The Lightning-Split Oak had earned its name through centuries of attracting storms. The massive trunk bore scars from repeated strikes, its crown split into three distinct sections that reached toward the sky like grasping fingers.

Local cultivators considered it a natural formation boundary, neutral ground where different factions could meet without territorial implications.

Li Feng and Xiaolong arrived first, their lighter travel load allowing faster progress through the morning terrain. Xiaolong settled onto a flat stone that offered clear sightlines while Li Feng reviewed his notes on the corruption site findings.

Ming Lian and Song Bai emerged from the western path forty minutes later. They carried significantly more equipment than when the teams had split: multiple document cases, rolled maps, supply manifests organized with meticulous care that suggested important discoveries.

"Productive investigation?" Li Feng asked as they approached.

"Illuminating." Ming Lian set down his burden with visible relief. "We found the safe house Chen Huang mentioned. Black Dao abandoned it recently, but they left behind enough intelligence to paint a concerning picture."

Song Bai began unpacking documents without preamble, arranging them across the oak's exposed roots with the efficiency of someone conducting formal briefing. Maps emerged first, then operational orders, then training manuals that combined orthodox techniques in ways that violated proper cultivation methods.

Finally, she produced a stack of identical texts. Rough paper bound with simple cord, each bearing the same title in bold script: Liberation Through Authentic Power.

"Their manifesto." Ming Lian gestured at the stack. "Multiple copies. Apparently they distribute these during recruitment."

Li Feng lifted one and began reading. His expression shifted as he progressed through the opening passages, surprise giving way to concern and then something approaching recognition.

"'Those who adapt themselves to others' expectations will never achieve true cultivation,'" he read aloud. "'Orthodox sects enforce conformity through the language of harmony, teaching disciples to shape themselves into acceptable forms rather than discovering their authentic nature.'" He looked up. "They're not entirely wrong about how sects can enforce conformity."

"But using that observation to justify domination perverts the insight," Xiaolong said. "Like recognizing fire provides warmth, then concluding everything should burn."

"Exactly." Ming Lian gestured at the operational documents. "The question is whether we can acknowledge their critique without accepting their monstrous solution. Because refusing to see any truth in their words makes us vulnerable to the actual problems they've identified."

Song Bai remained silent during this exchange, her attention focused on arranging documents for Li Feng's review.

Xiaolong noted how her movements seemed tighter than usual, like she was maintaining her customary discipline under heightened internal strain. When her gaze flicked toward Li Feng, it carried something that looked uncomfortably close to longing before being sharply contained and redirected.

Their dynamic, Xiaolong suspected, was about to become significantly less tenable. Which meant their problem to manage. Not her complication to solve.

"What did you find at the corruption site?" Ming Lian asked, his question designed to keep momentum rather than express ignorance.

"Three, maybe four different techniques layered together," Li Feng replied, slipping back into professional analysis mode effortlessly. "Their signatures suggest Black Dao is developing hybrid concepts—combining orthodox principles with their own experiments."

"That aligns," Ming Lian confirmed. "The safe house materials indicate they're training disciples for something coordinated against orthodox sects. Multiple target locations, operational logistics. They're preparing to go beyond harassment and challenge us directly."

"How will we stop them?" Song Bai's interjection carried more frustration than information. "They're operating from the shadows, spreading propaganda that distorts valid insights into justifications for cruelty. Just knowing their plans doesn't tell us how to counter—"

Ming Lian's hand shot up, cutting off her building tirade mid-stream. His eyes narrowed at the southern tree line as his spirit sense extended in waves that disturbed the air around them.

"We're being tracked. Multiple signatures approaching from the north. Moving fast and not bothering with concealment."

Xiaolong extended her own awareness and caught what Ming Lian had detected. Six distinct spiritual pressures advancing at combat speed.

Not casual travelers or local cultivators. These moved like hunters who'd found their prey.

"Black Dao scouts." Song Bai's own sensing techniques created brief ice crystal formations that mapped approaching threats. "Six combatants, mixed cultivation levels. They know we're here."

Li Feng's hand moved to his sword. "If they think we'll abandon critical documents, they're about to receive swift re-education."

"We need those materials secured," Ming Lian said, his gaze never leaving the approaching targets. "Song Bai, can you—?"

