By the time Lin Chen caught up with Zao Ping near the kitchen pavilion, the sun had dipped low, staining the sky with orange streaks. The scent of vegetable stew lingered in the air as outer disciples shuffled around with bowls and tired expressions.
Zao Ping raised an eyebrow. "You look like someone sentenced to death."
"Worse," Lin Chen said. "Herb garden duty for the next week."
Zao Ping laughed. "Could be worse. Elder Gao's favorites are on latrine shift."
"Guess I should be grateful for the dirt and weeds," Lin Chen muttered. "At least plants don't talk back."
The two of them grabbed bowls, ate in relative silence under the fading sky. A few disciples nearby chatted about sparring pairings for the morning assessments. Lin Chen barely listened—until he heard his own name mentioned, followed by a snicker and something about "easy wins."
He didn't bother reacting.
When they were done, the two friends walked together past the stream that cut through the courtyard, crossing a small arched bridge as fireflies blinked lazily above the water.
At the fork in the path, Zao Ping stretched. "Alright, lazybones. Back to your room. Don't forget Elder Han's lesson at dawn. You already skipped once last week."
Lin Chen gave a half-hearted salute. "Wouldn't dream of missing it twice."
Zao Ping narrowed his eyes. "That better not be sarcasm." Lin Chen grinned. "It's not. Probably."
With a scoff, Zao Ping turned and jogged off toward the pill storage hall, where he worked as an assistant in the evenings.
Left alone, Lin Chen made his way toward his quarters a simple, single room courtyard with a creaky door, a straw broom in the corner, and a bamboo mat barely thick enough to soften the stone floor. Outer sect luxury at its finest.
He slid the door shut behind him and collapsed onto the mat with a groan.
"Finally."
As soon as he closed his eyes, his breathing steadied, and his qi stirred within him. The flow of energy was faint, like a gentle current, but it moved with unusual harmony. He hadn't consciously activated it. It responded to his intent.
Right it's still doing that. He thought back to the moment he first noticed it. After awakening to his memories from Earth, he had tried some basic cultivation techniques out of instinct. And to his surprise, the qi had shifted on its own, adjusting, flowing, even stabilizing his breathing patterns without direct effort.
He sat cross-legged, allowing himself to fall into a meditative state. The qi followed smoothly. It flowed to his dantian, gathered at his meridians, and cycled with a rhythm that seemed to anticipate his needs.
He murmured, "So this is my cheat, huh?"
It wasn't flashy. No system. No overpowered divine technique. Just ease. A kind of natural flow that responded to his desires. It helped him cultivate without strain, meditate without distraction. Nothing earth shattering. But real.
He let himself drift deeper into meditation, Then came the knock.
Of course, he thought. Peace never lasts long. He got up and opened the door.
He opened the door to find a tall, lean boy with a blade strapped to his back, Wang Jie, another outer disciple known for being arrogant and petty.
"Lin Chen," Wang Jie said, not even bothering with greetings. "Tomorrow's sparring assessment. I'm paired with you."
Lin Chen blinked. "Okay?"
Wang Jie stepped forward, looming slightly. "Don't embarrass me. Stay down when I tell you to. "I tell you to stay down, stay down."
Lin Chen raised an eyebrow. "You want me to throw the match?"
"Don't play dumb. You're barely Foundation Stage. If I hurt you too badly, the elders will say I went too far. But if you surrender early, no one gets in trouble."
Lin Chen scratched the back of his neck. "You sound nervous. "Wang Jie's expression darkened. "What did you say?"
"I said," Lin Chen replied, tone casual, "you sound like someone worried they might lose to a lazy guy with barely Foundation Stage cultivation."
Wang Jie's jaw clenched. "You'll regret that."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
Lin Chen sighed and shut the door.
"Why is it always the edgy ones?" he muttered, returning to his mat.
He sat down again, but his calm was fractured. The qi still flowed, soft and smooth, but his thoughts had a sharpness to them now.
Do I take the beating or show a little of what I've got?
He hadn't planned to draw attention. His goal was a quiet life. Cruise through the outer rankings. Avoid conflict.
But if Wang Jie pushed him,
His qi twitched It pulsed gently, not aggressive. Just alert. Ready.
It didn't want to fight. It wanted to respond.
He opened his eyes and exhaled. "I really don't want trouble."
The qi pulsed again, then settled like a dog curling up beside him.
The next morning
The sparring arena in the outer courtyard was a wide circle of worn stone tiles. Outer disciples gathered in together, some stretching, others gossiping or trading bets. Two instructors stood at the edge, one with a bamboo scroll listing matchups, the other maintaining safety formations around the ring.
Lin Chen stood across from Wang Jie, hands tucked in his sleeves, back slightly hunched like he might fall asleep standing up.
Wang Jie rolled his shoulders, sword unsheathed and gleaming. "Still time to bow out."
Lin Chen yawned. "Let's just get this over with."
The instructor raised a hand. "Begin!"
Wang Jie moved fast. His blade sliced forward with practiced aggression, wind whistling from its arc, Lin Chen didn't flinch.
His body shifted, a half-step, a lean, almost lazy. The blade missed by a hair's breadth.
His qi had moved first. Not in a rush of power, but in a soft nudge. A quiet ripple. His limbs followed without thought. Like sleepwalking.
That wasn't me, he thought. It just happened.
Wang Jie was already correcting course, stepping in with a follow up
Lin Chen's foot slid forward, barely a nudge, and tapped Wang Jie's wrist.
The blade spun from Wang Jie's hand and clattered to the stone floor.
Silence fell across the courtyard.
Lin Chen blinked. "Uh… was that it?"
Wang Jie's face twisted. He lunged with a fist, wild and humiliated.
Before it could land, the instructor stepped in, palm raised. "Match over!"
Gasps echoed all around.
Lin Chen gave a sleepy bow and turned to leave.
Behind him, the whispers started.
"Did he just...
"That wasn't footwork. That was something else."
"He didn't even fight—he just moved."
As he walked away, Lin Chen sighed.
"So much for staying under the radar."