Chapter 3: Scheme, Advance, Strike

Six hours later, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the small window, Wu Shen's eyes opened with their usual precision. His body, conditioned by years of discipline and habit, rose with practiced ease, ready to face another day in the sect. He moved silently through his morning routine, the faint hum of the sect's activity beginning to stir in the background.

By the time Wu Shen had dressed and finished cleaning up, Yan Zhi was already wide awake, his energy seemingly boundless despite the early hour. He grinned widely as he gathered his belongings, falling into step beside Wu Shen as they prepared to head to the mess hall for breakfast.

"Morning, Wu Shen!" Yan Zhi greeted with his usual enthusiasm. "Ready for today? I've got good news for you."

Wu Shen glanced at his talkative roommate, his expression neutral but curious. "Good news?"

"Yeah," Yan Zhi replied, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "I talked to Mei Lin last night, and she agreed to meet us during breakfast. She's having breakfast with Zhang Huo right now in one of the private rooms. Told her I'd bring you along."

Wu Shen raised an eyebrow. So Mei Lin went through with it. She was only helping because she owed Yan Zhi a favor, but it was a valuable opportunity nonetheless. Zhang Huo, despite his direct and aggressive nature, could be a useful ally in the conflict against Li Yue and his lackeys like Bai Long.

"Good work," Wu Shen said calmly. "Let's not keep them waiting."

As they made their way through the mess hall, the usual buzz of outer disciples filled the air. Conversations swirled around them—talks of missions, cultivation struggles, and the latest sect gossip. Wu Shen ignored most of it, his mind already calculating how he would approach Zhang Huo. This meeting needed to be handled with care.

They arrived at one of the private dining rooms, where the atmosphere shifted. The noise of the hall was muffled by the heavy wooden doors, and inside, a calm and more refined environment awaited. Seated at the table were Mei Lin and Zhang Huo. Mei Lin, an inner disciple of the sect, was dressed in the typical green robes of her rank, her expression pleasant but formal. She had delicate features, with soft brown hair tied back and a poised demeanor that gave her an air of control. Across from her sat Zhang Huo, his powerful frame relaxed as he ate, though his intense presence was undeniable. His fiery eyes and sharp features gave him an intimidating appearance, even when seated casually.

Mei Lin looked up as Yan Zhi and Wu Shen entered, offering a small smile. "Yan Zhi, glad you could make it. And this must be your friend."

Yan Zhi beamed, gesturing toward Wu Shen. "Yep! This is Wu Shen, the one I told you about."

Wu Shen inclined his head respectfully, meeting her gaze briefly before turning his attention to Zhang Huo. "I appreciate the opportunity to join you both."

Zhang Huo gave a curt nod, sizing Wu Shen up with a glance before returning to his meal. There was a moment of silence as the atmosphere settled. Mei Lin continued eating quietly, though Wu Shen noticed her eyes flicking occasionally toward Zhang Huo as if she was subtly measuring his mood. It was clear she was here only because of her favor to Yan Zhi, and while she remained cordial, she was careful not to overstep.

"Yan Zhi, we forgot to get our food, please go and get it." Wu Shen said signaling he wanted privacy, gesturing toward the hall outside. "We'll talk while you're gone."

Yan Zhi nodded eagerly, happy to oblige. "Be right back!" With that, he rushed off to gather everyone's food.

Once Yan Zhi had left, the air grew still for a moment, and Wu Shen knew it was time to make his move. He looked directly at Zhang Huo, his voice calm and measured as he spoke. "Zhang Huo, I've heard much about your recent dealings with Bai Long. It seems we share a common interest."

Zhang Huo raised an eyebrow, his fiery eyes locking onto Wu Shen with renewed interest. "Oh? And what interest might that be?"

Wu Shen allowed a small, calculated smile to cross his lips. "Disdain for Li Yue and his lackeys, Bai Long in particular. I have no love for either of them, and it seems you've had your conflicts with them."

Zhang Huo's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression hardening. "Li Yue is a snake. He's been trying to undermine me for months, using fools like Bai Long to stir up trouble." His voice carried a hint of contempt, though Wu Shen could sense that Zhang Huo wasn't one to openly complain. He simply stated facts, blunt and direct.

"I couldn't agree more," Wu Shen replied, his tone cold and precise. "Bai Long's arrogance has no foundation. He relies too much on Li Yue's protection, thinking it makes him invincible. But men like that are weak. They can be broken."

Zhang Huo's gaze sharpened. "And what exactly do you want from me, Wu Shen?"

Wu Shen leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "An alliance, of sorts. I want to support you in any scheme that weakens Li Yue's influence. It benefits both of us. I've kept a low profile in the sect, but I'm more than willing to act against them."

Zhang Huo studied him carefully, his eyes unreadable. "What do you gain from this?"

"I have my reasons for wanting to see Li Yue and Bai Long suffer," Wu Shen said, his tone unwavering. "But more practically, I need a recommendation from someone of your standing to get an audience with the Medicine Hall Elder, Qin Yunru. If I gain influence in the Medicine Hall, I can interfere with any requests Li Yue or his lackeys make. That could be useful to both of us."

The room grew quiet as Zhang Huo considered Wu Shen's proposal. His gaze remained intense, but there was a glimmer of interest behind it. "You want a recommendation from me in exchange for helping me deal with Li Yue and Bai Long."

"Precisely," Wu Shen replied smoothly. "I'm willing to act when needed, and in return, we both get what we want."

Zhang Huo leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're ambitious, Wu Shen. But I like that. Too many outer disciples are content with mediocrity. You've got the right mindset."

Before Wu Shen could respond, Yan Zhi returned, balancing several trays of food in his arms. "Got everything! Hope you're hungry Shen," he said cheerfully, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

Mei Lin smiled at Yan Zhi's return, though she glanced at Zhang Huo to gauge his reaction to the conversation. Zhang Huo gave her a brief nod as if signaling that he'd heard enough for now.

As the food was passed around, Wu Shen ate calmly, his mind already turning over the details of the exchange. Zhang Huo is interested, but he'll need more than words to be fully convinced. A small display of loyalty may be necessary.

For now, Wu Shen remained patient. The first step has been taken. Now it's a matter of careful maneuvering.

As they began eating, the contrast in the room became more apparent. Yan Zhi immediately dug into his food, stuffing his face with enthusiasm, completely oblivious to the serious undercurrent in the room. His cheerful demeanor created an almost absurd contrast with the weighty conversation between Wu Shen and Zhang Huo. Meanwhile, Mei Lin, who sat elegantly beside Zhang Huo, seemed uninterested in the entire exchange, barely engaging with her meal and instead staring off in boredom. It was clear she had agreed to this meeting solely to repay a favor to Yan Zhi, and nothing more.

Wu Shen remained focused, though, keenly aware that this was a pivotal moment. After making a show of eating for a moment, he leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice so only Zhang Huo could hear. His tone was calm, calculated, and laced with just enough intrigue to draw Zhang Huo's attention.

"I thought you should know," Wu Shen began, his dark eyes locking with Zhang Huo's, "Bai Long is planning something. I overheard a few disciples talking. Given his situation, I doubt he's acting on his own. It's likely under the orders of Li Yue."

Zhang Huo's expression hardened instantly. He put his chopsticks down with a soft clink, eyes narrowing. "Go on," he said, his voice sharp but controlled, betraying his growing interest.

Wu Shen continued, keeping his voice even but direct. "Bai Long isn't the type to challenge someone stronger than him without backing. But after what happened between you two, I've heard rumors he's been laying low, plotting. I believe Li Yue has tasked him with something—likely a scheme to undermine you further."

