Wei Long had begun traveling again.
Not by design. A goat had eaten his shoes in Baiyu, and when he tried chasing it, he ended up halfway across the province, barefoot and bewildered, standing in front of a broken wooden gate.
The gate belonged to a hilltop ruin, moss-covered and sagging, with a plaque so weatherworn only the word Heaven was barely visible. To most, it was just an old martial sect long forgotten.
To Wei Long?
A perfect nap spot.
As he settled under a crumbling archway with a warm bun in hand, the wind picked up—and with it, trouble.
A voice, sharp and angry, echoed up the slope.
"Give it back! Or I'll feed your bones to the crows!"
Wei Long peeked over a rock. Below, a girl—no more than seventeen, with tangled hair and fists like bricks—was standing between two rough-looking men and a weeping old woman.
The men laughed.
One drew a blade. "Or what, little mouse?"
Wei Long sighed. "Bandits again?"
He crouched, trying to sneak away—only to slip on loose gravel and tumble down the hill, limbs flailing, bun flying.
What happened next would become legend.
The bun hit the sword-wielding man squarely in the eye. He screamed, stumbled backward—and tripped over Wei Long, who'd landed in a tangle of limbs. The second bandit reached for his knife, but slipped on the same gravel, fell forward, and knocked himself unconscious on a rock.
Silence.
Even the wind paused.
The girl stared. The old woman gasped.
Wei Long groaned from the dirt. "Ow… my bun…"
The girl fell to her knees. "Master! Please… accept me as your disciple!"
Wei Long blinked. "What?"
"I knew it," she said, tears brimming in her wild eyes. "You're the reclusive sect master from the mountains. You saw my spirit and descended at the perfect moment!"
"I actually just slipped—"
"You saw my heart was true. You tested me with danger, and I passed!"
"I tripped—"
"Please! Take me in! I'll do anything. Cook, clean, carry water, punch trees—I'll train for hours, days, years!"
Wei Long opened his mouth to say something reasonable.
Instead, his stomach growled.
The girl lit up. "Ah! You're testing my devotion through hunger, aren't you?"
Before he could reply, she ran into the trees and returned minutes later with wild berries, half a roasted yam, and an egg—still warm.
"I gathered these just now! Please, accept this disciple's humble offering!"
Wei Long looked at the food. Looked at the girl. Looked at the unconscious bandits. Then back at the food.
"…Alright," he said slowly. "But only because I'm very hungry, and you're… incredibly persistent."
The girl bowed so deeply she smacked her head on a root.
"I am Lin Qian, orphan of the Red Hills! I vow to follow you to the ends of the earth, Master!"
Wei Long took a bite of the yam. It was surprisingly good.
"I'm Wei Long," he said between chews. "I don't actually run a sect."
She smiled like she was witnessing the birth of stars. "Of course. You must remain humble. True masters always deny their greatness."
He swallowed.
"…Sure."
And just like that, Wei Long found himself saddled with a disciple—fierce, loyal, and utterly convinced he was a master of all things martial.
The next day, she built a signboard from scratch and hammered it outside the ruin.
"Cloud-Piercing Sect — Home of Master Wei Long, Untouchable Fist."
Wei Long stared at it.
"…Untouchable fist?"
"I saw you fight," Lin Qian said proudly. "You didn't even touch them. They just fell."
"I fell."
"Exactly. A style beyond styles!"
Wei Long, whose legs were still sore, sighed.
He looked up at the sky, wondering how things had gone so far sideways. Again.
And somewhere in the heavens, luck chuckled to itself and rolled another dice.
To be continued...