Deep in the Flameheart Pavilion, where only the highest elders and core strategists were permitted, the Sect Master of the Azure Flame Sect, Yun Tianhao, sat before a brazier of silent fire.
It did not flicker.
It did not crackle.
It burned in perfect stillness—an ancient flame drawn from a forgotten ruin in the west. It responded not to wood, but to truth. And right now, it burned a pale blue—the color of uncertainty.
A single elder knelt before him. Elder Xu Ming.
"He dismantled all twelve wraiths," Xu said quietly. "With techniques I don't recognize. Without Qi surges. Without strain."
Yun Tianhao remained still, eyes closed, one finger tracing an invisible sigil into the arm of his throne. After several breaths, he finally spoke.
"No lineage?"
"None known. No legacy marks. His background is... unremarkable. Found orphaned near the Fractured Cliff range. Brought in by patrols at age eleven. Spirit root judged damaged. No sponsors. No mentors. Spent most of his years in the archives."
"And yet..."
Xu nodded. "He broke our rules without breaking them. He walks untouched. Predicts motion. His presence alters outcomes in subtle ways—"
"Fate-touched?" the Sect Master asked, tone like a blade being sharpened.
Xu paused. "Not naturally. Not like those blessed or cursed by heaven. This is… synthetic. As though he reconstructed his place in the pattern."
The silence that followed was long. Heavy.
Yun Tianhao opened his eyes.
They burned golden—not with anger, nor curiosity, but a deep and weathered wariness.
"There are three types of monsters," he said slowly. "The kind born of heaven's will, the kind born of demonic chance, and the kind cultivated in secret, by time and hatred."
He stood.
"He is the third kind."
Elder Xu nodded. "What are your orders?"
The Sect Master looked toward the brazier. The blue flame shivered. Briefly. Almost imperceptibly.
Then flickered back into stillness.
"Do not touch him."
Xu looked up, startled.
"Not yet," Tianhao added. "If he is what I suspect, every move we make will be one thread in his tapestry. No alliances. No assassins. No invitations."
His gaze sharpened.
"Watch him. Feed him nothing. Deny him nothing. Let him climb. Let him believe he walks freely."
He turned away, voice a whisper meant for the flames alone.
"A spider cannot be caught while it still believes it's building the web."