Zhang Huo's fists clenched slightly, though he managed to keep his composure. His fiery eyes, now filled with barely contained anger, reflected his loathing for both Bai Long and Li Yue. "That coward wouldn't dare face me directly. So now he's using Bai Long against me again?"

Wu Shen leaned back slightly, his expression calm and calculated, even as Yan Zhi, completely unaware of the serious conversation taking place, continued to scarf down his meal with unbridled enthusiasm. At one point, Yan Zhi mumbled something about how delicious the steamed buns were, but neither Wu Shen nor Zhang Huo paid him any attention.

"I can track down Bai Long," Wu Shen offered smoothly, his voice steady. "I have my ways of gathering information, and I can find out where he's hiding and what he's planning. If you want to stop whatever scheme Li Yue has put into motion, we can strike first."

Zhang Huo's gaze sharpened, a mix of suspicion and intrigue flashing through his eyes. "You'd do this for me? Why?"

"Because it serves my interests," Wu Shen replied coolly. "Li Yue and Bai Long are a thorn in both our sides. They need to be dealt with sooner rather than later, and if we stop this plot before it gains traction, it sends a message to Li Yue—he can't control everything."

Zhang Huo remained silent for a moment, studying Wu Shen with a hard gaze, clearly trying to gauge his motives. "You're more cunning than I expected," Zhang Huo finally said, his voice a low rumble. "But I can respect that. If you're right, and Bai Long is up to something, we need to shut him down before Li Yue's scheme can get off the ground."

Wu Shen nodded. "I'll start tracking him after breakfast. It shouldn't take long."

"Good Good Good," Zhang Huo said, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "If Bai Long is plotting something, we'll make sure it's the last mistake he makes."

While this intense exchange was happening, Mei Lin had completely tuned out. She absently picked at her food, her gaze wandering around the room, clearly disinterested in the conversation between the two boys. Occasionally, her eyes drifted toward the window as if she wished she could be anywhere else, entirely detached from the tension building between Wu Shen and Zhang Huo.

Yan Zhi, oblivious as ever, continued to eat with gusto, completely unaware of the stakes being discussed. He smiled cheerfully between mouthfuls, occasionally offering a random comment. "These buns are really good today! Oh, Zhang Huo, have you tried the soup? It's amazing! Mei Lin, you should try some too!" His bright, carefree demeanor was almost comical in the context of the deadly serious conversation happening at the table.

Zhang Huo glanced briefly at Yan Zhi but then turned his attention back to Wu Shen. "Once you find Bai Long, report back to me. We'll deal with him together."

Wu Shen gave a slight nod, keeping his expression neutral, though inside, he knew this was the beginning of a more significant opportunity. Aligning with Zhang Huo was a critical step toward advancing his plans within the sect. Li Yue thinks he can control the sect from the shadows, but every scheme has cracks. Bai Long is one of those cracks, and through him, I'll exploit Li Yue's weaknesses.

As the meal wound down, and Yan Zhi finally finished his enthusiastic feasting, Wu Shen and Zhang Huo exchanged a final, wordless glance. It was an unspoken agreement—an alliance born not of trust, but of mutual benefit.

Mei Lin, sensing the end of the conversation, sighed quietly in relief. "Well, if that's everything," she said with a thin smile, "I think it's time for me to take my leave. Good luck with... whatever it is you're planning."

"Thanks for helping us out, Mei Lin," Yan Zhi said cheerfully, clearly unaware of the gravity of the situation.

With that, the group began to rise from their seats. As Wu Shen and Yan Zhi prepared to leave, Wu Shen's mind was already calculating his next steps. I'll track down Bai Long, but I won't reveal everything to Zhang Huo. There's no need to show my full hand just yet.

As Wu Shen and Yan Zhi left the private room behind, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the quiet hallways of the sect, Yan Zhi was still beaming, clearly pleased with how the meeting had gone. Wu Shen, on the other hand, was already thinking ahead, his mind turning over the next steps in his plan. He would need to find Bai Long, but first, he had to ensure his movements remained unnoticed.

As they walked in silence for a few moments, Yan Zhi finally spoke up, curiosity in his voice. "So, Wu Shen, how exactly do you plan on finding Bai Long? I mean, he's been hiding ever since that fight with Zhang Huo. Not an easy guy to track down."

Wu Shen glanced at Yan Zhi briefly, keeping his expression neutral. He had no intention of revealing his Divine Vision to anyone, let alone Yan Zhi. "By looking for him," Wu Shen replied vaguely, his voice calm but offering no further details. "I have my methods."

Yan Zhi looked slightly confused by the vague answer but shrugged it off. "Well, I guess that makes sense. You always have some plan up your sleeve." He laughed lightly, then added with a hint of mischief, "And hey, don't forget—you still owe me a favor for setting up that meeting with Mei Lin and Zhang Huo."

Wu Shen's eyes flicked toward Yan Zhi for a brief moment, his expression unreadable. Yes, a favor. One I'll have to repay.

"Of course," Wu Shen replied smoothly. "I haven't forgotten."

Yan Zhi grinned, pleased with the acknowledgment, though he waved it off as if it were nothing. "Don't worry, I won't make you do anything too crazy... probably." He waved off the thought with a laugh before continuing their walk back toward the outer disciple quarters.

Once they parted ways, Wu Shen's mind sharpened into focus. His task was clear now: track down Bai Long and report his location to Zhang Huo. He needed to do this without drawing attention to his unique abilities. Careful, always careful, he reminded himself. Even if it took longer, caution was key.

---

The sect grounds were busy with the usual morning routines, disciples training, others moving about on various missions, and the ever-present murmur of conversation. But Wu Shen paid little attention to the noise around him. His task was clear: find Bai Long.

Using his Divine Vision, Wu Shen began his methodical search. He activated his vision in short bursts, only during the brief moments when he blinked, ensuring that no one around him would notice anything strange. To the casual observer, Wu Shen appeared calm and collected, moving through the sect with his usual quiet confidence. But beneath the surface, his mind was working with the precision of a sharpened blade.

Patience, Wu Shen reminded himself. Careful and deliberate.

Though he could have sped up the process by fully activating his vision, Wu Shen chose caution over speed. His Divine Vision was a tool he intended to keep hidden, and there was no need to reveal its full potential. Even if it took longer, Wu Shen was willing to sacrifice time for secrecy. After all, in this world, caution was as important as strength.

As he moved through the sect, his mind sharpened, recalling the details of Bai Long's Qi signature. Ever since Wu Shen was young, both in his previous life and this one, he had a remarkable ability to remember small, often overlooked details. That skill had carried over into his new life, allowing him to recall the unique fluctuations of Bai Long's Qi. It wasn't perfect—Wu Shen could forget things if distracted or pressed for time, just like he had forgotten to eat lunch and dinner the other day—but when he focused, he rarely missed anything.

Careful, always careful, Wu Shen thought, his cold eyes scanning the surroundings.

Hours passed as Wu Shen continued his quiet search, methodically moving from one secluded part of the sect to the next. His Divine Vision flickered on and off with each blink, searching for the distinct Qi signature he remembered. The process was slow, but Wu Shen's patience never wavered.

Finally, after nearly five hours of careful searching, Wu Shen found what he was looking for. He spotted a familiar Qi form, hidden deep within a secluded cultivation room, surrounded by layers of spiritual energy. Bai Long. His Qi was turbulent but familiar, its jagged edges unmistakable.

Wu Shen narrowed his eyes, watching through his Divine Vision as Bai Long sat in deep meditation. Small, condensed Qi pills rested beside him—glowing, potent spheres that Bai Long appeared to be consuming one by one. From the fluctuations in his Qi, Wu Shen could tell that Bai Long was attempting to break through to the Qi Condensing Realm, Middle Stage.

