(BL) The Evil Sect Brother Quits

The bells rang twice at dawn—an unusual cadence.

Shen Jiu paused in the middle of washing his hands at the basin, drying them on the cloth folded over his elbow. Through the open window, the crisp morning air carried the sound of hurried feet.

He stepped outside in time to see a pair of junior disciples whispering and pointing toward the southern courtyard.

Apparently, an outer disciple had been found unconscious by the spiritual well, limbs twisted at awkward angles. No visible wounds. No signs of attack. His body simply... gave out.

"Qi backlash," the senior instructor muttered later, examining the boy. "Too much spiritual strain too quickly. Probably tried a technique above his rank."

Shen Jiu frowned. "His cultivation was barely second realm. Who would teach him something so dangerous?"

The instructor shrugged. "He was seen near Luo Wen yesterday. Maybe he tried to copy him."

That didn't sit right, but Shen Jiu said nothing. There was no proof. And more than that, there was no will to investigate.

---

The sect had changed since Shen Jiu's return to the past.

When he was younger, power came with responsibility. Now it came with applause—so long as it was clean, or cleaned up well.

Luo Wen had become a quiet favorite among the elders. He never sought attention, which made them trust him more. He trained longer than others, volunteered for unpleasant chores, and never disobeyed orders.

In the eyes of the sect, he was ideal: humble, hardworking, and undeniably talented.

In Shen Jiu's eyes, he was blossoming.

The proud, selfish part of him took comfort in that. It let him pretend—for a little while—that his second chance was working.

That he was working.

---

They trained again that afternoon, Shen Jiu correcting Luo Wen's balance mid-stance, guiding his shoulder with light pressure.

"You're still leading with your chest. The technique flows through the waist."

Luo Wen didn't flinch at the touch. If anything, he leaned into it, gaze downcast, hiding the curl of his lips.

"Like this?" he asked, shifting obediently.

"Better," Shen Jiu said, stepping back. "Again."

By the fifth repetition, Luo Wen was already anticipating his corrections. His movement had become fluid—elegant, even.

"You're learning quickly," Shen Jiu admitted. "Maybe faster than I did."

Luo Wen looked up, and for a moment, the sunlight hit his face just right—framing him in gold, catching on the edge of his lashes.

"If I seem fast," he murmured, "it's only because you light the path ahead."

Shen Jiu blinked, caught off-guard.

"That's—" He coughed. "—excessive flattery."

Luo Wen smiled, unbothered. "I only speak the truth."

---

He waited until nightfall to begin the real work.

The chamber beneath the unused archives had long been abandoned—damp and sealed by faded talismans no one cared enough to replace.

Luo Wen pressed his palm to the old wood and whispered a single syllable. The door opened with a creak like bones grinding together.

Inside, candles lit themselves at his presence. The pendant around his neck pulsed once—synchronizing.

He unrolled a scroll across the stone floor, tracing the formation lines with precise strokes.

This one was different. The qi-anchoring technique from the old Blood Sect scrolls wasn't meant for cultivation. It was meant for harvesting. Extraction.

Not from animals. Not from corpses.

From living cultivators.

Only a trickle. Only enough to strengthen his core—no deaths.

Not yet.

He had planned this carefully. The unlucky outer disciple from two nights ago had wandered near the well alone. No friends. No master. No one would question his fainting spell.

And tonight, there would be another.

Only two. Maybe three.

Just until he caught up with Shixiong.

Just until they were equal.

---

Shen Jiu found a note the next morning tucked beneath his tea bowl.

The calligraphy was simple and neat.

> Thank you for always guiding me. When I'm stronger, I'll stand at your side properly.

—Luo Wen

Shen Jiu smiled faintly as he read it. He tucked the paper into the folds of his sleeve and didn't mention it to anyone.

Later that day, as he stood at the edge of the pavilion, he caught sight of Luo Wen walking alongside Elder Mu. The two spoke quietly, the elder nodding with approval. A few steps behind them trailed another inner disciple: Wen Li, the quiet girl with an affinity for wind talismans.

Wen Li wasn't known for speaking, but she was known for noticing.

She passed Shen Jiu with a glance and a soft bow.

Then she looked toward Luo Wen, just for a second too long.

---

Two nights later, Shen Jiu was summoned by the head steward. Nothing urgent, just an administrative matter: a transfer request for a disciple posted to the outer courts.

He handled the matter quickly and stepped outside, thinking to return through the lantern path. But as he turned the corner, he caught sight of someone standing still under the archway—barefoot, robes faintly torn at the hem.

Wen Li.

She stared into space, lips parted as if in prayer—or shock.

"Disciple Wen," Shen Jiu called, frowning.

She blinked, looked at him, then bowed low.

"Forgive me, Shen Shixiong. I... I was clearing my mind."

Her voice trembled.

He stepped closer. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I was meditating near the library well. I thought I saw... but it must've been a trick of the candlelight."

Shen Jiu hesitated. Her forehead glistened with sweat.

"You should rest."

"Yes. Thank you, Shen Shixiong."

She turned and walked away without waiting for escort.

Shen Jiu watched her go.

The pendant against his chest pulsed once.

---

The next morning, Luo Wen greeted him as usual, smiling gently, a bundle of sweet rice cakes in his hands.

"Your favorite," he said.

Shen Jiu accepted them. "You remembered."

"I remember everything," Luo Wen replied.

The pendant between them shimmered faintly, unseen by all but him.

---