The Cloud Peak Sect was restless. The approach of the Spring Duel—a test where younger disciples competed for glory, advancement, and favor—charged the air for days. Jin Kang awoke before dawn, silence broken only by the soft tap of rain on tiles and the murmurs of anticipation drifting from nearby halls.
Jin hadn't meant to care about the duel. Competing would risk exposure. But the sect elders made participation compulsory for all disciples not ranked in the top five. Instead of anxiety, Jin felt a strange thrill—would he stub his toe in front of dozens to keep his cover, or step lightly into legend, just for a moment?
He washed up, donned his plainest robe, and slipped out into the sideways rain.
***
The courtyard bustled, umbrellas bobbing between groups. Lin Mei stood tall by the tournament board, her discipline unwavering despite the damp. Her eyes met Jin Kang's, narrowing with the delicate confusion of someone trying to solve a puzzle she didn't know was a puzzle.
"Ready for the duel, Jin Kang?" Her tone was mostly teasing, partly sincere.
"I'm ready to trip. The mud will cushion my fall," Jin replied, grinning. He pretended to wobble on a loose stone, earning a little smile from Lin Mei.
Yu Xinyi hurried up, clutching her healer's kit, concern etched across her forehead. "Jin, don't get hurt trying to impress the judges. If you do, I'll drag you back myself."
Jin winked as comfort. "If I survive today, I'll become the sect legend. Famous for rolling, not for fighting."
"You're already famous." Yu teased. "Legend of the Rolling Cloud."
Lin Mei snorted. "If they ever create a technique for dodging blows by accident, you'll be invincible."
Jin enjoyed the banter—in moments like these, it was easy to forget anything else. But as the duel's lineup was posted, he caught Zhao Long's eyes, bright and sharp as a hunting hawk.
***
Zhao Long was everything Jin Kang pretended not to be—tall, handsome, and surrounded by admirers. When his name was announced as the first to duel, a hush fell. His opponent lost in three moves, and Zhao walked off, sword whistling in the air, gaze swinging to Lin Mei.
She clapped her approval and Jin Kang saw the flash in Zhao's eyes—a little too interested, a little too proud.
Jin's turn came sooner than he hoped. The judges called his name, and the crowd quieted, some snickering, a few tender-hearted souls rooting for him out of pity.
His opponent was Hui, a junior disciple. Hui grinned nervously, clearly used to the rumors of Jin Kang's incompetence.
The match began.
Jin Kang staggered forward, keeping his center of balance just off enough to appear fragile. His opponent darted, cautious, expecting an easy win.
But Jin, without thinking, spotted the flaw in Hui's stance—a telegraphed wrist, a foot planted an instant too slow.
*System Prompt: Mask skill high. You may win with "lucky" technique.*
Jin waited until the decisive moment, then "fell" forward, stumbling his way under Hui's attack. His shoulder bumped into Hui's chest—just hard enough, with the right twist, to topple him. The crowd gasped, then howled with laughter. Hui landed face-first in mud.
Jin scrambled up as if confused. "Sorry! Are you okay?"
The judges, seeing no rule violation, declared Jin the winner. Lin Mei laughed behind her hand. Yu Xinyi cheered. Zhao Long frowned, glancing between Jin and the judges as if recalculating.
Jin bowed, feeling a pulse of satisfaction—and another system message:
> Mask maintained! Skill upgrade: Lucky Dodge (Intermediate)
***
Between duels, Jin watched the crowd, picking up more than rivalry. Lin Mei moved among the juniors, offering tips. Yu Xinyi patched cuts, comforted losers, and giggled with Jin about his "secret arts."
As Jin wandered by the edge of the courtyard, Elder Han, the comic master, waved him over with a crooked grin.
"You're the talk of the sect, Jin Kang! Never seen anyone win by falling twice." The old man winked. "When the time comes, don't fall behind—in any sense."
Jin bowed, hiding his amusement. "I only fall forward, Elder Han."
