"...but this flame... it's in me too."
Her voice still lingered in the air — softer than a whisper, heavier than silence.
Jian Yu didn't move.
He stood where she had left him—skin hot, chest tight, heart beating exactly where her words had landed.
The air between them felt scorched.
But Yue Shuang had already walked away.
And now… he was alone.
"It's in her too."
Those words refused to leave.
They echoed inside, coiled and alive.
He exhaled slowly, hoping the heat would go with it.
It didn't.
Dawn came before his mind could return.
He hadn't slept.
His body had, maybe. But not the flame.
It whispered beneath his skin, brushed against his bones, tested the walls of his self-control.
Jian Yu sat in his quarters, cross-legged, his robe clinging to sweat.
He tried to meditate.
Tried to breathe.
But the Qi didn't settle.
It circled.
It provoked.
Then — without warning — it burst.
A nearby candle melted into liquid light.
The air snapped around him.
He opened his eyes.
His hands… glowed with a faint crimson.
A knock on the door.
"Jian Yu.
Elder Qian requests your presence in the outer courtyard."
No explanation. No choice.
The courtyard buzzed with motion.
Disciples trained in perfect formations — cutting, sweeping, flowing, still.
But when Jian Yu crossed the archway, everything changed.
The wind stilled.
Steps lost rhythm.
Heads turned.
"That's him." "He didn't even touch Renshu… and the guy backed off." "Was that Qi? Or something else?"
He tried to ignore it.
Until a voice sliced through the murmurs like a cold blade.
"You don't belong here."
Jian Yu stopped.
The voice belonged to a tall youth with silver-threaded robes and sharp eyes.
An Inner Ring disciple — one of those who thought merit came with arrogance.
"What you showed wasn't power. It was instinct.
Raw lust. Unrefined.
And savagery belongs with beasts, not cultivators."
The heat began to rise in Jian Yu's chest.
Still, he didn't answer.
"Nothing to say? Just that sweaty stare, like a confused novice?"
The disciple stepped forward.
Another step.
He raised a hand.
That's when the air changed.
The breeze halted.
Leaves hung midair.
Jian Yu's Qi exploded from his pores like invisible steam — hot, alive.
The ground cracked beneath the other's feet.
The temperature spiked.
His aura pulsed crimson.
And in Jian Yu's eyes… something moved beyond control.
The disciple tried to advance—
But his limbs froze.
Sweat dripped from his brow.
Disciples around them pulled back.
One dropped his sword.
Another dropped to his knees, gasping.
And then—
A shimmer bloomed in the air:
A crimson lotus, translucent and alive — like desire made flesh.
Even drenched in sweat, hair stuck to his skin, Jian Yu couldn't be ignored.
His pale skin radiated warmth. His eyes—too dark to reflect light.
And his stance… unsteady, yet charged with presence.
The disciple trembled, mouth open, no words forming.
"I didn't even move," Jian Yu thought.
"But they act like I screamed at their souls."
And then...
A calm, steady voice broke the tension.
"That's enough for today."
Elder Qian stood at the top of the courtyard steps, arms behind his back.
He had been there all along — silent, still.
His face gave away nothing. But his eyes… saw too much.
"You are dismissed, Jian Yu. Return to your quarters."
He turned without waiting, robes trailing, and disappeared between the stone pillars.
Jian Yu didn't answer.
But as he turned to leave, he felt something shift.
Not just the fear in the others' eyes…
But the elder's gaze.
Like something had just been… recorded.
High above, hidden among the upper colonnades, someone else was watching.
An old man in white robes. Eyes closed.
Breath silent.
When the lotus appeared, his brows twitched.
"Again…" he whispered. "After all these years..."
He remained a moment longer, unmoving.
Then disappeared into the temple mist.
The heat of the courtyard faded behind him.
But the weight of attention did not.
Jian Yu walked through the eastern galleries.
Narrow corridors perfumed with incense.
Lantern flames flickered without sound.
Each step echoed as if the temple itself was listening—
And judging.
Some feared him.
Others… wanted him, though they didn't understand why.
He passed a cluster of female disciples whispering.
They stopped talking the moment he passed.
A stone fountain rippled as he drew near.
The water steamed—just slightly.
"They see me as something strange.
And maybe… they're right."
He entered the temple.
The doors closed behind him with a slow, groaning weight.
The hall was empty.
Only him. The stone. His breath.
He sat. Closed his eyes. Tried to center himself.
But silence now felt too full.
Then he heard it.
Not a voice.
A rhythm.
Like breathing—
but inside him.
Not words spoken, but… intended.
"The flame awakens…
…when the body surrenders."
His eyes snapped open.
Alone.
But his chest… vibrated.
The Sutra had begun to speak.
He looked up at the ceiling—and there it was.
A carved symbol in the stone:
An inverted lotus.
Below it, faded by time, written in faint silver:
"What desires… is also desired."
— End of Chapter 5 —
Next Chapter: The First Pulse