Practice!

The corridor was pitch black, save for a faint, orange glow emanating from a nightlight near the stairwell in the distance.

Tang San's Purple Demon Eye operated in the darkness as if he were in his element, allowing him to see every corner of the corridor with perfect clarity.

He exited the dormitory building and arrived at the clearing behind the row of abandoned warehouses at the edge of the sports field.

As luck would have it, this was the very spot where Huang Fei had practiced during the day.

Moonlight shone upon the snow, reflecting a cold, silvery light. The air was as sharp as a knife, and every breath condensed into a cloud of white mist before him.

Tang San stood in the center of the clearing, retrieved the Silent Sleeve Arrow from his Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges, and strapped it to the inside of his right forearm.

He took a deep breath, raised his right hand, and aimed at the abandoned brick wall ten paces away.

He triggered the mechanism.

"Click."

The arrow shot from the barrel, tracing an almost invisible silver line through the moonlight before pinning itself accurately into a crack in the wall.

The arrowhead sank half an inch into the brickwork, the tail of the arrow still vibrating slightly.

Tang San walked over, pulled the arrow out, and inspected the depth and angle of its entry.

It was better than the first test shot, but the spring's tension was still insufficient.

He noted this issue in his mind, planning to mention it to his master when he went to the blacksmith shop tomorrow; he would need to switch to a different type of steel wire and perhaps add two more coils to the spring.

He tried a second time, then a third, keeping a detailed record of each attempt.

The impact point of the arrow, the depth of penetration, the shooting distance, and the influence of the wind—these data points were vital in the crafting of Tang Sect hidden weapons and could not be left to mere intuition.

During the fifth test shot, Tang San suddenly ceased his movements.

He heard a sound.

It did not come from the front, but from behind.

It was very light, like someone stepping on the snow.

In the silent winter night, the sound was as clear as a heartbeat.

Tang San did not turn around.

He stood his ground, his right hand hanging down, the barrel of the sleeve arrow aimed at the direction behind him.

His Blue Silver Grass was already poised in the palm of his left hand, ready to erupt at a single thought.

"Not bad alertness."

A lazy voice drifted from behind him.

Tang San was taken aback, his tense muscles relaxing in an instant.

He turned around to see Huang Fei wrapped in a quilt, standing at the corner of the warehouse. His hair was as messy as a bird's nest, and he was wearing a pair of cotton shoes that belonged to someone else. He stood there crookedly, like a utility pole bent by the wind.

"Why are you here?"

Tang San put away the sleeve arrow, feeling somewhat surprised.

"You kicked my shoes when you went out."

Huang Fei let out a yawn.

"You woke me up, and I couldn't fall back asleep no matter how much I tossed and turned, so I figured I'd come out and see what kind of mischief you were up to."

Tang San looked down at his own feet.

His shoes had indeed been kicked askew, resting near the foot of Huang Fei's bed.

When he left, he had assumed he'd kicked his own shoes and hadn't paid it any mind, not realizing those shoes were Huang Fei's—he had come out barefoot himself.

"Sorry," Tang San said.

"It's fine."

Huang Fei walked over to him, still wrapped in his quilt, and glanced at the brick wall.

There were five small holes in the wall, arranged in a neat line with consistent spacing and depth.

If one ignored the size of the holes, it looked as if someone had measured them out with a ruler.

"Good aim."

Huang Fei offered his assessment.

Tang San retrieved the remaining sets of sleeve arrows from his Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges, crouched on the snow, and used the moonlight to pry open the cap of one of the barrels to check the state of the spring.

His hands were steady; despite the sub-zero temperatures, his fingers did not tremble in the slightest.

Huang Fei leaned against the brick wall, wrapped in his quilt, tilting his head as he watched him disassemble the sleeve arrow.

Tang San's technique was completely different from his own.

Huang Fei relied on the system; he used whatever the system gave him, requiring no manual labor, no troubleshooting, and not even an understanding of how the hidden weapons in his hands functioned.

He only needed to trigger them with a thought, and the system would handle the rest.

Tang San was different.

Every spring, every mechanism, and every arrow was assembled, debugged, and calibrated by his own hands.

He knew the effective range of this Sleeve Arrow, knew its limits, and knew exactly how much the trajectory would deviate under various weather conditions.

This knowledge was not something the system could provide.

This was also the reason Huang Fei had no intention of learning how to craft hidden weapons himself.

It wasn't that he couldn't learn; it was simply unnecessary.

If Tang San knew it, he knew it.

Whatever Tang San possessed, he would have something even better.

Since the system had already solved the problem of "having or not having," why should he bother doing it himself?

"Huang Fei."

Tang San spoke suddenly.

"Hmm."

"What were you practicing behind the warehouse today?"

Huang Fei's eyebrows twitched slightly.

He was certain no one was around when he practiced Blue Silver Grass perception behind the warehouse during the day.

But how could Tang San know?

"How did you find out?"

Huang Fei asked.

"There were marks on the ground."

Tang San said without looking up, his fingers still fiddling with a spring.

"The snow had been trampled and then swept, but not very carefully. There were some dark green fragments on the ground behind the warehouse, looking like plant stems, not ordinary grass. In the entire academy, only your martial soul and mine are Blue Silver Grass. I wouldn't leave such traces where I practice, so it had to be you."

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

Huang Fei looked down at his quilt, then at Tang San, who was squatting in the snow dismantling the Sleeve Arrow, and suddenly smiled.

"Good observation."

He said.

Tang San reassembled the Sleeve Arrow, tucked it into the Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges, and stood up.

His knees were covered in snow, but he didn't brush it off, knowing it would just get covered again soon.

"What are you practicing?"

Tang San asked.

"Perception."

Tang San did not press the matter.

He knew Huang Fei wasn't a person who liked to explain things; if Huang Fei wanted him to know, he would say so himself. If not, asking further was meaningless.

But he read something in Huang Fei's smile just now—what Huang Fei was practicing behind the warehouse wasn't just for fun.

Beneath that smiling face hid a sense of seriousness, completely different from his usual state of eating and sleeping.

"Let's go, time to head back."

Tang San took the lead, walking toward the dormitory building.

Huang Fei followed behind, wrapped in his quilt, stepping exactly into the footprints Tang San left behind.

Two rows of footprints stretched across the snow, one deep and one shallow, leading from behind the warehouse all the way to the entrance of the dormitory building.

Entering the dormitory, Tang San walked in front with light footsteps.

He suddenly stopped while climbing the stairs and tilted his head to listen—there were the footsteps of a duty teacher at the end of the corridor, but they were heading in the other direction, not toward them.

"Clear."

Tang San whispered, quickening his pace.

The two moved silently through the corridor, pushed open the door to Dormitory Seven, and slipped inside.

Everything in Dormitory Seven remained the same.

The stove fire had gone out completely, and not even a dull red glow remained in the ashes.

Wang Sheng's snoring continued, its rhythm and melody unchanged, as if they had never left.

Huang Fei crawled back into his bedding, pulled the quilt up to his chin, and closed his eyes.

On the inside of his right arm, the Silent Divine Crossbow rested quietly against his skin, like a personal guard that would never betray him.

Tang San sat on his bed, not lying down immediately.

He took the disassembled Sleeve Arrow out of the Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges and, in the darkness, traced its surface inch by inch with his fingers, confirming every part was in its proper place.

Two pairs of eyes remained open in the dark, each lost in their own thoughts.

Then, it was unclear who turned over first.

Dormitory Seven fell into complete silence.