Several nights had passed since Li Wei rescued those servants, but the news was still travelling through the sect. He paid it no heed.

  Tonight, he sat cross-legged in the solitude of his quarters.

  The Heavenly Dao Lotus pulsed within his dantian, its light feeding his meridians with a steady stream of qi absorbed from the air. He guided it carefully, tempering bone and flesh.

  Each cycle of qi brought subtle transformations to his body. He could feel the walls of the second stage of the Flesh Tempering Realm already loosening beneath his progress.

  Far away, in the courtyard of the outer sect elites, Zhao Feng leaned against a stone pillar, listening to a group of disciples chatter. His sharp eyes narrowed at the mention of the Buddha Mask Disciple.

  It had been two weeks already, yet whispers of the masked fellow could still be heard. It was the talk of the outer sect.

  “I definitely think he’s a hidden genius sent by the elders to test us,” one of the disciples in the group said.

  “Yes. Surely he’s an inner sect disciple in disguise,” said another.

  Zhao Feng’s lips curled. He had not forgotten Li Wei, the boy he had crippled three years ago. The memory of that tournament was a badge of triumph to him.

  Yet now, these rumors unsettled him.

  Could it be Li Wei? he thought. He didn’t know why he thought this. Perhaps it was intuition, perhaps just paranoia.

  Impossible, he told himself. The boy’s meridians had been shattered beyond repair. He had seen it himself. And yet… some part of him whispered doubts.

  If it was not Li Wei, then who? A rogue cultivator hidden among the servants? Or perhaps an enemy sect spy?

  “Find out who he is,” Zhao Feng suddenly ordered one of his lackeys hanging around nearby. “Spread your eyes wide. I want every servant, every disciple watched. Smoke him out.”

  The lackey bowed hastily and ran off

  Zhao Feng’s fingers tapped against the pillar, a trace of irritation lingering behind his smirk.

  ***

  Two nights later, Li Wei was wandering the quieter paths of the sect in silence, something he had done for many years since his crippling.

  Nights like these, when he had no servant duties, he would walk to clear the weight of the day, to scrub out the jeers and humiliation branded into his mind. His experience after becoming crippled had showed him the true color of his own sect.

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  The Azure Cloud Sect was no place for dreams and hopes. It was a place for power alone. Power was value, and power made right. Weakness made you a subject of ridicule. Was Li Wei angry at his sect? In the past he had been, but then his anger faded as time went on. Not because he didn’t want to be angry anymore, but because he didn’t even have the qualifications to be angry.

  In the cultivation world, power meant one was free to express themselves. It meant you could laugh with joy, throw a tantrum if you were mad, or be a saint that loved the world. Mortals enjoyed these things freely, but cultivators did not.

  In some way, cultivation was a special kind of bondage, its shackles determined by your realm. When one becomes a cultivator, one starts at the lowest rung of a hierarchy of power whose ceiling they cannot even see.

  Within the world of cultivators, breathing too loudly could get you killed or crippled…

  “Why do I want to be immortal?” Li Wei murmured to himself as he strolled. This question was echoing in his mind when he suddenly found trouble. Not directed at him, but someone else.

  In the shadow of the supply sheds, a lone boy was pressed against the wall. His robes marked him as a new servant disciple, younger even than Li Wei. Four outer sect members loomed over him, sneering.

  “Hand over the pills you received.”

  The boy shook his head, clutching his pouch desperately. “They’re all I have. Please—”

  A slap silenced him, knocking him to the ground.

  The disciples laughed cruelly.

  Li Wei slipped into the night, and an angry Buddha mask slipped into place.

  He stepped from the shadows.

  The bullies turned, startled. “Who—?”

  Li Wei moved like wind. One palm, one kick, one punch, one sweep of his arm—their bodies hit the dirt before the question was finished, leaving them groaning on the ground.

  The boy stared wide-eyed, trembling. “Senior—”

  “Leave quickly.” Li Wei interrupted, voice low. “Don’t let them corner you again.”

  The boy scrambled up, bowing deeply. “Thank you! Thank you, Masked Senior!”

  Li Wei melted back into the shadows.

  By dawn, the sect exploded in excitement and shock. The rumors had doubled. The vigilante had struck again. Some claimed he was an avenging spirit, others a hidden genius protecting the weak. A few whispered darker tales, that he was building his own faction in secret. The four disciples Li Wei beat up tried to play it down, but their shaky qi and pale complexions fooled nobody.

  Within the elder’s hall, a white-bearded figure listened silently as reports were delivered.

  Elder Shen, head of the Investigation Hall, was not a man easily swayed by rumors. Yet the consistency of the stories annoyed and amused him in equal measure.

  “A masked fellow, appearing at night, striking down outer disciples with ease,” Elder Shen murmured. “How interesting…”

  He dismissed the messenger and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

  If the vigilante was truly a rogue cultivator hiding in the sect, it actually posed danger. If he was a disciple concealing his strength, it hinted at ambition beyond the rules. Either way, the matter, interesting or not, demanded investigation.

  “Shadow guards,” Elder Shen said quietly. “Begin watching the outer sect at night. This masked one will reveal himself again. When he does, I want his name.”

  His gaze turned toward the mountains beyond the window.

  Several days later, Li Wei sat with Xian Lan outside the servants’ quarters, sharing a small flask of weak wine.

  “Have you heard?” Xian Lan said, grinning. “The masked vigilante appeared again. They say he flew through the air like a hawk and knocked four men unconscious in a single strike.”

  Li Wei chuckled softly, hiding his amusement behind the cup. “People exaggerate quickly.”

  “Exaggerate?” Xian Lan shook his head. “Even so, I like him. At least someone is standing up for the weak.” His eyes hardened. “If I ever meet him, I’ll thank him myself.”

  Li Wei’s smile faded slightly. He wanted to tell his friend the truth, but he could not. The fewer who knew, the safer it would be.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t seek thanks,” Li Wei said.

  Xian Lan raised a brow. “You speak as if you know him.”

  Li Wei only shook his head, gaze drifting to the distant peaks. “I only know… sometimes, a mask is the only way to fight without being crushed.”

  Xian Lan studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. “Whoever he is, I hope he keeps it up. The sect needs someone like that.”