The sword field lay quiet in the dusk.
Blades stood upright in rows—abandoned after afternoon drills. Shadows stretched long across the courtyard, and a wind whispered between hilts, as if remembering old duels.
Long Tian stepped into the center, unaware he was being watched.
He had come to train.
But training was not what waited.
---
Above, Behind, Watching
Leng Xiyue stood beneath the arch of the moon gate.
Her robes, pale silver, clung to her like frost over stone, her skin glowing in the moon gaze,her chest rising into the sky above and hugging her robe gluely.
Her gaze, colder than ice, followed him with unreadable silence.
Since that moment on the balcony… she hadn't slept.
Her meditation rhythm frayed.
Her sword Qi trembled when she breathed his name—even silently.
"This can't be spiritual deviation," she thought.
"It's not desire. It's... interference."
And she hated that.
She, who had turned down sect heirs and heavenly prodigies, now found her balance shaken by an outer disciple who once scrubbed latrines, that's outrageous.
She stepped forward, her sword unsheathed, not raised.
"You. Long Tian."
---
Challenge in Words
He turned, and for the first time, looked at her with calm eyes that did not flinch.
"Senior Leng."
She frowned.
No blush. No trembling. No fear.
"What… did you do?" she asked.
"To you?" he asked, tilting his head with confusion.
"I did Nothing."
Her voice was steel.
"That's lie"
She walked closer, stopping just two sword-lengths away.
Her eyes scanned him—not with lust, but with the sharpness of a cultivator dissecting a formation.
"Your aura," she said slowly, "why it changed."
"I made a breakthrough earlier," he said.
"That's not it."
She stepped even closer.
"You carry… something. It pulls Qi around you unnaturally. It… breathes."
His jaw tensed.
The Sutra stirred beneath his robes, not in lust—but in recognition.
Leng Xiyue was a being of Yin.
And he, now, was heat incarnate.
Their energies didn't just touch.
They reached and reacted.
---
Qi Clash: Resonance Uninvited
"Let me test it," she said, voice sharp. "If you've stolen something forbidden… I'll know."
Before he could answer, she stepped into a stance.
Not an attack—
A meditative duel posture: the Mirror Qi Form.
Two cultivators. No strikes. No techniques. Just energy meeting energy—to reveal imbalance, or truth.
Long Tian exhaled.
"Fine."
They raised their palms and approached, hands meeting without touch, millimeters apart.
---
And then—
The world bent.
Not from technique.
From resonance.
---
Her breath caught.
His spine straightened.
Between their hands, a pulse formed—silent, golden, warm.
Leng Xiyue's spiritual sea rippled.
Her Yin Qi began to curve toward him… like snow drawn to flame.
"No…" she whispered.
But she couldn't pull back.
Her lips parted—not in pleasure, but disbelief.
His Qi wove into hers, not violating, not invading—just… mirroring.
She was the frost.
He was the fire.
And in the stillness, they reflected each other.
---
The Breaking Point
Leng Xiyue stepped back abruptly, tearing the flow.
Her breath hitched.
A faint blush kissed her cheeks—for the first time in years.
She sheathed her sword with a shaky hand.
"You didn't steal anything," she said softly.
"No."
"Then what are you?" she asked.
Long Tian didn't answer.
Instead, he bowed.
"I don't know yet. But I know I didn't choose this."
She studied him—longer this time.
Her eyes lingered on his collarbone, where a faint lotus sigil flickered once before vanishing beneath cloth.
And for a breath… she looked sad.
"Be careful, Long Tian," she said quietly.
"Whatever you're becoming—our sect doesn't embrace what it doesn't understand."
She turned and walked into the twilight.
---
Afterglow
Long Tian exhaled slowly.
His hands still trembled—not from battle, but from her energy.
"She touched my Qi," he murmured.
"And it remembered her."
The Sutra pulsed once.
A whisper in his mind:
"She will return."
---