Chapter 14: A Name on the Seal
Joseph pushed the door open to his room, careful not to make a sound, as if any loud movement might trigger another disaster.
The wooden door creaked faintly as it shut behind him.
He stood there for a moment in the quiet, staring at the faint outline of the moonlight across the floor. The shadows reached for his feet like fingers. He didn't move.
His mind was full.
Everything felt too fragile now—too reactive. Like the entire world shifted when he spoke too loudly or chose the wrong word. The weight of Lin Yue's voice still clung to him.
You didn't waste your second chance. So don't waste anyone else's.
He moved to the edge of his bed, sat down slowly, and placed his hands in his lap.
The Sect of the Returning Soul wasn't a place for destiny or bloodline supremacy. It wasn't filled with proud clans or legacy cultivators fighting for family honor. Everyone here was already dead. Every disciple, elder, and instructor had lived once before. They had failed—or fallen—and through a sacred, forbidden rite, been given a new vessel. A second chance.
This was a sect of souls wearing borrowed faces. Given second chances, even though all didn't deserve it.
And Wei Shen—the Wei Shen from the novel—had risen from that same soil. He had shattered records— becoming the fastest outer disciples to achieve a break through to stage 2., mastered qi flow in record time, and ascended to inner disciple status within half a year of his arrival. His clarity of spirit, his precision, his ambition—it had carved a place for him in the sect's history.
Even medals, Wei Shen was never short of—every martial tournament he entered, he conquered. The Eastern Province's famed Fist Under the Heavens Tournament? Wei Shen won, earning the title of the Strongest Fist Under the Heavens. The profound and widely revered national Everlasting Sword God Tournament? To no one's surprise, Wei Shen won that too, claiming the title of the Everlasting Sword God. But all those feats belonged to the Wei Shen of the novel—not to Joseph Arlington.
Joseph had once cheered for him from behind pages. But now he was him—or rather, he was pretending to be him.
And pretending was dangerous.
He let out a long breath and thought carefully.
He needed a strategy.
From now on, he decided, no more drawing attention. No more speaking to elders or revealing "insight" I shouldn't have. I'll stick to the path Wei Shen walked.
He thought of the scroll he remembered from the novel—the sequence Wei Shen trained in each week. Sword meditation. Dantian breathing cycles. Morning stances. Isolation. Seclusion. Humility. Obedience. Wei Shen never tried to shake the heavens early. He sharpened himself quietly until the sky cracked first.
"I'll do the same," Joseph muttered to himself. "No more deviations. No more… mistakes."
Then came a knock at the door.
Not urgent. Not aggressive. But firm. Intentional.
Joseph froze.
He waited.
The knock came again.
"Junior Brother Wei Shen?" a calm voice called out.
Joseph slowly stood, walking to the door with cautious steps. He opened it to reveal a young man, roughly his age, in standard gray outer disciple robes. He wore a thick traveling cloak over his shoulders and carried a small satchel, which he adjusted politely as he bowed.
"Greetings to you, my fellow junior," the man said, voice smooth and practiced. "I come with peace. Just a humble messenger of the sect. This letter bears your name."
Joseph stared.
The man reached into his satchel and produced a folded scroll, sealed with green wax marked with the emblem of the Sect of the Returning Soul—a spiral surrounded by three downward swords.
It wasn't an ordinary message.
The seal glowed faintly with spiritual ink.
Joseph accepted the scroll with both hands, bowing his head in thanks.
The messenger bowed again, then turned to leave without another word, vanishing into the quiet hallway with the efficient grace of someone used to moving unseen.
Joseph closed the door again, slowly.
He stared at the scroll.
The wax bore the Vice Sect Master's personal mark—the sigil of Elder Cha.
He sat back down on the bed and broke the seal with his thumb.
The parchment unfolded easily, each word written with deliberate clarity in deep green ink.
****
> To Outer Disciple Wei Shen,
> By order of the Elder Council of the Sect of the Returning Soul, you are requested to attend an urgent audience at first light within the Hall of Jade Assembly.
> You will appear alone.
> No reason need be given.
> You are under no accusation. However, refusal to attend will be considered a breach of sect discipline.
> Your name was marked on the seal in light and truth.
> —Vice Sect Master,
Elder Cha of the Third Seat
Joseph stared at the final line.
Your name was marked on the seal in light and truth.
He swallowed.
It didn't say why.
But it didn't have to.
It was about the jade amulet.
It had to be.
The Elder Council. The highest gathering in the sect—second only to the Sect Master himself and third to no other than the sect supreme Elder. The council was profoundly composed of Seven elders representing the different Halls of the sect and three junior Elders, typically referred as young masters. Their meetings were rare and often secretive, usually involving decisions that affected the entire sect.
And now… they wanted him.
Joseph placed the scroll on the desk and sat in silence.
His chest ached—not with pain, but with pressure. With the weight of trying not to drown in a story that was changing more and more with every step he took.
He had just told himself to keep quiet. To lay low.
But this letter wasn't a question.
It was a summons.
And there was no ignoring it.
With Joseph conviction to not utter any word, only time will tell his true will to maintain the path of the story. To not deviatie from Wei Shen journey.