The Dying Sect

Noyan City was nothing impressive. The streets were uneven, the buildings worn, and the cultivators wandering about were barely above mortals.

Xu Tianran walked at a steady pace, Jin Wuhen and Yue Lingxi following like silent shadows. To ordinary people, they were just another group of travelers passing through. Yet, those with sharp instincts sensed something unsettling in the air.

At a distant teahouse, an old man's fingers trembled around his cup. A merchant closing his stall felt an inexplicable chill. A few wandering cultivators glanced around in confusion before shaking their heads, unsure of what had unsettled them.

Xu Tianran paid no mind to any of it. His gaze was already fixed on a weathered stone gate ahead.

Cloud Sect.

A decaying remnant of what was once a proper sect.

The gate was cracked, its protective inscriptions flickering weakly. The courtyard beyond it looked dull, the air filled with the faint scent of decay. A few disciples in patched robes lingered near the entrance, their faces weary.

"A dying sect," Jin Wuhen muttered. "It barely looks functional."

Xu Tianran continued forward without comment. He had no interest in weak sects—but fate had led him here first. Perhaps it was worth observing.

As they approached the entrance, a young disciple standing by the gate stiffened upon seeing them. His face was bruised, his grip on his wooden staff tightening.

"Halt! This is Cloud Sect territory," he said, forcing authority into his voice. "State your business."

Xu Tianran cast him a glance—one that carried an invisible weight.

The disciple's body locked up. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He didn't understand why, but something about this man's gaze made his instincts scream at him to step aside.

"I am merely passing through," Xu Tianran said, his tone indifferent.

The disciple hesitated, then nodded stiffly, too afraid to stop them.

Just as Xu Tianran stepped past the threshold, a sharp voice rang out from within the sect.

"Who dares trespass in my Cloud Sect?"

A figure descended from the inner courtyard. His sect robes, though worn, carried an air of authority. His sharp gaze swept over them, his stance firm.

Lin Shaoyang.

His eyes narrowed. "You don't seem like ordinary travelers. What is your purpose here?"

Jin Wuhen cracked his knuckles, his face unreadable. Yue Lingxi's gaze sharpened, already analyzing Lin Shaoyang's weaknesses.

Xu Tianran merely looked at him, his expression calm yet distant.

For the first time in two hundred years, the world had acknowledged his existence.

And this was only the beginning.