Ken woke to the sound of his own heartbeat, too loud, too fast, hammering against his ribs like something trying to get out.He sat up in the dark, chest heaving, hand pressed to his sternum. Inside his soul space, he could feel it; the cocoon, pulsing again, harder this time, a rhythm that didn't match his own.“Mirinda.”Her presence answered instantly, sharp and alert. "I feel it too.""What is it doing?""I don't know."Ken swung his legs off the bed. "That's not comforting.""I wasn't trying to comfort you. I was stating a fact.""Could you at least pretend?""No."He almost laughed, except the cocoon pulsed a third time, and this pulse came with pain, a jagged line of heat that shot up through his spine and out through his clenched teeth. He doubled over, one hand braced against the wall, breath hissing between his teeth."Ken." Mirinda's voice lost its usual dry edge. "Something's wrong.""You think?""I'm serious. This isn't the cocoon settling. This is—" She stopped."This is

Ken felt eyes on him long before he saw who they belonged to.The registration crowd had thinned, disciples drifting back toward the training platforms, but Fang Han hadn't gone far. He leaned against a stone pillar near the Inner Disciple Platform, arms crossed, watching Ken the way a wolf watches a rabbit that hasn't noticed the teeth yet."He's still staring," Seven muttered, not quite whispering. "Should we be worried?""Should you be worried," Ken corrected. "I insulted his observation skills. You just stood there looking amused.""Guilty by association is a valid legal principle in at least three sects.""Is that so.""I made that up on the spot, but it sounded convincing, didn't it? Say it sounded convincing."Lila laughed despite herself, covering her mouth with her sleeve. Suzuki didn't laugh. She was watching Fang Han with the flat, assessing look of someone cataloguing a threat, filing it away for later.A Li sighed through her nose, long and pointed, the kind of sigh that

The bell of the Pai Zhua Sect rang across the mountains at dawn.Dong! Dong! Dong!Thousands of outer disciples poured from their residences at the sound, boots pounding stone, voices rising into the cold morning air. Today marked the first day of the seven-day evaluation, and every newcomer in the sect was about to learn exactly why becoming an inner disciple was considered far harder than simply being accepted into Pai Zhua in the first place.Ken stood outside his assigned residence, staring up at the enormous mountain looming above him. At its peak sat the inner disciples' training grounds. Below, scattered and crowded, were the outer disciples' quarters. The difference between the two was not subtle. Resources. Status. Techniques. Everything was divided, everything separated by an invisible but absolute line.Ken touched the token at his belt. "Seven days," he murmured."Seven days won't be enough."He didn't need to turn to know the voice. Fang Han stood behind him, flanked by a

The next morning, the outer disciple training ground was already crowded.Hundreds of disciples packed the stone platforms ringing the massive circular arena, voices rising and falling in waves of speculation. Ken stood among the five selected youths, hands laced behind his head, looking for all the world like a man waiting for breakfast rather than a fight.Seven glanced sideways at him. "You look too comfortable.""I slept well.""You're about to fight.""I know.""And you're smiling."Ken shrugged. "Should I cry instead? Would that make you feel better?""It would make you look normal, at least.""Normal is overrated." Ken tilted his head, studying Seven's rigid posture, the way his jaw kept tightening every time the crowd noise spiked. "You're the one who looks nervous.""I am not nervous.""You're gripping your own sleeve like it insulted your ancestors."Seven looked down, realized his fingers had twisted deep into the fabric, and let go like it had burned him. "I am *focused*."

Ken walked back to the waiting area in silence, replaying the sword's arc in his mind — the whisper of steel that had passed close enough to stir his hair.Seven was on him before he'd even sat down, eyes wide, voice pitched somewhere between admiration and accusation. "You almost got hit.""Almost," Ken said."That sword was inches from your head, Ken. Inches.""But it didn't hit me."Seven stared at him for a long moment, the way a man stares at someone who has just walked away from a cliff edge without noticing it was there. "You're impossible. You know that? Actually impossible."Ken allowed himself a small smile. "You say that like it's new information.""I say it because it needs repeating. Loudly. Possibly every day until it sinks in."Across the training ground, Zhao Tian stood with his arms folded, his gaze fixed on Ken with the flat, assessing look of someone updating a mental ledger. Beside him, Fang Han watched too — but where Zhao Tian's expression held calculation, Fang