So that's what he's been doing in hiding, Wu Shen mused silently, his expression as calm as ever. Preparing for a breakthrough. No doubt under Li Yue's orders.

The cultivation pills were likely aiding Bai Long's efforts, but his Qi was still unstable, indicating that he wasn't quite there yet. For now, Bai Long was vulnerable—entirely focused on his cultivation. Wu Shen could disrupt him, and sabotage his efforts, but that wasn't the plan. No, his task was to report back to Zhang Huo and let him handle Bai Long.

Everything was falling into place. Bai Long's vulnerability, Zhang Huo's interest in taking down Li Yue's lackeys—it was all aligning perfectly. Now, it was time to return to Zhang Huo and share what he had learned.

With that, Wu Shen turned and began to make his way back through the sect, his steps light and calculated as ever. The next move was Zhang Huo's, but Wu Shen was already planning several steps. Bai Long, Li Yue—everything has a use. 

Wu Shen moved quickly but without rushing, his mind focused as he made his way to find Zhang Huo. He knew where the core disciples usually gathered, and sure enough, after a short search, he found Zhang Huo near one of the training platforms, watching several disciples sparring with a disinterested look on his face. The moment Wu Shen approached, Zhang Huo's eyes flicked toward him, sharp and expectant.

"I found Bai Long," Wu Shen said quietly but directly.

Zhang Huo's interest was piqued immediately. He straightened, his fiery gaze locking onto Wu Shen with the intensity of someone who had been waiting for this very moment. "Where?"

"He's in one of the secluded cultivation rooms, attempting a breakthrough to Qi Condensing Middle Stage," Wu Shen explained calmly, his voice betraying no emotion. "He's using Qi pills to push himself through the bottleneck, but his Qi is still unstable. He's vulnerable."

Zhang Huo's lips curled into a vicious smirk. "So, he's trying to advance, huh? Even if he does reach the middle stage, it won't matter. I'm at the Peak Stage, and I'll crush him before he has a chance to get comfortable in his new rank."

Wu Shen nodded slightly. This was the reaction he had expected. Zhang Huo was a straightforward cultivator, someone who relied on brute strength and overwhelming power. For him, there was no need for subtlety or schemes—just confrontation.

"You'll want to act quickly," Wu Shen continued, his tone as calm as ever. "Bai Long is nearing his breakthrough, and if we wait too long, he might stabilize his cultivation."

Zhang Huo cracked his knuckles, his fiery eyes burning with anticipation. "Lead the way."

Without another word, Wu Shen turned and began guiding Zhang Huo through the sect, retracing his steps to the secluded area where he had found Bai Long. The two moved in silence, but the tension between them was palpable. Wu Shen remained calm, his mind working through the details of what was about to happen. Zhang Huo has the power to beat Bai Long easily, even if Bai Long does manage to advance. But this fight isn't just about strength. It's about sending a message.

As they neared the secluded cultivation rooms, the sounds of the sect—disciples training, talking, and going about their daily routines—faded away, replaced by the stillness of the isolated area. The air was thick with spiritual energy, but the faint fluctuations of Bai Long's unstable Qi were unmistakable to Wu Shen, even without his Divine Vision active.

Zhang Huo's expression grew more intense as they approached the door to Bai Long's cultivation chamber. He could feel the energy in the air too, and his hands flexed, ready for the confrontation. "I'll teach that dog what happens when he tries to act above his station," Zhang Huo muttered under his breath, his voice laced with contempt.

Wu Shen remained silent, his gaze fixed on the door. His role in this was simple: guide Zhang Huo to Bai Long and watch the events unfold. This fight will serve my purpose, but there's no need for me to get involved directly. Zhang Huo's brute force will handle the rest.

Zhang Huo glanced at Wu Shen briefly, nodding in silent acknowledgment. "Stay out of the way," he said with a smirk. "This won't take long."

Wu Shen gave a slight nod. He had no intention of intervening. This was Zhang Huo's fight, after all. His role here was to observe—and learn.

With that, Zhang Huo stepped forward and placed his hand on the door to the cultivation room, his expression fierce and determined. A faint glow of Qi flickered around his palm as he pushed the door open, revealing the dimly lit room within. 

Inside, Bai Long sat cross-legged in deep meditation, his Qi swirling around him as he consumed another Qi pill. His eyes were closed, his focus entirely on his breakthrough. The air in the room pulsed with energy, but Bai Long's Qi was still uneven, still unstable. He hadn't reached the middle stage yet—but he was close.

The moment the door opened, Bai Long's eyes snapped open, his gaze wild and panicked. He recognized Zhang Huo immediately, and the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. 

"Zhang Huo!" Bai Long gasped, stumbling to his feet. "What—what are you doing here?"

Zhang Huo's smirk widened, his eyes burning with the heat of his Qi. "I'm here to finish what we started, Bai Long. Did you think you could hide from me?"

Bai Long's Qi fluctuated wildly as he tried to steady himself, but the panic in his expression was clear. He wasn't ready for this fight—his cultivation was too unstable, and he knew it. "Wait—this isn't—"

But Zhang Huo didn't wait for an explanation. His fists clenched, and the air around him crackled with power as his Qi surged to the surface. The room trembled slightly under the weight of his energy.

Wu Shen watched silently from the doorway, his expression calm and unreadable. Bai Long has no chance. Even if he advances to the middle stage, Zhang Huo will overpower him with ease.

The fight was about to begin.

The room crackled with tension as Zhang Huo stood before Bai Long, his Qi blazing like a firestorm, filling the chamber with suffocating heat. Bai Long, though panicked, managed to push himself up into a defensive stance, his breathing erratic as the unstable Qi around him struggled to settle. The pressure from Zhang Huo's peak-stage Qi was immense, and the sheer force of it made the air feel heavy, like the calm before an explosion.

Wu Shen watched from the doorway, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the situation. Zhang Huo has the upper hand in almost every aspect—stronger cultivation, greater experience, and even a more refined understanding of Qi manipulation. Bai Long stands little chance. But Wu Shen knew better than to underestimate anyone completely. Li Yue must have given Bai Long something. He wouldn't send him into this fight empty-handed.

Bai Long's eyes flicked nervously toward Zhang Huo, the fear in his gaze barely masked by a thin veil of desperation. He knew the gap between their strengths, but there was something else—a flicker of determination in his eyes. Without warning, Bai Long activated the speed-enhancement talisman that Li Yue had given him. His Qi surged briefly, and his movements became noticeably faster, his body flickering with increased agility.

Zhang Huo's fiery grin widened as he saw Bai Long's sudden burst of speed. "So, Li Yue gave you something to help you keep up with me, huh?" His voice was laced with contempt. "But speed alone won't save you."

With a sharp breath, Zhang Huo's intermediate fire root flared to life, the air around him heating even further. He moved first, his body a blur of motion as he closed the gap between them with frightening speed. His fist ignited with flame Qi, a basic but devastating technique that enhanced his punches with fire, and he aimed a searing strike directly at Bai Long's chest.

Bai Long's speed allowed him to dodge the initial blow, his enhanced movements just barely keeping him out of range. His Qi flickered as he gathered energy, attempting to form a basic defense. He released a burst of wind Qi, hoping to disrupt Zhang Huo's momentum and create space between them.

But Zhang Huo was faster than Bai Long anticipated. With a quick pivot, Zhang Huo redirected his next strike, sending a wave of fire-infused Qi toward Bai Long's side. The flames surged like a wild inferno, crashing into Bai Long's hastily constructed defense. The fire tore through the wind Qi with ease, engulfing Bai Long's arm in a wave of searing heat.

Bai Long cried out, stumbling back as the skin on his arm sizzled, burned by the intensity of the flames. He clutched at his injured arm, his face contorted in pain, but his feet continued to move, his body still bolstered by the speed talisman. He was fighting defensively now, desperately avoiding Zhang Huo's relentless attacks.

