The next morning, the outer disciples gathered to haul water casks from the mountain spring — menial work reserved for those too weak to train with the inner sect.
Joshua carried a bucket in each hand, steps steady despite Mo Xuanyu's frail body. The murmurs trailed behind him as always.
"Look, it's him again."
"Probably going to spill it before reaching the courtyard."
"Senior Brother said he's useless trash — lucky even to be alive."
Joshua's expression didn't flicker. His thin wrists strained faintly against the weight, but his movements never wavered.
Halfway back to the sect, a foot shot out suddenly, hooking his ankle.
The world tilted. One of the buckets slipped, water sloshing across the stone path.
Laughter erupted. "See? I told you he'd trip!"
Joshua caught himself on the edge of the second bucket, body tense but steady. His eyes rose, cool and unblinking, to the culprit — a broad-shouldered disciple smirking at him, arms crossed.
"Oops," the man drawled. "Didn't see you there, Mo Xuanyu."
Joshua straightened, silent, his face expressionless.
The bully smirked wider. "What? Not even going to cry about it? Pathetic as always—"
"Pathetic? Hah. I think you mean tragic."
The voice cut in like a blade wrapped in laughter.
Every head turned.
Lucian strolled up the path with his hands behind his head, a grin easy on his face, his golden eyes dancing with mischief. He stopped beside Joshua, glanced at the spilled water, then at the bully.
"Really?" Lucian said, mock-serious. "Picking fights with someone carrying buckets? That's the peak of your courage?"
The bully stiffened. "Senior Brother Lucian, this has nothing to do with you—"
Lucian gasped theatrically, hand to his chest. "Nothing to do with me? You wound me. This little ghost is my new… Ah, what should I call him… entertainment? Project? Pet rock?"
Joshua's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "…Pet rock?"
Lucian beamed. "See? He talked. Already progress."
The disciples around them exchanged stunned looks. The golden-eyed senior of Cloud Peak Sect… defending Mo Xuanyu?
The bully scowled. "Senior Brother, you're joking, right? Why waste time on trash like him?"
Lucian sighed, shaking his head. "Tsk. Trash? If you're going to call him names, at least be creative. Ghost, maybe. Cold beauty, if you're bold. But trash?"
Before the man could retort, Lucian suddenly shifted — grabbing the two buckets still on the ground, balancing them on one arm like they weighed nothing. With his free hand, he plucked Joshua's fallen ladle from the dirt, twirling it dramatically like a sword.
"Behold," Lucian declared loudly enough for everyone to hear, "the glorious bucket knight! Protector of silent ghosts and terror of water thieves!"
Even Joshua blinked at him.
The bully flushed red, fists clenched. "You—!"
But Lucian was already walking off with Joshua's buckets, striding as if he'd just won a great duel. "Come on, Ghost, keep up! Don't let your knight do all the work."
The disciples burst into laughter — some at Lucian's ridiculousness, some at the bully's dark scowl.
Joshua followed, his steps calm as always. When they reached the courtyard, Lucian set the buckets down with a flourish, as though delivering priceless treasure.
He turned expectantly. "Well? Don't I get something for my heroic performance?"
Joshua's gaze was flat, cold. "…Thank you."
Lucian froze. Then a grin spread over his face, bright and shameless. "Ah! He said it! He thanked me! Do you hear that, world? My ghost can speak two whole words!"
Several passing disciples stared. Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose. "…Noisy."
Lucian leaned closer, grin undiminished. "Careful. Keep thanking me, and I might get addicted."
Joshua's eyes narrowed slightly — but he didn't walk away.
By nightfall, rumours spread like wildfire.
"Did you see Senior Brother Lucian carrying Mo Xuanyu's buckets?"
"He called him his project. Or maybe his pet? No, someone said he called him a ghost."
"Whatever it is… he's following him everywhere."
Whispers trailed through the outer disciple quarters, half mocking, half bewildered. Why would one of the sect's brightest talents waste time on cannon fodder?
Joshua ignored them. He sat quietly in his room, candlelight flickering over his sharp eyes.
Outside, Lucian's laughter drifted faintly through the night.
For reasons Joshua couldn't name, the sound lingered in his chest long after silence returned.