The following morning, the sect bells rang loud and clear, echoing across the mountain peaks.

  Disciples poured into the central courtyard, determination buzzing in the air. The sect elders rarely gathered the outer sect in full assembly. But they knew why this assembly was being called.

  At the front, Elder Dhin stood in his gray robes, hands clasped behind his back. His face was sharp as stone, eyes sweeping the crowd like blades. When he spoke, his voice carried without effort.

  “Disciples of Azure Cloud, hear me. In two months, the Inner Sect Trials will begin.”

  A wave of unsurprised murmurs rolled through the crowd. Some fists clenched in excitement; others paled with nervousness.

  “The rules remain unchanged,” Elder Dhin continued. “Only those who have reached the Third Stage of Flesh Tempering may enter. The top ten will be chosen as inner sect disciples. Train well. Prepare yourselves. The sect does not nurture the lazy.”

  With that, he swept his sleeve, and the elders departed.

  The courtyard exploded into chatter.

  “Two months only?”

  “I’m still at 2nd Stage! Impossible…”

  “Hmph, then step aside. The inner sect isn’t for trash.”

  Li Wei lowered his head, blending with the tide of servant disciples. The inner sect disciple trial had little to do with him.

  Even so, his heart burned.

  He was only at the Second Stage of Flesh Tempering. However, with the ancient breathing method Cycle of the Mortal Zodiac Wheel steadying him, progress was no longer uncertain.

  That very night, under the light of the moon, Li Wei sat cross-legged in his small quarters. The bamboo scroll lay open beside him, its faded characters etched into his memory.

  He inhaled deeply, guiding his qi as the scroll instructed. Each breath sank lower, pressing the lotus energy into his bones and blood.

  Unlike the violent surges of other techniques, this one was patient, nurturing, weaving strength strand by strand.

  Sweat dripped from his brow.

  Hours passed.

  At last, he exhaled slowly, eyes opening with clarity.

  The qi in his body flowed smoother than ever, like a deep underground current.

  Li Wei flexed his hand, feeling the strength within. His lips curved faintly.

  At this pace, even if he wasn’t partaking in the trials, he’d still be catching up to those who were.

  ***

  “You dogs dare take food without permission?” sneered a young outer sect disciple, a tall youth named Hu Shaotian. He raised his hand, striking one of the servants across the face. Blood sprayed, and the boy crumpled.

  It was late evening time and three servants were cornered near the kitchens.

  The ones surrounding them were no mere outer sect disciples, but four of Zhao Feng’s friends. They weren’t Zhao Feng’s lackeys, mind you. These were talented youths from prestigious families whose abilities were a hair’s width away from Zhao Feng’s.

  Seeing how one servant had been slapped into unconsciousness, the other two begged. “Senior Brother Luo, forgive us! We were only—”

  “Silence!” Hu Shaotian kicked one hard in the chest. "Servant trash should learn its place.”

  The servants whimpered, curling on the ground.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Other sect disciples nearby witnessed the bullying, but turned their heads, unwilling to interfere. Zhao Feng and Hu Shaotian’s lot were untouchable.

  Suddenly, a shadow dropped from the roof.

  The masked figure landed lightly on the dirt, posture calm yet sharp. His voice, low and steady, carried across the courtyard.

  “Enough.”

  Hu Shaotian and the others blinked, then scoffed.

  “Ah, you’re the one Zhao Feng nearly caught that time.” Hu Shaotian’s eyes narrowed. “The so-called Buddha Mask Disciple. Zhao Feng told us how you ran with your tail between your legs last time.”

  Li Wei did not answer. His qi surged silently.

  Hu Shaotian sneered and lunged, his palm glowing with force. Li Wei slipped aside, his hand striking Hu Shaotian’s arm. A crack echoed. Hu Shaotian cried out, stumbling back, arm dangling uselessly.

  Gasps erupted from the onlookers.

  Hu Shaotian's friends charged. Li Wei met them without hesitation. His movements were clean, efficient. One fell with a strike to the ribs, another dropped from a sweep to the legs and a sharp jab to the chest. Within breaths, all four lay groaning on the ground.

  The courtyard fell silent.

  Li Fei straightened, his mask catching the moonlight. Without a word, he turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving stunned disciples behind.

  By dawn the following day, the entire outer sect exploded in shock again.

  “Young Master Hu Shaotian, Liang Wuji, Shen Xianfeng, and Cao Mengze… were defeated by the Buddha Mask Disciple.”

