As the morning incense rises, the wispy smoke disperses in all directions, awakening the novice cultivators who are not yet attuned to the subtle changes in the Qi energies to tell it was a new day. The fragrance contains a faint aura that gently knocks beside the ears of those still asleep.
However, for someone like Pi Guang, who is neither a cultivator nor the above of disciple levels who could read the pulse of the Qi energies or tell there's an incense raised, only the sound of the bell can stir him from his slumber.
At the first Snake Hour; the hour past sunrise, the great bell within the inner temple of the Guanzhaozong Sect rang, echoing loudly and for long, from the heart of the temple and spreading throughout the mountain gates.
Pi Guang's eyelids twitch, and he slowly opens his eyes. Two rays of sunlight pierce through the curtains, shining directly into his eyes and almost causing tears to flow.
"Damn birds!"
The roof is broken again. Those birds have somehow pecked out new holes above him again.
Within the sect, only his dwelling is made of fabric, neither brick nor tile. At the end of the day, he's poor, that's all. But at least he's still alive, able to move about within the Sect's temple, even if his movements are limited, and he's never been expelled from the mountain gates.
He still has some minor, insignificant uses to the Sect after all.
The scent of incense still lingered in the air right about sharp, like dried lotus crushed over flame. It wasn't for him, of course. It was for the disciples, those bright-eyed brats who could already read the turning of the Qi like lines on their own palms. Pi Guang couldn't even feel it. Not like them, not at all.
He sat up with a groan, scratching the back of his neck where a bird had left a smelly present. "Outrageous birds," he muttered, slapping the loose cloth that passed for his wall.
Outside, the inner courtyard shimmered with morning light. A few outer sect disciples were already stretching into their poses, legs wide, arms out, drawing Qi from the air into their meridians like they'd been born doing it. Show-offs.
Pi Guang stumbled to his feet and tossed on his only robe, some brown, patched cloth, unworthy of any peak. Still, it bore the faded emblem of Guanzhaozong Sect on the sleeve. That meant something. Even if the brats sneered at it always.
A sharp voice echoed from above the stone path. "Pi Guang! You're late!"
He turned and bowed lazily. It was Instructor Hu, an old cultivator with one eye and a tongue sharp enough to slice jade.
"I was meditating," Pi Guang lied. "On the mysteries of breakfast."
Instructor Hu snorted. "If sarcasm could form a golden core pill, you'd be a sect elder by now."
"Maybe I'm just waiting for my tribulation," Pi Guang said, eyes twinkling.
The instructor pointed his cane. "You'll get tribulation if you don't go clean the furnace room. Elder Jin burned through another cauldron last night."
Pi Guang sighed and trudged off, barefoot on cold stone.
They all thought he was useless. But the truth was, he hadn't always been like this. He had even existed before these men who are called Elders and holding canes. He once touched something deep, too deep. They never let him cultivate again after that day.
But one thing remained, he was bad luck. Even his own name meant something outrageous!
The alchemy furnace was located in a secluded valley behind the mountain, where the cold air condensed on the stones and the fragrance of medicinal herbs lingered. Pi Guang carried a broom, walking slowly and listlessly, when suddenly he heard a melodious bell sound from afar, followed by a series of transmission tokens that spread throughout the sect.
"All disciples, inner and outer sect, and miscellaneous servants, immediately report to the main martial grounds. Do not delay."
Pi Guang snorted and muttered under his breath, "Which elder's pill furnace exploded again?"
Just as he was about to continue sweeping, he heard an impossible voice -
"Pi Guang."
It was the voice of Sect Master Qing Zhouzi.
Pi Guang froze in place. His head lifted toward the path leading to the martial ground. Why was his name being called to the whole Sect?
He was nothing but a menial servant in the sect, an errand boy, a nobody. After over a century here, who would remember him? Yet now, Sect Master Qing Zhouzi called his name, in front of all the disciples.
He smiled bitterly, feeling a mix of emotions.
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As he walked out of the alchemy room and down the mountain path, he felt a sense of disorientation.
He had been at the Sect temple for over 120 years. He was not a gifted cultivator, nor did he have a spiritual root. He was known as a hollowshell and was only accepted as an errand boy due to circumstances. Everyone knew he couldn't cultivate, and his life was as fragile as a blade of grass. But about 100 years ago, he had touched something...
A fragment of a Heavenly Essence, and in an instant, his body seemed to return to its youthful state.
It wasn't a reversal of fate or a rebirth. He was still himself, just stagnant. Since that day, he hadn't aged or progressed, like a forgotten pawn in the game of time.
Those who had entered the sect with him were now Nascent souls and sect ancestors. Meanwhile, he was still sweeping furnaces and boiling water, unable to cultivate.
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He stood on the main stage, surrounded by hundreds of disciples, with Qi energy and energy patterns flowing around them. He, however, stood out like a sore thumb, wearing his tattered robe.
Sect Master Qing Zhouzi stood with his hands behind his back, his face as calm as jade, and spoke, "Pi Guang, from today, you...."