"Bai Long's only advantage is speed," Wu Shen observed coldly from the doorway, his eyes flicking between the two combatants. "But speed without control is useless. He's only delaying the inevitable." 

Zhang Huo pressed the attack, his movements fluid and aggressive. His mastery of basic martial arts was clear in every strike, every calculated step. His experience in actual combat showed. His fire Qi enhanced each blow, creating an overwhelming pressure that Bai Long struggled to keep up with.

Bai Long, now drenched in sweat and trembling from the exertion of both his unstable Qi and the pain of his burns, tried to muster a counterattack. He gathered his Qi into his hands, shaping it into a crude, unstable earth shield, hoping to block Zhang Huo's next strike. But the shield was hastily formed, lacking the refinement necessary to withstand a peak-stage cultivator's attack.

With a roar, Zhang Huo smashed through the shield with ease, his flaming fist colliding with Bai Long's chest. The impact sent Bai Long crashing into the stone wall behind him, the flames scorching his robes and leaving his skin charred. Bai Long gasped for breath, his body slumping against the wall as he struggled to stand. His Qi flickered weakly, the talisman's effects beginning to wear off.

Zhang Huo didn't let up. His fiery aura intensified as he summoned his basic fire spell, a technique that conjured a searing wave of flame that shot forward like a blazing arrow. The heat from the spell was palpable, and even from a distance, Wu Shen could feel its intensity.

Bai Long barely had time to react. He raised his hands, trying to form a weak water Qi barrier to douse the flames, but it was too little, too late. The fire spell slammed into him, the flames consuming his barrier and engulfing his body in a flash of intense heat. Bai Long screamed as his skin burned, his body writhing in agony as the flames licked at his flesh.

"It's over," Wu Shen thought, his gaze impassive. "Bai Long is finished." 

Zhang Huo advanced on Bai Long, his expression savage, his fists still blazing with fire. "You should've known better than to challenge me," Zhang Huo growled, his voice filled with fury. "I'll make sure you never rise again."

Bai Long, his body battered and disfigured from the burns, lay crumpled against the wall, gasping for breath. His Qi was nearly depleted, and the fire had ravaged his body. His once-arrogant demeanor had been replaced by sheer terror, his eyes wide with fear as Zhang Huo loomed over him.

Zhang Huo raised his fist, flames crackling around it as he prepared to deliver the final, fatal blow. "This is where it ends, Bai Long."

But just as Zhang Huo's fist came down, a powerful presence filled the room, and a voice, cold and authoritative, echoed through the air.

"That's enough."

Zhang Huo's fist stopped mid-swing, the flames extinguishing instantly as the figure of Elder Xiao Jian, the Disciplinary Hall Elder, appeared in the doorway.

The midday sun hung high over the sect grounds, casting long shadows across the tiled roofs of the various halls. In the secluded cultivation room courtyard, a sense of unease lingered as Zhang Huo stood with his arms crossed, his expression tight. Before him, the cold, stern figure of Elder Xiao Jian, the Disciplinary Hall Elder, regarded him with an air of calm authority.

Elder Xiao Jian's robes billowed slightly in the breeze, the Golden Core cultivator's presence oppressive despite his tranquil demeanor. His hawk-like eyes seemed to pierce through Zhang Huo as he spoke, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable edge of rebuke.

"You nearly killed an outer disciple today," Xiao Jian said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Bai Long, despite his faults, is still a member of this sect. As a core disciple, you are expected to set an example, not tear down those beneath you. How do you think it looks when a core disciple is seen beating an outer disciple within an inch of his life?"

Zhang Huo clenched his fists, keeping his head lowered in respect, though the tension in his body made it clear that he was frustrated. "Elder Xiao Jian, Bai Long provoked me—"

"Provocation or not," the elder interrupted, his voice rising slightly, "the rules of the sect are clear. There are no unsanctioned matches between disciples. If we allow this behavior to go unchecked, it sets a precedent that strength alone can determine what is right. That is not the way of the Fallen Sky Sect."

Zhang Huo remained silent, though Wu Shen, standing nearby, could sense the fire burning just beneath the surface of his composure. Zhang Huo is a fool, but even he knows his place.

The elder's expression softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm. "I'm not punishing you, Zhang Huo. But understand this: the next time such a thing happens, the sect will not turn a blind eye. If you wish to challenge Bai Long or anyone else, do so within the rules of the sect."

Zhang Huo gave a slight nod, though it was clear the reprimand grated on him. Elder Xiao Jian, satisfied with his warning, turned his gaze toward Wu Shen, who had been standing off to the side, observing the entire exchange.

"And you," Xiao Jian said, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone, "since you seem to be here, take Bai Long to the Medicine Hall to be healed. His injuries need attention, and it is the responsibility of a fellow disciple to ensure he is taken care of." He gave Wu Shen a brief, assessing glance as if weighing his worth before dismissing him with a wave of his hand. Without another word, Xiao Jian disappeared towards the Disciplinary Hall, his robes trailing behind him like smoke.

For a moment, the courtyard was still, the weight of the exchange lingering in the air. Wu Shen, calm and calculating, made no move to protest. Taking Bai Long to the Medicine Hall—is an inconvenience, but manageable.

Just as Wu Shen turned to leave, Zhang Huo called out, "Wu Shen."

He turned back to see Zhang Huo approaching him, his expression more neutral now that the elder had left. There was a pause before Zhang Huo reached into his robe and pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment, sealed with the emblem of the core disciples.

"The recommendation you were asking for," Zhang Huo said flatly, handing the letter to Wu Shen.

Wu Shen's eyes flickered with a brief flash of surprise before his usual calm mask returned. So soon? He hadn't expected Zhang Huo to fulfill the request this quickly, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. Accepting the letter with a respectful nod, Wu Shen tucked it safely into his robes.

"Thank you," he said evenly, though his mind was already turning. This recommendation will be of help.

Zhang Huo nodded once, his expression unreadable, before turning and leaving without another word. It was clear he had no desire to prolong the interaction, and Wu Shen had no intention of forcing it. Zhang Huo has his uses, but it's best not to push him too far.

With the letter of recommendation secured, Wu Shen turned his attention back to the task at hand. Bai Long. The outer disciple was lying nearby, unconscious, his body burnt and battered from the earlier fight. Wu Shen approached without emotion, lifting Bai Long over his shoulder in a careful but efficient manner. Bai Long groaned weakly, barely conscious, as Wu Shen carried him toward the Medicine Hall.

The Medicine Hall was as busy as ever, its long corridors filled with the scent of herbs and the low murmurs of disciples seeking treatment. Wu Shen carried Bai Long past several other disciples, most of whom paid them little mind. Injuries were common in the sect, and a disciple being carried to the Medicine Hall was far from unusual.

As he entered the main area, a few of the inner disciples glanced up, some with mild curiosity, others with indifference. Wu Shen made his way to the front desk, where a familiar face awaited him—the same inner disciple who had dismissed him so rudely the other day.

The disciple barely glanced at Wu Shen before looking down at Bai Long's injured form, his expression impassive. "Another one from the training grounds, I see."

Wu Shen, as composed as ever, placed Bai Long gently on one of the nearby cots before stepping up to the desk. "Bai Long was injured in a fight. He needs treatment."

The inner disciple gave a dismissive wave as if the situation was beneath his notice. "We'll take care of him." His tone lacked any sense of urgency, and Wu Shen knew better than to expect anything more. Outer disciples received the bare minimum when it came to attention in the Medicine Hall—only those with real standing were treated with care.

