Meng Jueyan thought deeply about the elder, about his power and identity.
But nothing else about him fit the profile of a junior or a rouge cultivator.
His poise. His precision. His methods.
Even the obscure technique he’d used—causing her attackers to freeze right as they lunged—was something she’d never seen before. It had to be some secret illusory or restraining skill above their common Locking Eye Technique.
That alone placed him far above ordinary disciples.
And then there was the way he had subdued the red-eyed woman.
Clean, efficient, and silent.
There was no wasted movement. No hesitation. Just a few taps and the woman had collapsed, twitching like a puppet with its strings cut.
’He’s suppressing his cultivation, definitely,’ she thought. ’Must be to remain hidden. Someone like him wouldn’t walk around showing his strength.’
And he knew of Elder Wei—knew about internal sect matters, enough to reference them with ease. That implied not only authority, but position.
She could only guess how deep it went.
Han Yu, sensing her probing glances, didn’t turn to look at her.
But he could feel it.
The way her emotions shifted from confusion to awe. The way a wisp of anticipation now floated toward him, ripe and vibrant. It mingled with other strands of veneration, fear, even a curious trace of admiration.
It filled him with subtle joy.
The Undying Destiny Severance technique was beautiful in its simplicity. Stir the hearts of those around you, and draw power from what they feel. And right now, Senior Sister Meng—no, Meng Jueyan—was practically a fountain of it.
He glanced skyward briefly.
’With this much energy, I’ve alreayd compensated for the Soul Qi I spent tonight. Maybe even exceeded it a bit...’
But he also knew he had to be careful.
Too much mystery, and suspicion would follow.
Too much show of power, and someone stronger might take notice.
And worse—if someone tried to verify his cultivation level directly, he’d have no choice but to flee.
Han Yu’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked ahead. The Broken Fang Ravine loomed somewhere in the distance beyond the vast forest. He would need more information before he returned to his sect. And perhaps more tools. More allies.
His gaze flickered back to Meng.
Perhaps she could be one.
He broke the silence again.
"You spoke against your fellow disciples, risked your life to act on suspicion. Why?"
Meng hesitated, surprised by the question. But then she answered honestly.
"Because I saw signs. Shady movements. Meetings at strange hours. I reported to Elder Shenwi... and he vanished. I couldn’t sit still."
Han Yu said nothing, but nodded slightly.
’Guess that was the other black robed man I saw before.’ Han Yu thought.
But this information was still another point in her favor.
Maybe she was reckless—but she was brave.
That was worth something.
He gave a short, approving hum. "Then you might still be of use."
Meng didn’t know what he meant by that exactly—but her chest swelled slightly with pride anyway.
Being seen. Being recognized—even if only as a tool—by someone like him... it stirred something in her.
They walked deeper into the woods, the crescent moon still hanging over them.
But a new day was coming soon and they had to be fast.
But for Han Yu, it wasn’t just a new day—it was a new game.
And he was slowly learning how to play it.
The two eventually came to a small clearing tucked between rows of moss-covered trees and winding roots. A soft breeze stirred the underbrush, and the morning light had begun to filter through the leaves above, casting dappled patterns across the ground. A perfect, quiet place—shielded by forest, watched by no one.
Han Yu stopped, his back to a wide, bark-scarred tree. He looked around once, then nodded slightly to himself. This would do.
"We’ll wait here for a moment," he said.
Meng Jueyan gave a curt nod and stood a respectful distance away, hands clasped behind her back, the discipline of the sect still etched into her body language.
Han Yu crossed his arms, gazing at her with that same unreadable, masked expression. His eyes, however, gleamed with a mix of calculation and curiosity.
"I wish to assess your worth further," he said plainly. "Answer a few questions."
"Yes, Elder Yi," Meng replied quickly.
"What do you know about the current state of the Mist Eye Sect’s internal affairs?"
Meng hesitated only a breath before responding. "The sect is currently divided into two factions, Elder. One seeks to uphold the original values—maintaining tradition, cautious cultivation, and avoiding forbidden paths. The other... is more ambitious. They believe power must be seized, not waited upon. They’ve begun seeking out forbidden sources—dead zones, ancient altars, remnants of lost cultivators."
Han Yu gave a slow, approving nod, pretending her words matched a greater truth he already knew. "Correct. I’m pleased your senses haven’t dulled."
A brief flush of pride ran through Meng’s face.
He then stepped closer, tone sharpened just slightly. "What is your opinion on the Patriarch’s stance?"
Meng paused, choosing her words with care. "The Patriarch has not taken an official stance. Publicly, he’s remained neutral. He allows both factions to act freely, as long as they don’t disrupt the outer perception of unity within the sect."
She looked down briefly, then added, "But your presence here, Elder Yi, suggests that the Patriarch is more aware than he lets on. You must be one of his hidden hands... watching the storm."
Han Yu gave her a long look and then nodded as if what she said confirmed something important. "Indeed. You are not wrong."
He let that hang in the air before continuing, his tone shifting into something heavier, colder.
"There are others observing this situation as well. Elders. Watchers. Shadows."
He turned away slightly, watching the light through the trees.
"You are not to delve deeper into this matter. It’s above your level. Even speaking too much of it could invite consequences."
"I understand," Meng said, bowing her head. "But... if I may ask..."