The medical wing of Azure River Sect was quieter than usual.
Not peaceful.
Muted.
As if something within it suppressed normal activity.
A long corridor stretched beneath dim spiritual lamps, their glow faint and uneven. Disciples moved in low voices, careful not to disturb the patients resting behind closed doors.
At the far end—
Behind reinforced wooden panels layered with suppression talismans—
Zhao Kun lay still.
His body had not moved since he was brought in.
Not once.
Not even in sleep.
A senior healer stood beside the bed, fingers hovering just above Zhao Kun's chest. A faint ripple of diagnostic Qi spread outward, scanning for any trace of cultivation.
There was none.
Not broken.
Not damaged.
Gone.
The healer frowned.
"…Impossible."
Another healer nearby shook his head slowly.
"I've checked three times. There's no meridian flow. No dantian response. It's like his cultivation never existed."
The first healer exhaled quietly.
"No… it existed."
He looked down at Zhao Kun.
"…and then something removed it completely."
A silence followed.
The second healer glanced toward the sealed door.
"Should we report this to the inner hall again?"
The first healer hesitated.
"…We already did."
"And?"
A pause.
"No response."
That answer felt heavier than expected.
No response didn't mean ignorance.
It meant prioritization.
And right now—
Zhao Kun was no longer a priority.
The second healer stepped back.
"So we just… leave him like this?"
The first healer didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he slowly withdrew his hand.
"For now."
They turned to leave.
The door closed behind them with a soft thud.
And the room fell silent again.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Zhao Kun's fingers twitched.
Barely noticeable.
But real.
A faint tremor moved through his hand.
Then stopped.
Silence returned.
Another minute passed.
Then his chest rose slightly.
Not a breath.
A reaction.
As if something inside him was adjusting to existence again.
His eyes remained closed.
But beneath his skin—
Something moved.
Not Qi.
Not anything the healers would recognize.
It didn't flow through meridians.
It didn't circulate.
It lingered.
Like residue.
Like something left behind after something else had been taken.
Zhao Kun's lips parted slightly.
No sound came out.
But if someone had been close enough—
They might have heard it.
A whisper.
Fragmented.
"…mine…"
Then silence again.
Elsewhere in the outer sect—
Li Feng stood alone near the edge of the training grounds.
The sect had changed.
Not visibly.
But structurally.
Movement patterns were different.
Disciples avoided certain paths.
Inner sect presence had increased.
Observation points had been established—subtle, but consistent.
He was being watched.
Constantly.
[Multiple observation sources detected.]
Li Feng didn't react.
He had expected this.
The Sect Leader's decision—whatever it was—had not yet reached him directly.
Which meant one thing:
They were studying him.
He raised his hand slightly.
The air shifted.
Wind perception activated.
But now—
Something felt different.
The airflow carried disturbance.
Not from movement.
From attention.
He could feel where eyes lingered longer than necessary.
Where presence concealed itself behind controlled breathing.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
He lowered his hand.
Then spoke internally.
"System."
[Yes.]
"My Dao Affinity."
A brief pause.
[0.003% → 0.004%]
Li Feng frowned slightly.
"That's all?"
[Confirmed.]
He looked at his hand again.
Three Dao fragments consumed.
Yet the increase was… negligible.
"Why?"
Silence.
Then—
[Information restricted.]
Li Feng's eyes narrowed.
"Restricted again."
He didn't push further.
Not yet.
Instead, he shifted focus.
"If fragments increase strength… what increases affinity?"
No response.
The system remained silent this time.
Not even a restriction notice.
Just absence.
Li Feng lowered his hand slowly.
"…So there are layers even you won't explain."
He exhaled.
Then turned slightly.
Because something else had caught his attention.
The wind shifted.
Subtle.
But wrong.
A disturbance that didn't follow natural flow patterns.
It came from the direction of the medical wing.
Li Feng looked toward it.
For a moment, his perception sharpened instinctively.
But then—
It faded.
Gone.
Like it had never been there.
He stood still.
"…What was that?"
[No anomaly detected.]
The system's response came instantly.
But Li Feng didn't look convinced.
Because for that brief moment—
The wind had carried something unfamiliar.
Not Qi.
Not technique.
Something empty.
But present.
Back in the sealed room—
Zhao Kun's body shifted again.
This time more noticeably.
His fingers curled slightly.
His breathing became uneven.
Not stable.
Not natural.
His eyes trembled beneath closed lids.
And then—
They opened.
Slowly.
But not fully.
Only a fraction.
Enough to reveal a thin line of darkness beneath.
No light.
No clarity.
Just depth.
He didn't sit up.
He didn't speak.
He simply lay there—
Staring at nothing.
Or perhaps—
At something no one else could see.
His lips moved again.
A whisper.
Slightly clearer this time.
"…taken…"
A pause.
"…return…"
The suppression talismans on the walls flickered faintly.
Not breaking.
But reacting.
To something they were not designed to contain.
Outside, the sect remained unaware.
For now.