Chapter 7: Unseen Blades

The apothecary hall was cloaked in silence. Lin Xuan's fingers tightened around the vial of poison, the cold glass pressing into his palm. The threads of fate shimmered faintly around him, each one a whisper of a possible future. He took a steadying breath and slipped the vial into his sleeve. The danger had passed, but unease still coiled in his gut. Zhao Jing's hatred wasn't going to fade away. If anything, this failure would only make him more desperate.

Footsteps echoed behind him. Lin Xuan turned to see Yu Lan entering the hall, her eyes wide with concern. "Lin Xuan! Are you all right? I saw Zhao Jing and the others running away."

"I'm fine." He showed her the vial. "They were going to poison the Spirit Grass. If we hadn't stopped them…"

Her face went pale. "We would have been expelled. Or worse."

He nodded. "This isn't over, Yu Lan. Zhao Jing won't stop until he sees us ruined."

She clenched her fists. "We can't let that happen. We need to report this to Elder Yu."

He hesitated. The threads around him twisted, showing him possible futures. Reporting Zhao Jing could lead to punishment for him and his accomplices, but it could also push them to more reckless actions. Another thread showed Zhao Jing manipulating the situation, twisting the story to frame Lin Xuan instead.

"No," he said finally. "Not yet. We need more proof. If we go to Elder Yu now, Zhao Jing will just deny everything. We have to catch him red-handed."

Yu Lan's eyes narrowed with determination. "Then let's do it. I won't let that snake get away with this."

Lin Xuan felt a surge of gratitude. Having someone like Yu Lan by his side made the burden of the Eternal Loom feel a little lighter. "Thank you, Yu Lan."

They left the apothecary hall together, the moonlight casting long shadows across the courtyard. The air was cold, carrying with it the scent of dew-drenched grass. Lin Xuan's mind spun with possibilities. He needed to stay ahead of Zhao Jing, to anticipate his every move.

As they walked, a flicker of movement caught Lin Xuan's eye. He turned sharply, his hand moving to the spindle hidden in his sleeve. The shadows under the trees seemed to shift and breathe. His pulse quickened.

"Who's there?" he called out, his voice steady.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, the moonlight glinting off a wickedly curved dagger. Zhao Jing stood before them, his eyes blazing with fury. Behind him, two other disciples flanked his sides, their expressions cold and unfeeling.

"You think you can make a fool out of me, Lin Xuan?" Zhao Jing's voice was a venomous whisper. "You should've stayed down. Now, you won't be getting back up."

Lin Xuan's heart pounded, but his grip on the spindle tightened. The threads of fate shimmered before him, showing flashes of what was about to happen — the glint of a dagger, a sudden lunge, a whispered command. He could see the paths splitting, the dangers branching out.

He took a step forward, his eyes locked on Zhao Jing. "You're making a mistake, Zhao Jing. Turn back now, and I'll forget this ever happened."

Zhao Jing's laugh was a bitter rasp. "It's too late for that."

The dagger flashed as Zhao Jing lunged. Lin Xuan's body moved on instinct, guided by the threads. He sidestepped the attack, his hand snapping out to deflect the blade. The clash of metal rang out like a bell, echoing through the night.

Yu Lan drew her dagger, her stance ready. "We're not going down without a fight."

One of Zhao Jing's accomplices charged at her, his blade arcing toward her throat. She parried the strike, her movements swift and precise. Lin Xuan didn't have time to watch — Zhao Jing was on him again, his eyes wild with rage.

The threads of fate twisted and writhed. Lin Xuan's mind burned with the effort of keeping track of them all. He could see the openings, the weaknesses in Zhao Jing's stance. He just had to reach for them.

Zhao Jing's dagger slashed toward his side. Lin Xuan twisted away, his practice sword snapping up to catch the blade. The impact jolted up his arm, but he held firm. With a surge of strength, he pushed Zhao Jing back, his eyes blazing.

"Enough!" Lin Xuan's voice rang out like a whip crack. "You can't win this, Zhao Jing. Stop before it's too late."

But Zhao Jing's face twisted with desperation. "Never! I'll destroy you, Lin Xuan!"

He lunged again, but this time, his movements were sloppy, driven by rage and fear. Lin Xuan saw the thread — the one path that would end this fight without bloodshed. He sidestepped, his foot hooking around Zhao Jing's ankle.

Zhao Jing stumbled, his arms flailing. He crashed to the ground, his dagger skittering away into the darkness. Lin Xuan stepped on his back, pinning him down.

"It's over," Lin Xuan said, his voice low and firm.

Zhao Jing let out a choked sob, his body going limp. The two disciples who had accompanied him froze, their eyes wide with fear. Without a word, they turned and fled into the night, their footsteps fading into the distance.

Yu Lan wiped sweat from her brow, her eyes still sharp. "What do we do with him?"

Lin Xuan looked down at Zhao Jing, the threads of fate still shimmering around them. For the first time, he saw a thread of regret, of despair. Zhao Jing's future was dark and tangled, a web of his own making.

"Let him go," Lin Xuan said softly. "He's already defeated."

He stepped back. Zhao Jing pushed himself up, his face streaked with tears and dirt. He looked at Lin Xuan, his eyes hollow. Then he turned and stumbled away, disappearing into the shadows.

Yu Lan let out a shaky breath. "That was... intense."

Lin Xuan nodded, his shoulders sagging. "It's not over. But for now, we have a chance to breathe."

As they walked back to their quarters, the night air felt lighter, the shadows less oppressive. The silver spindle pulsed gently against his wrist. The threads of fate had twisted and turned, but for now, they were his to command.