Han Yu remained in his balcony seat, nursing the same cup of jasmine tea as he kept a watchful eye on the building across the street.
After a few more minutes, the window curtain shifted again, and Senior Sister Meng stood from her seat. Her movements were composed, almost graceful, but Han Yu caught the faintest tremor in her shoulders before she left the room.
By the time she stepped outside and walked down the building’s front steps, the poise had returned to her stride. Her face, once pinched with strain during the meeting, now bore the same impassive serenity of a seasoned cultivator. From any outsider’s perspective, she might have looked like a disciple returning from routine sect business.
But Han Yu had been watching her too closely for too long. He could see that something was off.
She didn’t immediately return to the Mist Eye Sect branch. Instead, she wandered for a few minutes through adjacent alleys and backstreets, walking a casual loop that may have been a check for any potential tails.
Han Yu didn’t bite. He remained seated, watching her vanish around a corner before pulling his hood tighter and finally rising from his seat.
He didn’t follow her directly back to the Mist Eye Sect compound. Instead, he searched the nearby area for a location where he could lie in wait unnoticed.
A tavern two buildings down caught his attention.
Its signboard was cracked and faded, swinging lazily on a rusted hook: "The Roaming Gourd Tavern." Inside, it was dimly lit, musty with the scent of fermented grain and old wood. A place for rogue cultivators, mercenaries, and failed adventurers to drown their regrets with a few too many drinks.
Han Yu slid into a corner table near the window with a decent line of sight across the street toward the Mist Eye Sect branch. The tavern’s interior was noisy enough to mask his presence, and no one gave him a second glance. His dusty traveler’s cloak, slightly frayed at the edges, marked him as just another drifter too poor to afford spirit-enhanced tailoring.
He ordered a pot of the cheapest wine and poured a cup for show. He didn’t drink more than a sip at a time, just enough to keep up appearances. Around him, other patrons were engaged in their own loud stories, raucous gambling, and occasional drunken quarrels. One man even passed out snoring with his head on the table, a puddle of wine slowly spreading around him.
Han Yu sat like that for hours.
Day turned to dusk. Dusk to night. The lanterns outside flickered on, casting a soft glow over the entrance to the Mist Eye Sect branch. Several disciples came and went, but none of them were Senior Sister Meng.
He didn’t mind. He had patience when he needed it—and tonight, something told him that it would pay off. Thankfully he was in a tavern and could order food as needed. It even helped him seem less suspicious.
Just past midnight, movement caught his eye.
Senior Sister Meng emerged from the Mist Eye Sect building with her cloak drawn close and her hair tied up. She moved quickly but not so fast as to draw attention. In the quiet stillness of the late hour, even a single figure was easy to spot.
Her face, usually composed and unreadable, now carried a tightness around the eyes. The corners of her mouth were drawn into a slight, involuntary frown. Her breathing was just a little too quick. Han Yu recognized the signs: stress.
Something had rattled her.
He didn’t follow immediately. Let her get some distance first. Let her think she wasn’t being watched.
When several moments had passed, Han Yu tossed a few silver coins onto the table, took one final swig of the wine, and stepped out into the cool night air.
The streets were quiet. Only the occasional night guard patrol moved along the cobbled roads, their spirit lanterns casting brief halos of light before they vanished down side streets. Han Yu moved like a ghost, his steps practiced, measured, and noiseless.
Meng wasn’t taking any indirect routes this time.
Instead, she moved with purpose—heading straight for the western gate of Wujing City.
The western gate wasn’t like the grand northern or eastern entrances, which were constantly flooded with caravans and cultivators from various sects. It was a modest checkpoint, used mostly by locals and merchants looking to bypass the heavier foot traffic. At this hour, it was all but deserted.
A lone city guard stood at the gate, half-asleep on his feet. Meng passed through without a word, flashing a token that Han Yu couldn’t quite make out from his distance. The guard barely nodded in response before returning to his nap against the wall.
Han Yu waited half a minute before moving.
He got past the guard with ease, simply using one of the Mist Eye Sect disciple tokens he had and flashing it for a second to the man who looked away without much of a glance. It was clear that the Mist Eye Sect Disciples enjoyed quite a privilege here.
Something that was now benefiting Han Yu.
’Another Mist Eye Sect Disciple... Who knows what they do at this time of the night?’ The guard didn’t think much about Senior Sister Meng and then Han Yu leaving.
But then he suddenly thought of something.
"A woman and a man leaving at this time of the night just after one another. Could it be... An AFFAIR! A SCANDAL!" The man’s eyes went wide. "This is going to be fun to discuss tomorrow when I’m off work." The man chuckled totally misreading the situation.
Up ahead, Senior Sister Meng was moving swiftly now, no longer pretending to stroll. Her footsteps echoed faintly in the night, and every so often, she glanced behind her shoulder.
Han Yu slowed his pace, matching her from a distance while keeping to the trees and shadows along the road. He wrapped his presence tight around him, suppressing his Spirit Qi flow until it was virtually nonexistent.