The first light had barely touched the pines when the bronze bell tolled thrice. Disciples shuffled into the Outer Sect training field, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Lin Xuan arrived with his spear in hand, movements measured, steady.
Wu Ming staggered beside him, yawning so wide his jaw cracked. "Senior Brother… if the sect believes cultivation blooms with less sleep, they should see my qi right now. It's weaker than cold porridge."
"Then eat porridge before drills," Lin Xuan replied dryly.
Wu Ming brightened. "Ah! Wise as always."
Disciples lined up as the instructor barked orders. "Horse stance! Hold! Thirty breaths!"
Most groaned, legs trembling within the first dozen. Lin Xuan sank into the stance with effortless calm, his breathing slow and anchored. Beside him, the timid girl clenched her teeth, sweat streaking her brow but her gaze steady. She lasted the full thirty breaths without wavering.
Lin Xuan glanced at her, a flicker of approval passing his eyes. Effort multiplies talent. Good.
After drills, assignments were read aloud. Lin Xuan's group was tasked with clearing debris along the mountain path and replenishing firewood at the kitchens.
Wu Ming dragged his bundle dramatically. "Surely the sect is testing our strength by making us battle logs heavier than beasts."
"You exaggerate," the lanky boy muttered, hoisting twice as much with grim determination.
Lin Xuan worked silently, his motions efficient, conserving qi with each lift. He noticed the timid girl quietly helping weaker disciples nearby, never drawing attention. When they thanked her, she simply bowed and continued.
She grows, Lin Xuan thought. Not only in strength, but in spirit.
At midday, as they returned to the dormitories, a group of Outer Sect disciples blocked the path. Their armbands bore the crimson stripe of Meng Zhao's influence.
The leader smirked. "Lin Xuan. I hear the elders praise your 'talent.' Funny, since all I see is a cripple hiding behind luck."
Wu Ming bristled. "Cripple? This cripple saved half the gorge while you were probably hiding behind bushes—"
Lin Xuan raised a hand, silencing him. His voice was even, carrying no heat. "Step aside."
The leader scoffed and shoved a hand toward Lin Xuan's chest. Before it landed, Lin Xuan shifted slightly, the spear butt tapping the man's wrist with surgical precision. The disciple yelped, clutching his hand as if struck by iron.
The others hesitated. Lin Xuan's gaze swept across them once, calm as still water. No challenge, no arrogance—just inevitability.
They stepped aside.
Wu Ming muttered loudly as they walked past, "Lucky? Yes, lucky for them Senior Brother doesn't care to humiliate ants."
Back in their small courtyard, the group settled into practice. The timid girl meditated cross-legged, her breathing smoother than before. The lanky boy swung his blade through basic forms until sweat soaked his sleeves.
Wu Ming sprawled under a tree, muttering, "My cultivation is at peak napping stage."
"You've been at that stage for years," Lin Xuan said without opening his eyes.
"Consistency is cultivation," Wu Ming declared solemnly.
Lin Xuan exhaled, sinking into his own practice. His qi flowed steadily, guided by the System's subtle hum. He adjusted one circulation route based on the Meridian Harmonies he had read in the Repository. The difference was subtle but profound—his breath deepened, his meridians widened like rivers clearing stone.
[System Notice: Circulation efficiency improved by 8%. Hidden Quest progress—ongoing.]
As night fell, Lin Xuan opened his eyes. The moon hung pale above the sect roofs, silver threads falling across the courtyard. His companions were still training—or snoring in Wu Ming's case.
From the shadows near the wall, faint whispers drifted. Rival disciples, watching, measuring, planning.
Lin Xuan's gaze lingered on the moon. Daily life is never just daily. Even the quiet hours are knives waiting to be drawn.