Ling Chen stood frozen in the muddy courtyard, the elder's thunderous voice ringing in his ears.
"Explain yourself, or you'll face the punishment hall!" The old man's silver-cloud robes and epic beard made him look like a wizard who'd forgotten his spellbook, but the pressure of his aura was no joke.
It pressed on Ling's chest, making his qi buzz like a phone on low battery.
Wei Gang, still sprawled in the mud with a bloody lip, smirked like he'd front-row seats to Ling's doom.
Explain myself? Ling's gamer brain scrambled.
He'd just beaten Wei and his goons with a rusty dagger and a sneaky Deceptive Aura skill, but admitting he stole a spirit herb to power up? Yeah, that'd land him in the sect's dungeon faster than you can say "game over."
Jian Hao's accusation was already circling, and now this elder was staring him down like he'd stolen the guy's lunch money.
"Uh, respected elder," Ling started, channeling his best streaming charisma. "It was just a… misunderstanding. Wei Gang and his buddies jumped me. I was defending myself, you know, sect honor and all that."
He flashed a nervous grin, hoping his new Deceptive Aura skill was still masking his panic.
The elder's eyes narrowed, scanning Ling like he was reading a bug's stat sheet.
The crowd of disciples peeked from their huts, whispering. Wei groaned, trying to sit up, but one glare from the elder shut him up.
Ling's heart pounded. Was this it? Punishment hall? Death by angry beard guy?
To his shock, the elder's stern face cracked into a faint smile. "Defending sect honor, you say? Bold words for an outer disciple." He stroked his beard, the pressure in the air easing. "This brawl was no accident. It was a test, Ling Chen. The sect has been watching you since Jian Hao's accusations. Your… resourcefulness intrigues us."
Ling blinked. "A test?" His voice came out squeakier than he'd like. "Like, I passed?"
The elder snorted. "Barely. But your spirit is stronger than your cultivation suggests. The Azure Cloud Sect values potential, even in those marked as… troublemakers." He paused, his gaze sharpening. "You're promoted to the outer disciple trials. Succeed, and you may access the sect's vault. Fail, and you'll wish you'd stayed in the mud with Wei Gang."
[System alert: New mission: Place in the top 10 of the outer disciple trials. Reward: 300 Villain Points, access to sect vault. Failure: Demotion to servant status.]
Ling's jaw dropped as the system screen flickered in his vision. Sect vault? That sounded like a loot piñata, but the trials?
Probably a death trap. And "servant status" didn't exactly scream "fun times." Before he could process, the elder turned and strode off, leaving the crowd buzzing. Wei Gang shot Ling a venomous glare before limping away.
"Okay, system, you're officially trying to kill me," Ling muttered, slinking back to his hut.
The trials were a big deal in the novel—a brutal test of strength, smarts, and cultivation.
Jian Hao had aced them, of course, because he was the hero. Ling? He was a level-one noob with a rusty dagger and a prayer.
He needed help, and fast. Mei Lin's offer to train at the pavilion was his only shot. She was an inner disciple, way out of his league, but she'd let him go in the garden and seemed… curious about him
. Ally or backstabber, he'd take the risk.
The system's betrayal warning still nagged, but he was running low on options.
The next morning, Ling headed to the training pavilion, a stone platform surrounded by cherry blossoms that looked way too pretty for a place where people got punched.
Mei Lin was already there, practicing sword forms with a grace that made Ling feel like a clumsy toddler. Her green robes fluttered, and that jade hairpin glinted in her high ponytail.
She was gorgeous, sure, but the scar on her cheek and her sharp eyes screamed "don't mess with me."
"You're late," she said without looking up, her sword slicing the air with a soft whoosh. "Thought you'd chicken out after that stunt with Jian Hao."
Ling grinned, leaning against a pillar. "Me? Chicken out? Nah, I'm all about making bad decisions."
He kept his tone light, but his heart was doing flips. "So, you gonna teach me how to not die in these trials, or what?"
Mei Lin sheathed her sword, turning to face him. "You're cocky for someone one step from the punishment hall." Her smirk was back, but her eyes were calculating. "The trials are no joke. Obstacle courses, combat, and qi tests. Jian Hao's competing, and he'll crush anyone in his way—especially you."
Ling's stomach twisted. "Great. Any chance you've got a cheat code for surviving Mr. Perfect?"
She stepped closer, her voice low.
"You've got something, Ling Chen. I saw it in the garden. That herb boosted your qi, but it's raw, sloppy. I can teach you to control it, maybe even use that weird aura trick you pulled." She paused, eyes narrowing. "But I want something in return."
"Name it," Ling said, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.
"Information," she said. "You know things—about Jian, the sect, maybe even the elders. Tell me what you're hiding, and I'll make sure you don't die in the trials."
Ling's grin faltered. The system's betrayal warning flashed in his mind. She was fishing, and he couldn't exactly spill that he was a transmigrator with a system.
"Deal," he lied, letting Deceptive Aura smooth his words. "But let's start with the training. I'm not much use dead."
Mei Lin nodded, gesturing to the platform.
"Show me your qi flow. Don't hold back."
For the next hour, she drilled him—basic forms, qi circulation, even a few sword swings with a borrowed blade.
Ling's body ached, but the qi from the herb made him faster, sharper. Mei Lin's pointers were brutal but effective, and by the end, he could channel qi into a shaky punch that cracked a wooden dummy.
"Not bad," she said, tossing him a waterskin. "You might survive the first round."
"Gee, thanks for the confidence," Ling panted, wiping sweat from his brow. Her smirk softened, and for a second, he thought she might actually like him. Then the system chimed.
[Mission progress: Ally gained (Mei Lin). Training completed. Warning: Jian Hao has entered the trials with a vendetta. Prepare for confrontation.]
Ling's heart sank. He glanced at Mei Lin, who was watching him a little too closely. "What's wrong?" she asked, her tone sharp.
Before he could answer, a commotion erupted at the pavilion's edge. Jian Hao strode in, his white robes pristine, his sword gleaming.
A crowd of disciples trailed him, whispering. His eyes locked on Ling, cold and murderous.
"Ling Chen," Jian called, his voice carrying like a challenge. "You think you can hide behind tricks and rumors? The trials start tomorrow, and I'll make sure you don't leave Crimson Peak alive."
The air turned heavy, and Mei Lin tensed beside him. Ling's mouth went dry. The system's warning flashed red: Prepare for confrontation. Jian wasn't just competing—he was out for blood.
And Ling had a sinking feeling the trials were about to become his personal hell.