The old master chuckled, but then, softer, he offered wisdom. "Strength isn't about swinging a sword. It's about what you carry, and how you carry it."
Jin Kang reflected on that all day, especially between rounds. Could he truly carry this mask forever? Or would he need to reveal his strength one day to protect those who actually cared?
***
By afternoon, Jin was up for his quarter-final duel. This time, his opponent trained harder—Rui, a boy who practiced day and night. Rui opened with a rapid dash, aiming to overwhelm Jin with speed.
Jin, acting nervous, mis-stepped on purpose, dodged barely, let Rui graze his sleeve. The crowd oohed and aahed—Jin stumbled again, grabbed Rui's arm to "steady himself," and caused Rui to mis-aim. Jin pushed softly, and Rui tripped himself.
Again, Jin won by "accident." The crowd's laughter grew: some thought he was the luckiest fool, others were beginning to wonder.
Lin Mei approached, curiosity lit behind her calm.
"Is it all chance with you, Jin Kang? You never seem scared, even when you lose."
Jin's voice was gentle. "I just… don't want to be caught up in expectations. I like watching, laughing… helping, where I can."
Lin Mei studied him, less teasing than usual. "Strength isn't just power, you know. Sometimes it's patience. Sometimes, kindness."
Jin nodded. "I believe that." He caught a glimpse of Yu Xinyi, who was helping a young disciple learn how to wrap a bandage. Her gentle laughter soothed everyone around.
System message flashed:
> Bond Progress: Lin Mei—Intrigue. Yu Xinyi—Affection.
> Mask Level: Unbeatable Luck unlocked.
***
Then came finals. Zhao Long waited, spinning his sword by his side. The courtyard's energy peaked, all eyes now on the outcome.
"Try not to trip this time," Zhao called, voice sharp.
Jin Kang controlled his breathing. He let the nervous facade dominate, waited for the right moment.
Zhao pressed, powerful, attacks calculated. Jin stayed just ahead of each strike, barely escaping, never countering—until Zhao overextended.
In a single, "clumsy" motion, Jin swept his own foot under Zhao's leg, sending him off-balance. With a twist, Jin spun and pretended to stumble, ramming shoulders with Zhao and sending both of them sprawling.
The crowd was stunned. Jin recovered first and, apologetic, helped Zhao up.
"Maybe I should start training in rolling arts," Zhao muttered, red-faced.
Judges hesitated, then cheered for Jin's "unique" victory.
Lin Mei broke into laughter, and Yu Xinyi gave him a thumbs-up. Elder Han roared with delight.
Jin sensed something—a shift in the air. Some disciples looked at him as more than a fool; others admired his humility. Even Zhao Long's glare softened, replaced with grudging respect.
System message:
> Major Mask Victory! Reward: Qi Control (Intermediate).
> New Mission: Prevent Lin Mei or Zhao Long from finding out your true strength in the next sect test.
***
That evening, Jin Kang sat beneath the pines, watching lanterns flicker as dusk fell.
Lin Mei joined him, uncharacteristically quiet.
"You surprised me today, Jin Kang. I used to think you were hiding from challenge. Now I wonder if you're just hiding something else. Something good."
Jin's heart thudded. He wanted to tell her the truth. But he remembered every novel he'd read—heroes who lost everything just by revealing too much, too soon.
"I guess everyone wears a mask, Lin Mei. Mine just makes people laugh."
She smiled, thoughtful. "As long as the mask helps you, and doesn't trap you."
Yu Xinyi arrived, sitting on his other side. Together, the three watched the stars break through rain-cloud gaps.
"Tomorrow starts another test," Yu said, her voice soft. "Do you think luck will help us again?"
Jin looked upwards, feeling the hidden power just beneath his skin.
"If luck fails, I'll roll with whatever comes," he promised. But inside, he knew—one day, when it mattered, he'd stop rolling and show everyone the true fairness of fate.
And somewhere, the Masked Sovereign System hummed, quietly approving.