The Martial Archives exhaled the musk of aged parchment and ambition. Lin Hao's fingers traced jade slips cold as buried coins, their surfaces humming with trapped knowledge. Four Treasures' talons flexed against his shoulder, cataloguing the mineral tang of activated spirit stones lining the vaulted ceilings. Across the chamber, the Blind Custodian's broom whispered against obsidian tiles—a metronome measuring eternity.

  "Move along, gnat."

  The nasal sneer carried burnt cinnamon undertones—a lanky second-year student with a hawk's beak nose loomed close. His robes stank of sulfur from botched fire-alchemy experiments. Four Treabytes' threat analysis flared: Level 4 Warrior. Inferior bone density. Predicted attack pattern—

  Lin Hao's cane-sword tapped an impatient rhythm. "This slip first." The Dragonwake Steps manual chilled his palm, its jade surface thrumming with captured footwork diagrams.

  Hawk-Nose's laugh crackled like dry kindling. "A blind worm lecturing me on precedence?" His calloused hand shot out—

  —and met empty air.

  Lin Hao's evasion flowed like ink escaping brushstrokes. Nine phantom flames danced in his wake—rudimentary imitations of the jade slip's promised nine-dragon mirage. The Hawk-Nose's pupils dilated, catching the sulfur reek of his own humiliation.

  "Impossible..."

  The Blind Custodian's broom stilled. Milky eyes swiveled toward the confrontation, igniting pressure waves that made Lin Hao's molars ache. Across the chamber, ancient weapon racks trembled—ancestral blades humming in their sheaths.

  "Enough."

  Instructor Wu's arrival parted the tension like a cleaver through mist. His armor plates dripped night-chilled dew, smelling of the blackwater lake's depth. "Archives prohibit combat. Begone, both of you."

  Hawk-Nose retreated, muttering curses that reeked of bile and bruised ego. Lin Hao bowed, the Dragonwake Steps manual burning cold against his pulse point. Four Treabytes' telemetry scrolled diagnostics: Muscle memory integration 27%. Neural adaptation accelerating—

  ——

  Dusk found Lin Hao practicing beneath weeping willows. The lake's surface mirrored his footwork—nine flame-wreathed afterimages fracturing moonlight into prismatic shards. The Wolf Spider's venom glands purred approval, toxins rewriting his sinews to accommodate alien kinematics.

  Mo Xu materialized from shadow puddles, tossing candied lotus seeds. "Elder Mo watched your little dance." His teeth gleamed unnaturally white. "Says you step like a man fleeing ghosts."

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  Lin Hao's next pivot shattered a boulder. "Do I?"

  The shadow-drunk youth caught a falling pebble mid-air. "All great techniques are born from desperation." He spat the seed—it skipped nine times across the lake before dissolving into ink-dark waters.

  ——

  The Blind Custodian's laughter echoed through Lin Hao's dreams that night—a sound like mountain ranges grinding to dust. When dawn came, the Dragonwake Steps manual lay cracked on his windowsill, its knowledge drained. Nine charred footprints scarred the courtyard stones—each deeper than mortal legs could leap.

  Preemptive Strike

  Lin Hao's footwork carved smoking arcs across the flagstones, each pivot scattering gravel that pinged against bronze training dummies. The Hawk-Nose's sulfurous breath hitched as nine flame-wreathed afterimages materialized—a rudimentary dragon coiling around Lin Hao's silhouette. Four Treasures' feathers bristled at the ozone stench of overcharged fire qi.

  "You...you fraud!" The Hawk-Nose's accusation reeked of bile and roasted chestnuts. His boots scuffed backward, leaving charcoal streaks on stone. "No first-year masters Dragonwake in hours!"

  Lin Hao's laughter carried winter stream clarity. "Watch closely."

  The gravity harness disengaged with a subsonic thrum. Muscles rebounded like coiled springs released after decades—joints singing with liquid sunlight flexibility. His next step shattered the illusion of physics, footfalls imprinting smoldering craters as nine full dragonforms materialized. The Hawk-Nose's pupils dilated, reflecting not flames but primal terror.

  "Stay away!" The older student's retreat smelled of urine and scorched wool. His heel caught a drainage grate—

  —just as Lin Hao's palm chilled the sweat pooling above his collarbone. "Cross me again," the whisper carried frostbite promise, "and I'll melt those cheap fire pills in your veins."

  ——

  Dusk painted the archives' lake in mercury and blood. Lin Hao's shadow stretched knife-thin across the ceremonial bridge, its edges blurring with summoned companions. Wolf Spider's chitinous legs clicked against moonlit stones—a staccato dirge only Lin Hao's enhanced hearing could parse.

  Execute.

  The command triggered bioluminescent venom sacs deep in the arachnid's abdomen. Transparent spinnerets lashed out—

  —and found purchase in the Hawk-Nose's jugular as he vandalized a jade slip. Neurotoxins flooded capillaries with glacial precision, crystallizing synapses mid-impulse. The victim's final expression froze between outrage and disbelief, fingers still crimping the Dragonwake Steps manual into fractal patterns.

  Screams erupted three breaths later. Lin Hao paused at the lakeshore, savoring the distant chaos—cries of "poison!" intercut with the Blind Custodian's broom hissing across suddenly vacant floors. Wolf Spider rematerialized at his heel, mandibles glistening with proof.

  "Fine work." Lin Hao tossed a spirit-beef jerky treat. The spider's consumption ritual—a wet crunching that echoed between molars—drowned the fading commotion.

  ——

  Instructor Wu materialized from mist wreathed in night-blooming jasmine. "Trouble follows you like starving pups." His armored fingers brushed Lin Hao's sleeve, testing for residual qi. "The archives custodian requests your presence."

  The blackwater lake's surface rippled. No broom. No hunched silhouette. Only moon's reflection fractured by something vast moving beneath.

  "Now?"

  "Now."

  The training master's armor clanked a funeral march across the bridge. Lin Hao's enhanced hearing parsed submerged whispers—ancient blade spirits debating his worthiness. Four Treabytes' threat analysis scrolled crimson warnings: Unidentified energy signature. Threat level: Celestial.

  At the archive threshold, the Blind Custodian's voice vibrated through stone: "Come, child. Let us discuss debts owed to dead men."