Wu Shen watched as Bai Long was lifted onto a cot by two disciples. The inner disciple who had dismissed him the day before still lingered behind the desk, his gaze shifting lazily over the scene. But this time, Wu Shen had no intention of being turned away. He reached into his robe and pulled out the neatly folded letter Zhang Huo had given him, sealed with the emblem of the core disciples.

"I have a letter of recommendation," Wu Shen said calmly, extending the parchment.

The inner disciple, his interest piqued, raised an eyebrow as he took the letter and broke the seal. His eyes skimmed the contents, and after a moment of silent reading, his demeanor changed. He straightened, clearly understanding the weight of the recommendation from Zhang Huo, a core disciple of considerable influence.

"Follow me," the inner disciple said, his tone now more respectful as he gestured for Wu Shen to walk with him. Together, they left the main area of the Medicine Hall, moving through the quiet corridors toward a section of the hall reserved only for the most trusted inner disciples and the elder in charge.

As they walked, Wu Shen took note of the environment around him. The air was thick with the rich scent of medicinal herbs, and the walls were lined with shelves holding jars filled with dried plants and exotic ingredients. The further they went, the more secluded and refined the surroundings became, until they finally reached a large, open courtyard.

In the center of the courtyard was a lush garden, brimming with herbs of every kind. The Qi in the air was dense, and the vibrant greenery shimmered faintly with spiritual energy. Some of the plant's Wu Shen recognized—Qi-boosting flowers, rare medicinal roots—but others were unfamiliar, their appearances strange and otherworldly. This was where the sect grew its most precious herbs, each one meticulously cultivated.

They crossed the garden, moving toward a greenhouse at the far end. The building was made of glass, sunlight filtering through its transparent walls to illuminate the rows of plants growing inside. The inner disciple led Wu Shen inside, where the temperature was noticeably warmer, the humidity designed to nurture the delicate herbs being grown there.

At the far side of the greenhouse, sitting at a simple wooden table, was Elder Qin Yunru, the Medicine Hall Elder. He was a tall, thin man with sharp features and robes adorned with intricate green embroidery, marking his high status within the sect. He looked up from the stack of scrolls he had been reading as they approached, his gaze settling on Wu Shen with mild curiosity.

The inner disciple walked over, handed him the letter of recommendation, and then gave a polite bow before stepping back and leaving the room.

Elder Qin Yunru took a moment to read the letter, his expression unreadable. When he finished, he set it aside and looked at Wu Shen, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of authority. "Zhang Huo speaks highly of you. A recommendation from a core disciple is not something I take lightly."

Wu Shen gave a respectful bow. "It is an honor to meet you, Elder Qin. I've brought a gift as a token of my appreciation for this meeting."

Without another word, Wu Shen reached into his bag of holding and, with a subtle movement, withdrew the rare Qi herbs he had carefully gathered in the forest. He laid them out on the table before the elder—each herb as fresh and potent as when he had first collected them, their natural Qi radiating into the air.

Elder Qin Yunru's eyes gleamed with interest as he leaned forward to inspect the herbs. His long fingers brushed lightly over the plants, his sharp gaze taking in the details. After a moment, he looked up at Wu Shen, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "These are not easily found near the sect. Spirit Lotus, cristal tier flower, Dragon's tongue—all difficult to locate in the nearby forest. Impressive."

He lifted one of the herbs, inspecting its stem and leaves closely. "Not only that, but your collection method is precise. The plants are undamaged, and their Qi has been preserved fully. You even had the sense to use a bag of holding to keep them fresh. That shows foresight and common sense—qualities that many outer disciples lack."

Wu Shen remained composed, though inwardly, he was pleased that the elder had recognized the effort he had put into the collection. But this exchange was more than just a compliment—it was an acknowledgment that both of them understood the true nature of this "gift." It was a bribe, plain and simple, but one that had been offered with subtlety and respect.

Elder Qin Yunru leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together as he studied Wu Shen. "So, tell me, what is it that you want in return for such a thoughtful gift?"

Wu Shen didn't hesitate. "I wish to become a disciple in the Medicine Hall, to learn the art of pill refining and elixir creation. My ambition is to advance my cultivation, and I believe the skills I could learn here will be invaluable to that goal."

The elder's expression didn't change, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I've heard that you gathered a considerable amount of herbs recently to acquire your bag of holding. Quite resourceful. Do you have any prior experience with refining pills?"

Wu Shen gave a brief nod. "My father was an apothecary in the village where I was raised. I learned the basics from him. I even managed to refine a simple pill to increase the absorption speed of Qi, and it helped me break through to the first stage of Qi Refining."

At this, Elder Qin Yunru let out a soft laugh, shaking his head slightly. "A crude pill recipe, indeed. But if cultivation could be advanced so easily, we wouldn't need to test for talent." He eyed Wu Shen carefully. "Still, the fact that you've already reached the beginner stage of Rank 1 at your age shows potential. Perhaps more than you let on."

The elder's gaze sharpened. "But let me warn you, boy—don't lie to me. Ambition is one thing; arrogance is another. In the world of cultivation, those who overreach find themselves burned. Understand?"

Wu Shen met the elder's gaze steadily, giving a respectful nod. "I understand, Elder Qin. I only seek to learn and to prove myself worthy of this opportunity."

Qin Yunru considered him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "I like your attitude. You've shown resourcefulness and initiative, both valuable traits in a disciple of the Medicine Hall. However, all my disciple slots are full until next year."

Wu Shen's heart sank slightly, but he didn't show it. He kept his face calm, waiting for the elder to continue.

"But," Elder Qin said, leaning forward, "I can take you on as a trial disciple for now. Consider it an opportunity to prove yourself. If you perform well, I'll find a way to make room for you when the new year begins."

Wu Shen bowed deeply. "Thank you, Elder Qin. I will not disappoint you."

The elder waved a hand dismissively, though there was a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "Good. Now go. You'll begin your duties tomorrow. And don't forget—results matter more than promises."

With that, Wu Shen straightened, offering one last respectful bow before turning and leaving the greenhouse. As he stepped back into the fresh air of the courtyard, his mind was already racing ahead. 

The days in the Fallen Sky Sect slipped into a quiet, methodical rhythm for Wu Shen. From the outside, it appeared like the mundane existence of any outer disciple, but for him, each moment was carefully calculated—each action a step toward something greater.

Every day began just before dawn, the cold mountain air biting at Wu Shen's skin as he rose from his bed in the dim light. His internal clock, trained from his previous life, woke him precisely at the same hour, a discipline that had served him well. The sect was still asleep, but to Wu Shen, this was the perfect time for focus. He moved silently, avoiding the pile of scattered scrolls and blankets that marked Yan Zhi's side of the room. His roommate slept in, often too tired or lazy to wake at the same time, but it gave Wu Shen the peace he craved.

Outside, the Fallen Sky Sect was draped in the soft light of early morning. A thin mist hung low over the training grounds, clinging to the stone pathways like a shroud. Wu Shen headed for the washing chamber, the small side building next to the barracks where outer disciples cleaned themselves. The cold water, pulled from a nearby mountain stream, jolted him fully awake as he splashed it across his face. It was a simple task, yet even this held purpose; Wu Shen believed in discipline in all things.

By the time he returned to the room, Yan Zhi was groggily rising, his hair an unkempt mess as he struggled to free himself from the tangle of blankets.

"You're always up so early," Yan Zhi muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Do you ever sleep in?"

Wu Shen offered him a non-committal nod, already preparing his robes for the day. "Discipline has its rewards," he said simply, and they both knew he wasn't talking about just getting up early.

The mess hall was busier in the mornings, filled with disciples eager to start the day. The smell of steaming buns, porridge, and simple vegetables filled the air as outer disciples filed in to get their food. The meals were plain but filling, designed to keep the disciples fueled for a day of hard work or cultivation.

