The Sect Tournament Announcement

The courtyard buzzed with excitement. Disciples gathered in clusters, whispers rippling like waves as the announcement spread.

The Sect Tournament, a rare event held once every five years, promised the victor an opportunity to enter the Celestial Pagoda, a place where ancient cultivators once trained to ascend beyond mortal limits.

Xiao Lian stood on the edge of the crowd, her fingers tightening around her sleeve. The tournament was her chance to rise, to prove she deserved her place among the sect's elite. But she could already feel the weight of hostility pressing against her like a blade.

"This is our chance," SIS chimed in her mind. "Winning the tournament will give you unparalleled resources for growth."

Xiao Lian nodded subtly, her eyes scanning the crowd. Murmurs of her name flitted through the air, laced with disdain.

"She's only an inner disciple because of a fluke," someone sneered.

"She'll never make it past the first round."

Jealousy was a venom that lingered, but Xiao Lian didn't flinch. She had survived worse.

Elder Yan stepped onto the platform, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "The Crimson Feather Sect Tournament will begin in three weeks. All disciples are eligible to compete. The winner will be granted entry to the Celestial Pagoda, where the sect's most guarded techniques await."

Gasps erupted. The Celestial Pagoda was a place of legend. It was said to house techniques that could shatter mountains and call storms with a single breath.

Ji Ren stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Xiao Lian and so was Qin Ziyan. A faint smile tugged at their lips.

"You look like you're ready to kill someone," Ji Ren mused.

Xiao Lian didn't look at him. "I don't have time for distractions."

"That's a shame," he said, stepping closer. "Because you just became everyone's favorite target."

She finally turned to him, her voice low. "Let them try."

.

.

.

In the days following the announcement, the sect shifted. Alliances formed, disciples sparred with relentless vigor, and rumors twisted through the air like vines. Xiao Lian trained relentlessly, pushing her body to exhaustion, her mind constantly calculating scenarios with SIS.

But something felt off.

Late one night, while meditating by a river, she felt it, a presence lingering just out of sight. She pretended not to notice, letting her breathing slow as if she were lost in deep cultivation.

Then she struck. Her hand lashed out, a dagger flying from her sleeve. It embedded into a tree with a sharp thud.

A figure slipped from the shadows, a sneer curling his lips. He was an older disciple, his aura laced with malice.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded.

He chuckled, the sound scraping against her skin. "You think you belong here? The sect doesn't need trash like you. Some of us are just... cleaning up."

He lunged.

Xiao Lian dodged, her body twisting like a reed in the wind. SIS rapidly analyzed his movements, calculating attack patterns, but he was fast. Too fast. He grazed her shoulder with a blade, crimson staining her robe.

She retaliated, channeling Qi into her palm, blasting him back with a shockwave. He staggered, eyes wide with surprise. But he wasn't alone.

More figures emerged from the shadows.

Xiao Lian's chest tightened. It wasn't just rivalry, it was a coordinated effort to eliminate her before the tournament.

SIS blared warnings in her mind, highlighting escape routes, analyzing opponents, but there were too many. She fought viciously, her body moving on instinct, but the disciples overwhelmed her like a tide.

Until Ji Ren appeared.

He landed like a thunderclap, his sword carving through the night with ruthless precision. The attackers scattered, retreating into the forest like rats.

Ji Ren sheathed his blade, eyes sharp as he glanced at Xiao Lian's injuries. "Told you they'd come for you."

Xiao Lian wiped blood from her lip, breathing heavily. "I had it under control."

He laughed, the sound low and rough. "Of course you did."

She looked at him, chest heaving, voice cold. "Why are you helping me?"

Ji Ren's smile faded. "Because I want to see how far you can go. And because, whether you like it or not, you're not the only one with enemies."

The attack fueled Xiao Lian's resolve. She trained harder, refining her techniques, practicing until her body screamed for rest. Qin Ziyan, intrigued by the whispers of her near-assassination, started training alongside her, offering insight into illusion techniques and psychological tactics.

"If they're already attacking you, they must be scared," he said one evening, lazily twirling a flute between his fingers. "Fear is a powerful weapon."

Xiao Lian wiped sweat from her brow. "So is strength."

Qin Ziyan tilted his head. "You know, if you lose, they'll destroy you."

"I don't plan on losing."

He grinned, eyes gleaming. "I hope not. It would be boring without you."

The night before the tournament, Xiao Lian stood beneath the moon, her hand resting over the faint scar on her shoulder from the ambush. She felt the weight of the jade token hidden beneath her robes—the one the masked figure had left behind.

"SIS," she whispered. "What are the odds of winning?"

[Based on your current progress... 42%.]

Xiao Lian's chest tightened, but she smiled anyway.

"Good," she murmured, her fingers curling into a fist. "I like impossible odds."

The tournament awaited. And she would rise or be broken trying.