Chapter LXXX: A symphony

"…A-ma-zing…"

The man stumbled back from the narrow crack in the wall, legs trembling, heart slamming against his ribs like a war drum. He clutched his chest, head thrown back, mouth slightly agape. A feverish glow danced in his eyes, glassy and overwhelmed.

His entire body shuddered.

"Miss… You're… the chosen one. You're—you're the fucking chosen one!"

He choked on his own voice, a moan and laugh mixing like wine and blood. Sweat dripped down his temple, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts—as if something divine had just entered his lungs and refused to leave.

"No one—no one else could've done it. Not like that. Not with such grace… such control… such sheer, mind-shattering brilliance…"

He slid to his knees, unable to stand under the weight of what he'd seen. His fingertips grazed the stone floor as if it, too, had been touched by her presence.

"You were bullied… not just by anyone. By Han. An elder. A man with authority. A man who controls resources like a dragon hoarding gold. And when he saw your light growing, when he realized your share surpassed his—he tried to snuff you out."

A groan bubbled from his throat, his spine arching with the weight of revelation.

"But you… didn't retaliate. Not like a common fool. You didn't fight back in a flurry of fists or fury. No…"

He gripped his head, nails digging into his scalp.

"You endured."

"You observed."

"You waited. Like a spider in silk."

He whimpered, a sound not unlike rapture.

"You saw that no one around you would help. Not your father. Not your mother. Not even your guardian or your uncle. And it wasn't out of cowardice—it was something else. Something deeper. But even so, you didn't break. You tested them—each one—watching, understanding, accepting. And when it became clear that their silence wasn't meant to abandon you, but still left you alone… you embraced that solitude—not as a curse, but as a forge. You turned loneliness into clarity."

A breath hitched in his throat. His whole body quivered.

"You turned your gaze to Han. Learned him. Dismantled him. You saw that despite his power, he was petty. Insecure. Weak. Obsessed with control. But the real stroke—the masterpiece—was what you did next…"

His hand slammed the wall, teeth clenched in ecstasy.

"Lin and Wu. Two proud beasts with brittle egos. You studied them too. Saw the cracks in their bond. The jealousy. The competition. And what did you do?"

A laugh tore from him—wild, shaking.

"You told them Han's trump card. Not to save him. But to expose him. You played them. All three. Lin and Wu thought they were punishing him. But they were drawing the curtain for your grand entrance."

His breath was ragged now, chest rising and falling like he'd just been dragged through fire and emerged euphoric.

"And when Han lost… when he was humiliated before the crowd, his pride dripping from every open wound…"

A beat. A pause of reverence.

"You appeared."

A moan.

"Not like a warrior. Not like a master. Like a goddess descending. A savior dressed in silk and fire."

He trembled violently, hands pressed together like a man at prayer.

"You gave them salvation. You gave Han something to cling to. You gave the crowd something to believe in. You didn't just win their favor… you converted them. You made them yours."

"And that—that wasn't even your final move."

His voice was breaking apart now. Like a dam ready to burst.

"You knew… oh gods, you knew… The Sect Master Ceremony is coming. The votes… the influence… it's all about public favor. And now—now who do they whisper about in the dark? Who do they cheer for, not with words, but with their souls?"

He collapsed fully now, gasping, panting, overwhelmed.

"You."

His eyes rolled back as if touched by rapture.

"Yun… you're not a cultivator. You're not a schemer."

"You're a symphony."

"You're a goddamn masterpiece."

…

The air in the inn was thick with the kind of excitement that only came after a great storm had passed. Conversations buzzed at every table, rising in volume and intensity with each passing minute. Every pair of eyes that entered the room seemed to carry the same question: Who was she?

The innkeeper, a burly man with calloused hands, leaned across the counter, whispering eagerly to a fellow patron. "You saw it too, right? The woman in white, the one who…"

He didn't need to finish his sentence. The other man, eyes wide, nodded vigorously.

"She's no ordinary person, I can tell you that much. Did you see the way she spoke? The way she made them tremble? Elder Wu and Lin—they've never been humiliated like that. And who was the one standing tall in their place?"

A woman at a nearby table, her hands trembling as she sipped from her cup, leaned in, eyes bright with awe. "I heard she wasn't even from the inner sect. I swear, the way she took control—it felt like divinity walked into that arena. And when she left… did you see the crowd? They were practically worshipping her!"

Another voice piped up from the corner. "A hero, that's what she is. A true hero. She made those tyrants quake. The way she stepped in when Elder Han was cornered, the way she turned the tide. It was like watching the gods themselves come down to claim justice."

The chatter rippled through the room, faster than any fire could spread, igniting whispers in every corner.

In the market, the effect was the same. Stalls that usually hummed with the ordinary bustle of trade now paused as merchants and customers alike exchanged rumors. Vendors leaned over their wooden counters, whispering into the ears of their best clients.

"You don't think she's one of the sect's hidden experts, do you?" one merchant asked, eyes scanning the crowd nervously.

"She didn't just speak with power," replied another, leaning in. "She knew what she was doing. You saw how the crowd reacted when she walked away. Not one person dared speak against her. She's no ordinary woman—she's someone who's going to change this place."

In the library, the usual silence was replaced with hushed tones. Disciples gathered in small groups, books left forgotten on tables as they debated the woman in white who had single-handedly shattered the illusion of invincibility Wu and Lin had so carefully cultivated.

One disciple whispered, "She knew exactly what she was doing. Did you notice? She didn't just speak justice; she made it real. She gave us all a taste of power we thought we'd never have. She turned the arena into her stage. Elder Lin and Wu? They looked like children."

The librarian, an elderly man with silver streaks in his beard, shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's rare to see such confidence, such command. If she wasn't already a part of some grand plan, she's certainly begun one now."

At a distant tavern, the buzz was the same. Whether over the rickety tables in the inn or on the cobbled streets of the city, everyone was talking about the same thing. Some called her a savior. Others, a revolutionary. Some even spoke of her like she was an ancient queen, destined to rule and reshape the sect itself.

Yet despite the fervor, there was one thing no one could deny: Yun had shifted the balance. She had stepped onto a stage that was supposed to be dominated by Lin and Wu, by Han—by those who believed themselves untouchable—and had turned it all upside down.

For the first time in ages, people began to think that perhaps, just perhaps, the old order could be undone.