The Outer Sect city awakened slowly, yet with the relentless energy of a living beast. The morning air carried the faint scent of sizzling street food, mingled with the metallic tang of the forge, the herbal perfume of cultivation potions, and the murmurs of students moving between the buildings like ants over an intricate anthill. The labyrinthine streets, stairways, and bridges crisscrossing between market stalls and dormitories made the city a maze for the untrained eye, yet a playground for those with perception sharp enough to notice patterns, rhythms, and opportunity.
Lu Mao's sharp eyes roamed over the rooftops and alleyways, drinking in every detail. Every shift of wind, every flicker of shadow, every footstep held potential. Today, the Outer Sect library awaited him—a treasure trove of martial arts knowledge that could shape the fate of any disciple, and he felt the first stirrings of anticipation crawl along his spine.
Li Xian, as always, appeared before them without a sound, her presence commanding attention even amidst the restless throng of students. Her eyes swept across the twenty-five new recruits lined up in the courtyard, lingering for a heartbeat longer on Lu Mao, as if measuring him against some unspoken standard. "Today," she began, her voice sharp and precise like a finely honed blade, "you will be introduced to the Outer Sect library. Each of you may select four martial arts manuals. One for stealing, one for combat, one for escape, and one for observation. Your choices will determine your edge in the upcoming group competition. Choose wisely."
Lu Mao's lips curved into a grin, though inwardly, his heart beat faster than usual. Finally, he thought. Books worth reading. Stealing, combat, escape, observation… a manual for every opportunity. And I intend to master them all.
Bao Fu groaned from the back of the line, dramatically flopping onto the stone floor. "You call this reading? I thought reading was… you know… peaceful."
Chen Yuan adjusted his satchel straps, whispering under his breath, "Focus, Lu Mao. This is not a game. Every choice here matters."
Yan Mei, quiet as a shadow, tilted her head slightly. "Do not underestimate these books," she said softly. "Every diagram, every word carries potential. Only those who understand can unlock it." Her eyes gleamed faintly, like a hawk surveying its prey.
The students followed Li Xian through twisting corridors, spiral staircases, and arched gates, each step echoing in the silent halls of the Outer Sect. Finally, they arrived at the heart of the city—the library.
The hall was vast beyond imagination, its vaulted ceiling adorned with ancient carvings that shimmered faintly as though aware of the Qi flowing below. Books floated gently above pedestals, and scrolls twisted midair like living things, whispering faintly with the secrets they contained. Enchanted lamps hovered in midair, their soft golden glow illuminating the titles and casting shadows that shifted subtly, guiding the curious—or daring—toward the knowledge that awaited them. Stone tables hummed with latent energy, drawing in ambient Qi and enhancing the focus of those who practiced near them.
Li Xian swept her arm across the library, her eyes bright with quiet authority. "This library is unlike any ordinary collection," she explained. "Each scroll, each book, has been approved for practical use within the Outer Sect. Some of these martial arts are centuries old. Some are lost in the outside world. Use them wisely. Take only what you are capable of understanding, and remember: knowledge is a double-edged sword. It will punish the careless, the arrogant, and the unworthy."
Lu Mao's gaze fell upon a thick, leather-bound manual pulsing faintly with energy, almost as if it were aware of his presence. His fingers itched involuntarily.
Li Xian's eyes flicked toward him. "That book… perhaps it has chosen you," she said softly. "But be careful. Martial arts knowledge can overwhelm the unprepared. If you are careless, there is no one to save you but yourself."
Lu Mao smirked. Perfect. He had always liked challenges that punched back.
⸻
The students scattered, each drawn toward the manuals that called to them. Lu Mao selected four that resonated deep in his instincts:
• Shadow Steps: Stealth, infiltration, and silent movement.
• Wind Fist: Rapid combat strikes, blending speed, precision, and Qi flow.
• Phantom Veil: Escape techniques, evasive maneuvers, and sudden retreats.
• Eyes of the Hawk: Observation skills, anticipating enemy movements, and refining perception.
Bao Fu flopped beside him, peering at the books with skeptical eyes. "You sure you're not just picking the shiny one?"
Lu Mao grinned, flipping through Shadow Steps. "Shiny, practical, and clever. All in one. Watch and learn."
