Chapter 11

The Night Before the Duel - When Laughter Fades

Night unfurled its veil across the mountains, draping the village of Baizhu in a quiet, dreamlike hush. Twilight bled into violet shadows between pines. A cool wind whispered down ridges, brushing rooftops and hedges.

Gentle lights bloomed across the village—amber glows behind paper windows, fireflies blinking near water troughs, lanterns swaying gently from wooden beams. Some bore old protective charms, faded but still proud; others shimmered faintly with talismanic light, casting patterns on the cobbled paths.

A thin mist curled along the riverbank, rising like breath from the earth. In the distance, a wooden chime marked the hour as villagers retreated indoors, leaving behind only the hush of leaves and distant murmurs.

At the far end of the trial grounds—its layered eaves draped in pale silks—the visiting Shuilan disciples moved with disciplined grace. They reset boundary wards with thin strokes of spiritual ink and planted talismans along the perimeter. Chalk lines were redrawn on stone platforms, polished training weapons placed in careful alignment, hilts facing outward in respectful symmetry.

Silk robes drifted across the stone like mist. Clusters of younger cultivators whispered in hushed excitement nearby, but the air carried a sharpened stillness—like breath held just before a blade is drawn.

As the three boys crossed the lantern-lit village path toward the trial grounds, soft voices stirred like wind through reeds.

A small group of girls crossed the path, their pale robes fluttering like silk banners in the wind. The soft rustle of silk and glint of silver pins brushed the air as they slowed, weaving just slightly around the boys—close enough for perfume and laughter to linger.

One girl’s eyes followed Lin Ye with quiet curiosity. Her gaze lingered—warm, unhurried—and a smile curved her lips. As she passed him, her fingers brushed lightly near the edge of his sleeve, almost by accident.

“Is that really him? The forest trial made someone more handsome than before,” she murmured, just loud enough to carry. “He actually looks… sharp tonight.”

Lin Ye tried to look unimpressed, but some traitorous part of him savored the attention. Just a little.

Another girl, bolder, tilted her head toward Lin Shen as she stepped past, eyes locking briefly with his before lowering in teasing grace. “That one’s always so serious,” she whispered with a mischievous lilt. “But tonight he looks... dignified.”

Lin Shen glanced sideways, eyes narrowing in feigned indifference—but a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a flush rising behind his composure.

A third girl, trailing just a step behind, paused beside Lin Ye. She leaned in as if to examine him more closely, her tone teasing but admiring.

“Especially you—I almost didn’t recognize you. Didn’t think wild beasts could turn someone more graceful.”

As the girls moved past, another flicked her fingers gently near Lin Ye’s hair. “Looking clean tonight! Someone finally scrubbed you?” she teased.

He turned mid-step and gave a graceful spin, his robe flaring slightly.

“Only for the night parade of admiration,” he replied dramatically. “Tomorrow I return to my humble, chaotic self.”

A girl near Mu Fan gave him a once-over with a knowing smile. “You look good as usual,” she said softly but certainly.

Mu Fan smiled warmly and nodded, easy with the attention but not seeking it. Lin Ye, on the other hand, caught just enough whispers and giggles to piece them together. His ears turned a little pink, but his expression was nothing short of triumphant. He blinked slowly and lifted his chin, doing nothing to hide the self-satisfaction in his grin

Mu Fan, noticing Lin Ye’s smirk growing by the second, leaned in with a mischievous glint.

“Careful, Ye. That new look might get you mistaken for someone important. You’re almost more graceful than the Shuilan Master now.”

Lin Ye turned his head just slightly, grin deepening, though a faint crease touched his brow. His eyes glinted with ego and amusement—but beneath the surface, a flicker of irritation lingered—barely there, but real.

“Why are you talking about that annoying Shuilan Master?” he said, voice light but laced with something sharper. “I’m definitely not to be compared with him.”

They all laughed—the sound light and unguarded, weaving between them like sunlight through leaves.

Mu Fan added, “More like the first time you actually combed your hair and looked in a mirror.”

The girls passed by with another round of giggles, one peeking back before turning the corner, eyes sparkling in the lantern light.

Lin Ye straightened his sleeves like a peacock fluffing feathers. Lin Shen sighed, though a faint smirk tugged at his mouth. Mu Fan shook his head, chuckling.

They continued toward the trial grounds—grinning, amused, and perhaps walking just a little taller than before.

Their laughter faded into the dusk as the stillness of the trial grounds settled ahead like held breath.

