The next morning, the sect looked unchanged.
Mist still curled along the mountain paths. Disciples still trained in the courtyards. Bells still rang at dawn. Yet to Lin Yuan, everything felt slightly tilted, like a painting hung just off-center.
He knew the story had begun to shift.
Yesterday's herb garden incident was supposed to be insignificant. In the original novel, he had already been crippled by now, his fate sealed as background tragedy. But he was still standing. Still breathing. Still unnoticed.
And that was dangerous.
Lin Yuan walked slowly along the outer training grounds, sleeves loose, posture unassuming. His steps were neither hurried nor idle. He looked like any other outer disciple killing time.
But his mind was counting.
Three days until the Cold Spring trial.
Seven days until the beast tide incident.
Fifteen days until the first protagonist arrived.
In the original story, nine protagonists rose like stars, each carrying overwhelming destiny. Some were righteous. Some cruel. Some brilliant. Some monstrous. But all of them were unstoppable.
And he… had once been written as stepping stones beneath their feet.
Lin Yuan lowered his gaze, hiding the faint chill in his eyes.
"Oi, bootlicker."
The voice came from behind, sharp and mocking.
He didn't need to turn around. He already knew who it was.
Zhao Heng.
A broad-shouldered outer disciple, mid-stage Qi Condensation. Not strong enough to matter later in the novel, but more than enough to crush the current Lin Yuan.
In the original timeline, Zhao Heng had been one of the people who crippled him.
Lin Yuan turned slowly, expression calm, almost dull. "Senior Brother Zhao."
Zhao Heng smirked, clearly pleased by the submissive tone. Two others stood behind him, arms crossed, watching like bored wolves.
"I heard you were bragging yesterday," Zhao Heng said. "Acting tough in the herb garden."
Lin Yuan blinked once. "A misunderstanding."
Short answer. No explanation. No defense.
The less he spoke, the fewer cracks he revealed.
Zhao Heng stepped closer, eyes narrowing. He had expected resistance, or trembling fear. Instead, Lin Yuan was… still.
That stillness annoyed him.
"You think just because Elder Han praised you once, you can grow a spine?" Zhao Heng sneered.
Lin Yuan remained silent.
Inside, he was calculating.
This conflict wasn't random. It matched the novel's early arcs — minor antagonists testing him before pushing him into desperation.
Except now, he wasn't desperate.
He just needed to survive.
Zhao Heng grabbed his collar suddenly and yanked him forward. "Listen carefully. The Cold Spring trial is coming. That opportunity belongs to people who deserve it."
His grip tightened.
"People like you should know your place."
Lin Yuan let himself stumble slightly, like someone weaker than he was. His breathing became shallow. His shoulders slumped.
Act weak.
Always act weak.
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Zhao Heng's face.
Good. That was the reaction he wanted.
Lin Yuan lowered his eyes and spoke softly, "I have no intention of competing."
Not a lie. Not the full truth.
He had no intention of competing openly.
Zhao Heng studied him for a moment. Suspicion flickered, then faded. Pride won over caution.
"Hmph. Remember that."
He shoved Lin Yuan away.
Lin Yuan staggered back two steps, steadying himself against a wooden pillar.
His expression remained calm, but inside, a quiet wave of relief passed through him
Too early
He couldn't afford attention yet.
The moment Zhao Heng and his followers left, the air seemed to loosen.
But Lin Yuan didn't relax.
Instead, his gaze drifted toward the distant inner sect peaks, their silhouettes faint behind morning mist.
That was where the future would explode.
Where geniuses would rise. Where monsters would awaken. Where destinies would collide.
And somewhere among them… would be the first protagonist.
In the original novel, that person arrived during the Cold Spring trial and changed everything in a single night.
Lin Yuan's fingers curled slightly inside his sleeves.
If he wanted to live, he had two choices.
Avoid every opportunity and remain a nobody forever…
Or step into the shadows of fate and steal just enough from destiny to survive.
Neither path was safe.
But one thing was certain now.
The world was already changing.
Because this time—
The stepping stone remembered the story.