The storage warehouse behind the alchemy halls was one of the more isolated areas of Azure Sky Pavilion, a place where supplies were kept and servants toiled away from the eyes of more important sect members. The building itself was solid stone construction, designed to protect valuable herbs and alchemical materials from both theft and the elements. Thick wooden beams supported the roof, and small windows set high in the walls provided minimal natural light, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight within.
Li Wuchen had been sent here to reorganize inventory—a task that normally took several hours and provided ample opportunity for solitude. Today, however, his peaceful work was interrupted by the arrival of Chen Batian and four of his closest followers, all outer disciples who enjoyed the protection and reflected glory that came with associating with the Chen family's scion.
"Well, well," Chen Batian drawled as he entered the warehouse, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "If it isn't our famous servant boy, hiding away in the shadows where he belongs."
Wuchen continued sorting through bundles of dried herbs, maintaining the humble demeanor he had perfected over years of such encounters. "Young Master Chen," he said respectfully, offering a slight bow without turning around. "I'm just completing my assigned duties."
"Your assigned duties," Chen Batian repeated mockingly. "Tell me, servant—what exactly are your duties? Besides providing entertainment for your betters, of course."
The four disciples with him laughed dutifully at their leader's wit. Wuchen recognized them all: Wang Lei, the blacksmith's son who had barely managed to achieve outer disciple status; Liu Feng, a mediocre talent from a merchant family; Zhou Ming, whose family had purchased his position through generous donations; and Fatty Zhao, whose primary qualification seemed to be his willingness to laugh at Chen Batian's jokes.
"He's more agitated than usual," Wuji observed silently. "The spiritual disturbances from this morning have affected his cultivation, and he's looking for someone to blame."
"Something amusing, servant?" Chen Batian's voice had taken on a dangerous edge as he noticed what he interpreted as a smile on Wuchen's face. "Perhaps you think my question was funny?"
"Not at all, Young Master," Wuchen replied evenly, finally turning to face his tormentor. "I was simply reflecting on how fortunate I am to serve such accomplished disciples."
The response was perfectly respectful on the surface, but something in Wuchen's tone—a subtle confidence that hadn't been there before—seemed to irritate Chen Batian even more. The young master's eyes narrowed as he studied Wuchen's face, searching for signs of mockery or defiance.
"You seem... different today," Chen Batian said slowly, circling Wuchen like a predator stalking prey. "More confident. Less properly humble. Have you forgotten your place in the natural order?"
"I know exactly where I stand, Young Master Chen."
"Do you?" Chen Batian stopped directly in front of Wuchen, close enough that his cultivation-enhanced aura pressed against the servant like a physical weight. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've developed some rather inappropriate ideas about your own importance."
The confrontation was following a familiar pattern, but Wuchen found himself responding differently than he had in the past. Where previously he would have felt the familiar combination of fear, shame, and helpless anger, now he experienced something closer to calm analysis. He could see Chen Batian's techniques for what they were—crude intimidation tactics employed by someone insecure about his own position.
"He's trying to provoke you," Wuji noted unnecessarily. "But his real motivation runs deeper than mere sadism. He senses something different about you and feels threatened by it."
"Perhaps we should remind our servant friend about the proper relationship between disciples and their inferiors," Wang Lei suggested, cracking his knuckles meaningfully.
"An excellent idea," Chen Batian agreed, his smile taking on a cruel quality. "It has been far too long since we provided proper... education... about respect and humility."
What followed was unfortunately routine for Wuchen—a systematic beating designed to cause maximum pain and humiliation while stopping just short of permanent injury. Chen Batian and his followers took turns striking him with calculated precision, their cultivation-enhanced strength turning what would have been mere bruises for a normal person into agonizing trauma.
But something had changed. Where previously such abuse would have left Wuchen curled on the floor in defenseless agony, now he found himself absorbing the punishment with remarkable resilience. His enhanced physical condition, granted by his bond with Wuji, allowed him to remain conscious and aware throughout the assault.
More importantly, he began to notice details he had missed in previous encounters. Chen Batian's technique was sloppy, relying on raw power rather than skill. Wang Lei telegraphed his strikes so obviously that even an untrained observer could predict them. The others were simply following orders, showing no real commitment to the violence.
"They're afraid," Wujen realized with sudden clarity. "Not of me—they don't even know what they should fear yet. But they sense that something fundamental has changed, and it terrifies them."
"Still think you're special?" Chen Batian panted, his face flushed from exertion and anger. "Still believe you deserve anything better than this?"
For the first time in years of such encounters, Wuchen looked directly into his tormentor's eyes. "I think," he said quietly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, "that you're afraid of something you don't understand."
The simple statement hit Chen Batian like a physical blow. His face went white, then red, then white again as rage warred with an uncomfortable recognition of truth.
"You dare—" he began, raising his hand to deliver what would clearly be a killing blow.
But at that moment, the warehouse door burst open and one of the younger outer disciples rushed in, his face pale with panic.
"Young Master Chen!" the newcomer gasped. "Elder Wu requires all disciples to assemble immediately in the main courtyard. There's been an attack on the village, and—"
He stopped mid-sentence as he took in the scene before him: Wuchen bloodied and battered on the floor, Chen Batian standing over him with raised fist, the other disciples arranged in a circle like spectators at a gladiatorial contest.
"I... I didn't realize..." the messenger stammered.
Chen Batian lowered his hand slowly, his face cycling through several expressions as he processed the interruption. The mention of an attack on the village seemed to penetrate through his rage, reminding him of more pressing concerns than tormenting a servant.
"What kind of attack?" he demanded, his voice still thick with barely suppressed violence.
"Bandits, Young Master. Or... or something worse. Three more villagers disappeared during broad daylight, and there were witnesses this time. They described figures in black robes who moved like shadows and..." The messenger's voice dropped to a whisper. "And they say the attackers weren't entirely human."
The warehouse fell silent except for the sound of Wuchen's labored breathing. Even Chen Batian's followers seemed to recognize that the situation had suddenly become far more serious than a routine beating of a servant.
"This escalates more quickly than I anticipated," Wuji commented grimly. "Whoever is behind this grows bolder—or more desperate."
"We'll finish this later," Chen Batian said to Wuchen, but his heart didn't seem entirely in the threat. The news from the village had clearly shaken him more than he wanted to admit. "Come," he commanded his followers. "We have real enemies to face."
As the group filed out of the warehouse, leaving Wuchen alone with his injuries, the messenger lingered for a moment. "Are you... will you be all right?" he asked hesitantly.
Wuchen struggled to sit up, surprised by how quickly his body was already beginning to heal. "I'll manage. Thank you for your concern."
The young disciple nodded and hurried after the others, leaving Wuchen in blessed solitude. As soon as he was certain they were gone, he allowed his carefully maintained facade to drop, revealing the grim determination that had been building throughout the assault.
"Now they test us in earnest," Wuji observed. "The disappearances, the timing of this interruption—none of it is coincidence."
"They're forcing a confrontation," Wuchen agreed, rising to his feet with movements that were far more fluid than his injuries should have allowed. "Using innocent lives as bait to draw us out."
"Then we shall have to disappoint their expectations. They expect panic, desperate rescue attempts, predictable heroics. Instead, we will give them something they are not prepared for."
As Wuchen cleaned the blood from his face and straightened his robes, he could feel something fundamental shifting within him. The beating that should have left him broken and humiliated had instead served as a catalyst, burning away the last vestiges of the frightened servant boy he had once been.
"Let them come," he murmured, his hand moving to touch the concealed dagger. "It's time they learned what they're really dealing with."