By the time Aaryan stepped out of the Exchange Hall, his once-fat pouch of spirit stones had shrunk pitifully. After exchanging for the last few herbs he needed, he was left with exactly forty spirit stones.

Forty. He weighed the pouch in his hand and snorted. Just hours ago, he'd been one of the wealthiest disciples—spirit stones stacked high, casual in every purchase. Now, he could almost hear the vendor at the noodle stall laughing at him.

'Oh well. Wealth comes and goes. Trouble, though? That always finds a way to stay.'

Turning toward the bridge that led to the outer islands, he tucked the pouch away and sighed. Today was the sect's monthly resource distribution for outer disciples, and Dharun would be there. Not that Aaryan needed rations anymore—but with the chaos that often followed these events, it was as good a place as any to catch the old man in a quiet moment.

He arrived to a surprisingly calm scene.

In the past, resource day looked like a battlefield—elbows flying, fists drawn, the weak shoved aside or outright robbed. The moment Dharun left, it was a feeding frenzy. But now? The lines were orderly. Mid-tier disciples kept watch over the queue. A few even shared their extra spirit rice with the younger ones. Aside from a minor scuffle near the end, there was little to complain about.

Maybe chaos was easier. Unity… that took effort. Trust. People he'd once ignored were starting to grow teeth—and minds.

'So, they've learned to stand together. Good.'

Under the shade of a silverleaf tree, Dharun stood quietly, arms folded as he watched the line progress. His posture was relaxed, but his presence alone was enough to keep things steady.

When Aaryan approached, Dharun raised a brow, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Didn't expect a core disciple to grace these lands so soon. What, bored of silken halls already?"

"Too quiet up there. No one's yelling or swearing or trying to take my pouch," Aaryan replied. "Terrible atmosphere."

Dharun chuckled, nodding for him to follow. "Come. I've got tea inside."

They entered the stone-walled resource hall—cool, quiet, and far removed from the outer courtyard noise. The scent of roasted red-leaf tea filled the room, already poured and steaming on the low table. Aaryan took a seat across from him, accepting the cup with a nod.

For a few moments, they drank in silence. It was the kind of comfortable quiet that came only after months of trust and shared chaos.

Then Aaryan spoke. "Vayu invited me to the core disciples' gathering. Tonight."

Dharun glanced up from his cup. "Mm. That makes sense. It's customary. Whenever a new core disciple appears, the others take notice—sometimes out of curiosity, sometimes… other reasons."

Aaryan tilted his head. "You think it's a trap?"

"Not necessarily. But it's still a game of stones and strings, Aaryan. Most of the others have families or powerful patrons. You're stepping into a courtyard full of tigers. Some will smile. Some won't."

Aaryan nodded slowly. "What about Vayu? He didn't seem hostile. More... open, if anything."

Dharun leaned back. "He's not a bad one, from what I've seen. But make no mistake—he's well-connected. The Fourth Grand Elder's nephew, and also her personal disciple."

Aaryan blinked. "Seriously?"

"Mhm."

"That explains why the other two stood behind him in the exchange hall. Not because he demanded it—but because they knew who he was."

Dharun gave a faint smile. "Exactly. Respect earned, not forced. Still... it's good to know who you're dealing with. Vayu didn't climb there by accident."

Aaryan was quiet for a moment, letting the tea's heat fade from his cup. "And I'm the only one without any such backer."

"You chose that path," Dharun said. "After what you did, any grand elder would've taken you in—even if just for their own reasons. But you didn't ask. So now you're on your own."

Aaryan cracked a grin. "Don't I have you?"

Dharun rolled his eyes. "Barely. I'm the sect's glorified babysitter."

They laughed together, the sound cutting through the usual weight between them. After a few more quiet exchanges, Aaryan rose to leave.

"Still," he said, "I'm looking forward to tonight."

Dharun gave him a thoughtful look. "You should be. Just remember—being surrounded by smiling faces doesn't always mean you're among friends."