They reached the edge of the trial ground where Shuilan disciples handed out instruction scrolls for the next day’s duels. Lin Ye paused, his gaze sweeping slowly across the grounds. Rows of participants stood like statues—some fidgeting nervously, others whispering under their breath. The disciples moved with practiced grace and quiet authority, their pale blue and pearl-white uniforms catching the fading light like ripples on still water.

Something in Lin Ye’s posture shifted—his usual lazy grin thinning into a rare flicker of seriousness. His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the figures below as if searching for a particular face.

He tilted his chin up toward the ancestral pavilion above. The Shuilan main rest quarters stood serene and slightly aloof, drapes swaying softly in the breeze. Shadows moved behind silk screens—faint silhouettes of disciples coming and going.

But the one he sought was not there.

Lin Ye’s lips pressed into a wry smirk, tinged with frustration—as if he’d lost a silent bet with himself. He let out a soft exhale through his nose and flicked his sleeve with mock indifference, hiding the brief glint of disappointment behind casual flair.

Mu Fan caught the glance immediately. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, voice low and teasing. “Who are you looking for?” he asked with a wicked grin. “Maybe those girls earlier didn’t flatter you enough. Want someone taller?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lin Ye replied smoothly, though his gaze shifted.

Lin Shen folded his arms with mock gravity. “Then why are you scanning the crowd and staring so hard at the ancestral pavilion?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly developed an appreciation for… scenic rooftops?”

Without missing a beat, Lin Ye tilted his head, expression solemn but clearly fake. “Yes, actually. I’m just watching the ancestral pavilion. Suddenly, I’ve become deeply interested in its architecture.”

Mu Fan burst out laughing. Lin Shen shook his head, a grin tugging at his mouth—clearly amused but full of disbelief at what Lin Ye had just said.

Lin Ye groaned and threw his head back with a theatrical sigh, doing a poor job hiding the embarrassed smile tugging at his mouth. “Oh, both of you,” he said, though he was grinning—wide, smug, and pretending to be unbothered.

Lin Shen and Mu Fan only laughed harder, clearly enjoying themselves.

He shot them both a sharp look, baring his teeth in a playful, mock warning. “Shut up,” he added with a hiss, the edge in his voice more amused than angry.

But the words snagged in his throat. His grin faltered, and his posture subtly stiffened. That flicker of pride dimmed, replaced by something quieter, tenser—as the pain began to twist beneath his ribs like a hidden blade turning in slow motion.

“Ye?” Lin Shen’s voice lost all teasing, concern flooding his face as he stepped forward.

Lin Ye gritted his teeth. A fierce, searing ache had bloomed in his chest—like fire igniting beneath the skin, but darker. It wasn’t just pain—it was something else, something near, something wrong.

He  gasped, voice tight with pain. “It feels like… like fire—burning through my chest—slow, deep—hot and dark, like it’s trying to hollow me out from the inside.” His eyes flicked upward, wild with confusion. “I don’t know what it is… but it’s not stopping.”

His knees gave way beneath him as the pain surged, raw and relentless.

Without hesitation, Lin Shen and Mu Fan caught him, easing him down toward a nearby bench near the judge’s platform. 

Lin Shen crouched at his side, voice low and steady. 

“Don’t try to speak. Just focus on breathing. You’re safe, alright?”

Lin Ye leaned back slowly, drawing in heavy breaths. The pain didn’t vanish—but it dulled, retreating into a slow, lingering throb—like distant fingers scraping along his ribs from the inside.

Mu Fan stood close, arms folded but tense, eyes locked onto Lin Ye with unconcealed worry. His usual mischief was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped frown.

Trying to lighten the mood, Lin Ye cracked one eye open and forced a weak smirk. “Didn’t know you two were so worried. Are you secretly in love with me?”

Lin Shen lifted a foot, as if to kick him, but dropped it with a sigh. “I would,” he said dryly, “but you’d probably faint and blame me for your death.” His tone was light, but his gaze lingered, still shadowed with concern.

Mu Fan chuckled despite the tension, trying to lift the atmosphere with a grin. “Are you putting on this act just to dodge my question? Who were you really looking for?”

Lin Ye, breath still unsteady, replied with forced bravado. “Never! I didn’t look for anyone—sounds like you’re dreaming. Maybe you’re just jealous that the girls gave me more compliments.”

“That’s the Ye I know,” Mu Fan said with a grin, nudging him lightly. “I was waiting for that line.”

Thanks for reading this chapter! Stay tuned for what’s next!