The training yard was nearly empty. Most disciples were at the grand courtyard celebrating Li Han and his new spiritual sword. Meanwhile, Xiao Lin was alone, practicing in the shadows of the northern wall, repeating slow and precise movements, watched only by the wind—not people.
Some disciples passed by, laughing, mocking, but he… stood firm. Move number 3,004… 3,005… 3,006. Each one carried a slight improvement: a shift in balance, finer energy control, a growing unity between breath and blade.
**
That night, the senior disciples gathered in the Hall of Honor. Among them was Li Han, the new star of the sect. The sect master announced that friendly duels would be held soon to select disciples for an upcoming external mission.
Li Han smiled confidently:
— "I just hope they don't send amateurs against me... I wouldn't want to dirty my sword with talentless blood."
Some laughed. Others felt the sting of the insult. Among them was Zhou Ming, a disciple from Xiao Lin's wing, who hated arrogance. In a moment of anger, he stood and declared:
— "If you're a real man, fight without your spiritual sword. Let's see who the amateur truly is."
Silence filled the hall. The elder gave a slight nod—permission granted.
**
The next day, the courtyard was packed. Xiao Lin came to watch, but when he saw Li Han smirking arrogantly, something boiled inside him… not jealousy—but anger at blind pride.
The match began. Zhou Ming wasn't weak, but the sheer difference in speed and the "enhanced" abilities from Li Han's lucky encounters made him powerless.
In seconds, he fell.
Before his body hit the ground, a voice rang from the crowd:
— "I challenge the winner. But with conditions: no spiritual weapons, no charms, no support tools. Just sword and training."
All heads turned. Xiao Lin stood still, calm like a storm before the strike.
Li Han laughed: — "You? The wooden child? The shadow disciple?"
Xiao Lin simply said:
— "Let me show you the worth of a thousand days of effort… in a single minute."
**