The dawn filtered a gray light over the high mountains of the Inner Sword Sect. Among the jade columns and stone pavilions.
Ren Aoi swept the backyard of the Inner Sword Sect for the thousandth time… or at least that's what it felt like. At seventeen, he had no illusions left that could be swept away along with the dust the wind accumulated each day.
The cut blades of grass, the dry petals of the cherry tree that never bloomed, and the arrogant footprints of the elder disciples were his usual landscape. Nothing bloomed there, neither flower nor future.
This same corner again...? I could sweep it with my eyes closed. Maybe I already do. Maybe sweeping is the only thing I do well.
The bamboo handle of the broom creaked with each movement, more worn than his hope. The wind blew lazily between the walls, and the overcast sky hung like a cracked roof over the sacred pavilions.
High on the mountain, where the jade roofs of the true disciples shone, swords cut through the air like lightning. Golden, blue, or crimson Qi rose with each martial shout. It was another world. One to which he had never belonged.
"Eight years... Eight years training, breathing, fasting, repeating the same movements like a puppet... and not a spark. Not a miserable tremor of energy. How is one supposed to enlighten if they can't even light a candle within themselves?"
Then, like an inevitable shadow, the mockery arrived.
"Look at that! The sect's sweeper is still alive!" a shrill voice blurted out. "Maybe he's about to have his breakthrough… to intermediate-level sweeper!" another added between laughs.
Ren didn't turn. He had already heard all possible versions of "useless." The voices changed, not the words.
"Maybe he should try some cleaning techniques. 'Dao of the Celestial Broom'… Sounds legitimate!"
The laughter faded away, wrapped in white robes and youthful arrogance.
Very good joke. "I wish I could erase them from the map," he thought as he picked up a withered leaf from the ground. He held it a moment. It was small, dry, and gray, and yet it was more alive than he was.
From his neck hung a copper medal shaped like a rusted bronze fox. It was the symbol of the «lifelong servants»: those who had not managed to awaken their Qi after years in the sect. A mark of shame. A sentence without bars.
He had entered at nine years old, like many orphans. His mother had left him at the entrance of the sect wrapped in a blanket embroidered with a lotus and a name: Ren. He never knew more. He never needed to know more. He thought cultivating was his destiny. That he had a purpose. That it was enough to wish for it.
But heaven had other plans.
His days passed in solitude. Sweeping, meditating, carrying buckets, avoiding the taunts, pretending he still had faith. They called him useless, trash, firewood without fire. The elders stopped talking to him years ago. Only chores remained.
Until today.
A rumor had filtered out the night before:
"You will be expelled"
First he thought it was a cruel joke. Then, that it was a possibility. Now, he felt it as a certainty.
And he wasn't wrong.
The call to the Inner Council arrived that same morning, cold as a knife in the back. It was the first time he had been summoned to that hall in eight years. He knew it wasn't to congratulate him.
He climbed the white stone stairs with slow steps, each step sounding like an execution drum. The upper pavilions had always seemed sacred, unattainable. Now they just seemed indifferent to him.
The Cutting Lotus Pavilion was ancient, decorated with paper lanterns that never moved and columns covered with sealed runes. Ten elders waited for him in a circle, wrapped in light blue robes. Some looked at him with pity. Others, with disinterest.
And one, Grand Elder Liang, with absolute emptiness.
"Ren Aoi," he said with a voice that sounded like stone breaking. "Eight years have passed since you entered the sect. Eight years without any progress."
Ren lowered his head. "Yes, Grand Elder."
"You have received training, food, shelter. You have occupied space, resources and the instructors' time. And what have you returned?"
Silence.
"Do you have anything to say?"
Ren swallowed.
"What could I say that I haven't already said to myself?"
"I have fulfilled all orders. I have practiced every day. I have followed the rules. It's just that... the Qi never responded to me."
A murmur ran through the circle.
"The sect is not an orphanage," grumbled an elder with a snow beard. "We cannot keep a rock waiting for it to turn into jade out of pity." "There are those born to cultivate," said another, "and those born to observe. Perhaps you should accept that you belong to the second group."
