The dawn sun cast a golden haze over the Lin Clan's outer courtyard, where disciples gathered to spar and cultivate. Lin Feng stood at the edge of the training grounds, his reforged sword strapped to his back, its faint runes hidden beneath a tattered cloth. The weight of the blade felt reassuring, a tangible reminder of the Celestial Forge System that now thrummed in his soul. Yet, as he gazed at the bustling courtyard, a familiar unease gnawed at him. This was the place where he had been mocked, ignored, and cast aside—a place that had branded him useless.
His return to the clan after days in the Verdant Cloud Mountains had not gone unnoticed. Whispers followed him like shadows, disciples casting sidelong glances at his ragged appearance. To them, he was still Lin Feng, the cripple, the boy who could barely condense qi. But Lin Feng was no longer that boy. The system had awakened something within him—a spark of defiance, a hunger to prove himself.
As he stepped into the courtyard, a sneering voice cut through the morning air. "Well, look who's crawled back from the wilderness. Did you find a miracle out there, trash?"
Lin Feng turned to see Lin Hao, a third-layer Body Tempering disciple and one of his most persistent tormentors. Lin Hao's broad frame loomed over him, his arms crossed, a smirk twisting his lips. Behind him, a small group of disciples snickered, their eyes gleaming with mockery.
"I have no quarrel with you, Lin Hao," Lin Feng said calmly, his hand resting lightly on the sword's hilt. The system's energy pulsed faintly in his chest, steadying his nerves.
"No quarrel?" Lin Hao laughed, stepping closer. "You're an embarrassment to the clan, Lin Feng. Why don't you do us all a favor and leave for good? Or do you think that rusty sword makes you a cultivator now?"
The crowd's laughter grew louder, but Lin Feng's expression remained unchanged. He could feel the system's interface hovering at the edge of his vision, its presence a quiet reassurance. Before he could respond, a new notification appeared, its text glowing with urgency.
"New Task Assigned: Prove Your Worth. Defeat a disciple of equal or higher cultivation in the Lin Clan's sparring ring. Reward: Basic Sword Technique Manual, 100 System Points."
Lin Feng's heart quickened. The system was pushing him to act, to demonstrate the power it had granted him. He met Lin Hao's gaze, his voice steady. "If you're so confident, why not test me in the sparring ring?"
The courtyard fell silent. Lin Hao's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You? Challenge me? Fine, trash. Let's see how long you last."
The sparring ring was a raised stone platform at the center of the courtyard, its surface etched with protective runes to prevent fatal injuries. As Lin Feng and Lin Hao stepped onto the platform, a crowd gathered, their murmurs buzzing like a swarm of bees. Among them were a few outer elders, their stern faces betraying mild curiosity. Lin Feng's challenge, reckless as it seemed, had drawn attention.
Lin Hao wasted no time. The moment the spar began, he lunged, his fists glowing with faint qi as he unleashed a basic clan technique, the Iron Fist Strike. The air crackled with force, the blow aimed at Lin Feng's chest.
Lin Feng's body moved almost instinctively. The system's energy surged through his meridians, enhancing his reflexes. He sidestepped, the fist grazing his shoulder, and drew his sword in a single fluid motion. The blade gleamed under the sunlight, its runes pulsing faintly. The crowd gasped—none had expected the crippled Lin Feng to wield such a weapon.
"Not bad, trash," Lin Hao growled, circling him. "But a shiny toy won't save you."
Lin Hao attacked again, his strikes faster now, each one laced with the strength of a third-layer cultivator. Lin Feng parried, his sword meeting Lin Hao's fists with sparks of qi. The system's Basic Forging Technique had strengthened his body, and his recent breakthrough to the second layer of Body Tempering gave him just enough power to hold his ground. But Lin Hao was relentless, his experience and higher cultivation pressing Lin Feng back.
"Analyze opponent's technique," Lin Feng thought, and the system responded instantly. A stream of data flooded his mind, highlighting flaws in Lin Hao's stance and the predictable rhythm of his strikes. Lin Feng's eyes narrowed. He ducked under a heavy punch, then swung his sword upward, aiming for Lin Hao's shoulder.
The blade connected, slicing through Lin Hao's outer robe and drawing a thin line of blood. Lin Hao staggered, his face twisting with rage. "You dare?!" he roared, his qi flaring as he unleashed a stronger technique, the Iron Tempest Barrage. A storm of fist shadows rained down, each one heavy enough to crack stone.
