Chapter 7: Where Ashes Whisper

The morning came, not gently, but with a blade of light that cleaved through the sky, dragging with it the dull clang of bells and the stench of burning incense. Wei Xie's eyes opened before the third bell. Not from rest—he hadn't slept. Couldn't. Not after last night.

The sigil etched into his spine pulsed faintly beneath his robes, a ghost of warmth radiating outward with every breath. He felt no pain. But neither did he feel quite human.

He sat motionless in his small dormitory chamber, unlit and undisturbed. Others in the outer disciples' quarters still stirred in their sleep, their dreams untouched by rites or blood. He envied them only slightly.

There was work to do.

He dressed slowly, layering his robes with mechanical precision. The Black Lotus Root had accepted him—no, *claimed* him—and now he had to prove worthy of that invisible soil.

He left no note. He never did.

---

The outer court training fields buzzed with life. Disciples darted between formations, sparring with wooden blades or performing half-mastered techniques. Elders walked among them, offering critiques both sharp and vague.

Wei Xie joined the crowd like a drop of ink in water—unassuming, invisible.

But he watched.

He always watched.

Lin Fei stumbled during his Formless Step. Too eager, not enough breath control.

Jian Rong struck too wide with his blade. Hidden anger. Poorly concealed.

And An Zhi—too quiet, too precise. Noticed everything.

Wei Xie filed it all away.

"Brother Wei," someone called.

He turned with his practiced smile.

It was Qiu Yiren, daughter of the Thunder Pavilion's branch clan. She was beautiful in the way ice was—sharp, distant, untouchable. But she always smiled at Wei Xie. No doubt for her own reasons.

"I heard you were summoned last night," she said, her voice lilting.

"To clean the old archives," he replied with a rueful grin. "Apparently, Elder Yun thinks I'm particularly good at dust."

"Or secrets," she teased.

Wei Xie's smile didn't move. "What use would I have for secrets?"

"Oh, everyone wants something," she said, turning on her heel. "Even those who say they don't."

He watched her go, calculating.

There were rumors she was being considered for inner sect promotion. That meant she'd soon have access to restricted cultivation scrolls—and Elders' favor.

Useful.

But not yet.

---

He spent the rest of the morning helping Elder Fei arrange formations for the Grand Lecture. Menial work, which suited him.

No one watched the laborers.

While the others placed formation stones mindlessly, Wei Xie took note of their inscriptions. There was something new—a seal glyph at the corners of the outer ring. One he'd only seen once, deep in a banned scroll.

*"Suppressive Lotus Array—Stage One."*

So the sect had found something… or *someone*… worth containing.

Interesting.

He tucked the knowledge into the dark folds of his memory.

---

Night fell faster than usual.

Clouds rolled in like bruises, swallowing the stars. The moon never rose.

Wei Xie stood on the edge of the South Ravine, beyond the sect's formal grounds. Here, cliff met fog in a long, weeping drop. Below, the mists churned with secrets.

He waited.

And soon, the crimson man came.

"You followed well," the man said.

"I wasn't sure this was a test."

"It always is."

He held out a scroll—bound in skin, sealed with wax.

"Your first task."

Wei Xie unsealed it without pause.

Inside were names.

Fifteen in total.

"Outer disciples," the man said. "Each one has ties to a hidden root of spiritual corruption. Petty alliances. Forbidden techniques. Poisoned mindsets."

Wei Xie raised an eyebrow. "You want me to kill them?"

The man laughed, low and dry. "No, no. That would draw too much attention. You're not a sword. You are a rot."

"Then what do I do?"

"Make them fall. Quietly. Ruin their paths. Seed doubt. Arrange conflict. Push until they break."

Wei Xie reread the names.

Some, he knew. Some, he didn't.

"I'll need information."

"You'll find it. You always do."

The man vanished without parting.

As if the fog had taken him back.

---

Wei Xie returned to the sect like smoke returning to a candle.

He spent the next days quietly—helping elders, serving medicine, studying formations.

But beneath it all, he worked.

He left a forged letter for Jian Rong, implicating Lin Fei in a failed theft.

He whispered to Lin Fei about An Zhi's rising status.

He arranged for the training logs to "accidentally" omit Qiu Yiren's injury recovery records.

He met with Elder Yun under pretense of asking about herb classifications—and in the process, learned of an incoming inspection by a traveling alchemist clan.

He used that to arrange a "chance" encounter between a disgraced pill disciple and the clan's eldest daughter.

None of it was violence.

But by the week's end:

* Jian Rong had challenged Lin Fei publicly and lost.

* Lin Fei was reprimanded for possession of contraband.

* Qiu Yiren failed her inner sect promotion due to an "unrecovered injury."

* The disgraced pill disciple was reinstated for heroically protecting the alchemist girl from bandits Wei Xie hired.

The Sect noticed none of it.

They only saw coincidences.

And Wei Xie smiled.

Because rot was not loud.

It was slow.

And it always began beneath the surface.

---

One evening, Elder Yun summoned him.

Wei Xie bowed, hiding the flicker of interest in his eyes.

"You've been… active, Wei Xie."

"I try to be useful."

Elder Yun looked at him for a long time.

"I know what you are," he said quietly.

Wei Xie didn't flinch. "Then why keep me?"

"Because even weeds have uses."

The old man handed him a jade slip. "This is the Inner Sect Trial roster. You weren't supposed to be on it."

Wei Xie took it. "Am I now?"

"I didn't add your name," Yun said. "But someone did."

The implication hung heavy.

Wei Xie bowed. "Then I suppose I'll prepare."

Elder Yun's eyes narrowed. "The trial won't be clean. They'll want to see who bleeds."

"Then I'll give them a performance," Wei Xie said softly.

---

Back in his room, alone again, Wei Xie studied the jade slip.

Among the names was An Zhi.

Of course.

She was still the one person who never spoke, but always saw.

That would change soon.

He placed the jade slip down, then drew a single petal from his sleeve.

Black.

It didn't rot.

It *remembered*.

---