Most sects teach their disciples to suppress emotion.

This one does the opposite.

You see it immediately.

The cultivators gathered in the courtyard are not forcing their breathing into rigid cycles. Their movements are loose, almost fluid, as if they are listening to something deeper than qi circulation alone.

A young woman moves among them, barefoot across the stones.

She hums quietly as she walks.

Where her voice passes, the flow of spiritual energy steadies—like ripples smoothing across disturbed water.

She stops when she notices you watching. Her blue eyes brighten.

“Welcome,” Aya Lan says.

Then she studies your expression for a moment and adds gently:

“You look like someone who hasn’t slept in three days.”