The Ghost in the Sword Pavilion

The Sword Pavilion was a library, but instead of books, it held weapons. Thousands of spirit swords floated in the air, humming with the memories of their previous masters. It was a place of reverence and silence.

Until Kai cornered her in the restricted section.

"Talk," he commanded.

He slammed his hand against the bookshelf next to her head, boxing her in. It was a move he would perfect in the future, but right now, he was just a boy trying to look dangerous.

Linnea didn't flinch. She had seen him level mountains with a glare. This was nothing.

"I told you," Linnea said calmly. "I learned it."

"From whom?" Kai demanded, his eyes searching hers. "My clan was wiped out. I am the last. No one else knows the *Thunder-Flash*."

Linnea’s mind raced. She couldn't tell him she was from the future. The Academy Elders would execute her for temporal heresy. She couldn't tell him she learned it from *him*, after he had burned the world and taught her how to survive in the ashes.

She needed a lie. A lie big enough to cover her skills, but vague enough to protect her secret.

"A wandering master," Linnea lied, her voice softening. "He... he was a cultivator of incredible power. He knew your style because he admired it."

Kai frowned. "A master? Where is he?"

"Gone," Linnea said, looking away. "He’s far away. I can never see him again."

The pain in her voice was real. She was mourning the Kai she had lost—the one who had died in her arms in the future, begging for redemption.

Kai sensed the grief. He pulled back slightly, his aggression faltering. "You... loved him?"

Linnea looked up. "Yes. More than anything."

Kai’s expression shifted. The suspicion remained, but it was joined by a flicker of annoyance. He looked at her—really looked at her—taking in the way the sunlight hit her hair, the fierce set of her jaw.

"He taught you well," Kai muttered, crossing his arms. "But he taught you wrong. Your stance on the counter was too low."

"It provides better stability," Linnea argued automatically. "You have a habit of leaning right when you strike. It leaves your ribs exposed."

Kai stiffened. "I do not."

"You do. And you don't eat enough Yang-attribute foods, so your Qi flow is sluggish in the mornings."

Kai stared at her. "How could you possibly know that?"

"He told me," Linnea said, driving the nail deeper. "He knew everything about the *Thunder-Flash* style. The weaknesses. The potential."

Kai’s jaw tightened. "So, this... lover of yours. He thinks he knows my cultivation better than I do?"

"He wanted you to be strong," Linnea said gently. She reached out, intending to fix his collar, but Kai slapped her hand away.

"I don't need his pity," Kai snapped. "And I don't need yours."

He turned and stormed out of the Pavilion. But he didn't banish her. He was intrigued. And he was competitive.

Linnea leaned against the bookshelf, exhaling a shaky breath. She had bought herself time. But she had also planted a seed of rivalry in the most competitive heart in the world.