Wu Shen sat at his usual spot, silently eating as Yan Zhi settled across from him. As always, Yan Zhi filled the silence with endless chatter—gossip about the sect, the latest rumors of missions, and the daily struggles of the outer disciples.

"I heard Bai Long hasn't left the Medicine Hall in days. Zhang Huo did a number on him, huh? People are saying he might not recover fully. Imagine being crippled because you picked the wrong fight," Yan Zhi said between mouthfuls of food.

Wu Shen listened with half an ear, absorbing the information but letting his mind drift. The sect's political landscape was constantly shifting, but Bai Long was a fool—a pawn in a game far bigger than he realized. I'll make sure not to repeat his mistakes.

After breakfast, the routine continued with a visit to the Mission Hall, the bustling heart of sect life for the outer disciples. The hall was a large, open space filled with the low murmur of conversations as disciples lined up to check the mission boards. Every task, no matter how trivial, was listed here—each one an opportunity to earn sect points, the lifeblood of any disciple looking to advance.

Wu Shen approached the board with the same calculated focus as always. Most of the missions were simple: herb gathering in the nearby forests, assisting with repairs to sect buildings or performing manual labor around the grounds. It was a far cry from the dangerous missions the inner disciples undertook, but it served Wu Shen's purpose. Efficiency over risk.

The tasks may have seemed menial, but they allowed him to move unnoticed, to complete the work without drawing attention to himself. He would gather herbs, memorize the locations of rare plants, and observe the flow of Qi in the natural world. Every task, no matter how mundane, was an opportunity to understand the sect and its environment better.

By midday, after completing whatever mission he had chosen, Wu Shen would return to the mess hall for lunch. His plate was always filled—he never made the mistake of neglecting his body's needs again, unlike other disciples who thought only of cultivation and let their physical strength dwindle.

Yan Zhi, always the talker, found him easily. "You're so quiet, Wu Shen," he remarked once, watching as Wu Shen ate. "It's like you're always thinking of something else."

"I am," Wu Shen replied simply, his mind already on the next part of his day.

After lunch, Wu Shen would make his way to the Medicine Hall. The hall itself was a place of quiet industry, with the scent of herbs hanging thick in the air. Disciples moved in and out constantly, their robes marked with the sigils of different sect departments. Wu Shen's role here was still that of a trial disciple—little more than an assistant, fetching herbs, cleaning workspaces, and sorting medicinal ingredients. But every task was a chance to observe, to learn.

He paid close attention to the pill furnaces, how the Qi flow was guided by the inner disciples, and how they controlled the heat and mixed the herbs. He memorized their methods and watched as they refined the most basic Qi-enhancing pills and healing elixirs, mentally cataloging every step. While the other assistants worked mindlessly, Wu Shen absorbed everything, planning for the day he could refine his pills.

By the time the afternoon faded into evening, Wu Shen would make his way to the training grounds. The sect's outer disciples were often gathered here, practicing their martial arts or sparring with each other. The sharp sounds of clashing wooden practice weapons filled the air, along with the occasional grunt of exertion as disciples tested their skills.

Wu Shen practiced alone, moving through the stances and techniques outlined in the martial manual he had been given upon entry. His movements were precise, and calculated—each strike, each block, each breath focused on refining his control. His body, though tired from the day's work, obeyed him with practiced ease. As his muscles burned and his bones ached, he pushed himself further. Pain is temporary. Progress is Eternal.

Around him, other disciples sparred or practiced their techniques, but Wu Shen stayed separate from them. He observed them quietly, noting how they moved, their weaknesses and strengths, but he never offered to spar. Not yet. His focus was on perfecting himself first.

By the end of the week, his body would be fatigued from the rigorous routine, but his mind remained sharp. Sect points had accumulated from his missions, and he spent them wisely on basic Qi-boosting pills and cultivation enhancers. Unlike other disciples who consumed their resources immediately, Wu Shen waited until the seventh day of the week, when he locked himself in a secluded cultivation room for a full day of cultivation.

The pills, small but potent, dissolved in his mouth as he sat cross-legged on the floor, the taste bitter but familiar. He felt the energy flood his body, and with practiced focus, he guided the Qi through his meridians, carefully circulating it until it settled in his dan tian. His cultivation was still slow, but every week brought progress. Slow progress is still progress.

As Wu Shen navigated this routine, the Fallen Sky Sect thrummed with activity around him. The outer disciples, who made up the backbone of the sect, lived lives of quiet ambition. Every day was a grind—missions, training, and endless cultivation sessions. The halls echoed with talk of sect points, gossip about inner disciples, and stories of those who had failed to advance.

There was a hierarchy that everyone understood instinctively. Inner disciples rarely mingled with the outer disciples, their lives filled with higher-stakes missions and deeper cultivation methods. Occasionally, an inner disciple would pass through the outer barracks or be seen overseeing a mission, their robes marking them as different, as elite. Their presence always sent a ripple of envy through the ranks of the outer disciples.

The sect itself was a living, breathing entity. From the grand Medicine Hall, where some refined precious pills, to the Mission Hall, where outer disciples scrambled for tasks that could earn them the resources they needed, everything was tied to the pursuit of power. The older disciples whispered about sect politics, about the ongoing rivalry between Li Yue and Zhang Huo, about which core disciples were rising in influence. Power was the ultimate goal, and everyone in the sect—whether outer or core—was chasing it.

Some days later Wu Shen sat across from Yan Zhi at the mess hall, idly chewing his steamed bun as Yan prattled on about the usual sect gossip. The atmosphere was lively, outer disciples coming and going in a flurry of robes and conversation. The smell of food—steaming rice, boiled vegetables, and faintly spiced meat—hung in the air, filling the room with warmth. But Wu Shen's mind was elsewhere, detached from the noise and chatter. His thoughts were always focused, calculating the next step in his rise, navigating the slow but steady path to power.

Suddenly, there was a commotion. A clattering sound of wooden trays and bowls echoed loudly. Wu Shen, always vigilant, didn't miss the slight hesitation in the girl's movement as she neared him—a moment of unbalance that was far too deliberate for someone just carrying lunch.

In one fluid motion, Wu Shen moved aside just as the outer disciple "tripped" in front of him. The girl fell awkwardly, her food splattering across the ground, with some bits of rice and vegetables scattering onto her robes. Her face hit the floor with a loud smack, drawing gasps from nearby disciples, followed by a ripple of laughter. She lay there, food sticking to her and robes soiled, while her tray clattered down beside her.

Wu Shen watched with calm, calculating eyes, making no move to help her. He had seen the way she stumbled—it was halfway intentional. Her trip was clumsy, yes, but the angle of her body had been aimed to spill her tray on him, not to fully catch herself. Whether this was some misguided prank or the start of something more malicious, Wu Shen didn't care to guess. He simply stepped back, observing her and the reactions around him.

The girl lay on the floor for a moment longer than necessary, her face burning with both embarrassment and anger as the laughter spread around her. When she finally pushed herself up, her expression was twisted with indignation. She wiped rice from her sleeve, glaring at Wu Shen as if daring him to say something.

"You—" she snapped, wiping her face. "You could have helped me!"

Wu Shen tilted his head slightly, his eyes cold and indifferent. "You only fell."

The simplicity of the statement, and the way it dismissed the situation entirely, only fueled her anger. The girl stood, brushing herself off roughly. She was around his age, maybe a year or two older, with sharp, narrow eyes and short-cut black hair. Her outer sect robes were now stained with food, and her fists clenched tightly by her sides.

For a moment, Wu Shen simply regarded her, his gaze calculating, assessing her next move. This girl—petty, foolish, but not without ambition. Her attempt at a fall had been more than clumsy; it had been designed to provoke a reaction.

