The morning after his arrival in Redleaf Town, Li Yao rose before the sun. The inn's warped shutters rattled faintly in the dawn breeze, the air dry with the scent of old stone and distant woodsmoke. He dressed in silence, checked the blade wrapped in his pack, and made his way down into the waking street.
The town had changed again.
It was as if overnight, the bones of some ancient beast had stirred beneath the cobbled streets—stretching, cracking, rearranging themselves.
More cultivators had arrived.
They wore the same dark robes with cloud-gray sashes, the emblem of The Chasing Clouds Sect glinting from their shoulders like silvered ink. Some moved in loose groups, others alone, their presence casting long shadows down the town's narrow lanes. A few sat cross-legged in alleys, meditating openly with breath as slow as winter fog, while others loitered around wells and rooftops, watching the town as if it were prey.
Li Yao walked with his eyes low but his senses open. He could feel the tension in the stones. Redleaf Town was straining under the weight of so many displaced people and powerful strangers. The balance had tipped. Refugees from smaller villages—some of them once no more than names to him—were camped in doorways, selling off scraps, or simply staring with hollow eyes.
And still, the cultivators came.
He slipped into a narrow side street and followed it until it opened into a quieter market lane. There, nestled between a vinegar stall and a spice merchant, was a table he recognized.
Auntie Mu's niece was there in her place, sleeves rolled up and eyes tired.
When she spotted him, her breath caught.
"Li Yao?" she whispered, half disbelieving. "From Green Pine Village?"
He nodded once.
She exhaled. "They said the whole village was gone…"
"It is," he said. "I got lucky."
She hesitated, then reached below the stall and passed him a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Your Auntie Mu left these for trade. She said you might come, one day. Said you'd earned it with the lynx corpse. The tendons and bones fetched a decent price—these are what she didn't sell."
Inside were simple tools: an iron awl, a small flask of beast-fat oil, and a roll of coarse hemp cord. Useful things. Survival tools. Not flashy. But enough.
He thanked her with a nod and moved on, heart heavy.
The further north he walked, the more voices he heard speaking not of food or housing—but of the exam.
It was spreading now like fever. Flyers posted on alley walls. Criers shouting on corners. Merchants hawking "cultivation manuals" of doubtful origin.
The Chasing Clouds Sect had declared that three days hence, they would hold an open examination for all unaffiliated townsfolk and refugees, regardless of age or standing. Those with acceptable roots would be marked for service. Those with potential... for training.
It was the sort of invitation that made mouths dry and hearts burn.
Especially in places like this.
Redleaf Town, though modest by sect standards, still fed into the wider machine of cultivation that sprawled across Yuanfang Prefecture. The sects might speak of justice or heaven's will, but their roots ran deep into the backs of the weak, drawing coin and bodies alike.
Li Yao passed a youth with a sheathed sword strapped across his waist, face tight with purpose. Another boy—not yet fourteen—clutched a meditation manual to his chest and ran toward the square.
He kept walking.
**
That evening, the inn was louder. Lanterns flickered behind wax-paper windows, casting long shadows that swayed with drink and story. Li Yao found a corner to himself, ordered plain rice and a bowl of millet soup, and listened.
A group of travelers near the hearth was talking.
"…said they came from Cloudfang itself, with three inner sect disciples leading the search party…"
"…no way they'll take anyone from the outer districts seriously. They've already chosen who they want. This exam is just for show."
"Even so," another voice said, "there's still a chance. Some towns don't even get a look. My cousin made outer sect a decade back from Jade Creek. Now he guards relics."
Li Yao stirred his soup slowly.
The names came and went. Towns. Families. Petty grudges and hopeful boasts. But over and over again, the same theme returned: The Chasing Clouds Sect wasn't just looking for bodies.
Not this time.
The beast tide had changed things. What was once a slow, methodical cycle of recruitment and tribute had become a more aggressive push. Something had them worried. And they were casting wider nets because of it.
A woman in a pale blue coat was telling a story about a spirit beast that had appeared near the salt flats. She claimed it could speak. Claimed it knew her brother's name. No one believed her, but no one laughed either.
Li Yao rose and made for the door.
**
The air outside was colder than he expected. A fog had begun to settle over the town, not thick, but just enough to blur the lanternlight into halos.
He didn't return to the inn. Not yet.
Instead, he walked east, away from the bustle, toward the old shrine district. The buildings there were half-abandoned—collapsed roofs, crumbling steps, moss-covered stone lions staring through empty sockets. Redleaf Town had once had its own minor cultivator clan, long since absorbed or wiped out. This part of town still bore their ghosts.
He stopped at the shrine gate.
There was no one there.
Just wind, and silence, and the faint sound of dogs barking somewhere in the distance.
But as he stood beneath the twisted cedar tree, Li Yao felt the blade on his back stir again. The sensation was barely perceptible—like an itch behind the eyes, or a breath he hadn't meant to take. Not danger. Not urgency.
Recognition.
As if the place remembered something he had not yet lived.
He exhaled slowly and turned back, deciding not to linger. There was too much movement in the town, too many eyes.
For now, he would keep his strength hidden. The Stone Root Method was not something he meant to show to the sect. Not yet. It was rough, incomplete, forged by need rather than legacy. But it had brought him here. It had made him more than he had been.
And still, he wasn't sure what path to take.
There would be three days of waiting before the exam. Time to prepare. Time to watch. Time, perhaps, to decide if he truly wanted to kneel before any sect at all.
But as he walked through the quiet streets of Redleaf Town, past sleeping homes and lanterns guttering in their final oil, he could not shake the feeling that something had already noticed him.
Something deep.
Something watching.
And it was not part of The Chasing Clouds Sect.