The morning sun threaded pale gold through the pines, painting the training grounds in a gentle haze. Jin Kang was already awake, pacing the inner courtyard of the Cloud Peak Sect. He mimicked stretches and clumsy sword swings, all to reinforce his image as "average." But beneath the awkward exterior, Jin Kang's body responded with ease and precision—a constant, quiet rush, like a secret river running through each muscle.
He watched as disciples filtered in, their robes fluttering, ambitions shining keen in their eyes.
Lin Mei arrived first, of course.
She moved with a dancer's grace, jaw set in a determined line. Jin admired how she always assumed command—not through loud words, but through expectation. When she stood in front of the seniors, even they watched her for cues.
"Are you planning to trip again today, Jin Kang?" Lin Mei's voice was teasing, but not unkind. Her sword rested easily on her shoulder.
Jin bowed low, suppressing the urge to laugh outright. "That's my specialty. If I ever become famous, it'll be for the art of falling down."
"Don't get too comfortable at the bottom." Lin Mei cocked her head, scrutinizing. "Sometimes people surprise you—from unexpected places." She glanced away, hiding a faint smile.
Just then, Yu Xinyi burst in, sunlight catching in her hair as she carried the healer's kit—her badge as the caretaker of the group. She greeted the crowd with her usual warmth.
"Good morning, Lin Mei! Jin Kang, you're early. Did you finally learn to set an alarm?"
Jin winked. "You know, waking up is a talent. I might master it in this lifetime."
Yu rolled her eyes playfully. "If you do, I'll host a parade." She turned to Lin Mei, who she admired openly. "Lin Mei, can you show me that sword technique again today? I want to use it for the junior class."
Lin Mei nodded, appreciating Yu's eagerness. "After breakfast, meet me at the old pavilion."
As the group broke up, Jin Kang felt the complexity of their relationships settling into rhythm. Lin Mei's authority balanced Yu Xinyi's warmth. Together, they shaped the culture of Cloud Peak, and Jin Kang—pretending to be clumsy—fit right in.
Sparring began.
Jin selected a battered sword, careful to grip it in the "wrong" way, but secretly mapping every flaw in the weapon. Across the yard, Lin Mei demonstrated movements with impossible precision; her strikes were poetry, her discipline awe-inspiring. Younger disciples tried to mimic her but stumbled, often ending on the ground.
Yu Xinyi watched, concern blooming every time someone fell. She moved from pair to pair, offering bandages and soft encouragement.
Jin Kang took his turn, wobbling through basic forms. He felt Lin Mei's gaze on him, sharp but curious. Was she searching for something he had by accident revealed?
System Prompt: Mask maintained.
Concealment skill increased.
Small chance of Lin Mei's suspicion—engage in a distracting conversation.
He stumbled dramatically, landing in a heap. Yu Xinyi giggled, rushing to help.
"Are you hurt—or was that another one of your special moves?"
Jin grinned, taking her offered hand. "I call it 'The Rolling Cloud.' Advanced technique, not yet in the manuals."
Lin Mei couldn't stifle a laugh, and even Grandmaster Shen—patrolling the edge—smirked for a moment.
But Jin noticed something else. Zhao Long, the top-ranking male disciple, was watching him, lips twisted in disdain.
Zhao strode over, sword glittering. "If rolling's all you can do, why bother attending?"
Jin shrugged, playing along. "Rolling is the future of cultivation. You should try it—very, uh, spiritual."
Zhao scoffed, turning to Lin Mei. "I'll show the group how a real swordsman trains."
He performed a flurry of cuts, each perfect—but Jin could see every tiny flaw: the lack of flow in his wrist, the overextension. Jin's eyes flashed behind deadpan humor.
I could correct him, outshine him—make the whole sect see through me.
But the system pinged softly, reminding him: Hide, for now.
Zhao finished with a flourish, tossing his sword to Jin. "Show us you can even lift this."
Jin almost revealed himself, the urge sharp. But he played dumb, wobbling as he hefted the blade, barely managing a simple swing. The crowd snickered.
