Chapter 2 - Two Years of Patience

Every morning, Liang Yue woke up before dawn, when the air was still filled with cold mist and the sunlight had yet to fully touch the mountain peaks. With calm movements, he straightened the sack of wheat that served as his bed, then picked up an old broom from the corner of the storage room.

His days always began with cleaning the storage room where he lived. He swept away the dust and tidied up the stored items, even though he knew no one cared about this place. After finishing, he moved on to his next task—sweeping the front yard of the servant pavilion.

(Srak… Srak… Srak…)

The sound of the broom brushing against the stone floor was a familiar melody to his ears. Other disciples who passed by often ignored him, some even mocking him as usual. But Liang Yue didn't care.

As the sun rose higher, he took the time to read. In this sect, core and inner disciples had access to cultivation techniques and secret scriptures. However, for a servant disciple like him, the only books he could read were basic scriptures that were not considered valuable—historical records, fundamental theories of spiritual energy, or even writings on life philosophy.

But for Liang Yue, all of it was still precious.

"If I can't cultivate, at least I can think."

That was how he spent his afternoons. After that, he returned to his routine—washing the inner disciples' clothes in the western valley river, drying them while memorizing multiplication tables, helping in the kitchen, then returning to the storage room to rest.

The cycle repeated, day after day, month after month.

Before he knew it, two years had passed.

Liang Yue was now 17 years old. His body was still slender, and his face remained as delicate as a girl's, but his eyes had grown sharper, filled with a calmness that was not easily shaken. He was still a servant disciple, still sleeping in the storage room, still eating leftover boiled potatoes and a bowl of thin soup every night.

However, something was different within him.

Something that was slowly growing, silently, like a small flame waiting for the wind to ignite into a blaze.

The night sky stretched wide above the Path Immortal Sect, illuminated by the pale moonlight peeking through the clouds. Liang Yue sat in the corner of the storage room, a small oil lamp flickering beside him with a steady glow. In his hands, an old book lay open, its pages yellowed and edges slightly brittle.

Tonight, his thoughts wandered further than usual.

He recalled a history book he once read—about an era when slavery was still a part of human life. At that time, slaves were chained, forced to work without choice, and kept away from knowledge to ensure their submission. The ignorant were easier to control.

But as time passed, slavery in that form gradually disappeared.

Replaced by something more subtle.

Liang Yue narrowed his eyes at the pages he was reading. The historical records mentioned that after slavery was abolished, an institution called school emerged. On the surface, schools appeared to be places that built futures, places where people could gain knowledge and better opportunities.

But the more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

"If school is a place for learning, why aren't students given the freedom to think?"

He recalled a passage in the book—how students had to follow certain standards in answering questions. If they found a different solution, it was considered wrong. Instead of being rewarded for discovering something new, they were pressured to conform to a predetermined method.

"Isn't this… also a form of slavery?" he thought to himself.

In the past, slaves were bound by chains. Now, people were bound by standardization.

They were taught to memorize, not to understand. They attended school not for knowledge but to obtain a piece of paper—called a diploma. With that paper, they could get a job. And by working, they could earn money.

But… wasn't money itself just another piece of paper?

Liang Yue slowly closed his book, his gaze growing sharper.

People spent years in school, sacrificing their childhood, learning dozens of subjects, most of which had no relevance to real life. Yet, ironically, after graduation, many couldn't even solve simple multiplication problems or read fluently.

They believed money = salary, as if that was the only way to survive.

When in reality, money was something that could be printed at any time by those in power.

"This… is psychological slavery."

Liang Yue realized that physical chains had long disappeared, but mental chains remained—stronger, harder to break, and far more dangerous. People didn't even realize they had been conditioned to live within a system that shaped them into tools rather than independent thinkers.

But one thing bothered him the most.

This book he was reading… where did it come from?

In the other history books available in the sect, such a system was never mentioned. Some terms in it also felt unfamiliar.

"Is this truly history? Or something more than that?"

Liang Yue took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

The night grew deeper, but his mind kept working, searching for answers he had yet to find.

That morning, Liang Yue resumed his routine as usual. With a broom in hand, he swept the servant pavilion courtyard, letting his mind drift in the repetitive rhythm of his movements.

But today, something was different.

Nearby, several inner disciples were engaged in an excited conversation. Liang Yue unintentionally caught a snippet of their discussion.

"Have you heard? The tournament between the ten sects is about to begin!" one disciple said enthusiastically.

