NOVEL NEXT Chapter 5: Wú Diàn.
The atmosphere of the banquet was completely ruined. The once lively hall now felt oppressive, with tension hanging heavily in the air. Guests shifted uncomfortably, their appetites gone, and conversation reduced to muted whispers.
"Young Lord Lei, please forgive my Azure Cloud Sect for our poor hosting. We hope this has not left you disappointed," the sect leader said, forcing a smile as he addressed Lei Ying.
Lei Ying remained seated, casually swirling the tea in his cup. "I'm tired," he said, his voice calm yet distant. He rose with an air of indifference, laughing softly. "I'll retreat to my residence for the evening."
As he turned to leave, the guests all stood, bowing respectfully. Many of the female cultivators in attendance watched him with barely concealed disappointment, their gazes lingering on his retreating figure.
Some even dared to hope for a chance to spend the night with him, though such thoughts were destined to remain fantasies.
"Xue Ling, see the young master off," the sect leader commanded, his tone sharp.
Xue Ling bowed immediately, preparing to follow. But before she could move, Lei Ying's voice echoed across the hall, stopping her in her tracks.
"Sect Leader of Azure Cloud, I believe you've misunderstood my intentions," Lei Ying said, his tone unhurried yet carrying an edge. "I did not come to your sect to take your daughter away. I was merely passing through. If my presence has caused so much trouble, I will ensure compensation is sent to your clan."
The hall fell silent. The sect leader's expression froze, his forced smile cracking slightly. Compensation?
Anyone familiar with the Lei family knew what such a statement meant. Compensation from them was less a gesture of goodwill and more a prelude to calamity.
The sect leader paled, struggling to maintain his composure. "Young Lord Lei, there's no need for such measures. Your presence is a great honor to our sect. Whatever misunderstandings have arisen are entirely our fault."
Lei Ying chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers through the room. "Is that so? Then let's hope there are no further... misunderstandings."
With those parting words, he turned and strode away, his white hair flowing like a cascade of snow. Xue Ling hesitated briefly before hurrying after him, her heart pounding in her chest.
The banquet hall remained still even after the doors closed behind them. Guests exchanged uneasy glances, and the sect leader finally let out a shaky breath, his expression grim. "Summon the elders," he ordered quietly. "We need to prepare... just in case."
Outside, Lei Ying walked with an unhurried pace. Behind him, Xue Ling struggled to keep up, her nerves evident in her trembling hands.
"You don't need to follow me any further," Lei Ying said without turning, his voice sharp and dismissive.
"But my father—"
"Sent you to please me," Lei Ying interrupted, glancing over his shoulder. His violet eyes gleamed coldly. "Yet you failed to conceal your emotions earlier. Go back and tell him to rein in his ambitions. Otherwise..." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "He may not enjoy the consequences."
Xue Ling froze, her face draining of color. Bowing deeply, she stammered, "I understand, Young Lord Lei."
As she turned back toward the banquet hall, Lei Ying's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. The pieces on the board were moving, and everything was proceeding just as he had planned.
Three months slipped by like a fleeting shadow, and the banquet's turmoil had long faded into whispers of the past. In that time, Lei Ying had grown intimately familiar with the intricate workings of this world, from its cultivation hierarchies to the hidden currents of power that shaped its fate. Yet, he remained patient, biding his time like a spider weaving its web.
He had his eyes on a specific prize—a long-lost inheritance of a powerful master. But such treasures were not his to uncover, at least not directly. Instead, he had a pawn, one perfectly suited to such a task: Yun Xiao.
The world's protagonists were creatures of destiny, after all. They defied logic, reconstructing shattered meridians and rising stronger after being crippled. Lei Ying knew better than to waste such a convenient tool. Keeping Yun Xiao alive had never been mercy; it was strategy. The boy would serve as his fortune-seeking puppet, paving the way to riches, power, and system points.
"Fate may favor you," Lei Ying mused quietly, a glint of cold amusement flashing in his violet eyes. "But in the end, it will serve me."
___
In the quiet courtyard of the Heaven's Pavilion Sect, a boy stirred from his sleep. Wú Diàn rose, his movements unhurried yet deliberate. After cleaning himself up, he picked up a broom lying in the corner of his small, dimly lit room.
Stepping outside, the crisp morning air greeted him. He paused at the threshold, stretching lightly, his gaze lifting to the faint streaks of gray painting the dawn sky. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, savoring the fleeting tranquility before the day began. When he reopened them, his demeanor shifted—calm, resolute. He began sweeping.
The soft rustle of the broom against the ground was rhythmic, almost meditative. Though his black robes were plain and slightly faded, they seemed to emphasize his solitary figure, the quiet strength in his posture, and the years of isolation etched into his being.
His movements were smooth and precise, every stroke of the broom a study in efficiency. Despite the menial nature of his task, there was an elegance in how he worked. Dust and debris seemed to gravitate toward a single point, as if obeying his will.
Wú Diàn, the Sky Tower's experimental disciple, had spent three arduous years at the sect. In that time, he had only advanced to the tempered body third stage—a painfully mediocre achievement compared to his peers. Those who entered alongside him had long surpassed him, earning their places in the inner court and forging ahead toward brighter futures. Meanwhile, he remained in the outer court, an unremarkable figure, grappling with his inadequacy.
Sky Tower School was notorious for its ruthless meritocracy. Strength dictated worth; the weak were discarded. It was a place where bonds were forged not out of camaraderie, but for exploitation. Rising meant stepping over others, sometimes literally.
Despite the harsh system, the sect's reputation was unassailable. Its disciples, honed through brutal competition, were feared across the Southern Dynasty. Yet its rules were as rigid as its hierarchy: disciples under fourteen were given three years to prove their worth. Food, shelter, and resources were provided during this trial period. Those who broke through the tempered body stage advanced to the inner court, where they could apprentice under elders and cultivate with greater guidance.
Failure, however, was mercilessly punished. Disciples who didn't meet the benchmark were either expelled or relegated to the humiliating status of experimental disciples. Such was Wú Diàn's fate.
For experimental disciples, survival was a daily struggle. The sect no longer provided for their needs, viewing them as liabilities. Few ever rose from this pitiful rank. But Wú Diàn refused to be crushed by the weight of his circumstances.
Though the odds were stacked against him, his resolve remained unshaken. He gripped the broom tighter, his gaze steely.
"I will not be Sky Tower's shame forever," he muttered under his breath. Deep inside, Wú Diàn nurtured a flicker of hope, a burning belief that one day, he would transcend his limitations and claim his rightful place among the stars.