"Already moving." She produced a talisman that unfolded into a portable spirit safe designed to guard important documents. By the time Ming Lian had gathered the first stack of papers, she'd finished the activation sequence, sealing the container against interference.

They continued in wordless coordination while Li Feng and Xiaolong stood watch, tracking the approaching adversaries through subtle shifts in atmosphere and sound.

The Black Dao emerged from the tree line with the confidence of people who'd done this before. Six cultivators in dark robes marked with symbols Xiaolong didn't recognize, their spiritual pressures radiating arrogance and poorly concealed malicious delight.

The leader stepped forward—a man whose cultivation registered as early River Current realm, his hands already forming the opening gestures of water binding techniques that felt fundamentally corrupted. The signature matched patterns Xiaolong had seen at the corruption sites.

"Azure Waters disciples," he said, his voice carrying mock courtesy. "Unfortunate timing for a research expedition. We'll need those documents you're carrying."

"Jin Wen," Song Bai identified. "Former outer disciple, expelled three years ago for practicing forbidden techniques."

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"Not expelled," Jin Wen corrected. "Liberated. From a sect that valued compliance over authentic power." His spiritual pressure flared as two others moved to flank their position—both mid-Foundation level, carrying weapons enhanced with earth cultivation that made them register as more dangerous than their base strength suggested.

The remaining Black Dao hung back, hands weaving through gestures that created sickly green mist. Poison techniques derived from corrupted water essence, Xiaolong recognized.

Clever application of perverted principles.

"Last chance to surrender the intelligence," Jin Wen said. "We're authorized to use necessary force."

"So are we," Li Feng replied.

The poison specialist struck first, his mist techniques flooding toward their position like rancid river water. But before they could reach Li Feng and Ming Lian, Song Bai's ice crystal formation spun to life, absorbing the toxins into its lattice and then exploding into glittering fragments that filled the space between the groups.

The glittering shards provided cover that wouldn't last. Li Feng moved left while Ming Lian swept right, their opening positions following Azure Waters paired combat doctrine—create separation, force enemies to split attention, exploit divided focus.

Song Bai flowed toward Li Feng's flank in seamless support, her sword weaving through ice-based reinforcement techniques that amplified his blade while creating her own dual-weapon approach that blurred the distinction between ice construct and sword art.

Xiaolong remained stationary, watching Jin Wen's body language and spiritual pressure. He showed no surprise at his opening technique's failure to disrupt their formation. If anything, he seemed... satisfied? Like the clash's first notes had played exactly according to plan...

She shifted attention to the flanking earth cultivators. Their essence felt murky—muffled by something other than their own techniques. They'd reached mid-Foundation by traditional methods, but now carried energy patterns that didn't feel natural to their spiritual systems.

Layered, Xiaolong realized. The flanking pair were holding secondary techniques derived from the corruption site patterns, allowing them to function as anchors for more advanced constructs than their base levels allowed. Not as versatile or responsive as primary casting, but powerful.

Jin Wen confirmed her deduction with his next gesture, weaving a massive wave of that sickly water toward Song Bai in a technique that blended orthodox water amplification with Black Dao distortion. She brought her swords to bear, crossing them above her head to catch the brunt of the strike while Li Feng repositioned to strike from an unguarded flank...

But his opening never materialized.

The wave split around Song Bai, its structure shifting from amplified attack to corrupted binding faster than Li Feng's adjustment. Before Xiaolong could warn him, green-tinged tendrils wrapped around his sword arm and torso, dragging him to the ground and pinning him against shifting, treacherous earth.

Song Bai's counterstrikes flashed in blinding arcs, but the other flanking cultivator had reached her, drawing her into direct exchanges where his earth-reinforced body absorbed cuts and slashes she'd been conditioned to believe would land decisive strikes.

Meanwhile, the two other Black Dao had reached striking range against Ming Lian. His movement techniques blurred his outline before sweeping strikes forced both opponents to choose between reaching him and defending.

They chose defense, forming an earthen shield that rippled with corrosive energy beneath their partner's supporting wave that prevented Ming Lian from pressing the attack. A standoff that played directly into their enemy's hands...

Because the final two Black Dao had circled back to Xiaolong, flanking her from either side. Their malicious glee was palpable as their poisoned blades carved through the air, seeking flesh that felt no hunger for such crude contact.

