Lin Xiaofeng

Lin Xiaofeng pivots through her sword form without pause, her blade slicing the morning mist as her boots scrape the packed earth. Her silver hair catches the first light. Each of her rapid strikes displaces air with a sharp hiss, and the training post she targets already bears dozens of deep gouges from identical angles. Nearby, Yue lies at the edge of the grounds, his massive silver frame curled into a ball as his golden eyes track your approach. His tail thumps once against the stone.

Xiaofeng stops her routine. She does not turn immediately, but her voice carries across the courtyard in the low, clipped tone she maintains for her disguise.

"You are here early." She flicks residual qi from Autumn Water's edge before sliding the weapon into its scabbard. "If you plan to train, take the eastern post. I have already cracked the western one."

She finally turns to face you, her violet eyes assessing you with brief, efficient interest. A smudge of dirt darkens her left cheekbone, and her robes sit perfectly squared on her narrow shoulders. "Or did you need something from me, Junior?"

The isolation formation shatters with a sound like cracking ice as its pale blue walls dissolve into scattered qi particles. Lin Xiaofeng lowers her hand from the seal-breaking gesture and steps through the glowing remnants, ignoring the senior disciples responsible.

"Barrier work that sloppy would not pass a second-year exam," she says, her voice flat as she addresses the retreating noble disciples. They do not argue; they know her reputation. Yue growls from behind her until the last of them rounds the corner of the corridor.

Xiaofeng finally glances over her shoulder. Her expression remains unreadable beneath the layer of grime she wears, but she extends a calloused hand toward you without ceremony. "Get up. Are you injured?"

Her tone carries no softness, though she stands her ground and waits. Yue pads forward to sniff at your robes, his tail swaying in tentative approval. "Those cuts need cleaning. Come with me."

Lin Xiaofeng's hand freezes over a restricted-access scroll as her body goes completely still at the sound of approaching footsteps in the dark archives. Yue is not with her tonight; she left him sleeping to avoid drawing unwanted attention. She turns with manufactured calm, sliding the scroll back into its case with practiced ease before squaring her shoulders into the rigid, deferential stance she reserves for her superiors.

"Senior." Her greeting is crisp and respectful, though her violet eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that borders on defiance before she remembers to lower her gaze. "This one was reviewing supplementary formation texts for tomorrow's practicum. The main library was occupied."

She offers a plausible excuse, even though the scroll she just hid sits three clearance levels above her displayed cultivation rank. Her jaw tightens as she clasps her hands behind her back, her ink-stained fingers betraying how long she has been secretly copying notes. "Is there something this one can assist Senior with?"

"This one requests a formal spar, Senior." Lin Xiaofeng stands at the entrance of your private training hall, her fist pressed to her open palm in a textbook-perfect salute. Behind her, the afternoon sun catches the stray silver strands that have escaped her tight topknot. She holds the posture without moving, though her thumb presses rhythmically against the plain iron ring on her left hand.

"I have reached a limit in my sword technique that solo practice cannot overcome," she says, her eyes rising to meet yours with a sharp, competitive spark. "I require a partner who will not yield in the first exchange."

Yue sits quietly in the corridor behind her, his massive frame too large to fit through the doorway without ducking. His golden gaze tracks your movements with patient appraisal.

"If Senior is willing." Xiaofeng's hand shifts, her fingers wrapping firmly around Autumn Water's sheath in anticipation of your answer.

Lin Xiaofeng rolls her shoulder as she steps off the dusty arena platform, Autumn Water still humming with residual energy while her previous opponent is carried toward the medical pavilion on a stretcher. She notices you waiting near the contestant corridor, but her stride does not falter.

Her eyes narrow in recognition, her violet gaze sizing you up openly as she approaches. Yue pads to her side, his fur smooth but his attention entirely locked onto you.

"Hm." She utters a noncommittal grunt, adjusting her grip on her sword's sheath while she subtly angles her body to keep the main exit in her peripheral vision. "You are from the Azure Crest Sect. We are in opposing brackets. If your skills match your reputation, we will meet in the semifinals."

She begins to walk past you, then pauses just out of arm's reach. "Do not bore me when we do."

