The stone stage trembled faintly beneath the pressure of two Qi-empowered disciples mid-duel, but Zeravon barely glanced their way.
His eyes remained fixed on the platform two rings away — where Yueyin had just finished her second match with cold precision, standing like still water amid shattered stone.
She did not look back.
Yet Zeravon felt it — that subtle pulse in the air, a fleeting brush of recognition. Not through eyes… but something **older**.
> *"She knows I'm watching."*
Chaoxi returned and sat beside Zeravon again, his robes dusty from battle but eyes shining with excitement.
> "I won mine. Barely," he muttered, chuckling. "Third round next. You ready for yours?"
Zeravon blinked once, then nodded.
> "It's not about winning yet," he said quietly.
Chaoxi raised a brow.
> "Huh? Then why even step up?"
Zeravon looked at his open palm.
> "To learn the rhythm of the world."
Chaoxi stared at him blankly. Then laughed.
> "You're weird, you know that?"
---
### **Stage 11 – Zeravon vs. Meng Yao**
Meng Yao was a peak Qi Root disciple with a wind-attribute technique and fast footwork. Many expected her to reach the inner sect this year.
Zeravon stepped onto the platform like a drifting leaf.
Meng Yao narrowed her eyes.
> "Don't think just because you're quiet, I'll go easy on you."
She charged forward, twin fans glowing with emerald wind-blades.
Zeravon exhaled once — not powering up, not defending — just **moving**.
No flash, no technique.
He sidestepped.
Tilted his weight.
Let the first gust miss him by half an inch.
Meng Yao growled and spun, sending a crescent slash of wind across the arena.
This time, Zeravon raised a hand.
Not to block.
Just to "be there" — and the wind parted around it.
The crowd gasped.
Elder Lin's eyes sharpened.
> *"Still… no Qi activation. No technique. Just… presence."*
Instructor Wei frowned.
> *"Is he dodging by instinct alone?"*
> "Finish him!" Meng Yao snapped.
She rushed forward, fans blazing.
Zeravon raised his other hand — and again, he **hesitated**.
A whisper pulsed inside him:
> *"If you strike, even lightly… the seal may stir."*
So instead — he let himself be grazed.
The wind cut across his arm.
Blood spilled.
He fell back.
> "Zeravon has lost!"
But the elder watching the match didn't declare it with confidence — he looked disturbed.
Meng Yao turned and walked off without a word.
Zeravon sat up slowly.
His shoulder bled.
His breathing was calm.
His eyes? Unchanged.
> "I still hesitate," he whispered. "Why?"
---
### **That Night — Beneath the Cloud Vein Sky**
Stars twinkled again — but less confidently.
Zeravon sat under the tree alone. Chaoxi joined him with roasted spirit beans and a grin.
> "You did good, you know. I mean, you lost… but not like a loser."
Zeravon glanced at him, amused.
> "You're strangely honest."
> "It's a gift," Chaoxi laughed.
Silence passed.
Then Zeravon spoke again.
> "How do you know when it's okay to strike?"
Chaoxi blinked.
> "Easy. When someone's trying to beat your face in."
Zeravon looked down at his hand again — the same one he had raised… and lowered.
> *"But what if striking wakes something worse?"*
He didn't say it aloud.
But in the distance, Yueyin — sitting on a high pillar alone — opened her eyes.
And for just a moment, she **looked directly at Zeravon.**
---
**Far Beyond – Hall of Sleeping Fates**
The golden scroll pulsed again.
The second crack formed.
> *"He hesitates… even now."*
> *"Good. The seal holds."*
But a third voice — ancient and brittle — whispered through the veil:
> *"But for how long?"*
---