"Of course! This event only happens once every ten years. Each sect will send their representatives. The strongest disciples from various sects will gather and test their skills against one another!"

"But the most interesting part is the real purpose of the tournament," another disciple added. "Aside from strengthening ties between sects, the elders and esteemed guests will observe the participants. They are searching for talented individuals—even if someone isn't a core or inner disciple. If someone shows exceptional potential—like golden bones, pure spiritual energy, or unique skills—they could be recruited by a greater sect!"

"So even ordinary people can participate? But… what for? They have no chance of winning against true geniuses."

"Winning isn't their goal. They just need to show their potential. If they're lucky, someone might take them as a personal disciple or even recruit them into a stronger sect."

Liang Yue paused in his sweeping. His eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the information he had just overheard.

["This tournament is big… which means most of the elders and sect guards will leave to oversee the event. This is an opportunity."]

An opportunity to escape the sect that he had been waiting for over two years.

The Path Immortal Sect was a prison to him. He was seen as weak, talentless, and treated like a servant. But that wasn't what hurt the most. What hurt more was… they never even gave him the chance to try.

This tournament would draw everyone's attention. With fewer guards in the sect, it was the perfect moment to escape.

A faint glimmer flashed in Liang Yue's eyes. For the first time in a long while, he felt something close to hope.

["Once in ten years… I might never get another chance like this. Take the risk or lose everything."]

He continued his work with a calm expression, but deep inside, a plan was beginning to form.

In the sect's kitchen, steam filled the air as large pots boiled, filling the room with the simple aroma of food. Liang Yue sat in a corner, his hands skillfully peeling potatoes one by one. The small knife in his grip moved with precision, slicing thin layers of skin without wasting much of the flesh.

(Scrape… Scrape… Scrape…)

The sound of the knife gliding over the potato skins blended with the chatter of the servants and other disciples busy cooking. Liang Yue appeared focused on his task, but his ears were sharp, catching every word spoken around him.

"The tournament will be held in four days."

"Yeah, and since our sect is hosting, it's going to be busier than usual. Everyone will have to work extra hard."

"I heard elders from all ten sects will be attending. Even some of the major sects that aren't competing will send representatives to observe the participants."

"With so many important guests, the guards will definitely focus on security around the tournament arena."

"Right, but that also means the outer areas of the sect will be less guarded than usual. The guards who usually patrol the forests will likely be pulled back to oversee the visitors."

Liang Yue lowered his gaze slightly, hiding the sharp glint in his eyes as his mind raced.

["So, that's the time…"]

Four days left.

The Path Immortal Sect would become the center of attention. Thousands of disciples, elders, esteemed guests, and perhaps even a few influential figures from the cultivation world would gather here. That meant the sect's security would be concentrated in one place.

A rare opportunity.

["I have to escape then."]

This sect was nothing more than a prison to him. If he stayed, his life would remain the same—sweeping, washing, cooking, and enduring endless ridicule. But if he could get out…

Liang Yue's hands kept moving instinctively, peeling potatoes without pause, but his mind was already crafting a plan.

["The best escape route…"]

The forest surrounding the sect was usually heavily guarded. However, with the upcoming tournament, their numbers would undoubtedly decrease significantly. The disciples who usually trained in the forest would also likely be more interested in watching the matches rather than spending time there.

But even so, escaping through the forest was still risky.

["The land route is dangerous… but there's one other possibility."]

The river.

The river he often used to wash clothes flowed beyond the sect's territory, cutting through deeper valleys. If he entered it and followed the current, he could be carried far away before anyone even noticed his absence.

["If I let the current take me, I can conserve my energy and avoid leaving any tracks."]

However, there was another risk. The river was strong, and he had no idea how far it would carry him before reaching safe land.

["Should I do it?"]

Liang Yue paused for a moment, staring at the freshly peeled potato in his hands. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the small knife.

["I have no other choice. I'm poor, I can't cultivate. I don't have many options. I don't need the pleasure of becoming like those fanatics—what I need is freedom. This sect is a system of slavery, and I have to escape, no matter the risk."]

If he stayed, his days in the sect would be an endless cycle. An opportunity like this might never come again in his lifetime. If he didn't act now… when would he?

His gaze became frighteningly calm.

Four days.

Four days to plan every step.

Four days before he left this sect forever.

Four days later.

