1 The First Move
The winds over the Black Blade Mountains carried the scent of impending rain, mingled with the cheap incense burned in the temples of the Stagnant Shadow Sect. In the worn training yard, hundreds of students in faded gray uniforms performed traditional sword movements with mechanical precision. Amid the clatter, Lin moved like part of the machine, but his eyes were focused on something far beyond the angles and strikes.
He was watching the fatigue in their eyes, the arrogance in the older students' gait, and most importantly, he was watching the "Essence."
For Lin, the Stagnant Shadow Sect was never a place to belong; it was merely a tool. His three years there were motivated not by loyalty but by the need to obtain the Seven Scrolls of Yin, a treasure rumored to be hidden deep within the sect's archives. Today was the day he began moving the chess pieces he had carefully arranged.
Training halted when Elder Kuan entered—a man in his sixties whose wrinkled face told of battles he had never fought himself but had commanded others to endure. Kuan embodied everything Lin despised: authority that thrived on the illusion of respect.
"Students," Kuan began with a deliberately deep, commanding tone, "tomorrow is the Blood Moon Festival. The sect will select only three to enter the Forbidden Cave. This is an honor reserved for those with a pure spirit and absolute loyalty."
Lin watched the reactions around him. Chests puffed with pride, eyes sparkled with naive excitement. They had swallowed the bait, convinced that "honor" was the reward. In truth, those who entered the cave rarely returned, and those who did came back hollowed, merely vessels for the elders' experiments.
"How tragic it is," Lin thought, "to see chains and call them gold." He felt no pity for them; pity was a wasted emotion that offered no practical gain.
After the session, Lin made his way to the herb garden at the back of the mountain. There, he met Zhao, a young student who thought of Lin as his closest friend. Zhao was talented, but he suffered from the "disease of hope"—believing hard work and fairness would always triumph.
"Lin! Did you hear?" Zhao said eagerly. "If we win tomorrow, we might get the Essence pills to heal my mother!"
Lin looked at him and saw only a resource. Zhao had a speed technique Lin needed to navigate the cave's traps. "Zhao," Lin said calmly, his tone dripping with feigned sincerity, "tomorrow's competition will be fierce. Elder Kuan favors Han, the governor's son. Even if you are the best, you won't be chosen unless something shifts the balance."
Zhao hesitated. "But… the rules are clear…"
"Rules are words written by the strong for the weak to follow," Lin cut in coldly, unnoticed by Zhao. "If you truly want to save your mother, you take what you need yourself, not rely on the charity of an elder who sees you as nothing more than a number in his ledger."
Lin produced a small vial from his sleeve. "This is Attraction Powder. If you apply a bit to Han's robe before the duel, it will draw the mountain bees. It won't kill him, but it will distract him enough for you to appear as the arena's hero. Then the elder won't dare ignore you."
Zhao hesitated. "This… this is cheating. Warriors don't do this."
Lin smiled, a smile that never reached his eyes. "Will warrior codes heal your mother? Or would you rather she die proud of a son who followed the rules while others stole his future?"
Lin knew exactly which chord to strike. He had studied Zhao's weakness for months. Trembling, Zhao took the vial, unaware that the powder didn't attract bees—it reacted with Chi energy to temporarily paralyze motor centers. Lin didn't want Zhao to win; he wanted him as a pawn. When Han and Zhao collapsed in the arena due to a "mysterious accident," Lin would remain the only safe, logical choice for Elder Kuan.
That night, Lin sat in his dark room. He wasn't practicing sword techniques; he was reviewing his plan for the hundredth time. Every step was perilous, yet he felt no fear. Fear was a biological reflex meant to preserve life, but it became a barrier when excessive. Lin had long neutralized his emotions, knowing that the human psyche was the greatest obstacle to success.
At dawn, the arena filled with spectators. Fights began, and Lin moved cleverly—barely winning, showing neither excessive strength to attract attention nor weakness to be overlooked. He maintained the position of the "superior average."