Aaryan left the outer islands with a full stomach and a half-empty sense of ease.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The sun dipped low as Aaryan approached Vayu's residence. Even from afar, it was clear—this place stood a tier above his. Broader courtyards. Stone pavilions veined with silver. Moonpetal trees lined the walkway, their blossoms glowing faintly. Even the servants were better dressed.

"Huh," Aaryan muttered, stepping past the gates. "So this is what a background buys you."

He wasn't alone.

Eight other core disciples stood scattered around the courtyard, all of them likely around twenty—young, strong, confident. Servants moved silently between them, offering spirit tea, fruit platters, and laughter that wasn't meant to reach Aaryan's ears.

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It didn't take him long to spot the split.

Vayu stood beneath the lantern-lit gazebo, chatting casually with four disciples. Their postures were relaxed, expressions amused. They shared private jokes, finished each other's remarks—comfortably bound by confidence and background.

A short distance away stood the other three.

They were quieter, less polished, but still carried themselves with purpose. Two of them Aaryan recognized instantly—the ones who had accompanied Vayu earlier in the day, The third one leaned on a pillar. Now, they stood apart. Not excluded, just... not included. There was no open tension, no hostility—only the kind of quiet acknowledgment that the five by the gazebo stood higher on the invisible ladder.

Even after all of them being core disciple, that unspoken line was clear.

And then there was Rudra.

He stood off by himself near the koi pond, neither aligned with Vayu's group nor the others. When he saw Aaryan, his posture stiffened, then eased. Without a word, he walked over.

"You came," Rudra said, tone awkward.

"I was promised snacks," Aaryan replied, eyeing a servant with golden dates.

Before Rudra could respond, Vayu's voice rang out across the courtyard.

"Brother Aaryan! You made it."

The heads of remaining disciples turned.

Vayu walked toward them, graceful and calm, the image of a well-bred heir. "I'm glad. I was hoping you'd show."

Aaryan gave a short nod. "Wouldn't miss it. Someone's got to bring down the average cultivation here."

A few of the disciples chuckled. Most didn't.

"Didn't think they'd hand out core positions for tomb-diving and flashy exits," Dhawan said, lazily brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. His posture was languid, but his gaze held the glint of a blade.

Kuni gave a theatrical gasp, one hand to his chest. "Still at the Eighth? Saints preserve us—next we'll be giving sashes to spirit infants and calling them prodigies!"

He elbowed Dhawan with a grin. "Maybe I should start underachieving. Seems to be the trend."

Shoya didn't laugh. He simply studied Aaryan, voice low. "Some people have the scent of borrowed time. Yours... reeks of it."

Aaryan's expression didn't shift, but his eyes glittered with quiet amusement.

"Ease off," Rudra said firmly, glancing at the trio.

The three gave him looks ranging from annoyed to bored. "Oh, Rudra. Didn't expect you to start barking for someone else," Kuni muttered.

Aaryan ignored them, stepping away from the tension as he walked with Vayu near the main table.

"Apologies," Vayu said quietly as Aaryan reached him. "I didn't expect them to be so... loud. I only meant this to be a welcome."

Aaryan smirked. "On the contrary, this is to my liking. I'm always happy to be judged. Saves time figuring out who to ignore."

That earned a chuckle from one of Vayu's group—an older disciple with thick eyebrows and a deep voice. "You've got a mouth. Let's see if you've got the strength."

Nitish looked Aaryan over, not hostile, but not exactly warm either.

"You're not even at the Ninth stage yet," the man said bluntly. "That sits wrong with some of us. The sect used to be stricter about this sort of thing."

Aaryan raised a brow. "Should I bleed more next time?"

Nitish ignored that. "You've heard of the Trial for Mani Disciple, haven't you?"

Aaryan blinked. "...That's real?"

His gaze flicked across the courtyard—eight pairs of eyes, each weighing him with quiet calculation. Was this curiosity… or bait?

Either way, he lifted the cup the servant handed him and drank without flinching.

"It's happening," the man said. "After fifty years. Just the rumours have shaken the inner sect. The last one produced three Elders."

He leaned in slightly. "If you think you're worthy of being called a core disciple, join it. Prove it. Or at least shut those three up."

