1.Meishan's Cold Blade: Shadows Beneath the Night

The moon cast a frosty glow upon Meishan Sect's martial grounds—a serene clearing surrounded by gently swaying trees. Leaves floated softly on the breeze, spiraling quietly to the ground.

Mo Yan stood poised between the trees, her posture as steadfast as a pine. Her snowy robes fluttered subtly in the night wind. Her sword movements flowed gracefully yet decisively, each stroke leaving a glinting streak in the moonlit air.

As her blade swept past, leaves scattered, branches snapped cleanly, and swirling leaves danced into miniature whirlwinds. The female disciples at the edge of the clearing held their breath, captivated, as Mo Yan's sword pierced through empty air, sending a wave of energy that shattered distant dry branches into fragments that drifted gently down through the faint moonlight.

"Brilliant!" the disciples exclaimed involuntarily, their voices filled with awe. The elegance of Mo Yan's swordsmanship carried a precise, lethal intent, as though it was innate, a part of her very nature.

"Excellent!" they cheered once more, envy mingling with reverence in their eyes. Her talent was extraordinary; within just a few short years, Mo Yan had mastered and transcended her sect's sword techniques, surpassing even her senior sisters to become the sect's finest disciple.

Liu Quanzhen watched quietly from the sidelines, her gaze unreadable. As Meishan's leader and Mo Yan's mentor, outwardly she praised Mo Yan, yet inwardly she was wary. Such exceptional talent could become the sharpest blade if controlled, but an uncontrollable prodigy posed an undeniable threat.

"Mo Yan's swordsmanship has reached perfection—balanced in both offense and defense," Liu Quanzhen remarked calmly, her gaze sweeping over the assembled disciples. "But what about the rest of you? Swordsmanship is more than just speed and power; it's also about perception and adaptability. She sees flaws within each strike; can you?"

The disciples lowered their heads, each bearing a different expression.

"Chen Rong, your swordplay is too forceful and lacks flexibility. Against a swift opponent, you will inevitably falter."

"Bai Qing, your technique is steady but lacks adaptability. Should an opponent catch you off guard, your form will collapse."

"And the rest of you—remember your weaknesses and reflect deeply," Liu Quanzhen continued, her tone gentle yet commanding respect.

"Understood," the disciples chorused obediently, some inwardly resistant yet unable to voice disagreement.

"That is enough for today," Liu Quanzhen declared. "Return now."

The disciples dispersed quietly, and the martial grounds returned to stillness, the night breeze rustling softly through the trees.

Only then did Liu Quanzhen approach Mo Yan, her voice softening slightly. "Mo Yan, you've made remarkable progress today."

Mo Yan sheathed her sword and bowed respectfully, eyes lowered in genuine obedience. "I will continue to follow your guidance, Master."

Liu Quanzhen smiled faintly, her eyes sharp yet composed. As leader of Meishan Sect and a feared figure in martial circles, she was a master of both the sword and deadly poisons, famed for decisive actions and ruthless tactics. Under her strict governance, Meishan had risen to formidable prominence, commanding both respect and fear from others.

Liu Quanzhen produced a small embroidered pouch, handing it to Mo Yan. "I personally prepared this medicine. It will stabilize your inner energy and ease the palpitations you've suffered since childhood. Take a spoonful every day without fail."

Mo Yan accepted the pouch, unaware of any hidden malice. It wasn't medicine at all, but "Bone-Eroding Powder," an insidious poison Liu had secretly concocted. Initially enhancing internal strength, prolonged use bred addiction—ceasing its intake would rupture meridians, causing unbearable agony.

"Thank you, Master," Mo Yan responded trustingly.

Liu Quanzhen nodded, satisfied, her gaze hiding a calculated depth. Her most deadly weapon remained firmly in her grasp.

Suddenly, a chill wind blew past. Mo Yan swayed slightly, her chest tightening sharply as her breath quickened. She steadied herself against a nearby tree, fingers trembling.

Her vision blurred, distant whispers and rustling leaves sounding muffled as if covered by thick fog. Her heartbeat raced erratically, feeling as though an invisible hand gripped tightly around her heart, suffocating her. It was a sensation she knew all too well.

"Mo Yan?" Liu Quanzhen's voice carried gentle concern, carefully masked.

Drawing a deep breath, Mo Yan forced composure, though sweat now drenched her palm. She murmured softly, "I'm fine, Master."

Liu Quanzhen smiled gently, her eyes resting meaningfully on the pouch in Mo Yan's hand. "Be sure to take your medicine regularly once you return, so episodes like this won't hinder your swordsmanship."

Moonlight quietly blanketed the forest, shadows shifting subtly. In distant branches, something stirred lightly before vanishing without a trace. The darkness deepened, concealing every lurking intrigue beneath its velvet cloak.