The broken sword shook in Ren Fei's hands.
It wasn't shaking because he swung it too fast, or because it was some legendary sword that hummed with spiritual energy.
No, it shook because Ren Fei's wrists were weak, his arms were tired, and the blade was cracked in three different places.
Honestly, it was less "weapon" and more "shiny scrap metal."
It was the only remnant of his broken sect, the only thing his Master left him.
The morning sun hit the blade at a strange angle, making the cracks look like veins of fire running along its steel. Ren Fei's fingers tightened around the hilt, the pressure making his knuckles whiten. Every vibration of the blade against his palms reminded him of every failure, every weakness, every moment he had been left behind.
"Look at him," one of the mountain villagers snorted, his arms crossed. His eyes glittered with amusement, cruel and petty.
"Sect disciple, hah! He can't even hold a proper sword."
Another chimed in, laughing. "I've seen beggars at the city gates look more dignified than you. At least they don't pretend to be cultivators."
Ren Fei said nothing. His cracked sword lowered slightly as the crowd's laughter grew. He could endure insults, he could endure humiliation—he had been enduring for as long as he could remember. But each jeer felt like a hammer, striking against the fragile shield he called pride.
His sect used to stand in the Top of all Sects! Its name revered by all, yet here he was, powerless, unable to defend even a scrap of it.
A boy barely half his age stepped forward, puffing out his chest as if carrying the weight of the entire world on it. "Fight me, 'sect master.' Show us how mighty you are with your… toothpick." His hands crossed as he puffed his chest with a smug look, expecting applause for his clever insult.
The crowd roared with laughter again.
Ren Fei's jaw tightened. He could say something—maybe a clever retort, maybe spit in their faces—but what was the point? He was already half a corpse in their eyes.
He gripped the broken sword tighter. Its edge caught the morning light, glinting as if mocking him, reflecting shards of a life he no longer had.
And in that mocking shimmer, memory returned.
He remembered the night of fire.
The Azure Sky Sect—his home, his family, his everything—had burned.
The crimson figure who appeared out of nowhere, eyes blazing like suns, had shattered their gates with a single strike.
The ground trembled. Disciples screamed. Blood flowed like water down the stone steps.
Ren Fei had stood there, trembling, his sword clutched in both hands. He remembered the weight of his master's hand on his shoulder, the warmth and authority still lingering in that fleeting touch.
"Live, Ren Fei," the old man whispered, voice cracked like the broken sword in his hand. "Even if you crawl."
In his hand, a tattered sword—but he held it like it was the most important thing in the world.
"This is a treasure of Azure Sect! Treat it like a treasure!"
And then the battle swallowed them all.
Steel clashed, fire roared, screams tore through the night. His master's final stand flashed before his eyes again and again. The strong force of fire that shone like rubies struck his master's back. Blood bubbled up his throat and spilled from his mouth. The flash of crimson power obliterated everything, leaving nothing but ash and echoes.
When Ren Fei awoke, the sect was gone. Nothing remained but smoldering ruins—and him—crawling out from under rubble with nothing but a broken sword and a body that no longer responded the way it should.
He used to be an average student, but now, with his primordial roots ruined, he couldn't even swing a sword. He could forget ever cultivating again.
The villagers' laughter dragged him back to the present.
Ren Fei blinked, his hand tightening on the cracked blade. He wasn't a disciple anymore. He wasn't anything. The Azure Sky Sect was now ash and memory, but somehow he could not leave. The sect had treated him like real family. His senior brother and sister, who had laughed with him through their tired bodies from training, were gone. The laughter of camaraderie, the warmth of belonging—it haunted him more than the fire ever could.
"Pathetic," someone muttered. It felt like a sword struck him hard in the chest.
He wanted to deny it, to shout that he was still a cultivator, that he still had pride. But the truth pressed harder than any words he could summon. He was pathetic. He couldn't even muster enough energy to stop a farmer's child from mocking him. He just bit his lips and curled down his knees.
And then it flashed before him—
[Initializing Sect System…]
Ren Fei froze.
[Warning: Azure Sky Sect detected. Status: Smoldering Heap of Rocks.]
[Congratulations! You are now recognized as Sect Master. Population: 1 corpse (you).]
Ren Fei almost dropped his sword. "…What?"
The villagers, seeing him gaping at nothing, laughed even harder.
"Look at him! Can't even take a joke. He's gone mad!"
Ren Fei ignored them. His eyes darted around, but the glowing words hovered stubbornly in his vision. He tried to grab it but his hand passed through.
[Objective: Rebuild your sect, rise to the peak, and establish the strongest sect in the world.]
[Failure condition: Sect Master perishes.]
He let out a strangled laugh. What kind of sick joke was this?
"I'm being bullied by villagers and now the heavens are bullying me too. Wonderful."
If he could rebuild the sect, he would have done it years ago. But he couldn't even gather his qi.
The system cheerfully continued.
[Tip: Sect Master is advised to acquire disciples. A sect of one is technically just… loneliness.]
Ren Fei covered his face with one hand. He wanted to cry. Or laugh. Or both. He wasn't sure anymore. He couldn't even fight back against a farmer's child, and now he had to recruit disciples. Sure, that sounded easy on paper!
But deep in his chest, beneath the ashes of despair, a tiny ember sparked.
If this "system" was real… if he truly had no choice but to rebuild—then maybe, just maybe, he could rise again. Maybe the revenge he had always longed for was not just a dream after all. If he could find the people who ruined his sect, the people who killed those he considered his family… perhaps he could finally have justice.
[Failure condition: Sect Master perishes.]
His eyes darted at the same words again and again.
He remembered all his master's words. Words that flashed against him like fire: "Live, Ren Fei… Even if you crawl."
If there was a chance, he would do everything to rebuild his sect. If his crippled body could still move, he didn't care if he had to crawl. He would rise.
He would survive.
He would take back everything.