Han Yu allowed himself to sink into meditation briefly, drawing in the loose ambient Eight Emotions Energy to settle in his Soul Pond. He didn’t push for advancement. He simply consolidated.
There would be time for growth later.
He needed to clean the stolen spirit stones. Sort the unprocessed chunks. Catalog what he could sell, what he could trade, and what he’d keep for refining his own techniques. The Ice Spirit Stones in particular had unique applications—perhaps they might even have an enhancing effect on the Undying Life Charm, or even for bribing an alchemist to forge a specialized pill.
He smiled faintly to himself.
Everything was falling into place.
Han Yu wasn’t in a rush. The stage was set, the pieces moved, and the bait cast into the deeper waters of sect politics.
Now all he had to do...
...was wait for the ripples to reach the shore.
A few days had passed since Han Yu returned to the Twin Leaf Peak Sect.
He had kept a low profile, as always—meditating during the day, practicing his soul techniques under the pretense of regular cultivation, and occasionally walking the sect paths with the ease of someone with nothing to hide. He passed several gossiping disciples, loitering in the main square or exchanging news near the canteen.
Naturally, his ears remained sharp.
But despite the time that had passed since his sabotage of the hidden mine, there wasn’t a single whisper about Murong Xie. Not a rumor. Not a murmur. Nothing about an explosion, missing spirit stones, or even wild beast attacks in the south.
Han Yu frowned slightly.
Had Murong Xie not discovered it yet? Unlikely.
Or... was he keeping it quiet?
If Murong Xie had already realized the mine had been attacked and looted, there were only two possibilities: either he was working furiously behind the scenes to contain the damage—or, by some absurd twist of fate, he hadn’t figured it out yet.
Neither scenario gave Han Yu much comfort.
He stood near one of the sect’s water gardens, pretending to admire the koi fish as a pair of senior outer disciples passed by behind him.
"...heard anything strange from the elders recently?"
"Nope. Just the usual. One of the inner sect candidates broke through to Core Refinement. Nothing about the Murong Clan."
"Same here. Tch. Kind of boring lately."
Han Yu narrowed his eyes slightly.
He returned to his courtyard and summoned Chitterfang with a silent whistle. The rat poked his head out from a crevice in the wall, twitching his whiskers expectantly.
"Chitterfang," Han Yu said, crouching beside him. "I want you to start observing Murong Xie’s courtyard. Don’t get too close. Just watch. If he starts yelling, smashing things, or calling for any elders, I want to know. The moment it happens."
The rat squeaked in understanding.
Han Yu added with a smirk, "Also... don’t eat anything lying around his courtyard. Knowing Murong Xie, it’s either poisoned or cursed."
Just as Chitterfang gave a proud little nod and turned to scamper away, a deep, thunderous boom echoed through the sect grounds.
Han Yu jerked his head toward the sound.
A second later, the tremor reached him—faint but unmistakable. The air pulsed. The ground buzzed. Birds shot out from the treetops in a flurry.
And then came the plume of dust.
A massive cloud of smoke and debris billowed into the sky from one of the upper ridges near the Senior disciple residences.
Han Yu’s eyes widened.
"...That’s where Murong Xie’s courtyard is."
Without wasting a breath, he sprinted toward the ridge.
From all corners of the sect, disciples were pouring out of buildings, training halls, and meditation pavilions, all drawn by the noise. Shouts of confusion rippled through the crowd as they scrambled to get a view.
Han Yu took a shortcut between stone outcroppings and bounded up a narrow flight of stairs, reaching the upper ridge just as a group of inner sect disciples gathered outside a shattered set of jade-inlaid gates.
Murong Xie’s courtyard—or what remained of it—was a smoking ruin.
The outer wall had been blown inward, cracked in three places. One of the ornamental towers lay in rubble, and a portion of the tiled roof had collapsed. Flames licked the edge of a Spirit Tree that had once adorned the central garden.
Even more dramatic, a shimmering golden barrier—a sect defensive formation—was flickering unsteadily, trying to reassert itself as if the courtyard had just suffered a powerful internal detonation.
Han Yu stopped among the crowd, blending in effortlessly.
"...Was it an attack?"
"Did someone try to assassinate him?!"
"No way—he’s a future Legacy disciple. Who’d even dare?"
"I heard he was screaming about a betrayal! Something about ’those greedy bastards’ and ’someone stealing the tribute stones.’"
Han Yu’s eyes sparkled slightly.
The emotions hit him moments later.
Even from a distance, he could feel them—Anger, thick and seething like molten iron.
Fear, brittle and crackling.
Humiliation, laced with paranoia.
Desperation hidden in sadness.
It poured from the broken courtyard like smoke from a chimney, leaking into the spiritual atmosphere of the sect. Eight Emotions Energy, raw and potent, drifted toward Han Yu in slow, colorful wisps—red, gray, violet, even slivers of dark blue.
He didn’t even need to absorb it immediately.
Just being near it was enough to let it resonate with his soul and be drawn in a steady stream.
Murong Xie had found out, all right.
And judging by the destruction, he hadn’t taken it well.
Han Yu took a deep breath and folded his arms, adopting the look of a curious but uninvolved onlooker.
Nearby, an inner disciple muttered, "They say he was so furious he accidentally triggered one of his own explosive formation arrays. Blew half the courtyard up."
"He kept explosive arrays in his residence?" another whispered, aghast.
Han Yu held back a grin.
’An easy way to self sabotage, eh?’ Han Yu almost chuckled.