Sitting among the spectators on the elevated seating surrounding the grand Arena, I, Si Ming, felt the restless energy of the crowd seep into me. Excited disciples from the Dark Moon Sect chattered eagerly about the upcoming tournament. I remained silent, summoning my system interface with a flick of my hand, watching as its glowing window materialized before me. Navigating through the tabs, I opened the "Items" section. My eyes fell on the cloak I had received as a reward after slaying the world protagonist, the prince in that magic-infused realm. Without hesitation, I clicked "Equip."
Immediately, I felt the energy shift around me. The cloak molded seamlessly onto my body, and in an instant, my cultivation aura diminished, masking my true strength. "After killing the protagonist, my cultivation advanced to the third stage of Foundation Establishment," I thought to myself. "But it wouldn't do to draw unnecessary attention. Let's set it at the first stage." With the system's adjustments, my aura transformed—appearing no stronger than that of a cultivator who had just stepped into the Foundation Establishment Realm.
The crowd roared with anticipation as the Arena gates creaked open, yet my attention flickered elsewhere. Sitting in the lavish pavilion reserved for the sect's most honored figures was Saintess Fenyue, her nine glowing tails shimmering like celestial banners. Her fox-like elegance seemed to captivate all those around her, but her calm demeanor abruptly shifted. I watched as she flinched slightly, her gaze flickering to my direction. Though my cloak masked my true power, her sharp senses had caught a faint anomaly.
"What is wrong, Saintess Fenyue?" Elder Steel Cauldron asked, leaning slightly toward her from his seat nearby. His grizzled features were framed by an air of authority befitting an Outer Sect elder.
"Nothing much, Elder Cauldron," Fenyue replied calmly, though her gaze lingered for a moment longer. She then invoked a telepathic technique known as Spiritual Voice Transmission, a subtle art that allowed communication between minds without revealing intent to others. She directed it toward her maid, Shen Qingmei—a young woman with an air of quiet strength and late Foundation Establishment cultivation.
"Qingmei," Fenyue began in her gentle yet firm tone, "you once spoke of tales from an Outer Sect stable boy, did you not? When you lived as a Labor Disciple?"
Qingmei's face lit up at the question. "Yes, Saintess," she replied with eagerness. "You're referring to Senior Ming. When I arrived here as a new Labor Disciple, he showed me the ropes. He always told me the most fascinating stories!"
Fenyue tilted her head in quiet curiosity. "What kind of stories?"
Qingmei's cheeks flushed slightly, her smile softening. "Senior Ming spoke of tales lovers separated by destiny, fateful reunions under moonlit skies, and struggles to preserve love amidst chaos. They were unlike anything I'd ever heard. Could the saintess be interested in him," she said wistfully. "Though his cultivation was always stagnant—he seemed stuck in place despite his efforts."
Fenyue's eyes softened, and a shadow of remorse flickered over her features. "No. Thought it seems you hold your Senior Ming in high regard," she said, her voice tinged with empathy. "If you wish, I permit you to visit him after the tournament."
Qingmei's face brightened further, her gratitude spilling forth in a radiant smile. "You are too kind, Saintess. Thank you."
As Qingmei excused herself to seek out her senior, Fenyue refocused her gaze on the Arena as the opening ceremonies began. Despite her collected demeanor, her thoughts lingered on the mysterious figure she had sensed earlier, who masked his cultivation.
Back in the spectator stands, I watched the disciples gather in the Arena with keen interest. Their cultivation levels ranged from Qi Gathering to the brink of Foundation Establishment, their movements sharp and eager for competition. My lips curled into a faint smile as I closed my eyes, delving into my thoughts. "There was a time I could barely follow these fights, let alone comprehend their techniques. But now…" My fingers tightened reflexively against my knee as my confidence swelled. "I could challenge these competitors and even reach the top ten. That might earn me entry into the Inner Sect."
My musings were interrupted as a voice called out from behind me. "Si Ming, Senior Overseer Lin Fenghua has summoned you," said a young attendant with the sect's crest embroidered on his sleeve.
Frowning slightly, I rose to my feet. Lin Fenghua—a Task Overseer of the Outer Sect—was a strict superior under whose watch I had often worked. "Could this be about my disappearance? I wasn't gone for long…" My thoughts raced as I made my way toward the overseer's office, weaving through the crowded sect grounds.
Halfway there, I encountered an unwelcome distraction—a group of five disciples blocking the narrow path. Their leader, a burly martial artist named Lu Tianhai, smirked arrogantly as he spotted me. Behind him, his goons—Yan Chong, Wei Liang, Zhou Wen, and Ming Xue—snickered, their postures relaxed yet predatory.
"Well, look who we have here," Tianhai drawled, his arms crossed as he surveyed me. "Si Ming, the infamous stable boy of the Dark Moon Sect."
I rolled my eyes at the taunt but didn't respond, continuing forward without acknowledgment. Yet Tianhai was persistent, stepping into my path as his goons jeered behind him. "Still weak as ever, huh? I can't imagine how someone like you survives here. Your a disgrace to our sect"
The insults escalated, their tone dripping with mockery. My patience wore thin as their provocations grew louder. Finally, I stopped and turned to face them, my expression calm but edged with defiance. "If you're itching for a fight, then come at me. All five of you at once."
Tianhai's grin widened, his confidence unmistakable. "You've got guts, stable boy. Fine, if that's what you want—I'll cripple you right here."
Before the first blow could be struck, a sharp voice pierced the tension. "What is going on here?" Shen Qingmei stepped forward, her presence commanding as her Foundation Establishment aura flared. The group stiffened in recognition; though once a Labor Disciple, she was now a valued member of the Inner Sect and personal maid to the Saintess herself.
"You're lucky," Tianhai sneered, though his bravado faltered. "Hiding behind women now, Si Ming?"
I scoffed at the remark, stepping forward. "Who says I hide behind anyone? If you want a fight, I'll give you one. Let's spar properly, Tianhai—and I'll show you exactly where you stand."
Tianhai glared, clearly annoyed by my confidence. "You're really asking for it," he growled. "Fine. A spar it is. Let's see if your arrogance holds up."
As the group retreated, Qingmei turned to me, her tone laced with concern. "Senior Ming, why did you agree to that? Those guys are strong—you could get hurt!"
I chuckled, calling her by her nickname. "Silly Mei-Mei, who said I'm weak? Check again." I released a faint surge of Qi, enough to reveal my cultivation level.
Her eyes widened as she gasped in shock. "You… you're in the Foundation Establishment Realm? Since when?"
I smirked, shrugging playfully. "Your Senior Brother is a hidden genius who finally awakened his talent. Simple as that."
"Yeah, sure," she muttered, though her disbelief lingered. "Be careful, Senior Ming. Don't let them get to you."
"Don't worry, Mei-Mei," I replied, patting her shoulder lightly. "Just wait here—I need to meet Senior Overseer Lin. I'll be back shortly."
"It's fine," she admitted softly. "I asked her to call you for me anyway. We haven't caught up in ages."
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