Han and Zhao's duel came next. Han swaggered with his jewel-encrusted sword, Zhao pale and anxious. As the clash began, Lin's powder took effect. It wasn't bees that appeared; Han felt sudden weakness in his knees. Zhao, thinking he had found an opening, charged, only to suffer the same symptoms—the powder had transferred through the air as he spoke with Lin.
Both fell in a pitiful spectacle. The crowd screamed, medics rushed forward. Amid the chaos, Lin stood in a corner, his face showing the "appropriate concern," while his mind grinned.
Elder Kuan stepped forward, sparks in his eyes. "What nonsense is this? How do the strongest students collapse simultaneously?"
Lin walked calmly. "Elder, it seems the air is contaminated, or some mountain gas has risen due to humidity. I felt something unusual too, but I overcame it with internal breathing techniques."
Kuan studied Lin, seeing a calm, balanced young man unaffected by the incident. "You… Lin, right? Are you ready to enter the cave now? We cannot postpone the festival; the moon will not wait."
"I will do as the sect commands, Elder," Lin replied with a flawless bow.
Led to the Forbidden Cave's entrance, Lin passed Zhao, carried on a stretcher. Zhao's eyes filled with disappointment and questions. Lin didn't blink. He felt no guilt. Zhao had served his purpose, and his reward was the lesson he learned: "Trust no one in a world ruled by hunger."
Inside the cave, the humidity was suffocating, and the walls whispered with the wind. Lin carried no sword; instead, he had a precise mental map of every inch, built from scraps of information gleaned from drunken guards and neglected books.
After an hour, he reached a vast chamber at the mountain's core. In the center stood a stone platform with the coveted scroll. But the scroll wasn't alone; a Guardian—a "Chi Beast"—summoned by the elders to protect the treasure, awaited.
The creature had no physical body, only a mass of shadows and red eyes. Any other warrior would have drawn their sword for a desperate fight. Lin paused.
"Why fight something designed to destroy its attackers?" he thought.
He noticed the beast moved in circular paths, avoiding areas with glowing fungi. Lin deduced the fungi emitted a substance the Guardian hated. Instead of fighting, he collected the fungi, crushed them, and smeared the juice over his body.
He approached the platform. The beast lunged, but upon smelling the fungi, it recoiled with a sound like grinding rocks. Lin walked forward calmly, extended his hand, and took the scroll. No miracle. No heroic energy blast. Just a mind seeing reality clearly, free from myths of brute strength.
Opening the scroll under the fungi's light, he found not words of honor or power but a technique called "Soul Absorption"—a method to draw energy from living beings to strengthen oneself.
"Excellent," Lin whispered, his eyes flashing coldly. "This technique demands sacrifices. And the sect above is full of students ready to give themselves for 'honor.'"
At that moment, Lin realized his goal had grown beyond survival. He had found the key to turn from a victim of injustice into the embodiment of it. He would no longer be a pawn. He would absorb the sect, then the seven mountains—not out of malice, but because it was the most efficient path to the top.
As he exited the cave, rain began to fall, washing the fungal blood from his body, but it could not wash away the iron will in his heart. The world looked to a new dawn, but Lin looked to the era he would create:
An era with no place for the weak and no consolation for those who chose to close their eyes to the cold truth.
At the cave exit, Elder Kuan waited, eager.
"Did you get it?" the Elder asked, his voice trembling.
Lin looked at him, and for the first time, the Elder saw in the student something that made him step back. Not fear, but the sense that the boy who entered the cave was not the one who emerged.
"Yes, I got it," Lin said, extending a fake scroll he had prepared in his room. "And everyone in this sect will play their part in fulfilling what it contains."
The Elder smiled, unaware it was the last voluntary action he would take in his life. Lin had already begun executing his "grand plan," where everyone was merely fuel for the unquenchable fire of his ambition.
To be continued...