"Hah… it seems Aiva is more capable than I thought," Lin Chen mused, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Seeing Aiva's capabilities firsthand, he finally understood—cultivation, reaching higher realms, achieving things the original Lin Chen had only dreamed of… all of it was now possible.
"You can rest in peace now, soul of this body," he whispered, folding his hands together in a small prayer gesture. "I'll inherit your dream… and your name."
There was no guilt in his heart. He hadn't stolen a life—he had stepped into one already abandoned, a vessel left behind by a fading soul. This second chance wasn't theft. It was a gift.
And now… he is no longer useless.
"I should start planning my next step," he muttered, eyes narrowing slightly.
The answer was obvious: the Outer Disciple Examination.
Every two years, the Starfall Sword Sect gives its countless handymen a chance to participate. Most failed, of course, but for a few, it was the only path to rise above endless chores.
And now, with Essence Qi finally flowing faintly within his veins—even if it was thin as mist—he qualified.
Becoming an outer disciple wasn't about pride alone. It meant real benefits: a monthly allowance of spirit stones, access to proper cultivation grounds, and most importantly—no more menial chores.
No more hauling water buckets, no more sweeping endless stone courtyards, no more polishing the boots of arrogant inner disciples.
But there was an even greater prize.
Access to the Sect's Technique Hall.
The outer disciples weren't allowed to touch high-grade divine skills or profound-level manuals. But even the lowest shelves were stacked with basic techniques, simple body arts, footwork manuals, and incomplete sword forms—discarded by the elites, left to gather dust for decades.
To most, these low-tier techniques were trash. Why bother with scraps when a single divine art could dominate a battlefield?
But Lin Chen wasn't "most cultivators."
He had Aiva.
That changed everything.
"I don't need perfect techniques," he thought, his eyes flickering with excitement. "I just need pieces. Fragments. Raw data."
He could feed every discarded manual into Aiva's system, let the AI analyze, compare, and tear them apart—then rebuild them into something entirely new.
Technique synthesis.
It was just like back on Earth, where he optimized broken systems by combining inefficient tools into seamless solutions. Only now, it was martial arts.
Let others chase divine skills they'd never touch. He would forge his own path.
Besides, even a flawed technique, if mastered perfectly, could cut down a so-called genius who had never fully understood their "superior" arts.
"Aiva, can you do that?" Lin Chen asked, his voice almost testing.
[Affirmative. As long as sufficient data is provided, I can synthesize new techniques.]
A grin tugged at his lips. "Good."
***
After two days of rest and silent preparation, the day of the exam finally arrived.
Lin Chen stood before the cracked bronze mirror in his hut, adjusting the light blue sect robes he had scrubbed as clean as possible.
The fabric was still frayed at the sleeves, the color dulled from countless washings, but at least it no longer smelled of sweat and straw.
He exhaled, half-smirking at the thought—back on Earth, a washing machine could've handled this in minutes. Here, he had nearly seen stars just from trying to beat the dirt out of the stubborn cloth.
His black hair, trimmed short and carefully combed, gave him a more disciplined appearance than the messy mop he'd carried before.
His face was still ordinary—average, maybe even plain—but now there was a certain sharpness in the lines of his jaw and the clarity of his eyes. Dark irises stared back at him, steady and unflinching.
He looked… decent.
Not impressive. But presentable.
In any world, appearances mattered—even more than people liked to admit. If he showed up reeking like a pigsty, looking like an unwashed beggar, the examiners might not even let him in the gates, let alone give him a fair shot.
Cultivation world or not, image had weight. First impressions could decide whether you were given a chance or ignored outright.
Lin Chen understood that all too well.
He dusted off his robes one final time and took a deep breath.
He is nineteen now.
And that… was dangerously close to the limit.
According to the sect's rules, only those under the age of twenty could participate in the outer disciple exam. Once past that age, the gates closed. No second chances. No exceptions.
This was his fourth attempt.
He had failed three times before—when the original Lin Chen was still alive, desperately trying to prove his worth through sheer effort, unaware that hard work alone wasn't enough to awaken dormant spiritual veins.
Now, this body had one last chance. The final shot before the age cut-off sealed his fate for good.
If he failed this time, it was over.
He would have no choice but to pack his few belongings, leave the sect, and return to the outer world as a failed servant and try other things.
***
Lin Chen finally arrived at the outer gates of the Starfall Sword Sect. The journey from the servant quarters had taken almost an hour of climbing narrow stone paths and crossing mist-veiled bridges.
Unlike the core disciples who lived within the sect's inner sanctum, handymen like him were housed far outside, in the foothills where the land was rough and resources scarcer than respect.
The Starfall Sword Sect itself was an awe-inspiring sight, perched among towering peaks wreathed in drifting clouds.
Stone buildings and sword-shaped pavilions clung to cliff edges, while countless sword marks were etched into the very mountainside—remnants of countless years of sword cultivation. In the heart of the sect, hidden deep within the mountain's embrace, was a mysterious lake shrouded in silver mist.
It was said that long ago, a star had fallen from the heavens, crashing into that very lake. A nameless wanderer had witnessed it, received enlightenment, and forged a sword art from the falling star's radiance.
That man had become the founder of the sect, and the celestial event gave birth to its name: Starfall Sword Sect. That is the history of the sect which every disciple knows
Lin Chen stood before the outer courtyard where the annual exam was to be held. Dozens of handymen and a few rough-looking youths from surrounding towns had gathered, some stretching or meditating, others whispering nervously among themselves.
Most bore the same light blue robes as he did, though some wore theirs with arrogance, and others with quiet desperation.
Just as he was preparing to step forward, something smacked hard against the back of his head.
"Oi, trash. Didn't expect you to crawl out of your hole this year."
Lin Chen turned around slowly, already knowing who it was.
A familiar sneer greeted him—Ji Yan.
Like him, Ji Yan was also a handyman. But unlike Lin Chen, Ji Yan had talent. Not genius-level, but enough. At seventeen, he had already reached the second stage of Root Vein Awakening, which made him one of the strongest among the handyman ranks.
Strong enough to boss others around. Strong enough to make weaker ones do his chores. Strong enough to be feared.
And Lin Chen? He'd been one of those weaker ones.
Ji Yan stood with his arms crossed, flanked by two followers who grinned like hungry dogs waiting for their master to kick someone. His arrogant face was twisted into a smirk, his eyes filled with mockery.
"Thought you gave up after failing three times," Ji Yan scoffed, stepping closer. "Or are you just here to embarrass yourself one last time before they kick you out of the sect?"
Lin Chen stared at him silently, not responding. His heart was calm—unnaturally so.
The old Lin Chen would have lowered his head and endured.
But this wasn't the old Lin Chen.
He didn't speak. He didn't fight back. He didn't even glare.
He just looked at Ji Yan like he was garbage.
And that—more than anything—made Ji Yan's smirk falter for just a second.
"…Tch. Whatever. Don't cry when you get rejected again," he snapped, turning away with a scowl. "Let's go, boys. Don't wanna waste time near garbage."
As Ji Yan and his lackeys swaggered off, laughing among themselves, Lin Chen exhaled slowly and looked ahead toward the sect courtyard where the exam was about to begin.
*****
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