The news spread through the Jade Pathways Sect like a wind-borne fire, igniting conversations in every courtyard and training ground. Eight months. In eight months, the Annual Sect Tournament would commence.

  It was the grandest stage, a brutal and glorious spectacle where disciples of all ranks, Outer, Inner, Core, and Direct, could test their mettle.

  The rewards were legendary: the champion would claim a prized treasure from the sect’s own vault; the second and third place warriors would receive cultivation techniques hand-picked by the Sect Master himself, tailored to their individual paths; even the top ten would be showered with spirit stones and rare materials.

  It was a crucible designed to forge the sect’s future, and its rules were as simple as they were savage.

  Any weapon, any artifact, any cunning trap or forbidden device was permitted. The only law that held sway on the grand tournament stage was the law of surrender.

  If an opponent refused to yield, then victory could only be claimed through their death. This brutal reality was why many Elders, despite their ambitions, forbade their most promising heirs from participating.

  To spend a fortune in resources nurturing a prodigy, only to see them slain by a desperate rival, was a risk few were willing to take. For the Outer Disciples, it was a distant dream; most would be culled in the very first round, their Qi Sensing abilities no match for the tempered bodies and powerful artifacts of their seniors.

  High on a sweeping pagoda balcony reserved for the Li family, a youth with vibrant crimson hair took a crisp bite from a glistening spirit fruit.

  "Then, you'll have to hope your little plaything breaks through to the Body Tempering Realm,"

  a second voice drawled, tinged with a profound weariness.

  Li Zhen, his long, snow-white hair a stark contrast to his tired, dim yellow eyes, pushed himself up to sit on the railing, the wind catching his robes.

  He looked down at his younger cousin, Li Run.

  "If he's still a Qi Sensing Outer Disciple come the tournament, he won't even make it to a stage where you can face him."

  Li Run let out a short, sharp laugh, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

  "Oh, I have faith. The dog who mauled our dear cousin Ren has a fire in him. He'll climb. And when he does, I'll be waiting to put him down properly."

  He tossed the spirit fruit's core over the edge, watching it fall into the distant courtyard below.

  Li Zhen sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of ages. He turned his gaze away from his cousin, his dim eyes seeming to focus on something far beyond the sect walls.

  "I have my own interests," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I will pluck her. And I will pierce her heart."

  A shiver, involuntary and unpleasant, traced its way down Li Run’s spine. He took a subtle step back from his older cousin.

  Tch, Li Zhen gives me the creeps out of all my cousins! I'm glad he's part of the Li family… or else I'll always be on guard.

  It wasn't a physical smell, but something deeper, a foulness that clung to Li Zhen’s very soul, like the scent of rot on a beautiful, pristine flower.

  Meanwhile, far below the lofty pagodas of the Direct Disciples, a single leaf spiraled down from a ginkgo tree, blowing past Bi Kan as he finally made his way back towards the Outer Disciple dorms.

  He felt lighter than he had in months. The eighty contribution points were a shield, the secret oath with Pia Xin a hidden blade, and the treasures from the grotto a promise of future power. For the first time, the path ahead seemed clear, the incessant, grinding pressure of survival momentarily lifted.

  "No more distractions, I hope," he murmured to the quiet air of the dusty courtyard. A genuine smile touched his lips as he neared his own door, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and a faint, sweet fragrance welcoming him home.

  "I'll finally have a peek at how far they've grown."

  Bi Kan’s feet felt light as he walked the familiar stone path leading back to the Outer Disciple courtyards. The weight of his recent trials—the life-or-death mission, the horrifying spiritual possession, the brutal execution of a charlatan, and the high-stakes negotiation with a Junior Elder—had been replaced by the comforting heft of eighty contribution points and the quiet promise of his own growing power.

  For the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace.

  As he approached the stairs leading to the second-floor dormitories, a small commotion shattered the courtyard's relative quiet. A small crowd of disciples had gathered, their expressions a mixture of boredom and mild amusement, watching two of their peers locked in a tense standoff.

  "I said you owe me that Spirit Stone for tainting my robes with your damned snot!"

  one of the disciples shouted, his face red with indignation. He punctuated his sentence with a clumsy, telegraphed headbutt that landed with a dull thud.

