Joshua sat cross-legged in his narrow room, candlelight flickering against the cracked walls. His breathing was steady, his palms resting lightly on his knees.
The body he inhabited — frail, weak, talentless — was not suited for cultivation. Mo Xuanyu had barely touched the first layer of foundational training. But when Joshua closed his eyes, instinct guided his breath, his posture, his flow of energy.
Threads of spiritual qi trickled in, faint but clean. His control was precise, steady. What Mo Xuanyu lacked in talent, Joshua compensated with unshakable calm.
[Ding!]
[System notice: Minor cultivation improvement detected. Current vessel — 2nd layer Foundation Establishment.]
[Progress: +2 points.]
Joshua opened his eyes slowly. His expression did not change.
"…Not enough."
The next morning, Joshua carried a training blade to the far edge of the practice field, where no one usually bothered to go. The mist curled between the pines, quiet enough that only the sound of his strikes filled the air.
"Your footwork's stiff again."
Joshua exhaled slowly. "Why are you here?"
Lucian dropped from the low branch of a pine tree, landing beside him in an easy crouch. His grin was infuriatingly bright. "Because you're here."
Joshua turned back to his blade. "Then leave."
Lucian ignored the dismissal, circling him like a curious cat. "That swing—too shallow. That parry—too honest. And your stance—mm, your stance is…"
Joshua's gaze flicked to him. "Do you even practice properly?"
Lucian pressed a hand to his chest in mock offence. "Ghost, please. I'm a genius. I don't practice. I dazzle."
Joshua said nothing, striking again.
Lucian leaned closer, smirking. "You know, if you glare at me any harder, people will start to think you like me."
The blade froze mid-air. Joshua's eyes cut toward him — sharp, dark, utterly unimpressed. "…Ridiculous."
Lucian laughed, tipping his head back. "See? Addictive."
For all his noise, Lucian's comments weren't useless.
When Joshua's stance wavered, Lucian nudged his foot lightly with his own. "Wider. Stop looking like a gust of wind will knock you over."
When Joshua's wrist stiffened, Lucian tapped the back of his hand. "Relax. Blades aren't scared of you. You're the one scared of them."
When Joshua deflected too much force head-on, Lucian tilted his sword in demonstration, his movements clean and deceptively casual. "Don't wrestle. Redirect. Like this."
Joshua followed, silent but attentive.
Lucian noticed, of course. His grin softened, his eyes catching a glint of satisfaction he didn't bother to hide.
"You listen," he murmured, low enough that Joshua almost didn't hear. "That's dangerous. I might actually make you strong."
Joshua stepped back, sword lowering. His voice was even, cold. "That would be your mistake."
Lucian chuckled, delighted. "Then I'll keep making it."
Nights blurred into days. The sect whispered louder now — not about trash or pity, but about something shifting.
"Mo Xuanyu's training late at night."
"Senior Brother Lucian's always there."
"They're hiding something."
Joshua ignored them all. His blade grew sharper, his footwork cleaner, his breath steadier. Each strike carved silence into form, a quiet defiance of every voice that had ever called him weak.
Lucian, of course, turned everything into a performance. "One more strike! Beautiful. Terrifying. Ten out of ten."
Joshua adjusted his stance, unfazed. "…Annoying."
Lucian leaned close, grin bright against the dark. "And yet you don't tell me to stop."
Joshua said nothing.
But his grip on the sword did not waver.
________________________________
Toward the Challenge
On the seventh morning, the courtyard filled with outer disciples, each carrying their practice blades and ambitions heavy on their shoulders.
The platform gleamed in the rising sun. The instructors stood ready.
Joshua adjusted his robe, tied the sword at his waist.
Lucian fell into step beside him, golden eyes glinting like fire. "Don't disappoint me, Ghost."
Joshua gave him a sidelong glance. "…I'm not here to amuse you."
Lucian leaned closer, voice dropping, almost sincere. "No. You're here to prove them wrong."
For a heartbeat, silence hung between them.
Joshua turned away, expression unreadable. "Let's begin."
The gong struck.
The quarterly challenge had begun.