Yan practiced Nine-Death Blood Ignition in the courtyard at dawn. Gu had drawn a fresh boundary and stood outside it with the pulse strip. The storage wall remained clear, and the laundry workers had not yet arrived. Yan gathered a measured amount of qi and followed the complete breath pattern.
Blood-colored qi brightened around his limbs. The surge passed through his chest and arms, then the System reversed the internal life cost into warmth and vigor. The red light rose above the courtyard wall and spilled across the upper walkway.
A voice called down from above. “Are you training an execution form?”
Yan lowered his hands. Watchman Luo stood on the walkway, one hand on the rail. He had seen the red surge. Gu stepped toward the courtyard gate.
“We are reviewing an old text,” Gu said. “The technique is complete and the warning is recorded.”
Luo came down the stairs. “The sect bans military execution arts, even if someone has a complete copy.”
“I didn’t know this was on the banned list,” Yan said.
Luo held up a hand. “I’m not saying I know what you were doing. I saw red qi above the wall, and the movement matched a military form on the watch list. The sect asks us to report it before an apprentice gets hurt.”
Gu kept one foot between Luo and the courtyard door. “The text is restricted, and the practice was supervised. The warning is attached. Yan did not demonstrate it for the yard.”
“Then why practice where the light can be seen?”
“It was dawn. We had cleared the courtyard.”
“The wall is lower than the upper walkway.” Luo glanced down at the chalk marks. “If you practice again, use the rear court and close the gate. I will still report what I saw.”
Yan looked at Gu. “We can move the next session.”
“I agree,” Gu said. “The boundary kept people out, but the glow crossed the wall.”
Luo studied him. Yan stood upright, breathing easily. “Show me how it works.”
“No. I won’t perform it for a crowd.”
“Why not, if you survived it?”
“The sequence is dangerous for ordinary cultivators. The text says it burns a month of lifespan and leaves a practitioner too weak to stand.”
Luo looked at Gu. “That sounds like a warning designed to keep apprentices from trying it.”
“It is the normal cost,” Gu said. “The text’s warning is accurate. Yan’s body responded differently.”
Luo glanced at the courtyard. “How can I know he isn’t pretending?”
“You can read the warning page under supervision,” Yan said. “I’ll show you the text and the source. I won’t demonstrate the art again.”
Luo considered him, then nodded. Gu brought the red-wrapped manual from the restricted shelf. He kept the opening route covered and turned only to the warning page. Luo read the lifespan cost, the weakness, and the warning about a failed route. He did not touch the diagram or ask Yan to repeat the movements.
“So you stand because the method’s cost changed for you,” Luo said.
“That is what I’ve observed,” Yan replied. “It doesn’t make the technique safe for anyone else.”
Luo handed the page back to Gu. “I’ll report what I saw: red qi above the wall, and a worker who remained standing. I won’t guess why.”
“Will the report state that Gu supervised the practice?” Yan asked.
“Yes, if he signs it.” Luo opened his own small book and wrote the time and place. “I’ll include that I read the warning and that Gu showed only the risk page. I will not copy the route.”
Gu read the entry before signing it. “That is accurate.”
Luo added his own mark. He did not praise the technique or call Yan a criminal. He told them the watch captain would decide whether the ban applied to supervised study and would likely ask for the library record.
“Will you arrest him?” Gu asked.
“I’m not the one who decides that. I can keep the courtyard closed during future practice while the matter is reviewed.” Luo looked at Yan. “No public demonstrations.”
“Agreed.”
“Keep the warning attached. If the examination clerk asks, show the page under supervision.”
Gu returned the text to its wrap and carried it back to the restricted case. He signed the return record and locked it away. The red surge had been seen, and the art was now a matter for the sect to decide.
By midday, a worker told Yan the story had spread through the yard. “They say you’re an executioner who can’t die.”
Yan carried a jar past the gate. “That is not what happened.”
“It’s what people are saying.”
A second worker slowed beside them. “Does that mean the technique makes you immortal?”
“No,” Yan said. “The text says it burns lifespan for an ordinary cultivator. I’m not going to claim what it does for anyone else.”
“Then why use it?”
“Because I wanted to test my own result under supervision. I won’t demonstrate it here.”
The worker looked toward the watchman above them. “So the rumor got the important part wrong.”
“It got the easiest part to repeat.” Gu closed his notebook. “The report will say what happened, not what the yard thinks it means.”
He laughed at how quickly the facts had changed. “Then I should have enjoyed the morning while it lasted.”
Gu joined him near the wall. “The rumor may draw Zhao’s attention.”
“Then I’ll keep working.”
A messenger entered the yard before the shift ended. He carried a note for the examination clerk and asked for Yan’s training record. The clerk read the report and circled Yan’s name among the labor candidates. He sent a request for the training file, then told the messenger to wait for the official review.
Gu saw the messenger approach and returned to the library to secure the manual. Yan continued carrying jars, though his attention kept drifting to the office door. He had not been arrested, but the report had opened a path into the sect’s formal trials.
The examination clerk kept the report, the manual’s warning reference, and Yan’s training record request in one folder. He did not decide whether the art violated the ban that day. The matter had moved beyond the courtyard, and Yan would have to answer questions in the official process.
At closing, Luo walked the upper path again. The courtyard was empty and the red light had faded from the wall. The rumor remained, as did the report. Yan went back to the quarters with the ordinary jars in his arms and the knowledge that the next test would not be his alone to choose.