy silhouette appeared—hooded, featureless, with a voice like rustling paper.
[ "Do not engage. Watch and wait. If the star awakens… we harvest."]
The image vanished.
---
Back in his cave, Clinton flinched. His hand shot to his chest.
His heart had skipped.
Only for a second.
But it had pulsed… strangely.
> "Pulse anomaly detected. External spiritual scan occurred."
"Someone's watching?"
> "Yes. But they don't see what's beneath."
Clinton exhaled. "Let's keep it that way."
He closed his eyes.
The calm continued.
But the pulse beneath the world had started to stir.
Clinton didn't sleep that night.
He sat in lotus position until the stars faded, channeling Qi through his meridians, letting Narvek guide the flow with subtle micro-adjustments. His veins glowed faintly beneath the skin—just enough to be seen if someone were watching.
But no one was.
At least, not physically.
> "Spiritual trace residuals fading. They weren't thorough. Likely a low-tier scry."
"Still dangerous."
> "Yes. But crude. They have no idea what they're looking for."
Clinton opened his eyes. "That's good. Let's keep it that way."
He stood and stretched. The air around him felt lighter, clearer—as if the mountain itself respected his silence. He walked toward the Sect's water garden, where the first rays of morning painted the lily-covered pond in gold.
A few disciples were already there, gossiping over breakfast.
"Did you hear? That quiet guy—Clinton—beat one of the Second Core disciples in footwork drills yesterday."
"No way. Must've been rigged. I've seen that guy trip over stairs."
Clinton passed them without flinching.
> "Congratulations. You are now a subtle anomaly."
"That's… not comforting."
> "It means you're improving. And they still don't see you."
---
Later that morning, Clinton joined the gathered Outer Sect disciples at the main pavilion. Instructor Liao stood at the front, flanked by two Inner Disciples with colder eyes and sharper weapons.
"Today," Liao announced, "you'll venture into Azure Fog Valley to retrieve rare blooming mistlotus. One bloom per team. And no excuses. The mist rises by dusk—you either return, or you don't."
Some disciples shifted nervously. Others scoffed.
Clinton kept quiet.
Suyin leaned in. "Still think this isn't bait?"
"I think it's a test," Clinton replied. "But not the kind we're used to."
The Inner Disciple beside Liao suddenly pointed at Clinton. "You. You'll lead Team Three."
Everyone turned.
Clinton blinked. "Me?"
"You've shown… potential. Let's see if it holds under pressure."
Suyin grinned. "Guess you're famous now."
Clinton frowned. "Too soon."
> "Warning: sudden status elevation detected. Proceed with caution."
---
Hours later, Clinton stood at the mouth of Azure Fog Valley, the swirling mist dancing like living tendrils across the trees. He inhaled deeply.
The forest hummed—not with sound, but with energy. Something old, watching, waiting.
The kind of place where legends were either made—or buried.
> "Proceeding with passive scans. High Qi density detected. Minimal interference. Permission to unlock adaptive field interface?"
"Do it. Just keep it subtle."
> "Always."
As he stepped into the fog, the path behind him vanished.
The calm was still intact.
But the deeper he walked, the louder the hidden pulse became.
And deep beneath it all…
Something ancient stirred.