The morning sun cut through layers of mist, flooding the outer sect's central courtyard. Stone banners rose high, carved with the sect's crest: a peak shrouded in clouds. Beneath them, disciples gathered in neat rows, voices buzzing like an endless swarm of bees.
"Today's the day—"
"Top three enter the inner sect. The rest… tossed aside."
"I heard Zhang Liang's been training with weighted armor. He's unstoppable."
"What about Mo Xuanyu? Will he faint before the first round again?"
Laughter rippled, but it carried unease this time.
Joshua walked into the crowd, his robe plain and patched, his expression unreadable. He carried no aura of anticipation, no nervous sweat, no bravado. Only silence.
Lucian, of course, strolled behind him with his usual ease, hands laced behind his head as though he were here to watch a festival.
Golden eyes glittered, sharp and amused.
The instructor stepped onto the stone platform, voice carrying across the courtyard.
"This is the quarterly challenge. Each match will be fought with wooden blades, qi reinforcement allowed but lethal intent forbidden. Victory comes when the opponent yields, cannot continue, or is forced from the platform."
He swept a gaze across the disciples. "Remember—strength is not everything. Skill, calm, and judgment win battles. If you lose control, you will answer to the sect elders."
His words drew mutters. Everyone knew that in practice, brute strength often crushed finesse. But Joshua's gaze sharpened slightly at those words—skill, calm, judgment.
As lots were drawn, disciples jostled to peek at the matches.
Lucian leaned lazily against a pillar, speaking just loud enough for everyone to hear:
"I'll say it again—my bet's on Mo Xuanyu."
Heads turned instantly.
"Still?"
"He'll be crushed in the first round!"
"Senior Brother Lucian must be joking."
Lucian smirked, unbothered. "Keep laughing. I like being right when everyone else is wrong."
Joshua gave him a sidelong glance, flat and cool. "…You're noisy."
Lucian grinned wider, satisfied. "You'll thank me when you win."
___________________________
The Opponent
The instructor called names.
"First round: Zhang Liang versus Mo Xuanyu."
The courtyard stirred.
"Zhang Liang? The biggest brute in the outer sect?"
"This will be over in one strike."
"Poor Mo Xuanyu. He won't even touch the ground before—"
Lucian whistled softly, eyes glinting. "Fate has a sense of humor."
Joshua stepped forward without hesitation, mounting the platform with calm, measured strides. His face betrayed nothing, but the ache in his chest throbbed faintly.
[Ding!]
[System Notice: Current vessel's fate line detected.]
[In every thread of destiny, Mo Xuanyu loses to Zhang Liang in the first round—crippled, humiliated, erased from memory.]
[Task update: Change fate. Survive this match.]
[Reward: +1 skill card, +1 soul fragment (minor).]
Joshua's hand tightened around the wooden sword. His expression did not shift. "…So be it."
Zhang Liang smirked across the platform, rolling his shoulders. "Trash like you should've withdrawn. But don't worry—I'll end it quickly."
Joshua raised his blade into guard position, eyes cool, posture steady.
Lucian cupped his hands around his mouth from below. "Don't hold back, Ghost! I'll cheer extra loud if you break his nose!"
The crowd laughed nervously. Zhang Liang scowled. Joshua only lowered his lashes, shutting out the noise.
The instructor raised his hand.
"Begin."