The next day dawned cold, the mountain mist curling around the academy's rooftops like dragon's breath.
Mel Long stood by the stone railing outside the southern meditation hall, overlooking the lower courtyard where juniors filed in for their morning Qi flow guidance. His robe was plain today, his hair tied loosely at the back, posture relaxed—but his gaze carried the edge of one who had trained with purpose.
Below, the younger students formed ragged circles, guided by a single overworked instructor. A few of them—nervous, clearly behind—struggled to match their peers.
Mel recognized the feeling. He'd felt it far too late in his last life.
Without thinking, he descended the steps and approached the outer ring. The instructor turned sharply.
"Senior Mel?" Surprise laced her voice, cautious and unsure.
Mel gave a polite nod. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the three struggling juniors.
The instructor blinked, then nodded slowly, stepping aside.
The Kindling of Reputation
Mel crouched beside the smallest of the boys—a wiry thing with a trembling stance and pinched expression.
"What's your name?" he asked gently.
The boy bowed hastily. "Li… Li Tong."
Mel smiled. "Your legs are locked too tightly. Your breath is caught behind your ribs. Here—breathe slower. Feel where the Qi wants to go."
He placed two fingers lightly against the boy's back, just above his core. The boy flinched, then steadied.
Mel guided him through one breath, then another. After a minute, the boy's shoulders loosened. His legs found the rhythm.
The Qi began to move.
Mel stepped back, letting the boy continue on his own, then turned to help the next.
He didn't notice the silent figure watching from the upper walk.
Lu Yifan's Smile
Lu Yifan leaned against the railing with perfect posture, a small ceramic cup of warm tea in one hand. His expression was composed, as always.
He watched as Mel corrected another student's stance with the ease of someone who no longer sought attention for doing the right thing.
Very clever.
Not force. Not politics.
More dangerous than arrogance. Harder to discredit than brute ambition.
He waited until Mel stepped away from the students, just beginning to ascend the outer steps, before speaking.
"You've found your center."
Mel paused.
Lu Yifan's voice was pleasant, mild—almost soft. But it carried, even through the courtyard air.
Mel turned, eyes narrowing slightly. "Senior Lu."
Lu Yifan smiled. "There was a time when you used to ignore students like them. Now you're teaching them. Admirable."
Mel inclined his head. "People change."
"They do," Lu Yifan said, sipping his tea. "But not all changes are welcome, are they?"
There was no malice in his tone. Just… observation.
Mel took the last step to meet him at the upper walkway. "I'm not here to be welcomed."
Lu Yifan's smile widened by a fraction.
"No, I suppose not. Still, many eyes are watching you. They wonder if you've grown strong—or simply learned to hide your weakness better."
Mel returned the smile. "Let them watch. I'm not hiding."
A long silence stretched between them. Then Lu Yifan dipped his head politely.
"Then may your progress be steady… and untroubled."
He turned and walked away, steps silent, presence fading like a shadow at dusk.
Mel stood still for a moment, hands folded behind his back.
Footsteps approached—quicker, heavier.
"You okay?" Gu Jin asked as he joined him, glancing back in the direction Lu Yifan had gone.
Mel nodded. "That was Lu Yifan."
Gu Jin clicked his tongue. "I know. Guy makes my teeth itch."
"He's clever. Knows how to say things that sound polite but test you anyway."
Gu Jin snorted. "You say 'clever.' I say manipulative."
Mel didn't argue. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the lower courtyard where the juniors had resumed practice—this time steadier.
"He's probing. Seeing what kind of threat I really am."
"You gonna push back?"
Mel shook his head.
"Not yet."
The courtyard had mostly emptied, leaving behind the faint scent of tea and incense drifting from nearby classrooms. The stone beneath Mel Long's boots was still warm from the midday sun as he walked the perimeter slowly, hands folded behind his back.
He wasn't in a rush.
Every step he took felt deliberate now—each one more grounded in purpose than pride.
A voice called out, hesitant but clear.
"Senior Mel?"
Mel turned.
A boy, maybe fifteen, stood a few paces away, hands clasped tightly at his sides. He wore the green-hemmed robes of a first-year cultivation student—someone at the bottom of the academy's ladder.
But what stood out wasn't his nervous posture.
It was his eyes. Focused. Burning quietly beneath the uncertainty.
Mel didn't move to intimidate or assert presence. He simply tilted his head. "You know my name. What's yours?"
The boy bowed slightly. "Chen Yi. First-year in the fifth foundational class."
Mel nodded once. "What can I help you with?"
Chen Yi hesitated, glancing toward the steps where the younger students had been training earlier. His voice lowered.
"I saw how you helped them. And… I've been stuck at Grade 3 for months now. I've tried everything they teach in class, but it just—" He clenched his fists. "—it won't move. My Qi doesn't flow right."
Mel studied him.
Not just his words—his posture, his frustration, the shadows beneath his eyes.
This was someone who had trained hard but lacked direction. The exact kind of person the academy tended to overlook.
"You want a shortcut?" Mel asked, voice calm.
Chen Yi blinked. "No. I want to do it right."
Mel's gaze sharpened slightly. That was the right answer.
He gestured toward the side path leading toward the spirit blossom grove. "Walk with me."
They walked in silence for a few moments, past the trees, down toward the narrow stream that ran along the grove's edge.
"Show me how you breathe when you cultivate," Mel said.
Chen Yi stopped, turned, and sank into a basic stance. His spine was straight, his knees steady. He closed his eyes and began.
It only took Mel three breaths to spot the flaw.
"You're inhaling too quickly. Your chest expands too early. You're pulling from the wrong center."
Chen Yi opened his eyes, startled. "What—?"
"Sit."
Chen obeyed. Mel knelt beside him.
"Place one hand here," Mel said, tapping just below his navel. "Now breathe through that point. Slow. Count to four. Don't force it—let it draw in naturally."
Chen Yi followed his instructions—clumsy at first, then steadier.
And then—Mel felt the shift.
Just a flicker. A small, trembling response.
But it was there.
Chen Yi's eyes flew open. "I… felt it."
Mel nodded. "Good."
"That's the first time I—" He stopped, swallowing thickly.
Mel stood. "Keep doing that for a week. Morning and evening. Don't rush. You're training control, not speed."
Chen Yi stood too, bowing deeply. "Thank you, Senior."
Mel gave a small nod. "If you're still stuck in a week, find me again."
Gu Jin Watches, Then Speaks
From the stone bridge nearby, Gu Jin leaned on the railing, arms folded.
As Mel rejoined him, Gu Jin quirked a brow. "Starting a fan club?"
Mel chuckled softly. "He came on his own."
Gu Jin snorted. "And just like that, you give him personal cultivation advice?"
Mel's smile faded slightly, his gaze distant for a second.
"There are people in this academy with potential, but no guidance. I ignored that once. I won't again."
Gu Jin nodded after a moment. "He'll talk. People will notice."
"Let them."