Chen Yuan frowned, meticulously studying diagrams and annotations in his own manuals. Yan Mei excused herself, silently following Li Xian toward the girls' dormitory, leaving the boys to their devices.
Hours passed in a haze of practice. In the cramped dormitory, Lu Mao repeated the fundamentals from Shadow Steps over and over, his shirt drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from exertion. Step—pivot—glide. Step—pivot—glide. Each motion demanded precise control of his balance, his Qi, and his perception of space. One misstep could turn a silent glide into a clumsy stumble. One delayed pulse of Qi could ruin the rhythm entirely.
His soles grew sore, calves screamed, yet he pressed on. And then, without warning, something snapped.
A violent surge erupted from deep within his dantian, racing through his veins like molten metal. His muscles tensed as if invisible chains bound them. The walls of the dormitory wavered. Beds, lanterns, and wooden floors dissolved into darkness.
He gasped, clutching his chest. "What… what is happening?!"
The next moment, he stood in the abyss of his inner world. His familiar black-golden vein stretched endlessly before him, pulsating like a celestial river of molten metal.
And there it was. A vault, unlike any he had seen before, alive and thrumming with energy. Its door was ajar, and a swirling black vortex churned inside, bending the surrounding void. Fragments of his inner world were drawn toward it, as though the vault were testing him, daring him to step forward.
Instinct screamed to flee—but Lu Mao's feet remained rooted. I am not afraid.
The Wind Fist manual trembled in his hands, the pages rippling without wind. The vortex seemed to recognize it, drawing the knowledge into itself.
"No… it's pulling it…" he whispered.
The book dissolved into motes of light, sucked into the black void. The vault slammed shut with a deafening boom.
Agony tore through him, every vein, tendon, and muscle screaming in protest as alien knowledge poured into him. The Wind Fist technique etched itself into his mind, each strike, rhythm, and circulation of Qi burned into his bones and muscle memory.
Pain accompanied power. His chest heaved. Golden light flared in his eyes, illuminating the void around him. Every nerve screamed. Each strike imagined in his inner world became instinctive in reality.
The golden light fractured into shards, and the scream that tore from his lips echoed through the void before silence claimed him.
⸻
Morning light found Lu Mao drenched in sweat, trembling, yet alive and sharper than ever. Muscle memory, combat technique, stealth, and perception all settled into his body. He flexed his hands experimentally, grinning. I can feel it. I know it.
Before he could savor the clarity, chaos erupted outside. Chen Yuan grappled with Zhang Wei, a senior student, while seven others fanned out behind him.
Zhang Wei, scarred and arrogant, sneered. "Thought you could pass without showing respect? Outer Sect is full of insects. And insects must know their place."
Chen Yuan spat blood, glaring silently.
Lu Mao's instincts roared. He rushed forward, lifting Chen Yuan and raising his hand to Zhang Wei. "Enough! He's down. Step aside!"
Laughter rippled through the group of seniors.
"Leave?" Zhang Wei's voice was dripping with mockery. "Numbers speak louder than words, rat."
Lu Mao's gaze hardened. "Seven men against one injured recruit. What honor is there in that?" He shifted Chen Yuan's arm across his shoulder, preparing to retreat. "Step aside, or I won't hold back."
A subtle shift in the wind betrayed a hidden strike aimed at the back of Lu Mao's head. His body moved instinctively. A rotation, a slip, a counterattack—Wind Fist's newly assimilated technique flowed through him like water through a channel, his Qi condensed at his fist, and he struck a senior square in the chest.
The courtyard fell silent. The senior crumpled against a column, groaning.
Zhang Wei's eyes widened. He jabbed a finger at Lu Mao. "Impossible! You—days here… how—?"
Lu Mao leveled his gaze, calm, unshakable. "I asked you to let us go. You refused."
The seven seniors exchanged uncertain glances. None dared advance further.
Li Xian observed from the shadows, her expression unreadable. His speed, instinct, and precision… no beginner could achieve this. Who exactly are you, Lu Mao?
Yan Mei appeared silently, her focus on his fists, Qi still settling faintly around him.
Zhang Wei, forced to retreat, spat to the ground. "This isn't over," he promised, disappearing with his cronies.
Lu Mao exhaled slowly. Chen Yuan managed a shaky smile.
"You're full of surprises," he whispered.
"Surprises keep people alive," Lu Mao replied, grinning despite the lingering tremor in his fists.