Zhao's ego puffed up. "See? That's the gap talent makes." Lin Mei looked unimpressed, glancing away. Yu Xinyi made a face at Zhao when he wasn't watching.
Jin Kang smiled inside. If only they knew.
After sparring, Jin joined Yu Xinyi at the pavilion. She sat cross-legged, preparing salves.
"You know, you're popular with the juniors," she said, glancing up. "They laugh with you, not at you. Maybe that's your real talent."
Jin smiled. "If laughter could win duels, I'd be a sect master."
She poked his knee. "Don't sell yourself short. I've seen you move. Sometimes, just for a split second, you look… skilled. More than you let on."
Jin's heart thudded. "Maybe I get lucky."
Yu accepted this with a playful shrug. Jin watched her grind herbs, the acts soothing. "Do you ever wish you were stronger, Xinyi?"
She paused, considering. "Not really. I want to help people. Strength is nice, but kindness fixes more than swords ever could."
Jin felt a warmth—gratitude, connection. His mask protected him, but Yu Xinyi's spirit was its own armor.
System Achievement: Bond deepened.
New skill unlocked: Healing Breath (Minor).
He exhaled slowly, feeling a rush of restorative Qi. Another hidden talent—unseen, unadvertised.
Noon approached, and the senior disciples gathered for a routine test. Grandmaster Shen announced it—the "Qi Pulse Challenge." Disciples would channel Qi into a crystal; the results determined inner circle advancement.
Lin Mei stepped forward first. The crystal flashed vibrant purple—highest in the group, as expected.
Zhao Long followed, channeling force. The crystal flared blue, respectable but not unprecedented.
Yu Xinyi approached hesitantly. The crystal glowed green—a gentle, sustaining energy.
Grandmaster glanced at Jin Kang. "Your turn, Jin."
Around him, disciples chuckled. Even Lin Mei raised an eyebrow.
Jin stepped forward, embarrassed. If he poured his true Qi in, he'd shatter the crystal or raise suspicions. He focused instead on just a trickle—enough to register, not enough to shine.
The crystal flickered, barely green, almost gray.
Zhao Long snickered. "I guess someone has to be last."
Lin Mei gave Jin an enigmatic look. "Well, improvement comes from persistence, not talent."
Grandmaster Shen, however, paused. His sharp gaze lingered a moment too long—did he sense something beneath the surface?
System Prompt: Mask effective.
Grandmaster's suspicion: 15%
Recommendation: Maintain status, avoid unusual breakthroughs.
Jin nodded. "Thank you, Master."
He retreated, shoulders low but spirit high. As the crowd dispersed, Jin glanced at Lin Mei, taking in the confidence and underlying loneliness. To Yu Xinyi, he offered a sincere smile—the comfort of genuine friendship. To Zhao Long, he reserved a secret amusement: the thrill of eventually turning the tables.
Dusk returned to Cloud Peak, painting the world in shadow and gold. Jin Kang sat on his courtyard bench, eyes closed, feeling the flow of Qi and the weight of both his abilities and his chosen mask.
Lin Mei passed by, arms folded. She paused, then sat beside him. For the first time, she didn't posture or tease.
"You really don't care about rankings, do you?"
Jin shrugged. "Maybe I do. I just think there's more to life than being at the top."
Lin Mei studied him. "I used to think only strength kept me safe. Now… I'm not so sure. Sometimes, I wish I could laugh as easily as you."
Jin smiled, candid. "Then let's laugh, Lin Mei. Even if it's just tonight. For tomorrow, we can be strong again."
She chuckled, surprised and almost charmed.
Not far away, Yu Xinyi called out. "You two look dour! Come eat before old Han finishes the stew!"
Jin Kang stood, stretching. The sect was alive with drama and laughter, rivalry and hope.
He joined his friends, ready for another day of hiding, living, and subtly shaping the destiny of Cloud Peak.
System Reminder: Remain underestimated.
True growth comes not from what others see, but from what you choose to reveal.
Jin Kang faded into the crowd—not with defeat, but with quiet power and the promise that one day, under mask and moon, he would show everyone exactly what legends looked like.