Lin Xiao dreamed of very important things.
Mostly dumplings. A few naps stacked on top of each other like mattresses. And for some reason, a chicken in golden robes lecturing him about destiny.
He awoke to the sound of someone furiously sweeping the courtyard. The straw broom rasped against stone like the grinding of an angry zither.
With one bleary eye open, Lin Xiao peeked out of the hut. There was Zhou Fang, his Senior Disciple, bent low, sweeping with the intensity of a man erasing shame itself. The boy's thin frame shook as if each sweep were purifying karma.
Lin Xiao yawned, stretching like a lazy cat. The previous day had been exhausting. Not because of the bullying from Flamboyant Flame Pavilion—he had surrendered their last bag of rice without a fight—but because of the System's reward.
When he had returned to his hut, the "last bag of spirit rice" had refilled itself instantly. And kept refilling. And refilling.
It was now a literal rice fountain.
"Senior Brother!" Wu Meiling called from the kitchen hut, waving a ladle like a spear. "The rice hasn't stopped pouring out of the sack! The bag is empty, but it's… not empty!"
Lin Xiao blinked. "Mm. Good. Infinite carbs."
He shuffled out onto the crooked wooden veranda. The Tranquil Peak Sect's main courtyard was as pitiful as always: cracked paving stones, crooked flagpoles, weeds sprouting through every seam. Birds perched on the broken roof beams, cawing mockingly.
Yet in his eyes, subtle golden lines glowed beneath the surface—hidden upgrades the System had already applied. The cracked paving stones were actually engraved with divine gathering runes disguised as graffiti. The weeds were supreme-grade herbs. The sagging huts were sturdier than fortress walls.
But to the world? Just another failed sect. Exactly as he wanted.
"Master!" Zhou Fang dropped the broom and turned with burning eyes. "I finally understand your teachings. The Dao of Mediocrity is not weakness—it is the ultimate humility that makes the heavens themselves bow!"
Lin Xiao scratched his head. "Actually, it's just a nap philosophy."
But Zhou Fang wasn't listening. He had already closed his eyes, muttering about cultivating "the invisible strength of lowliness."
From the other hut, Bai Ming stepped out, his expression grave. His aura was heavier, sharper. The prodigy had clearly advanced overnight thanks to the System reward.
"Master," Bai Ming said, bowing deeply. "Last night I meditated upon your actions. When you surrendered the rice, it was not defeat—it was a cosmic feint! You deceived even the heavens. I have broken through a bottleneck thanks to your hidden stratagem."
Lin Xiao raised an eyebrow. He had surrendered the rice because… well, fighting sounded like effort. But Bai Ming looked like he had just discovered the Grand Unified Theory of Cultivation.
Before Lin Xiao could correct him, Wu Meiling stormed out, her hair frazzled and her sleeves dusted white with rice flour. "Master, I need more cauldrons. This rice isn't normal—it's absorbing spiritual energy from the air! I boiled one pot and the steam condensed into spiritual dew! Do you realize what this means?!"
"It means breakfast?" Lin Xiao suggested hopefully.
"Yes!" Wu Meiling declared, eyes blazing. "But also—legendary cuisine! The kind of food that can temper bones and cleanse meridians! Master… your true path… is cooking!"
Lin Xiao froze. He had intended to live quietly, nap daily, and maybe die peacefully of rice overdose at a ripe old age. Somehow, his disciples were interpreting his laziness as godhood, his cowardice as profound strategy, and his groceries as divine inheritance.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen carefully," he said. "Our sect is destined to stay at the bottom. Weak, poor, mediocre. Remember this."
"Yes, Master!" the three disciples chorused, bowing deeply.
Then Zhou Fang whispered to Bai Ming: "Do you hear that? He says we must stay at the bottom… so that one day, we may rise to the very top unseen."
Bai Ming nodded solemnly. "A hidden dragon among minnows."
Wu Meiling clenched her ladle like a sword. "Truly, the Dao of Mediocrity is profound."
Lin Xiao sighed. He could feel a headache coming. And then—
[Ding! New Mission Assigned.]
Mission: Sweep the sect grounds for three consecutive days while being mocked by outsiders.
Reward: Sect Grounds upgrade to Spirit-Gathering Array.
Lin Xiao's eye twitched. "Seriously?"
Of course. The System wanted humiliation. Naturally, sweeping would be the next great trial.
"…Fine," he muttered. "Get the broom. But make sure someone sees you."
Zhou Fang's eyes shone. "As you command, Master. I shall sweep with unrivaled humility."
Bai Ming bowed. "And I will stand guard, so no enemy dares interfere with Master's inscrutable plan."
Wu Meiling raised her ladle. "I will prepare the humblest porridge to sustain Master's endurance."
Lin Xiao groaned. Somehow, a simple chore was already morphing into a sect-wide ritual.
As he watched his disciples bustle with reverent enthusiasm, a figure appeared at the gate: a familiar silk-robed silhouette with a mocking smile—the very same Flamboyant Flame Pavilion disciple who had taken their rice yesterday.
He pointed at Lin Xiao with a sneer. "Well, well, if it isn't the trash of Tranquil Peak Sect. Sweeping your own courtyard? How fitting. Shall I fetch you a beggar's bowl?"
Lin Xiao closed his eyes again. He had a feeling the next three days were going to be very, very long.
And yet… somewhere deep below the cracked stones, the Spirit-Gathering Array pulsed faintly, waiting to awaken.