The girl's face twisted with frustration. "I challenge you," she declared, loud enough for the surrounding disciples to hear. The laughter stopped immediately, replaced with hushed whispers and eager looks as the gathered outer disciples turned their attention to the confrontation.

Yan Zhi glanced nervously between Wu Shen and the girl, clearly unsure of how this would play out. "Uh… Wu Shen, you don't have to—"

Wu Shen raised a hand to silence him, his mind already weighing the options. A challenge. Petty as it was, declining could draw unwanted attention later. Rumors would spread, whispers of cowardice, and that would be far more damaging than accepting. Still, this would waste valuable time. He had intended to head to the Medicine Hall after lunch. A sanctioned match would delay his plans, and he had little to gain from beating this girl.

"Why would I accept?" Wu Shen's voice was calm and cold. "I gain nothing from fighting you."

The girl's eyes widened in surprise at his response, but the crowd around them murmured in confusion. Challenges were a part of life in the sect—especially among outer disciples trying to prove their worth. For someone to refuse was almost unheard of.

"You…!" She struggled for words, clearly not expecting him to refuse so easily. "You humiliated me!"

Wu Shen's gaze didn't waver. "You fell on your own. If you want a fight, offer something worth my time."

The girl's face reddened with frustration. "I— I have no reason to give you anything!"

Wu Shen's expression remained impassive. He glanced around at the watching disciples, their faces eager for the spectacle. "Then I have no reason to fight you." He turned slightly, as if about to walk away, baiting her to make the next move.

Her desperation got the better of her. She gritted her teeth, fists still clenched. "Fine!" she snapped. "I'll wager my sect points!"

At this, the crowd grew louder, whispers turning into excited murmurs. Sect points were everything to outer disciples—their means of advancement, access to resources, and their chance to rise within the sect.

Wu Shen paused, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. Sect points. Interesting. She's desperate now.

"How many do you have?" he asked, his voice even, betraying none of his growing interest.

"Four hundred and eighty-nine," she spat, clearly unwilling but unable to back down now that she had opened the door.

The crowd murmured in surprise. Nearly five hundred sect points were no small sum for an outer disciple.

Wu Shen allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. This is worth my time now.

"Agreed," he said, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "We'll settle it at the sparring grounds."

The crowd moved quickly, word spreading fast as they made their way to the sparring area next to the training grounds. More disciples gathered, eager for the show. The Fallen Sky Sect was always buzzing with these small, daily rivalries, and this one promised to be particularly exciting, especially with so many sect points on the line.

The girl, who finally introduced herself as Lan Xiaoyun, stood across from Wu Shen, her anger still simmering beneath the surface. Lan Xiaoyun was short, her frame wiry and tense, and her sharp features gave her a perpetually angry expression. Her hair, cropped short, barely touched her shoulders, and her narrow eyes gleamed with frustration. She was not used to being ignored or embarrassed in front of her peers. Now, the opportunity for something fueled her challenge.

A member of the Disciplinary Hall arrived to oversee the match, a stern-faced man with a long scar across his chin. He laid out the rules for the gathered disciples.

"Listen closely," the man said in a gravelly voice. "This match is sanctioned, but there are limits. One—no killing. Two—no talismans, pills, elixirs, or treasures. And three—no permanent maiming. You will keep it in the ring. If Wu Shen wins, he gets all of Lan Xiaoyun's set points. If Lan Xiaoyun wins, she keeps her points and Wu Shen must surrender fifty sect points as recompense."

The rules were simple. Fair enough for both sides. Wu Shen stepped into the ring, his face a mask of indifference. He studied Lan Xiaoyun as she entered the circle across from him. Rank 1, initial stage. Same as me. But she's emotionally driven—easy to manipulate.

The Disciplinary Hall member stepped back and raised a hand. "Begin."

The fight began with Lan Xiaoyun charging at Wu Shen, her eyes blazing with determination. The crowd had gathered around, murmuring excitedly as they watched the clash unfold. Her movements were aggressive, fast, and unrelenting, a mix of basic martial arts with a layer of desperation. Her fists flew toward Shen's head, but he met her with equal force, blocking and countering with precision. The fight seemed balanced, the crowd leaning in as they switched from offense to defense, locked in a tense exchange of blows.

Shen's body moved with the cold efficiency he'd practiced, but there was something new now—a spark of exhilaration that he hadn't felt before. His strikes were sharp, his blocks timed perfectly, but each impact, each collision of flesh, sent a thrill through his veins. He'd never truly fought like this in either of his lives—never experienced the raw, unfiltered sensation of combat. The pain in his knuckles as he hit her, the ache in his ribs as her fists connected with him—it was more than just physical. It was real, visceral.

This is it, Shen thought, his mind racing as he dodged another wild swing. This is what it means to be alive.

For the first time, the endless training, the long hours spent pushing his body to its limits, felt worth it. The pain and the struggle—the fight—this was the reward. But as much as he was enjoying the moment, he knew he couldn't let it drag on. The fight could still go either way, and that was unacceptable. He didn't have time to waste on drawn-out brawls. Shen's mind was always thinking ahead, and he needed to end this now.

The opportunity came when his fist landed hard against her face. The crack of impact was satisfying, but instead of pulling back, he twisted his thumb, jamming it into her eye. The move was dirty, cruel even, but this wasn't a sparring match to him—this was survival. She gasped, stumbling back, blinded for the moment, and that was all the opening Shen needed.

He surged forward, shoving her to the ground and pummeling her defenses with a flurry of relentless strikes. Her arms flailed, trying to block, but his fists were unforgiving. Blood trickled from her nose, her eye already swelling shut, and still, he didn't stop. As he pressed her further into the dirt, his mind flickered with a single question: Why was she doing this?

But the thought quickly vanished. It doesn't matter. This was planned, meant to hinder him. If he let her get away with this, it would only encourage others. Wasting my time? That's unforgivable.

Shen stood, yanking her up and locking his arm around her throat in a brutal chokehold. He angled his body so that her arms were pinned awkwardly, leaving her barely able to move. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her face turning pale as his grip tightened around her windpipe. She was still conscious, but barely—her eyes wide, desperate, as she tried to breathe. She couldn't speak, only struggling weakly as the sensation of suffocation took hold.

It was like drowning without water. Shen knew the feeling well from his past life—an induced state where the body clings to life, desperate for air but receiving just enough to stay awake. He squeezed tighter, feeling her panic rise through her trembling limbs.

Perfect.

His other hand formed a closed fist, thumb pointing outward as he angled it toward her ribs. His cold, calculating mind worked through the anatomy with clinical precision. Intercostal nerves—sensory innervation to the chest wall. Maximum pain. Minimum damage.

He struck, his thumb jabbing hard into the space between her ribs, feeling the bone crack beneath his force. The pain shot through her body like a lightning bolt, her hoarse scream ripping through the air as her body thrashed violently in his grip. Her eyes bulged, bloodshot with agony, her entire body spasming as he twisted his thumb deeper, pressing against the delicate nerve cluster. The crowd recoiled, gasps and murmurs spreading as they witnessed the brutality unfold. 

Lan Xiaoyun's screams echoed in the sparring ground, her voice breaking as the pain overwhelmed her. After a few seconds, her body went limp in his arms, unconscious from the sheer intensity of the suffering.

Shen looked down at her, feeling her body go slack, and released her throat slightly. Her body dropped lifelessly to the ground, but he wasn't finished. Not yet.

He crouched beside her, his thumb poised near another rib. His voice, calm and cold, carried through the stunned silence that had fallen over the spectators.

"Did you pass out just from that?" he asked, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, though his words were directed at the unconscious girl. "Don't worry, I'll wake you up. After all, there are still twenty-three more ribs to go before we're done."

