> [Null Protocol: Awake] [Host Fate Index: 0] [Notable Sect Events: Annual Outer Sect Evaluation Tournament — 2 Days Remaining]
For most outer disciples, the Annual Evaluation was their first true chance at recognition—a ladder to climb into the inner sect, earn a personal master, or even catch the eye of a visiting elder.
For Lin Xian?
It was a stage filled with tripwires.
He didn't want rank.
He didn't want attention.
But the rules were absolute: all disciples below Qi Condensation must participate. Skipping it would mark him. Refusing would label him arrogant. Hiding was impossible.
So he did what he always did.
He planned.
> null.simulate("public performance under scrutiny", conditions=["Qi Tempering", "zero reveal of system", "0% spiritual aura leak"]) [Success Probability: 96.2%] [Risk: Minimal if 'Phantom Shell' Technique is active]
> null.create("Phantom Shell Technique", type=illusion, effect=simulate weak foundation level martial arts", noise_output=high, internal_signature=zero") null.generate("dummy spiritual fluctuations", match="Qi Tempering Stage 2")
Now, on paper, he would seem like an average practitioner with stable progress. No one would guess the truth.
He had already reached early Qi Condensation days ago.
---
Elsewhere in the Sect
Shen Yu returned from Flame Ridge, bloodied but alive.
He didn't speak of the talisman. He didn't know why the map had found him. But deep in his mind, a seed of curiosity had taken root.
And far above, in the inner sanctum, a golden-robed elder opened a scroll bearing disciple data.
"Hmm... a few promising seeds. Shen Yu survived the Flame Ridge trap?"
A second elder scoffed. "Luck. Or something hidden. Shall we monitor?"
"Later. Let them grow. If they bloom wrongly… we prune."
---
The Tournament Grounds
The outer sect arena was a carved bowl of white jade, inscribed with formation arrays that suppressed fatal blows but amplified spiritual exchanges for visibility.
Hundreds of disciples gathered in the stands, forming their own clusters of rivalry and gossip.
Lin Xian arrived dressed plainly. No badge. No weapon.
Just silence.
Even his name on the roster was unremarkable: Lin Xian — Dorm 73 — No Known Merits.
> [Match Scheduled: Round 1 – Lin Xian vs. Bai Mu]
He remembered Bai Mu. Brash. Overconfident. Cultivation: Qi Tempering Stage 4. Favored by one outer elder for his "aggressive spirit."
A perfect tool.
> null.simulate("Bai Mu combat style", probability_tree=full)
> null.create("counter-sequence: evade, strike, fall, recover, delay, finish", outcome="draw (visual)"
---
Combat Begins
Bai Mu stepped forward with a grin. "I didn't even know you existed. Good. I needed a warm-up."
Lin Xian simply bowed.
The elder overseeing waved his sleeve. "Begin!"
Bai Mu dashed forward. Palm glowing. Fast, but reckless. Lin Xian moved sideways like water—no resistance, no confrontation.
Bai Mu's palm missed. Then again. And again.
The crowd murmured. "Is he dodging on instinct?"
Lin Xian's Phantom Shell activated: a delay in his visible aura made his movements seem desperate, clumsy—but somehow effective.
He staggered. Slipped. Landed behind Bai Mu with a sweep of the leg.
> [Impact Detected. Scoring: Equal Exchange]
The two tumbled apart. Lin Xian gasped for breath (faked), while Bai Mu growled.
Spiritual energy crackled. Bai Mu formed a second palm. Fire-element qi condensed on his fingertips.
Lin Xian pretended to panic.
But in the milliseconds before impact:
> null.slow("external time perception", ratio=1:10) null.redirect("energy path of Bai Mu's fire palm", angle=14°, delay=0.2s) null.inject("collapse feedback", target=Bai Mu, reaction="loss of control")
From the crowd's perspective, Bai Mu suddenly misstepped, his own technique detonating off-course. Lin Xian fell back, wounded—barely standing. But Bai Mu crashed face-first into the ground.
Knocked out.
> [Winner: Lin Xian]
The audience paused, confused.
Then a slow cheer.
"Beginner's luck?"
"Sloppy fight."
"Still, he won…"
> [Fate Threads: Adjusted Slightly] [Suspicion Level: 1% – Minor Interest from Elder Duan]
Not enough to be dangerous.
Just enough to be forgettable.
---
That Night
Lin Xian sat at his desk, legs folded beneath him, ink brush moving in clean, disciplined strokes.
> null.store("combat playback", tag="Bai Mu style weaknesses") null.generate("15 styles to counter Fire Root types") null.analyze("Elder Duan spiritual interest", track frequency next 7 days")
He had bought time. His display would register as "promising but lucky." Enough to avoid being targeted or challenged again in early rounds.
He wouldn't win this tournament.
He would exit strategically, perhaps in Round 4, against an elite too flashy for him to "overcome."
But by then, all records of him would be falsified, all memories blurred, and every trace of cultivation technique erased.
---
Final Scene — Inner Sanctum
One elder closed a scroll. "Lin Xian… mild growth. No special record. Discard file?"
The golden-robed elder stared for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"Forgettable."
> [Null Protocol Response: Archive Deleted from Sect Records] [Host Visibility: Phantom Class — Grade S]
And in the shadows below, Lin Xian smiled faintly.
He hadn't defeated the sect.
He was becoming part of its structure.
---
End of Chapter 4