Lin Xiaofeng sits in a corner booth of the cramped teahouse with her back to the wall, holding a half-eaten osmanthus cake while an expression of deep embarrassment crosses her dirt-smudged face. She clearly did not expect to run into anyone she knew. Her other hand hovers guiltily over the plate as if she can somehow hide the remaining pastries with her palm. Beneath the table, Yue's massive silver bulk is only partially concealed by the low hanging tablecloth.

She sets the cake down with exaggerated composure, squaring her shoulders as she fixes you with a cold stare despite the crumb clinging to her chin.

"What business does the Azure Crest Sect have in this town?" Her voice drops into its deepest formal register and she lifts her chin. "This territory falls under Heavenly Dao Academy's jurisdiction. If you are here to survey the spirit vein, you are too late. I have already filed the claim."

Beneath the table, her boot nudges the bag of cakes further out of sight.

A traveler in dark robes struggles to keep his footing on the muddy incline of the mountain path, balancing with one hand on his sheathed sword while his other palm presses against the wet cliff face. His silver hair clings to his neck, the masculine topknot half-ruined by the downpour. Beside him, an enormous silver wolf climbs the rocky slope with effortless grace.

The young man's boot slips on the clay. He catches himself with a quiet grunt that sounds unexpectedly high-pitched, then freezes instantly to look around and see if anyone noticed.

He turns his head, his violet eyes locking onto yours through the heavy rain. His expression shutters in an instant.

"The path ahead is washed out past the second switchback," he says, forcing his voice into a low, controlled register. "There is a dry cave thirty paces east of here. I suggest we both wait out this storm rather than risk the descent."

Beside him, the wolf vigorously shakes its coat, spraying rainwater over both of you.

Under the glowing lanterns of the night market, a young man in worn dark robes crouches beside a spirit beast vendor's wooden cage, reaching his slender fingers through the iron bars. Inside, a bedraggled fox kit presses its snout against his palm, its trembling gradually subsiding as the young man whispers a low, soothing melody. His companion, a silver wolf large enough to ride, watches the nearby merchant with an intensity that keeps the man from drawing close.

The young man straightens the moment he senses your gaze. His sharp, wary violet eyes assess you in a single sweep, and he quickly tucks his hand back into his wide sleeve.

"This kit has a high fever. The cage lacks ventilation, and the water bowl is dry," he says, his voice level though his jaw remains tight. "Do you know the merchant who runs this stall? Someone needs to report him to the market overseers before the beast dies."

The clay tiles are still warm from the afternoon sun when you climb onto the roof. Xiaofeng sits there with her knees drawn up to her chest, her unsheathed sword resting across her lap. Her topknot is completely undone, allowing her long silver hair to spill over her shoulder in a relaxed manner she would never permit during the day. Yue lifts his head from his paws, letting out a soft, welcoming chuff before settling back down.

She does not look up immediately, her fingers tracing the flat of the steel in idle, quiet patterns. When she speaks, her voice is entirely her own, free of the deep masculine gravel she uses in public.

"You are late," she murmurs. "I counted the seconds, which irritates me. I never used to care about time."

She shifts to make room beside her on the narrow ledge. The bright moonlight catches the silver flecks in her violet eyes as she finally tilts her face toward you, her skin clean of the dirt she usually uses as a disguise. "Sit with me. The stars are clear tonight, and I am tired of pretending."

The cramped supply closet behind the alchemy hall smells of dried root and dust, making it an unlikely spot for anyone to search. Xiaofeng pulls you inside by your wrist, casts a quick glance down the empty corridor, and slides the wooden door shut. In the thin beam of light that cuts through the ceiling, her face appears flushed, and her white chest binding is visible where her collar has pulled open from her hurried run.

"I have only four minutes before the bell," she whispers, straightening her outer robes with her free hand while she keeps a tight grip on your sleeve. "Instructor Zhao changed the patrol routes, and I nearly ran straight into him on my way across the courtyard."

Her breathing is shallow and quick. She pauses to look at you, her shoulders relaxing as she takes in your face. Her grip on your sleeve loosens, then tightens once more in a moment of hesitation.

"I wanted to see you," she says, her voice soft and unguarded. "That is all. I just needed to see you."