**Chapter 3
Stealth 101 (and Why It Fails)**
Morning light filtered through the bamboo courtyard as Alex Reed stood in the center of a perfect circle drawn with white chalk. Across from him, rows of fellow novices watched expectantly, murmuring about "that invisible guy." Alex gave the System a pleading glance.
"System," he whispered, "if you're really invisible, now would be a good time to demonstrate."
A faint chime sounded in his head. "Invisibility Protocol 1.2: Cloaking Field engaged."
Alex nodded, trying to summon confidence. He crept toward a distant target—a small wooden training dummy—mindful not to snap any twigs underfoot. Halfway there, he tripped over his own robe, faceplanting into the grass.
A ripple of laughter ran through the spectators. Alex scrambled up, cheeks burning hotter than his morning coffee back on Earth. He dusted off dirt and tried again.
"Remember," Jin Mu had coached him the night before, "true stealth isn't about not being seen—it's about not being heard or smelled, either. Move like a shadow, stay light, and avoid reactive plants."
Alex tiptoed, arms outstretched for balance—only to stumble into a patch of whisperleaf vines. They quivered, emitting soft giggles that sounded like nursery rhymes. The crowd giggled louder.
"Excuse me," Alex muttered to the vines, "I'm… totally invisible." He backed away, tripping again as Ling Xiao'er zoomed past him, vaulting onto the dummy with both feet.
"Need a lesson?" she chirped, arms folded smugly as the dummy creaked under her weight. "Stealth is boring. Showmanship is fun."
Before Alex could protest, the System piped up: "Showmanship Module unlocked. Recommend celebratory dance."
He ignored it and focused on slipping past a trio of giggling students. He crouched low and inched forward—right into a bucket of water someone had forgotten by the path. SPLASH. Water cascaded over his head, soaking him from robes to sweatpants.
The courtyard fell silent. Alex stood dripping, blinking at the stunned novices. Then, like a dam breaking, cackles erupted.
"Poor Invisible Guy," someone called. "You're now officially… visible."
Alex wiped water from his eyes. "I am invisible," he said firmly. "System says so."
"Maybe he means 'waterproof invisible,'" Jin Mu whispered, trying not to laugh.
Alex bit back a retort and decided to embrace his disaster. Ignoring the System's insistent "Dance Celebration," he took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and performed the most dramatic—if awkward—bow he could manage, spinning once so that his soaked robes flared out.
The courtyard quieted again. Then Ling Xiao'er clapped slowly. "Not bad," she admitted. "But you're still wet."
"Moisture detection is a known bug," the System confessed. "Patch coming soon."
Alex glared at his palm. "I swear, I'm going to rewrite your code."
Before more humiliation could ensue, the sect instructor—a lean woman with silver hair braided into a serpent—stepped forward. "That will do," she announced. "Stealth exercises conclude. Next: morning sparring."
Morning sparring. Alex's stomach lurched. He reached for his invisibility—but the System was silent. He peered at the holo-cube: "Stealth Module paused during combat. Good luck!"
"Thanks for nothing," Alex muttered, pocketing the cube.
When the horn sounded, novices paired off. Alex was matched with a robust fellow named Da Wei, whose arms were thicker than Alex's torso. Da Wei cracked his knuckles. "Ready for an easy win?"
Alex flexed his bruised ribs. "I'll… try not to die."
They bowed. Da Wei struck first: a swift punch that Alex barely blocked. He countered with a clumsy swing, his robes tangling around his wrist. Da Wei ducked and tapped Alex's shoulder lightly—enough to register a hit.
"One point," the instructor called.
Alex straightened his robes. "Invisible points don't count, right?"
"Nope," Da Wei grinned. "All visible hits count double."
Alex grit his teeth and lunged—only to slip on a stray lotus petal and land on his backside. The courtyard echoed with laughter. Ling Xiao'er strolled by, tapping his head gently with her twig-staff.
"You sure you want to spar?" she teased. "I could show you how to actually fight."
Alex sat up, robes muddy. "I'd rather mail in a resignation from this world."
The instructor blew her whistle. "Time's up!" she called. "Beginner novices: twenty push-ups. Alex Reed: fifty. For… creative expression."
Fifty push-ups. Alex gulped. The courtyard dial turned laughter up to eleven as he dropped to the ground and began the count.
"Fifty!" the instructor declared when he finally finished, sweat pouring down his face. "Lesson: invisibility is no substitute for skill and hard work. Return tomorrow for the Spirit Beast Gauntlet briefing."
Alex tried to stand—and his legs refused. He collapsed back into the grass. "Spirit… Beast… Gauntlet?" he wheezed.
The instructor smiled. "Yes. You'll find out why it's called a gauntlet."
Alex closed his eyes, bracing for the next round of system glitches—and toddler interventions. He'd survive, somehow. After all, every epic journey starts with a few face-plants and a bucket of water. And if that didn't kill him, the Spirit Beasts just might.