  The other disciple stumbled back, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

  "Tch! And I said you ain't getting any, you wannabe noble piece of shit!" he snarled, throwing a wild, looping punch.

  Before the blow could land, a hand shot out, catching the fist with an almost casual ease. Bi Kan held the disciple's arm in a firm grip, his expression one of weary annoyance.

  "Hey," he said, his voice calm but carrying an authority that made both boys freeze.

  "Have you forgotten we're still inside the sect?"

  Lurking in the deep shadows of a nearby archway, a Junior Elder paused, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Hm, I guess there are still a few kids willing to enforce the rules,

  he thought, taking a slow, deliberate bite.

  Great job, to be honest. I should have gone in immediately when that first kid threw the headbutt... but I was hungry.

  He chewed thoughtfully. Mhm! Delicious!

  The disciple whose punch Bi Kan had stopped tried to wrench his arm free, his face twisting in a new wave of anger directed at the interloper.

  "You heard this, Stage 5 brother!" he spat, misinterpreting Bi Kan’s intervention as a challenge. "You wanna go?! Come face me then, you shit-staining pig!"

  The two immediately squared off for a formal duel, their previous squabble forgotten. Bi Kan simply sighed and stepped back, shaking his head. What followed was one of the most pathetic displays of martial arts he had ever witnessed.

  Their techniques were sloppy, their stances unbalanced. It was as if they had only become disciples by the barest margin, able to sense the world’s Qi but utterly incapable of channeling it. Not even the faintest glimmer of energy infused their clumsy strikes; it was a brawl fought with nothing more than raw, untrained strength.

  Hahh, this is boring, Bi Kan thought, his patience completely exhausted. He had seen real violence, real stakes. This was just childish posturing. Without a second glance, he turned and took his leave, climbing the worn stone stairs.

  He paused for a moment outside Shi Lam’s door, placing a hand on the cool wood. A flicker of pride and anticipation went through him. I wonder if he’s still in seclusion. Stage 6… He’s a true monster now. I can’t wait to see the look on those bullies’ faces when he emerges.

  He moved on to his own door and pushed it open. The room was empty. A faint, sweet scent of lilac hung in the air, a sign that Ming Mei had been practicing.

  "Hm, that could mean she's getting experience somewhere,"

  he mused aloud, his eyes scanning the tidy space.

  "Or perhaps a mission. Who knows? She didn't leave any notes."

  A small smile touched his lips. Maybe she broke through a stage or two. She's a natural talent. It wouldn't surprise me.

  He let his pack slide to the ground and stretched out on the hard wooden floor, his arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

  The eighty points felt like a protective shield, a buffer that granted him a luxury he hadn't had before: the freedom to think beyond mere survival.

  "Ahh, with this many contribution points, I should get a floor mattress,"

  he decided, the thought bringing a sense of profound satisfaction.

  "It'll be much more comfortable. That way, Ming Mei won't be so self-conscious about taking the only bed anymore."

  A full day passed in the blissful quiet of deep, uninterrupted rest. Outside, the sun had long since reached its zenith, the distant sounds of clashing practice swords and shouts of exertion filtering faintly through the wooden walls.

  While his peers desperately pushed their cultivation, chasing the elusive right to become an Inner Disciple, Bi Kan was a still island in a sea of ambition, his snores a steady, rhythmic counterpoint to their struggle.

  He finally stirred, the light filtering through the window now a warm, gentle gold. It was 1 PM. He yawned, a deep, satisfying sound that stretched his lungs, his muscles protesting the long stillness. This was a novelty, a luxury he had never before afforded himself. But the trip, the constant tension, the spiritual and physical drain—it had demanded its due.

  "Alright," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he sat up. "Did Sister Mei come back while I was out cold?"

  He stretched his arms high above his head, a chorus of pops and cracks echoing in the small room. There was no sign of her—no new scrolls on the desk, no fresh scent of rice. She must have taken a mission, a part of him thought with a swell of pride. Good. She was growing independent.