The evening sky dimmed as Liang Yue stood on a large rock at the edge of the sect's river. The water rushed beneath him, its surface reflecting the golden light of the setting sun. A gentle evening breeze swept through, lifting strands of his long black hair. He wore a simple black hanfu, now faded from wear, its sleeves fluttering in the wind.

His usually tranquil eyes now held an unshakable determination.

"This is it."

Meanwhile, deep within the sect, the tournament was reaching its climax.

The Path Immortal Sect's tournament grounds had transformed into a sea of people. Thousands of disciples, elders, and invited guests from various sects filled the stands, eagerly watching the long-awaited battles.

In the center of the arena, two figures stood facing each other.

One of them was Meng Qing, dressed in a white robe embroidered with gold, a thin silver sword gleaming in her hand. Her breathing was steady, her posture upright, and her gaze as sharp as an eagle's. Her opponent, a disciple from the Azure Dragon Sect, panted heavily, injuries visible across his body.

On the sidelines, elders from different sects watched with keen interest. They were here not just to spectate, but to scout talented candidates for recruitment.

"Incredible… This disciple's speed and swordsmanship are nearly flawless," murmured an elder from the Golden Lotus Sect.

"Her sword moves like flowing water… Every motion appears light, yet carries terrifying destructive power," commented an elder from the Iron Mountain Sect.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the duel reached its peak. In one swift motion, Meng Qing vanished from her opponent's sight.

(Swish!)

In an instant, she reappeared behind him, her sword already sheathed. Her opponent froze for a moment before finally collapsing to his knees, her sword slipping from his grip.

Silence.

Then—

"The winner is Meng Qing from the Path Immortal Sect!"

The arena exploded with cheers.

"Meng Qing! Meng Qing! Meng Qing!"

Applause thundered through the stands, shaking the night sky. Some guests from other sects began whispering among themselves. A few elders even appeared interested in recruiting her.

Amid this victorious celebration, no one noticed that someone was quietly vanishing from the sect.

As thousands cheered for Meng Qing's victory, Liang Yue took a deep breath.

"This is the perfect moment."

Without hesitation, he stepped to the edge of the rock and stared down at the river's rushing waters. The last rays of sunlight illuminated its waves, making them shimmer like a winding dragon slithering toward the unknown.

(Splash!)

He jumped.

The freezing water engulfed his body instantly, sending a chill deep into his bones. Liang Yue let himself sink for a moment before adjusting his posture, allowing the current to carry him. His arms stretched out, his legs moved lightly—letting the river sweep him away.

From within the water, he felt a freedom he had never known before. Distantly, the sound of cheers from the tournament echoed. It was as if the world had split into two—on one side, the glory and recognition of the disciples who were accepted, and on the other, himself, who had chosen a different path.

["I don't want to be a victor in a world that rejects my existence."]

Fortunately, everything had gone according to plan. No one suspected that Liang Yue was escaping—not the guards who saw him carrying a laundry basket on his head, nor the disciples resting by the river, drinking water without noticing as he was carried away by the current.

["I want to carve my own path."]

The current grew stronger. He took a deep breath before diving under, following the river's flow as it carried him further from the sect.

Back in the main stands, several sect elders were still discussing Meng Qing's victory.

"This disciple deserves to be among the best of his generation."

"I want to offer him a place in my sect."

Meng Qing himself stood in the arena, her expression neutral. She displayed neither pride nor excitement, only gazing at the crowd with unreadable eyes.

But deep down, something felt wrong.

Suddenly, she turned her head toward the distant forest—toward the river that flowed beyond the sect's borders.

She heart clenched.

["Don't tell me…"]

Her expression hardened.

But before she could move, an elder from the Path Immortal Sect patted his shoulder, guiding her toward the awaiting guests.

"Meng Qing, this is a great opportunity. Many prominent sects want to meet you."

Meng Qing was forced to shift her attention. But in her heart, she already knew what was happening.

Amid the rushing current, Liang Yue continued moving. His hands occasionally adjusted his position to avoid hidden rocks beneath the water.

The night wind blew, chilling his soaked body. But he didn't care.

He gazed up at the sky, now dotted with stars.

["I made it out…"]

But this was only the beginning.

The Path Immortal Sect was located deep within the mountains. This river could carry him anywhere—into a wild forest, a remote village, or even the territory of another sect.

But there was no turning back.

He had no idea what lay ahead.

But one thing was certain—

He would never return.

With eyes full of resolve, Liang Yue let the current pull him deeper into the darkness of the night, toward a future yet to be written.