There was no challenge in his tone—just an expectation, like an older brother testing a younger one.

Aaryan held his gaze for a long moment, then smiled.

"I'll consider it," Aaryan said, flashing a grin. "Though I've been told I have a bad habit of overperforming."

He paused just long enough for the smile to linger, then added with a shrug, "Not that I'm here to prove anything."

The group chuckled—some out of amusement, others to mask their irritation.

As the gathering thinned out, Aaryan stepped toward the exit. Rudra followed, hesitating before catching up beside him.

"What's with the sudden good guy act?" Aaryan asked, not slowing his pace. "Should I be worried you've grown a conscience?"

Rudra scratched at his temple, clearly uncomfortable. "It's …. It's nothing. Don't read into too much."

Aaryan studied him a beat too long. There it was—that twitch behind the eyes. Shame, or regret. Maybe both.

Just as quickly, Rudra looked away.

"Huh. I always thought you were better at kicking people when they're down."

Rudra winced. "I'm trying, alright?"

"Mm," Aaryan murmured, offering nothing more.

As he stepped into the night, the lanternlight fading behind him, eight gazes lingered on his back—some curious, some wary, a few calculating. But Aaryan didn't look back. His silhouette vanished into the dark, moonlight glinting off the edge of his grin—sharp, unreadable.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The courtyard slowly emptied.

Rudra silently followed Aaryan into the night. The rest soon drifted away, their chatter fading into the paths beyond.

Vayu remained still for a moment, watching the gate long after everyone had left. He let out a long, quiet sigh.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

He turned to the silent servants still waiting by the entrance. "Clean up," he muttered. "Leave nothing behind."

Then, without another word, he walked into the inner residence, the doors to his private training chamber closing with a hollow thud.

Far from the glowing lanterns and foot traffic of the sect, Nitish walked alone, his hands tucked into his sleeves.

He crossed bridges and narrow paths until the stone gave way to overgrown soil. Trees rose high around him, casting jagged shadows even under the pale moonlight. This area lay on the fringe of the main island—a place few dared visit even in daylight. It was too quiet. Too still.

Just as he had done many nights before, he reached a familiar hollow beneath the largest tree and sat cross-legged. His breathing slowed. His eyes shut.

Time passed.

Hours, maybe.

Then, softly—like a knife brushing silk—a voice came from behind.

"How did it go?"

Nitish didn't startle. He opened his eyes slowly, then turned to look.

A figure stood among the trees, draped in a deep grey cloak that obscured every feature. Even the moonlight seemed afraid to touch the shadow beneath that hood.

Nitish bowed, forehead nearly touching the ground.

"We did as instructed. But… that boy…" he said, lifting his head slightly. "He's too composed. Provoked again and again, yet not a flicker of anger. It's like he's watching from above it all. I… don't believe he'll take the bait. I'm not sure he'll even attend the trial."

The cloaked figure didn't respond immediately.

Then—calm, certain—it spoke.

"That doesn't matter."

"Whether he wants to or not, he will participate. And you—" the voice sharpened slightly, "—you only need to carry out your task. No improvisations. No delays. And no mistakes."

A pause.

"Not even I can protect you if you fail."

A faint gust of wind passed through the trees. The words hung in the air like a quiet execution.

Nitish bowed again, lower this time.

"…I understand."

By the time he lifted his head, the figure was gone. Not a sound. Not a trace. Only the hush of branches swaying.

Nitish rose, brushing off his robes—expression unreadable, but his steps just a shade quicker than before.

In the dense thicket above, nestled within overlapping leaves and pitch-black branches, a figure crouched.

He hadn't moved in hours, breath shallow, buried in stillness. The Silken Shadow wrapped around him like a second skin, making even the wind forget he existed.

Aaryan's eyes gleamed faintly in the dark. His breath shallow. Silent.

He watched Nitish disappear into the night.

Only after the sounds of footsteps faded completely did he finally exhale.

A whisper of a smile touched his lips.

"So that's how it is..."

His gaze flicked toward the spot where the cloaked figure had stood.

"Looks like I don't have a choice after all."

He vanished into the darkness.

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