Lin Feng gritted his teeth, his arms straining as he deflected the blows. Pain lanced through his body, but the system's energy kept him upright. He focused, recalling the system's guidance from the forge. Intent is everything. He poured his will into the sword, and to his surprise, the runes along the blade flared brighter, releasing a faint wave of qi that disrupted Lin Hao's barrage.
Seizing the opening, Lin Feng lunged, his sword slashing across Lin Hao's chest. The strike wasn't deep, but it was enough. Lin Hao stumbled, clutching the wound, his face pale with shock. The crowd was silent, their disbelief palpable.
"Enough!" an elder's voice boomed. Elder Lin Wei, a stern man with a gray beard, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Lin Feng. "The spar is over. Lin Feng is the victor."
Lin Hao glared but said nothing, retreating with his lackeys. The crowd dispersed, their whispers now tinged with awe. Lin Feng sheathed his sword, his body aching but his spirit soaring. The system's notification appeared, its tone almost approving.
"Task Complete: Prove Your Worth. Reward: Basic Sword Technique Manual unlocked. 100 System Points awarded. Current Points: 100."
Lin Feng's mind buzzed as the system transferred the manual's knowledge directly into his consciousness. It was a simple technique, the Cloud-Piercing Strike, but its movements were precise, designed to channel qi through a blade for maximum impact. He could feel his understanding of the sword deepening, as if the system had carved the technique into his very soul.
Elder Lin Wei approached, his gaze piercing. "That sword… where did you get it, Lin Feng?"
Lin Feng hesitated, his mind racing. He couldn't reveal the system, not yet. "It was my father's," he said, which was half-true. "I… restored it."
The elder's eyes lingered on the blade, then on Lin Feng. "You've broken through to the second layer of Body Tempering. And your combat sense is unexpected. Perhaps you are not as useless as the clan believed." He paused, then added, "The outer disciple trials are in three days. If you wish to reclaim your place in the clan, prepare yourself."
Lin Feng bowed, his heart pounding. The trials were a chance to earn resources, techniques, and respect—things he had been denied for years. As the elder walked away, Lin Feng felt the weight of his new reality. The system had given him power, but it had also thrust him into the spotlight. He would need to grow stronger, and quickly.
That night, Lin Feng sat cross-legged in his dilapidated hut, the sword across his lap. He opened the system's interface, exploring its functions. The 100 System Points could be spent on materials, techniques, or even temporary boosts, but the options were limited at his current level. He decided to save them, sensing he would need every advantage in the trials.
A new notification appeared, its text glowing ominously. "Emergency Task: Investigate the Anomaly. A disturbance has been detected in the Verdant Cloud Mountains, near the ancestral altar. Investigate and neutralize the threat. Reward: Unknown. Failure Penalty: Loss of System Functions for One Month."
Lin Feng's blood ran cold. The ancestral altar—the place where the system had bound to him. A threat there could mean anything: a demonic beast, a rival cultivator, or something worse. The penalty was even more terrifying. Losing the system, even temporarily, would strip him of his only edge.
He rose, strapping the sword to his back. The night was dark, the mountains cloaked in mist, but Lin Feng felt no hesitation. The system had chosen him, and he would not falter. As he slipped out of the clan grounds, the wind carried a faint, eerie hum, like the pulse of something ancient stirring.
The journey back to the altar was quicker this time, his body stronger, his senses sharper. The forest was unnaturally silent, the usual chirps of nocturnal creatures absent. When he reached the altar, the cracked stone was bathed in an unnatural glow, not golden like the system's light, but a sickly green that made his skin crawl.
At the altar's base stood a figure, cloaked in black, their face obscured by a hood. In their hand was a jade tablet, its surface etched with runes that pulsed in sync with the green light. The figure turned, their eyes glinting like those of a predator.
"You," the figure hissed, their voice low and venomous. "You've touched the forge's power. Hand it over, or I'll rip it from your soul."
Lin Feng's hand tightened on his sword, the system's energy surging within him. The air grew heavy, the green light intensifying, and from the shadows, shapes began to emerge—spectral forms, their eyes hollow, their claws gleaming. The cloaked figure raised the jade tablet, and the specters lunged.