Xiaolong didn't move until their blades were three inches from her throat and ribs. Then she leaned back—a shift of weight so minimal it barely qualified as evasion—and both strikes whistled through empty air where her vital points had been a heartbeat before.

The attackers stumbled into each other's space, their momentum carrying them past her position. One managed to arrest his forward lunge.

The other wasn't as fortunate. His shoulder met Xiaolong's extended palm with the sound of a dropped melon, and he flew backward into the oak's trunk hard enough to crack bark.

The remaining attacker swung again, this time incorporating a poison mist technique that coated his blade in sickly green essence. Xiaolong caught his wrist between thumb and forefinger.

His circulation disrupted instantly—not damaged, just scrambled beyond immediate recovery. The sword fell from nerveless fingers. She released him and he sat down hard, staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else.

"Your friends require assistance," she observed mildly, then turned her attention to the actual problem unfolding twenty paces away.

Li Feng had torn free from Jin Wen's binding through sheer spiritual pressure, but the technique had cost him momentum and positioning. Song Bai moved to cover his exposed flank with an ice barrier that would have been perfect support—if Li Feng had been fighting the way he used to fight.

But he wasn't there anymore.

He'd already shifted angles, creating space for an approach that incorporated elements Xiaolong had taught him about reading opponents' spiritual flow rather than their physical positioning. His new angle would have drawn Jin Wen's attention away from Ming Lian's building counterattack.

Song Bai's ice barrier materialized exactly where Li Feng should have been according to orthodox doctrine. Instead, it blocked Ming Lian's water technique mid-formation, scattering its power into wasted potential and disrupting both their positions, forcing Li Feng to defend against a follow-up attack that could have been exploited for victory.

"Song Bai!" Li Feng's voice cut through the combat noise. "Coordinate with Ming Lian, not me! I don't—"

A corrupted blade forced him to pivot mid-statement. Song Bai recognized her mistake a breath too late and compensated with a defensive burst that covered Ming Lian instead of regaining offensive advantage.

Another opening lost. Another opportunity sacrificed to ingrained orthodox patterns that clashed with the new rhythms Li Feng had begun using thanks to Xiaolong's influence.

Ming Lian, to his credit, took advantage of the cover to strike directly at the earth cultivator pinning him in place. His water blade pierced through an unguarded parry and skewered his opponent's center mass, a killing blow that disrupted the earth formation's stability.

One adversary down, too slowly to shift overall momentum.

Li Feng and Song Bai continued to falter where they should have flowed. Attacks missed by fractions. Defenses materialized in the wrong places. A lethal, improvised whirlwind that should have shattered the Black Dao's coordination became instead an attrition grind, consuming their spiritual resources in clashes that didn't accomplish strategic goals.

"This isn't the time to follow standard formations! Adapt to what's happening, not what should be happening!" Li Feng called out to Song Bai, his tone sharp with a frustration that mirrored Xiaolong's own growing irritation.

The Azure Waters sect cultivated in threes. This was bedrock doctrine—three disciples, each supporting the other two in overlapping patterns, strength from unity rather than individual dominance. They'd even assigned roles that fit neatly into that framework.

Foundation, Heart, and Apex. Backbone, muscle, and head of the sect's techniques. Everything proceeds from the three-fold pattern, from standing formations to the design of the sect's defensive arrays themselves.

But that required the foundation to hold, the apex to lead, and the heart to adapt. And right now, Song Bai was struggling to do anything but fight the way her training dictated.

Li Feng's style had changed too much for her to provide him support in his new, emerging form. Her attempts at adaptation were throwing his movements into chaos.

And Ming Lian's own growth showed in ways that might have been invisible to his peers but which Xiaolong saw with perfect clarity. He'd been on a plateau for too long, caught in the trap of trying to fight as something he was not.

But over the past weeks, that had changed. He moved like a cultivator discovering his true identity, his spirit flowing like an underground stream finding its way to the ocean.

A step toward something greater than a sect's rigid expectations.

Two of their team had changed. One still fought the battle her sect expected, not the one actually unfolding around them, and her mismatched technique disrupted Li Feng and Ming Lian's emerging styles rather than supporting them.

Song Bai's expression flickered through recognition, frustration, and something approaching shame before hardening into the perfect mask of an orthodox Azure Water disciple's composure.

"I'm sorry," she managed to tell Li Feng in a gap between clashes. "I... I don't know how."

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