  He went through his familiar routine, cracking his neck and stretching his limbs, before finally heading out for the day. He had the Venom-Quenched Frostpetal to research and enough herbs for a new batch of alchemy.

  "But first," he declared to the empty room, a grin spreading across his face,

  "I must obtain that mattress. Can't have all these contribution points for nothing!"

  He straightened his robes, a newfound sense of purpose in his step as he descended the stairs and made his way out of the Outer Disciple courtyard.

  "And I'll need Spirit Stones. Lots of them."

  His destination was the Sect's Contribution Hall, a grand, stone building that served as the economic heart of the disciple body. It was here that monthly dues were paid and points were exchanged for everything from pills to weapons. Behind a long, polished counter sat a man whose face was as much a fixture of the hall as the stone itself.

  "Hall Master Luo Biao," Bi Kan greeted with a respectful nod, sliding his disciple token across the counter.

  Luo Biao, a man whose weary eyes had seen thousands of disciples rise and fall, grunted in acknowledgement. He took the token, his movements practiced and economical. "Monthly payment?"

  "Not today," Bi Kan said cheerfully. "I'd like to make a withdrawal. Twenty contribution points, please. Convert them all into Lower-Grade Spirit Stones."

  Luo Biao's hand froze. He slowly looked up from the token, his eyes narrowing as he finally took in the disciple before him. A flicker of recognition dawned.

  "Wait a moment. Bi Kan? Aren't you the boy who always scrapes by on the last day, practically dueling people in line for a single point to avoid expulsion?"

  His gaze swept over the token's glowing display, confirming the balance. His eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.

  "Eighty points… How in the heavens did a slacker like you acquire this many?"

  Bi Kan let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. The Hall Master’s memory was embarrassingly accurate.

  "Have you finally decided to take your duties seriously?"

  Luo Biao asked, his tone a mixture of disbelief and grudging approval as he began counting out the shimmering stones, their faint inner light pulsing in the dim hall.

  "H-Hall Master jests," Bi Kan stammered. "I've only just… been more focused on my own goals, rather than contributing to the sect's menial tasks."

  Luo Biao paused his counting and fixed Bi Kan with a deadpan stare.

  "Should you really be admitting that so freely? In the Contribution Hall? I could report you for such a sentiment."

  Bi Kan gulped, shaking his head immediately. "N-no! I didn't mean it that way! I just meant I'm choosing a more direct path to the top! A faster path!"

  The Hall Master raised a skeptical eyebrow, a faint, humorless smile touching his lips. "Is that so? And this 'fast path' of yours involves nearly getting kicked out every month? Enlighten me, boy. I am fascinated to learn how dangling on the edge of failure is a shortcut to success."

  Bi Kan’s face flushed. There was no argument to be had. To any outside observer, his journey thus far had been a portrait of pathetic inadequacy.

  "Tch, I came here for Spirit Stones, not a lecture from an old man who stands by his reception all day!"

  he grumbled, snatching the heavy pouch of stones from the counter. He stomped towards the exit, the jingle of the spirit stones a satisfying counterpoint to his frustration. Once outside, however, his bluster evaporated, replaced by a sigh and a wry laugh.

  "Hahh, he's right. What an idiot I've been."

  He made his way towards the main road leading out of the sect. His destination was a small town under the sect's protection, home to merchants and craftsmen who catered to the disciples' needs. The road was well-traveled, but the forty-five-minute walk was a journey through a grey area of jurisdiction.

  Within the sect walls, you were safe. In the town, you were safe. But on the roads between, where the sect's influence was a suggestion rather than a law, disciples with a grudge found their most precious opportunities.

  "Alright, a very soft mattress,"

  he thought, his senses instinctively sharpening as he left the sect's immediate perimeter.

  "Not too big, or it'll cramp the room even more." His thoughts drifted to Mei as he walked.

  Thinking about it now, she's lived with me for a month. Why hasn't she gotten her own room yet? Is the administration that slow, or is she just… comfortable?"

  The question hung in his mind, unanswered. The mattress wasn't just for him; it was a way to make their shared space a proper home, a place of comfort for the quiet, diligent girl who had become an anchor in his tumultuous life.