Di Yusheng pushed the shed door open and ran.
The night hit him all at once — cool air, pale stone, the wide dark silence of the outer sect. Low buildings sat in shadow. Stone paths ran pale beneath the moon. Farther up the mountain, a few lights still burned, but down here the night was vast and still.
His bare feet struck the ground in a quick, clean rhythm.
There was no drag. No delay. No invisible weight lodged between thought and motion. His body answered as soon as he willed it, and the answer was fast.
He ran across the open space outside the shed, past the low wall, and onto the outer path. The wind pressed against his face. His robe snapped lightly at his legs. The ground passed beneath him in a steady flow.
He kept going.
That alone was enough to make something bright rise inside him. Not a smile — not yet. Just a fierce, wordless intensity. His body moved when he wanted it to move. That fact alone consumed his attention.
He ran through the outer sect, past dark training yards and silent dormitories. The paths were empty. The sect was asleep. He had the whole night to himself.
By the time he reached the outer boundary paths, he was running hard.
A voice rang out ahead.
"Stop."
At the edge of the path stood an outer disciple on night watch. He looked to be in his late teens, dressed in a dark outer-sect robe, a lantern hanging from one hand. He had seen a small child running alone through the sect at night.
"Stop," the disciple said again, sharper.
Di Yusheng heard him.
He did not slow.
The command struck his ears and passed through him without taking hold. He only kept running, the distance between them closing in an instant.
The disciple's expression darkened.
A five-year-old child in the outer sect had ignored him.
He shifted his lantern aside and lifted his free hand. Spiritual energy gathered at his fingertips, turning faintly visible in the dark. A simple binding spell — more than enough to catch a running child.
The spell shot forward.
Di Yusheng's body moved before he understood why.
He veered half a step to the side.
The binding light sliced past where he had been and struck the path ahead with a dull flash.
Di Yusheng did not stop. The motion had felt as natural as adjusting his stride over uneven stone. He kept running forward.
A smile appeared on his face.
Behind him, the disciple stared.
Then anger rose beneath the shock.
He formed the spell again, this time with greater care, his gaze fixed on the child's back.
The second binding light flew out, faster and tighter than the first.
Again, Di Yusheng shifted at the last possible moment.
His foot touched down. His shoulder turned. His body slipped aside by the narrowest margin, and the spell missed him cleanly.
The smile deepened.
The disciple's breath caught.
It had not looked like luck.
It had looked as though the child had sensed it.
Di Yusheng ran past the boundary path without pausing. The night, the wind, the answering ease of his limbs, the strange instinct that moved him aside each time something came — all of it swelled together into one fierce, rising exhilaration.
The disciple broke into a run after him.
At first he was only annoyed. Then, only a few breaths later, annoyance gave way to confusion.
The child was getting faster.
Not by much at first. Just enough to make the distance hold instead of shrinking. Then the gap widened a little. Then more.
The disciple's brows tightened. He pushed his spiritual energy through his legs and accelerated.
Still the child ahead of him kept pulling away.
Di Yusheng ran down the outer road and onto the lower paths beyond the sect perimeter. His feet touched stone, earth, roots, loose gravel — none of it broke his stride. He felt only the rush of motion and the clean, immediate obedience of his body.
Five years.
For five years every movement had caught somewhere inside him before it could become real. Every gesture had been delayed, resisted, blunted before it ever reached his limbs.
Now there was nothing.
He ran faster, still smiling.
His breath came quick and full. The cold air burned sweetly in his lungs. His hair lifted from his forehead. The path narrowed between sparse trees and black stone outcroppings, but he slipped through it all without slowing, body leaning and adjusting on instinct.
Behind him, the disciple's expression changed.
This was no longer a matter of wounded pride.
There was something wrong with this child.
He had stopped trying to call out. There was no breath to spare for it. He could only chase, using more and more energy, watching with growing disbelief as the small figure ahead of him became harder to follow.
The boy was only five.
And yet, in the moonlit dark, he seemed to flow through the path itself.
Another turn.
Another stretch of broken ground.
The disciple rounded a bend in pursuit —
— and lost him.
He skidded to a stop and looked ahead.
Empty path.
Trees swayed lightly under the moon. Shadows lay across the ground. The child was gone.
The disciple stood there breathing hard, staring into the dark.
Meanwhile, farther ahead, Di Yusheng kept running.
The smile was still on his face.
He no longer knew how far he had come. The sect lay somewhere behind him, hidden by darkness, trees, and distance. The paths here were rougher now, less worn. Forest pressed in from both sides. Strange cries rose faintly in the night, far away and then suddenly nearer.
He should have noticed.
He did not.
Then something moved in the dark to his left.
Too fast.
A shape burst from the trees and slammed into him from the side.
Pain exploded through his small body.
The ground vanished beneath his feet. He was hurled across the path and struck the earth hard enough to drive the air from his chest. He rolled once, twice, then hit a jut of root and stopped.
The smile was gone.
For a moment he heard nothing.
Then sound came back all at once — blood pounding in his ears, leaves rustling overhead, a low growl somewhere nearby.
Di Yusheng tried to rise.
His arms shook. His body answered this time, but badly. Pain ran through his side and shoulder. The first push only got him half off the ground before he dropped back again.
He bit down and tried once more.