The next dawn brought no peace.

Lotus disciples were summoned to the eastern field for joint practice with Sky Wolf Gate. A show of “unity” staged for watching merchants and elders. However, I knew it for what it was: a test.

The Red Courier had failed once. The elders wanted to see if the target still carried weakness.

The field shimmered with morning mist. Disciples formed ranks, blades gleaming. Ji Ming stood opposite me, sabers crossed over his back. His expression was carved from stone.

“Pair exercise,” Master Jian Yue commanded. “Strike until your breath fails. Defend until your limbs break.”

The match began.

Steel clashed against qi, sparks scattering across the damp grass. At first, we fought as rivals… blade to thread, circle to strike. The crowd shouted approval, but then the rhythm shifted.

A Sky Wolf disciple lunged too far. His blade caught mine, dragging me into imbalance. The mist curled, and suddenly three others moved in, not sparring but striking true.

Assassins in disguise.

The Red Courier had returned.

For an instant, time slowed. Ji Ming’s gaze met mine across the chaos. We both knew what it meant.

The resonance struck before we could deny it.
Lotus breath. Wolf stride.

My threads curved, his sabers split, and together we carved a spiral through the mist that sent the assassins scattering like leaves. Blades rang, petals burned, and qi howled like a storm caged in flesh.

When it ended, the field was silent. The three Sky Wolf “disciples” lay broken on the ground, masks half-torn, the Courier’s mark carved into their sashes.

The elders stared, faces unreadable.

We had survived. But worse—we had revealed the bond before a hundred watching eyes.