## Chapter Twenty-Two: The Bitter Taste of Stagnation
The news hit Yan Zhen like a thunderclap. He stood before the sect notice board, the official pronouncement of his deferred Inner Court advancement staring back at him in stark, elegant calligraphy. "Qi volatility," "unpredictable temperament," "need for further personal refinement." The words were polite, clinical, yet they formed an insurmountable wall around his aspirations. Disbelief warred with a simmering rage. He, Yan Zhen, the powerful warrior who had crushed his opponents and almost won the tournament, was deemed unfit, while others, weaker than him, ascended.
His mind reeled. He had poured his heart and soul into cultivation, pushed past every limit. He had even, under Lin Feng's subtle guidance, tried to "refine" his qi after the Spirit Manifestation Ceremony debacle. But it hadn't been enough. A bitter seed of resentment began to take root in his heart.
Lin Feng, now clad in the proud crimson of an Inner Disciple, found Yan Zhen later that day, sitting alone by a quiet stream, skipping stones with a vacant stare. His usual boisterous energy was gone, replaced by a sullen quiet.
"Zhen," Lin Feng said softly, sitting beside him. "I heard. I'm truly sorry. It's… unfair, given how far you've come." He placed a comforting hand on Yan Zhen's shoulder.
Yan Zhen merely grunted, sending another stone skittering across the water. "Unfair? It's a joke, Lin Feng! I beat Fan Li, I beat Mu Yuelan! I almost beat *you*! What more do they want?" His voice cracked with frustration.
"Control," Lin Feng murmured, his gaze distant, as if in deep contemplation. "The Elders, especially those in the Inner Court, they value meticulous control above all else. They see raw power as a potential threat if it's not perfectly guided. Remember how your qi flared during the ceremony? And in our match, when your temper got the better of you, even for a moment… they see that, Zhen. They see the chaos, not just the strength." He delivered this with a tone of regret, as if relaying a harsh truth he himself wished weren't so. "It's a narrow path to the Inner Court. Not just talent, but temperament. And unfortunately, that qi you absorbed from the garden… it gave you immense power, but it's still wild, unrefined. It makes you a force, but also a risk in their eyes."
Yan Zhen listened, his anger slowly morphing into a dull ache of understanding. Lin Feng's words, as always, seemed to make sense, fitting the pieces of his shattered dreams together. He remembered the agitation, the uncontrolled bursts, the shame of the ceremony. It had to be the qi from the garden. It had made him powerful, yes, but it had also tainted him in the eyes of the Elders. He was a flawed vessel.
"So, what do I do?" Yan Zhen asked, his voice hollow. "Just… stay in the Outer Court forever? Watch you ascend while I'm stuck here?" The unfairness stung, but the prospect of stagnation was worse.
Lin Feng turned to him, his eyes filled with a steady, encouraging light. "Never, Zhen. You have incredible potential. You just need to temper that raw power, refine that qi. It might take longer, without the resources of the Inner Court, but it's possible. I'll still be here for you. We can still train together, whenever I get a chance. And I can perhaps... discreetly share some insights from the Inner Court archives. You just need to prove to them that you've gained control, that you're no longer a 'wild stallion.' It's a long game, Zhen. But you can win it." He offered a glimmer of hope, a lifeline, but one that further bound Yan Zhen to him, dependent on his charity and guidance.
Yan Zhen looked at his friend, his only true confidant in this moment of crushing defeat. Lin Feng, already an Inner Disciple, was speaking of continued training, of shared insights. A surge of gratitude mixed with his bitterness. "Thank you, Lin Feng. You're a true brother."
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Days turned into weeks. Lin Feng, now firmly established in the Inner Court, continued his meticulous ascent. He cultivated diligently, impressing Elders with his progress. He befriended other rising stars, his calm demeanor and insightful conversations earning him respect. Most importantly, he continued his subtle, almost imperceptible cultivation of **Ling Xia**.
Their conversations became more frequent, often during shared lessons or quiet moments in the sect library. Lin Feng would subtly weave in anecdotes about Yan Zhen, always presenting them as observations of a well-meaning but fundamentally flawed individual. "Yan Zhen truly is a force of nature," he might say, "but sometimes, his temper gets the better of him, and he lashes out. He means no harm, but it's a concern for the sect's harmony. I saw him almost snap at a junior disciple the other day, just for a minor misunderstanding. It reminded me of his struggles during the ceremony."
Ling Xia, listening intently, would nod, her jade eyes thoughtful. "Such raw power must be tempered," she would agree, her disdain for uncontrolled cultivation firm. Her own cultivation emphasized absolute precision and inner serenity, traits she found lacking in Yan Zhen and abundant in Lin Feng. Lin Feng's nuanced observations reinforced her initial, quiet judgment of Yan Zhen. The whispers she heard from other Inner Elders—subtly influenced by Lin Feng's initial groundwork—about Yan Zhen's "qi volatility" only solidified her conviction.
She began to perceive Yan Zhen not as a defeated rival, but as a potential danger to the Inner Court's carefully maintained equilibrium. Her father, the Sect Leader, had always emphasized the importance of stability and the prevention of internal strife. A powerful, unstable Outer Disciple, constantly pushing boundaries and prone to emotional outbursts, was a liability. She subtly used her hidden influence, not with malice, but with a cold conviction that she was acting in the sect's best interest. Every time the question of Yan Zhen's advancement arose, Ling Xia's quiet, logical concerns about his "qi instability" and "volatile temperament" weighed heavily, preventing any reconsideration.
Meanwhile, Yan Zhen toiled in the Outer Court. He trained harder than ever, trying to "refine" his qi, but the insidious influence of the siphoned energy, coupled with his growing resentment, made true refinement difficult. He was constantly aware of the Inner Court, a closed door he desperately wanted to open. He saw Lin Feng less and less, his friend's duties as an Inner Disciple keeping him busy. When they did meet, Lin Feng would offer encouraging words, a few precious cultivation pointers, and subtle advice to "control that temper," always reinforcing the narrative that Yan Zhen's temperament was his main obstacle.
Yan Zhen felt isolated, stuck. His raw power, once his greatest asset, now felt like a curse, a sign of his inherent flaw. He watched other Outer Disciples, those he had easily defeated in earlier rounds, ascend to the Inner Court. Each promotion was a fresh stab of bitterness. The image of the "wild stallion," carefully crafted by Lin Feng, had taken root, not just in the minds of the Elders and the Sect Leader's daughter, but in Yan Zhen's own heart. He believed his own power was the problem, and he hated it, hated himself for not being able to control it, hated the injustice that kept him bound while Lin Feng soared ever higher. The path to the Inner Sect, once a clear ambition, now seemed shrouded in an unyielding, bitter shadow.