The statement hung in the air, heavy and chilling, as the crowd stared in disbelief. The once excited murmurs had turned into a cold, terrified silence. Some of the outer disciples took a few steps back, unable to look away from the scene but now horrified at what they were seeing. This wasn't just a fight anymore—it was a message.

Shen slowly raised his thumb again, ready to strike another rib. The air was tense, the crowd holding its breath, when the Disciplinary Hall member finally stepped forward.

"That's enough!" the man barked, his voice sharp and commanding. He hurried forward, placing himself between Wu Shen and the unconscious Lan Xiaoyun. "The match is over! Wu Shen is the winner!"

The fight was officially over, but the damage was done. Shen straightened, wiping his hand clean on his robes as he stepped back. The girl was hurriedly lifted by two disciples and carried off to the Medicine Hall, her body limp and her face twisted in pain even as she lay unconscious.

As the crowd dispersed, there was a noticeable gap forming around Wu Shen. Disciples avoided looking directly at him, casting fearful glances as they whispered among themselves. They wouldn't forget this. Not soon, at least.

Yan Zhi, his roommate, was the only one who stayed near him. But even Yan Zhi's usual chatter was gone, replaced by a strange, uncomfortable silence. His face was pale, eyes wide as he tried to process what had just happened. He opened his mouth as if to speak but hesitated.

"I'm not one to judge," Yan Zhi finally said, his voice low and cautious. "But... even I think you went too far."

Shen's gaze remained forward, uninterested in justifying his actions to anyone. The Disciplinary Hall member approached him, his expression wary and disapproving.

"The sect points will be transferred to your account," he said reluctantly. "But be careful. What you did today... that's going to give you a reputation. And not a good one."

Shen only nodded, indifferent to the man's warning. A reputation? What is that compared to power? With that, he turned and headed back to his room, ignoring the uneasy looks that followed him.

---

Back in his room, Shen stripped off his stained robes, wiping the grime and blood from his hands. He stared down at the basin of water, watching his reflection ripple in the murky surface as he cleaned himself. His face was calm, expressionless as always. But there, just at the corner of his lips, he saw it—a small, satisfied smile creeping in.

The Disciplinary Hall member's words echoed in his mind. "Reputation."

Shen's smile widened slightly as he thought about it. Reputation. What is reputation but a bunch of bullshit the weak spew from their mouths to restrain the strong?

Let them talk. Let them fear. He had no use for their approval.

He was only getting started.

### A Few Days Ago – Lan Xiaoyun's Perspective

The air in the core disciple area of the Fallen Sky Sect felt different, more charged with energy and power. Lan Xiaoyun felt it the moment she stepped foot near the residence of Li Yue. This was where the true power of the sect resided, where those like her—mere outer disciples—were but shadows in the grand schemes of those above. As she approached the modest but finely crafted wooden door that marked Li Yue's quarters, her heart pounded in her chest. 

She knocked firmly, waiting exactly three seconds before the door opened soundlessly. Lan Xiaoyun stepped inside and immediately lowered her head in respect, bowing deeply as she faced Li Yue. His room, like him, was meticulously organized. The faint scent of incense drifted through the air, calming yet stifling in its controlled elegance. Scrolls and cultivation manuals were stacked neatly on a table beside an ornate sword stand, and a half-finished cup of tea sat untouched on a windowsill.

"Lord Li Yue, forgive me for failing in my task," Lan Xiaoyun said, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. She could feel the weight of his gaze, though his expression remained unreadable. "I was unable to gain any useful information from Bai Long regarding his fight with Zhang Huo. He refused to speak to me."

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken judgment. Her failure hung in the air like a physical weight. She wanted to shift uncomfortably but willed herself to remain still. Li Yue was not one to tolerate weakness, especially not from someone like her, an outer disciple. A mere pawn in his schemes.

"The only thing Bai Long mentioned," she continued, her voice steady despite her inner anxiety, "was the name of an outer disciple who was there—Wu Shen."

At this, Li Yue's expression remained inscrutable, but his eyes sharpened slightly with interest. Lan Xiaoyun risked a glance at him, noting the flicker of deep thought crossing his otherwise calm face.

"We received word that this Wu Shen carried Bai Long to the Medicine Hall afterward," she added quickly, hoping this small piece of information would redeem her. "And he gave the inner disciple in charge a core disciple recommendation letter."

For a moment, there was only silence. Li Yue leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him, fingers tapping thoughtfully on his knuckles. His gaze drifted toward the window, as though contemplating something far away. The tension in the room was palpable, and Lan Xiaoyun could feel the weight of her fate hanging in the balance. Her failure had been significant—Bai Long's defeat had been a setback, and her inability to gather information only worsened the situation.

Then, with a smooth movement, Li Yue leaned forward again, his eyes locking onto hers.

"Wu Shen," he murmured, as though testing the name on his tongue. "A name of no significance... yet he manages to involve himself in matters far above his station."

Lan Xiaoyun swallowed hard, her breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure how much more she could do to salvage her position, but she waited, knowing better than to speak out of turn.

Li Yue sat back again, his expression unreadable, though the gears of his mind were turning. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice calm, but with a sharp edge.

"Zhang Huo," he said slowly, "has started to take on subordinates, it seems." His fingers drummed softly on the table. "I can't have that."

Lan Xiaoyun remained still, waiting for whatever judgment he would pass on her. She had done her best, but she knew well enough that Li Yue was not one to reward effort without results.

But then, Li Yue leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. "You've come seeking redemption, haven't you, Lan Xiaoyun?"

She nodded quickly, keeping her eyes downcast. "Yes, Lord Li Yue."

He reached into a drawer beside him and pulled out a small jade bottle, setting it gently on the table. The light from the window glinted off the bottle's smooth surface, casting a faint green glow in the dim room.

"The pill you need," he said, his voice soft but cold. "To save your mother's life, yes?"

Lan Xiaoyun's heart skipped a beat. She had been working tirelessly, taking on every mission she could, scraping together every sect point in a desperate bid to earn enough to buy the pill her mother so desperately needed. Her mother's illness had progressed rapidly and without that pill... She clenched her fists at her sides, fighting to keep her composure.

"Yes," she answered reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm halfway to the number of sect points needed to purchase it."

Li Yue smiled faintly, a cruel sort of amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Halfway is not enough," he said. "But... I am willing to help you."

Lan Xiaoyun's eyes flicked toward the bottle, her heart hammering in her chest. She knew better than to believe that Li Yue would simply give her the pill out of kindness. There was always a price with him.

"I will offer you this pill," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "In exchange, you will make Wu Shen a laughingstock. Humiliate him in front of the outer disciples. Show everyone his weakness."

Her stomach twisted at the thought. Wu Shen—a name she had barely known until now—was just another disciple. But this request... Li Yue was asking for more than just a simple prank. He wanted to tarnish this disciple's reputation, to make him an object of ridicule.

But her mother... her mother needed the pill. Lan Xiaoyun swallowed her pride, knowing she had no choice.

"I... I will do it," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I will make sure he is humiliated."

"See that you succeed," he said coolly. "There are no second chances."

Lan Xiaoyun bowed deeply once more as she turned to leave. Her heart pounded in her chest as she walked out of Li Yue's room, but she kept her head low, hiding the mix of fear and shame that now clouded her thoughts. 

As the door closed behind her, Li Yue leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing in thought, the faint smile never leaving his face as he continued to plot. Wu Shen, Zhang Huo... they were mere pieces in the grander game he was playing. And soon, both would learn their place.

---

Lan Xiaoyun walked away from the core disciple area, She had accepted the deal. She had no other choice, but the weight of it pressed on her as she thought of what was to come. For her mother's sake, she had to make Wu Shen suffer.