---
The morning after his duel, Jiang Chen awakens early.
Outside, the mountains are still. Too still. No wind whistles through the bamboo, and the birdsong fades quicker than usual. It's not silence—it's like the world is holding its breath.
He meditates on the wooden floor of his quarters, arms crossed, sword resting across his lap.
Jiang Chen (in thought):
The flow of spiritual essence… feels off. Like a current pushing in the wrong direction.
He opens his eyes. The qi around him spins clockwise instead of naturally flowing with the mountain's leylines.
A quiet knock interrupts his focus.
It's Yue Qingshuang.
Yue Qingshuang (smiling faintly):
"You've been invited to the Heavenfall Array Exhibition. A rare honor for someone who still hasn't been assigned an inner courtyard."
Jiang Chen (not smiling):
"That honor feels like a rope with silk on the outside and blades beneath."
She pauses. Her smile fades slightly.
Yue Qingshuang:
"…Be careful. If something feels wrong, trust it. I can't say more. Not yet."
---
Later that day, Jiang Chen returns to the Whispering Pavilion's lowest chamber, now attuned to its breathing silence.
He opens the jade scroll left behind by a forgotten disciple: "Fragment of the Heavenfall Blueprint – Before It Was Warped."
The array, once designed to harmonize with the skies, has been altered—sections replaced with restrictive net patterns, soul seals, and "Reverse Qi Spirals", a forbidden technique.
His sword sheath hums faintly.
He unrolls the diagram and overlays it with the altered schematics he glimpsed earlier during training.
> A perfect overlay—except for a single fractured node in the northeast formation circle.
Jiang Chen:
"…A weak point."
He draws a crude symbol on the ground, channeling Whispering Qi into it. It flickers, then tears slightly—a spatial rift the size of a fingernail.
Just enough to let a sword pass through later.
He carves the node's rhythm into memory.
---
Returning to his quarters, Jiang Chen finds a slip of paper folded into the shape of a lotus resting on his pillow.
Unfolded, it reads:
> "You walk into a thunderstorm wearing white. Turn back. Or be struck before you know it."
— X
There's no signature. But he recognizes the scent of ink: Elder Xun's.
It isn't a warning. It's a threat, wrapped in poetry.
Jiang Chen (murmuring):
"Then I won't wear white. I'll bring the storm with me."
---
That night, Jiang Chen practices his forms not for elegance, but precision. Every strike flows into the next without pause—Whispering Form I through IV, then stops at the edge of Form V.
He hasn't mastered the next one yet.
He breathes.
He steadies.
Then—he cuts toward the rift in the air again.
It flickers. Warps. Just slightly. Enough to show the sword can pass through corrupted space.
He whispers to himself.
Jiang Chen:
"If this is the cage they've built for me… then I'll carve the door myself."
Outside, the clouds gather. Lightning flashes far above the peak.
The next chapter will open with thunder.
---
End of Chapter 10.5