Practice!

The corridor was pitch-black, with only a night-light at the far end near the stairs giving off a faint orange glow.

Tang San's Purple Demon Eye worked as naturally in the dark as a fish in water. He could see every corner of the corridor clearly.

He left the dormitory building and went to the open space behind the row of abandoned warehouses beside the field.

What a coincidence—it was the very spot where Huang Fei had practiced during the day.

Moonlight fell on the snow, reflecting a cold, silvery-white glow. The air was as sharp as a knife, and every breath formed a cloud of white mist before them.

Tang San stood in the middle of the open space, took a Silent Sleeve Arrow from 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 tube, tracing an almost invisible silver line through the moonlight before lodging squarely in a crack in the wall.

The arrowhead had sunk half an inch into the crack, while the tail still trembled faintly.

Tang San walked over, pulled out the arrow, and inspected how deep it had gone and at what angle.

It was a little better than his first test shot, but the spring still lacked tension.

He made a mental note of the problem, intending to mention it to the blacksmith tomorrow and ask him to use a different kind of wire. He could also add two more coils.

He tried again, then a third time, keeping detailed records each time.

The arrows' impact points, how deep they went into the wall, the shooting distance, the effect of the wind—these details were crucial in crafting Tang Sect Hidden Weapons. He couldn't just rely on his instincts.

On his fifth test shot, Tang San suddenly stopped.

He had heard something.

It hadn't come from in front of him, but from behind.

Very faint, like someone stepping on snow.

In the stillness of the winter night, the sound was almost as clear as a heartbeat.

Tang San didn't turn around.

He stood still, his right hand lowered, the sleeve arrow's opening aimed behind him.

Blue Silver Grass was already poised in his left palm, ready to shoot out at a single thought.

"Pretty alert."

A lazy voice came from behind him.

Tang San froze for a moment, then his tense muscles relaxed in an instant.

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

"What are you doing here?"

Tang San put away the sleeve arrow, looking surprised.

"You kicked my shoe when you went out."

Huang Fei yawned.

"You woke me up. I tossed and turned and couldn't fall back asleep, so I figured I'd come see what you were up to."

Tang San looked down at his feet.

His shoe had indeed been knocked askew, and was leaning against the foot of Huang Fei's bed.

When he left, he'd thought he'd kicked his own shoe and hadn't paid it any mind. He hadn't realized it was Huang Fei's—he'd come out barefoot himself.

"Sorry for the trouble."

Tang San said.

"It's fine."

Huang Fei shuffled over beside him, still wrapped in the quilt, and glanced at the brick wall.

There were five new holes in it, lined up neatly with roughly equal spacing and depth.

If you ignored the size of the holes, they looked as though someone had measured them with a ruler before making them.

"Nice aim."

Huang Fei gave his verdict.

Tang San took the remaining few sets of sleeve arrows from Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges, crouched in the snow, and used the moonlight to remove the cap from one set's tube and check the spring.

His hands were steady. Even in temperatures several degrees below zero, his fingers didn't tremble in the slightest.

Wrapped in his quilt, Huang Fei leaned against the brick wall and watched Tang San take the sleeve arrow apart and put it back together.

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

Huang Fei relied on the system. Whatever the system gave him, he used. He didn't need to handle anything, make adjustments, or even know how the Hidden Weapons in his hands worked.

All he had to do was trigger them with a thought, and they took care of everything themselves.

Tang San was different.

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

He knew the range of each sleeve arrow, its limits, and how much its trajectory would shift in different weather conditions.

The system couldn't give him that kind of knowledge.

That was also why Huang Fei had no intention of learning to make Hidden Weapons himself.

It wasn't that he couldn't learn. He simply had no need to.

If Tang San could do it, then so could he.

Whatever Tang San had, he could get something even better.

Since the system had already solved the problem of "whether he had it," why should he bother making it himself?

"Huang Fei."

Tang San suddenly spoke.

"Mm?"

"What were you practicing behind the warehouse today?"

Huang Fei's eyebrows twitched slightly.

When he'd practiced sensing with Blue Silver Grass behind the warehouse earlier, he'd been certain no one was around.

So how did Tang San know?

"How did you know?"

Huang Fei asked.

"There were traces on the ground."

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

"The snow had been trampled and then swept, but not very thoroughly. There were some dark green fragments on the ground behind the warehouse. They looked like bits of plant stalk, not ordinary grass. Only you and I in the whole academy have Blue Silver Grass as our Martial Soul. I wouldn't leave those traces where I'd practiced, so they could only have been yours."

Silence fell for a moment.

Huang Fei looked down at the quilt wrapped around him, then at Tang San crouched in the snow taking apart his sleeve arrow, and suddenly smiled.

"Pretty observant."

He said.

Tang San reassembled the sleeve arrow, put it away in Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges, and stood up.

Snow clung to his knees, but he didn't brush it off. He knew they'd get covered again soon enough.

"What were you practicing?"

Tang San asked.

"Sensing."

Tang San didn't press him.

He knew Huang Fei wasn't one to explain himself. If Huang Fei wanted him to know, he'd tell him. If he didn't, asking wouldn't change anything.

But from Huang Fei's smile just now, Tang San had gleaned one thing: whatever Huang Fei had been practicing behind the warehouse, he hadn't been doing it just for fun.

Behind that smiling face was a seriousness entirely unlike his usual routine of eating and sleeping.

"Let's go. Time to head back."

Tang San set off first, heading toward the dormitory building.

Huang Fei followed, wrapped in his quilt, stepping into Tang San's footprints. Every step landed perfectly in one of them.

Two lines of footprints crossed the snow, one deep and one shallow, stretching from behind the warehouse all the way to the dormitory entrance.

Inside the dormitory building, Tang San walked ahead, his footsteps light.

As he climbed the stairs, he suddenly stopped and listened. A teacher on night duty was walking at the far end of the corridor, but heading the other way, not toward them.

"Clear."

Tang San whispered, then quickened his pace.

The two of them slipped soundlessly down the corridor, pushed open the door to Dorm Seven, and darted inside.

Everything in Dorm Seven was as it had been.

The fire had gone out completely. Not even a dull red glow remained in the ashes.

Wang Sheng was still snoring, his rhythm and tune unchanged, as though they'd never left.

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

On the inside of his right arm, the Silent Divine Crossbow rested snugly against his skin, like a faithful bodyguard who would never betray him.

Tang San sat on his bed without lying down right away.

He took the sleeve arrow he'd disassembled from Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges and ran his fingers over its surface inch by inch in the darkness, making sure every part was where it belonged.

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

Then, no one knew who turned over first.

Dorm Seven fell completely silent.