The night sky above Ironridge Sect trembled faintly as distant spiritual waves rippled across the mountains, subtle enough that ordinary disciples felt nothing, yet intense enough that anyone with heightened perception would sense something watching. Lin Veyr stood alone at the cliff behind the outer disciple quarters, eyes half closed, his breathing steady but his thoughts far from calm. Ever since the incident at the Spirit Well, rumors had spread like wildfire. Some called him lucky. Others whispered that his aura fluctuated unnaturally, as if something ancient coiled beneath his skin. He did not need confirmation. He already knew the truth. His Origin Sigil had begun evolving again.
The hunting had started quietly. First it was probing glances. Then it was challenges masked as friendly spars. Then came the ambush two nights ago when three inner disciples cornered him outside the herb pavilion. They claimed they wanted to "test his growth." What they truly wanted was confirmation. When he released only a fraction of his aura, the shock in their eyes had told him everything. Word had spread upward. Someone important was now aware of him.
His greatest weakness had begun to surface alongside his growth. Each time he forcefully suppressed the Origin Sigil's expansion, it strained his meridians. His cultivation speed was abnormal, but his body was not yet ready for the pressure. After the Spirit Well incident, cracks had formed along his internal channels, invisible yet painful. If he unleashed his full power recklessly, he risked internal collapse. The Sigil wanted to devour energy endlessly, but his flesh remained human. That imbalance was dangerous.
Tonight, the air felt heavy. Lin Veyr opened his eyes slowly as a cold presence descended behind him. He did not turn immediately. "You hide your killing intent poorly," he said calmly.
A figure stepped forward, robes trimmed in silver. Inner disciple crest. Late Foundation Realm. Strong. Confident. Dangerous. "You speak boldly for an outer disciple," the man replied. "Senior Brother Kai heard something interesting. Your aura… it devours."
Lin Veyr finally turned, face expressionless. "Rumors exaggerate."
"Then prove it."
The spiritual pressure slammed downward like a mountain. The cliff stones cracked beneath Lin Veyr's feet. His body trembled, not from fear, but from restraint. If he responded fully, he would expose himself. If he held back, he would lose. The Origin Sigil pulsed hungrily within his dantian, threads of dark gold light creeping along his veins.
He chose control.
Instead of releasing raw power, he condensed his aura inward, forming a compressed spiral that wrapped tightly around his core. The pressure from the inner disciple intensified, testing him, trying to force a reaction. Sweat beaded along Lin Veyr's brow. His meridians screamed. One more push and something inside would rupture.
Then he shifted.
Instead of resisting the pressure, he redirected it. The Sigil absorbed a thin layer of the descending force and refined it instantly. The man's eyes widened slightly. "You're absorbing it?"
Only a trace. Just enough to stand.
Lin Veyr stepped forward. The cliff behind him shattered from the lingering force. "Is that all?"
The insult worked. The inner disciple's temper flared and he launched forward, palm glowing with condensed spiritual flame. The strike aimed directly at Lin Veyr's chest. Lin did not dodge. He twisted his body at the last instant and allowed the edge of the strike to graze his shoulder instead of hitting center mass. Pain exploded through him. The Sigil devoured the flame energy instantly, but the physical impact tore muscle. Blood seeped through his robe.
Good. Controlled damage. Not fatal.
He retaliated with a single punch infused with spiraled aura compression. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was precise. The impact landed squarely against the man's ribs, sending him sliding backward across the cliff face. Shock replaced arrogance in his eyes.
"You're still Foundation Realm… but that output—"
Lin Veyr exhaled slowly. His shoulder throbbed violently. Internal cracks worsened. He could not prolong this fight. So he released one pulse. Not large. Not dramatic. Just enough.
A dark-gold ring expanded outward from him, distorting the air. The inner disciple staggered as his aura destabilized, as if something was siphoning it away by force. Panic flickered across his face. Lin Veyr stepped forward once more, gaze cold. "Leave."
The man hesitated, pride warring with instinct. In the end, instinct won. He retreated without another word, vanishing into the shadows.
The moment he left, Lin Veyr dropped to one knee. Blood spilled from his lips. His meridians throbbed painfully, thin fractures widening. The Origin Sigil pulsed in dissatisfaction. It wanted more. It always wanted more.
"This is the price," he muttered.
He could devour energy. He could refine external force. He could disrupt enemy auras. But his body lagged behind the Sigil's evolution. If powerful elders targeted him directly, he would not survive prolonged exposure.
A breeze passed across the cliff. He lifted his head. The mountain forests below shimmered faintly in moonlight. If he stayed within the sect's structure, he would constantly be tested, probed, pressured. Growth under surveillance was inefficient.
He needed aura farming.
Not reckless devouring. Controlled harvesting. Areas rich in natural spiritual storms. Places where energy overflowed violently. There, he could temper his body to withstand what the Sigil demanded.
But leaving the sect grounds without permission would raise suspicion.
He stood slowly despite the pain. The next phase would require subtlety. He needed allies or at least misdirection. Perhaps feigned weakness. If rumors painted him unstable, some might back away. Others would approach carelessly. Both could be used.
Far above, within the central peak hall, a pair of elderly eyes opened. "Interesting fluctuation," the elder murmured. "That boy again."
The hunt had only begun.