"Master, please give me one more chance!" a pleading voice rang out in the training hall.
"Enough! I gave you your chance to get on Fenyue's side, but you failed—not only that, you wasted my time and resources," the stern master rebuked.
"Master, please— I can still…"
"Take him away and don't leave any evidence."
"Yes, Master."
A chorus of protest erupted—a heart-wrenching, "No! No! Nooooo!"—which soon faded into a begrudging murmur. Then, with a wry chuckle, the master mused, "Si Ming, huh, it seems a rather interesting piece has entered the game."
A sudden, hearty "Achooo!" cut through the tension.
"Huh, are you catching a cold, junior brother?" Xu Zhi teased, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"I'm fine. I think someone got allured by my charms," Si Ming quipped lazily through a grin.
"Right. Anyway, stop moving around—you're ruining my portrait," his senior added, his tone firm yet playfully chiding.
A day had passed since Si Ming's acceptance into Shadowmoon Peak. Now, his master was busy assessing his body to determine his constitution. Si Ming was ordered to assume a series of strange poses for inspection. At one point, he found himself in an embarrassingly contorted stance: kneeling with his arms outstretched over his head, legs spread wide like a clumsy penguin in mid-dance—a pose so ungainly that even the onlooking disciples stifled snickers. "Damnit, why do I have to stand in this ridiculous pose…" he muttered inwardly.
"Tell me," Lu Tianwei grumbled, stepping forward with an inquisitive frown, "who taught you the path of cultivation?"
Si Ming hesitated a moment before replying, "Um, well, you see… long ago, while I was busy at my regular work, a mysterious ring fell from the sky. Noticing its beauty, I immediately picked it up—but it vanished just as quickly. Ten years later, I realized that the ring wasn't ordinary at all, but a treasure carrying strange teachings…and even a few weapons. So I practiced those teachings on my own."
"Is that so," Lu Tianwei said, almost incredulously, as he retrieved a crumpled paper from his sleeve. He handed it to Si Ming. "Any and all treasures that fall into the vicinity of the Dark Moon Sect are regarded as sect property! Harboring such items can be deemed theft! Since when did sects have such laws?" he read aloud with shock.
"It's a disciple's duty to read the fine print," Lu Tianwei snapped, shaking his head and signaling Si Ming to produce the treasurers from his storage ring.
"What! I—I wasn't being serious!" Si Ming stuttered in a panicked whisper. "Those are the teachings I got from an old man in my dreams."
Lu Tianwei passed by him with a few measured steps, then sighed, "Hai, if the disciple does not wish to share his secrets, then this venerable one will not pry—but the methods you're practicing…I fear you've set yourself on a path of great hardship." He eyed Si Ming intently. "You have all the spiritual roots, correct?"
"Y-yes," Si Ming replied softly.
"But won't that mean…" interjected Li Wei from among the observing senior disciples. "In order to advance, you must first cultivate each spiritual root to the same level. This Celestial Phoenix Root is notoriously difficult to nurture. I'm surprised by your rapid growth so recently. These methods you possess—they seem foreign, yet strangely in tune with our world."
Si Ming's mind raced. Who is my master to realize that my methods aren't native but have been integrated to fit our ways? Could he be some hidden, ancient master? A flash of irritation hit him as Lu Tianwei's voice cut through his musing. "Woah, just who are you calling old?" Lu Tianwei bellowed suddenly.
"Master has a soft spot when his true age is mentioned," Liu Feng teased as he inadvertently got smacked as well.
Clearing his throat, Lu Tianwei continued with measured reprimand, "Ahem, as I was saying, you seem to possess profound alchemy techniques and a variety of fighting methods. However, I would advise you—'Too much is as bad as a deficiency'—for overabundance can hinder progress. As you climb higher, your path will only become more arduous."
At that, the other senior disciples looked at Si Ming as though he were an unexpected feast. One murmured, "Junior brother can make pills, you know. It won't be much work relying on him to brew a few from now on." Another added playfully, "Yes, yes—junior brother, we are the only spearmen here. Sometimes it's hard to find a proper partner in our art." Their remarks, jumbled yet unmistakably amused, hovered in the air.
Si Ming's face remained impassive though inwardly he seethed. Despite the barrage of teasing, he acknowledged that his unconventional methods had indeed set him apart. He resolved that these ephemeral words wouldn't deter him from the path he'd carved through relentless training and secret knowledge.
As the assessment wound down with more sarcastic laughter and teasing remarks—some praising, others chiding—Si Ming straightened. His journey had only just begun, and every hardship, every accusation, would forge him further into the cultivator he was destined to become.
Also, if you enjoy my writing and want to support me, consider subscribing to my Patreon: [patreon.com/Writing_when_bored].