  “His strength is terrifying. Who could he be?”

  “If we knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation, idiot."

  Even the elders were forced to take notice.

  In Zhao Feng’s courtyard, the news struck like a hammer.

  “What! Hu Shaotian and the others were humiliated?” Zhao Feng’s teacup shattered in his hand. His lackeys trembled, heads bowed.

  “Senior Brother, everyone is talking about it,” one said cautiously. “They say the vigilante’s skill is already above the outer sect. Some believe he might be a hidden inner sect member testing the disciples…”

  “Fools!” Zhao Feng’s eyes burned with fury. “He is no inner sect member. He hides his face for a reason. And if his strength grows unchecked…” Zhao Feng finished in his mind—he will threaten me directly!

  He paced, hands clenched behind his back. Hu Shaotian and the others were his peers, their strengths close to his own. If they could be defeated so smoothly and effortlessly, then two things were certain. First, the vigilante had grown stronger—strong enough to threaten Zhao Feng himself. Second, that masked interloper possessed some method to counter his crippling art, Broken Wings, Never Soar Again.

  That was troubling.

  Broken Wings, Never Soar Again was no righteous-path technique. If the sect discovered Zhao Feng cultivated it, the consequences would fall not only on him, but on his entire clan. It was that very technique he had used three years ago to cripple Li Wei during the martial competition.

  Li Wei...

  No matter how unreasonable it seemed, Zhao Feng’s suspicions kept circling back to him—the Buddha Mask Disciple who appeared out of nowhere. That cripple… No. Impossible.

  …But what if?

  Zhao Feng clenched his jaw. The crippling art Broken Wings, Never Soar Again had been created by a demonic-path unorthodox ancestor of his clan. Though the Zhao clan publicly walked the righteous orthodox path, their true history was far darker than most realized. Dark... yet illustrious! That demonic-path ancestor had gained enlightenment regarding the crippling technique while undergoing tribulation to ascend to the Immortal Realm. Had he passed the tribulation, he would have become a knight, possessing a Copper Dao of unparalleled strength.

  Unfortunately, the tribulation exceeded his abilities and he succumbed to his injuries months later. Before dying, he recorded everything he understood about the technique onto a scroll. To protect the clan, he commanded his descendants to don the mask of righteousness and use the demonic art in secret to nip 'problems' in the bud—problems like cultivators whose potential could pose a threat to the Zhao clan in the Eastern Province.

  In the current era, only three Zhao clan members had mastered the crippling art.

  One was the current clan leader, the other was Zhao Feng himself, and the third was Zhao Feng's extremely talented cousin, a young man who was currently a core disciple of a sect even more illustrious than Azure Cloud Sect.

  At any rate, the fact that the Buddha Mask Disciple was able to survive the crippling art was worrisome. While Zhao Feng had not mastered the technique to its highest level, the fact a peer could take it head-on without being crippled was terrifying. He would have to send word to the clan to let them know about this. At any rate, the Buddha Mask Disciple had to be eliminated.

  “Spread word,” Zhao Feng ordered coldly. “I want every alley, every corner watched at night. He cannot vanish forever. I want his mask torn away.” In his mind, he thought: if it truly is Li Wei…then I will end him properly this time.

  The lackeys bowed deeply. “Yes, Senior Brother.”

  Li Wei moved more carefully after that incident, ending skirmishes quickly and vanishing before pursuit tightened. Yet the eyes around the servant quarters seemed to multiply. Despite his best efforts to hide his origin, evidently someone suspected that he was a servant. Too many questions were being asked, too many suspicions whispered.

  One evening, while he slipped back toward his quarters while masked, he felt it—a presence behind him, following. He turned a corner sharply, doubling back along the shadows. Through the thin slats of a fence, he caught sight of two figures whispering.

  “Are you certain it’s this way?”

  “Yes. Zhao Feng said the vigilante often disappears near these servant quarters…”

  Li Wei’s pulse quickened.

  So it’s Zhao Feng, he thought.

  He slipped deeper into the shadows, holding his breath until the spies passed. He slipped the mask under his shirt, but the narrow escape chilled him.

  Zhao Feng… he won’t stop until he unmasks me.

  The lotus in his dantian pulsed faintly, as if reminding him of the path he had chosen. The path of silent growth—hidden power. He exhaled, forcing calm.