They lit the courtyard with oil.
Not lamps.
Not torches.
Just oil.
And five bound disciples on their knees.
The Crimson Spiral Sect had made its decision:
No more errors. No more rumors. No more "ghost stances" passed between dreaming students like fever.
The high elder stepped forward, voice sharp as salt:
"Improvisation is chaos.
Chaos is heresy.
Heresy invites the formless one."
He did not name Kaifeng.
But everyone knew who he meant.
In the crowd, Zhui watched from beneath a broken hood.
His knuckles were white. His jaw tight. His sword still sheathed.
Beside him, a girl barely twelve clutched his sleeve.
She had been dreaming of Kaifeng's footwork.
She had never met him.
She could barely speak above a whisper.
But she had moved like him once.
And now her name was on the list.
The first torch was raised.
Zhui moved.
He didn't shout.
He didn't draw.
He simply stepped forward, walked across the firelit stones, and knocked the torch from the elder's hand.
Silence.
Then steel rang.
The courtyard broke into chaos — disciples screaming, elders shouting, fire catching cloth and old banners.
Zhui grabbed the girl and ran.
They reached the outer gates before the horns sounded.
Three elders gave chase. One threw a spear.
Zhui turned mid-run, caught it bare-handed, and snapped it against the temple wall.
"Come find him yourselves," he growled.
"You're already two steps behind."
Meanwhile, far from fire and punishment, Wei Qingzhao stood before a sealed scroll in Qingwu's inner chamber.
It bore no crest.
Only a black thread — tied once, then burned.
He broke the seal.
Inside was the truth of Lián Kaifeng's mother.
Not her death.
Not her banishment.
But her choice:
To abandon her blade before it learned her name.
And a final note, in faded ink:
"He must not be taught.
Not because he is dangerous.
But because he will move past even silence."
Qingzhao read the line twice.
Then sat down.
And began to forget everything he'd once thought was true about victory.
End of Chapter 20