The outer sect courtyard bustled with life at dawn.
Dozens of disciples performed synchronized sword routines, their blades whistling through the air like flowing water. Others meditated on stone platforms carved with runes, basking in the rising Qi of the mountain.
Jiang Chen stood at the edge, watching.
His simple robes—outer disciple issue—felt like stolen clothes. They didn't match the calluses on his hands or the cautious glances others gave him.
"That's the servant from last week, right?"
"The one who beat Lu Yan in a death duel…"
"I heard he stole a forbidden technique and got lucky."
Jiang Chen didn't react.
He had expected this. Cultivators remembered slights more than they remembered victories.
"Let them talk," he thought.
"Let them keep their distance."
It gave him more time to train.
...
Jiang Chen's days had changed.
Now, he had access to a Qi Gathering Pavilion—a place where low-grade Qi stones lined the walls and ambient energy flowed thicker.
It was nothing compared to the inner sect, but to someone like him? It was treasure.
[Basic Qi Absorption – Entry (19%)]
[Iron Body Tempering – Entry (31%)]
Each night, he practiced his fists beneath the moon. Each morning, he refined his breath and strained to feel the spiritual energy flow through his dantian.
Progress was slow.
But it was his.
And he never forgot what pain had taught him.
...
On the fifth day of his new routine, the skies opened.
It rained over Azure Peak—soft, steady, cold.
Most disciples took shelter.
Jiang Chen didn't.
He stood shirtless on the gravel path behind the training hall, letting the cold water soak into his skin as he struck the training post.
Over and over again.
[Empty Fist Form – Great Achievement (21%)]
Each punch drove pain through his bones, but it didn't matter. The storm numbed the surface, sharpened the mind.
And then, a voice.
"Training like a beast in the rain... dramatic."
Jiang Chen turned.
A young man stood beneath the eaves, holding a sheathed sword in one hand, a gourd of wine in the other. His robes were clean, his face too refined to belong to an outer disciple.
But the badge on his waist told the truth.
Inner Disciple.
He looked no older than seventeen, but there was a calmness to him. A lazy confidence.
"I saw your duel last week," he said, sipping from the gourd. "Good form. Too much muscle tension in your right shoulder, though."
Jiang Chen didn't reply.
"You're wondering who I am," the youth continued. "I'm Yan Wuji. The sect calls me a genius. I call myself bored."
Jiang Chen raised a brow. "And what do you want from me?"
Yan Wuji grinned. "Nothing. I like watching wild dogs bare their fangs. Reminds me there's still fight left in this dying sect."
"You came here to insult me?" Jiang Chen asked quietly.
"Not at all," Yan Wuji chuckled. "I came here to tell you—your existence offends someone important."
Jiang Chen's jaw tightened.
"Lu Yan was the nephew of Elder Lu. His death… didn't go unnoticed."
The air grew colder—not from the rain, but from the weight behind those words.
"So," Yan Wuji said, "be careful, Jiang Chen. Sometimes, winning a duel is the first step to digging your grave."
Then he turned and walked away, gourd swinging casually from his hand.
Jiang Chen watched him go, mind heavy.
"So the real danger begins now."
...
That Night
He couldn't sleep.
Not because of fear, but because of memory.
That name—Yan Wuji—had appeared once before in his panel. Faint, like a mark against the stars.
When he dreamt…
When visions of Jiang Tian, the immortal of the past life, danced in the void...
There was always a sword.
And a youth standing at the other side of the battlefield.
"Him?"
"He was there…?"
The panel remained silent.
But the deeper Jiang Chen trained, the more often the dreams returned.
Visions of ruins. Of heaven-splitting battles. Of fists cracking mountains.
And of a sword that once pierced his heart.
...
[Empty Fist Form – Great Achievement (25%)]
[Iron Body Tempering – Entry (33%)]
[Basic Qi Absorption – Entry (23%)]
Soul Fragment Activity Detected
...Dream Memory Unlocked (2%)
...
Jiang Chen sat in silence as candlelight flickered across the stone wall.
Outside, rain still fell.
Inside, a question bloomed.
"Am I climbing toward heaven…?"
"Or am I just retracing the steps of a life that already failed?"