The Grand Elder extended a golden scroll.
"By unanimous decision of the Inner Council, you are expelled from the Inner Sword Sect. From this moment, you lose all your rights as a disciple. You will be allowed to keep one robe, your name… and one Common Spiritual Stone as minimal compensation. May you find your way… far from us."
Ren didn't cry. He didn't beg.
He just bowed his head and said: "I deeply appreciate the years that have passed."
That night, the rain found him walking down the mountain like a shadowless ghost. The mud reached his ankles. The robe, saturated with humidity, clung around his body, evidencing his state of poverty.
Hunger twisted his stomach, a sign of the prolonged lack of food since the early hours of the day. He had no destination, no home, no surname to take him in. He was nothing more than a loose name in a world that did not forgive the weak.
He stopped under a dry tree, where the hollow trunk offered some shelter.
"Is this all? After eight years... 'Is this all I'm worth?'"
He put his hand into the bag they had given him upon leaving. There was only a ragged robe and a common spiritual stone. Gray. Cold. Useless. Like him.
With both hands, he grabbed it with a force that indicated deep rage.
"Is this a mockery, heaven? A cruel joke? Or do you expect me to commit suicide to reincarnate with better luck?"
Then, the impossible happened.
Ren opened his eyes.
The stone vibrated. A golden line opened like a small crack on its surface. Light. Warm. Purple.
Ren let go of it with a jump. "What the hell?!"
The light floated in front of him. In the middle of that mystical fog, a flower: an ethereal six-petaled lotus, slowly spinning, with a floating rune at its center.
And then, the voice.
[Loading… Soul Imprint Synchronization… 86%… 97%… Completed.]
[Initiating Cultivation System — "Thousand Unions Lotus" (Shadow Mode).]
[Status: Experimental. Test Mission Initiated.]
Ren narrowed his eyes. "System…? What kind of demonic technique is this?"
A floating screen appeared, with white letters on a dark background:
Thousand Unions Lotus System – User Profile Spiritual Name: Ren Aoi
Age: 17
Current Status: Human without spiritual root (temporarily deviated)
Cultivation Realm: Zero Meridian (Inactive)
Open Meridians: 0/12
Qi Available: 0.02 units (residual)
Natural Affinity: ??? (sealed)
Dual Compatibility: High (Rank B+)
Emotional Resonance: Unstable
Mental Talent: High – Tactical Intellect (Latent Strategist)
Spiritual Load Limit: Minimum
Psycho-spiritual Condition: Stressed / In a state of prolonged isolation
System Observations: "Dormant potential. High level of emotional resistance. Curiously charming despite his misery."
Hidden Mission: "First Flame" Objective: Find someone compatible with your spiritual frequency. A complete union is not required: an exchange of emotional energy (gaze, touch, connection) will be sufficient. Time limit: 72 hours. Reward: ??? (Hidden) Tracking Status: Incognito.
"A mission…?" Ren touched the air, the screen trembled but did not disappear. "And the reward is secret? Not even a hint?"
[Fulfill the mission. Rewards are not given to idlers.]
"Are you a system… or my ex-master of the punishment hall?"
Silence again.
The lotus shone one last time… and vanished into his chest like water absorbed by the skin.
Ren froze.
He could feel it. A point of heat in his chest. Pulsating. Alive.
Qi.
Weak, fragile, like a spiritual fetus… but it was real.
And for the first time in his life, his body responded.
Ren leaned his back against the dry tree and laughed. It was not a joyful laugh. It was as if his soul had let out a hiccup, incredulous.
"So... heaven doesn't hate me. It just ignored me. And now… is it looking at me?"
He sighed long. A fresh breeze caressed him. The mud on his robe no longer bothered him.
"Seventy-two hours… a spiritual connection… with someone who doesn't hate me."
He brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes.
"I'm more fucked than before."
But he smiled. And for the first time, his heart didn't feel so… empty.