### Chapter 55: Paying Respects, and a Feast
The mountain peak hummed with spiritual energy, far denser than the outer sect's. Lin Yi panted as he sprinted up the final stretch, his boots crunching on stone. He'd overslept, and the sun was already high—Elder Guan would not be pleased.
Two inner disciples stood outside a courtyard, their robes crisp, their expressions sour.
"Took him long enough," one muttered. "Must think being a core disciple makes him untouchable."
The other snorted. "Killing a Seventh Level doesn't make him a god. Elder Guan's gonna—"
Lin Yi skidded to a halt, catching their words. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Petty gossip wasn't worth his time.
The disciples stiffened, bowing hastily. "Senior Brother Lin!"
"Is Elder Guan inside?" Lin Yi asked, ignoring their earlier tone.
One—taller, with a lean frame—stepped forward. "Yes, Senior Brother. I'll show you in. I'm Fang Yue, a core disciple under Elder Guan."
The other disciple lingered, his posture slouched. Lin Yi noted his aura—Third Level of Qi Refinement, stagnant. Years of bitterness clung to him like a shroud.
Fang Yue led Lin Yi through a quiet courtyard, past flowering bushes and stone lanterns. "Elder Guan doesn't care for formalities," he said, gesturing to a plain wooden door. "But… well, he's been waiting. Try not to mention the time."
Lin Yi nodded, rapping on the door.
"Enter," came Elder Guan's voice, calm as ever.
The room was spartan: a few cushions, a low table, and a scroll on the wall bearing a single character—*道 (Dao)*, the Way. The brushstrokes were sharp yet fluid, as if painted by a master who'd spent decades pondering its meaning.
Elder Guan sat cross-legged on a cushion, his eyes crinkling when he saw Lin Yi. "Late, but here. Good."
Lin Yi knelt, pressing his forehead to the floor three times. "Disciple Lin Yi pays respects to Master."
Elder Guan waved a hand, and a gentle surge of spiritual energy lifted Lin Yi to his feet. "Rise. No need for theatrics. From today, you're my ninth core disciple. This is your token." He tossed a jade plaque etched with "Lin Yi" and the sect's name. "It grants access to the True Scripture Pavilion—choose one technique. Use it well."
Lin Yi clutched the plaque, heart racing. The True Scripture Pavilion held the sect's most珍贵 (precious) secrets.
"Master, what of the *Sky-Shattering Ninth Strike*?" he asked.
Elder Guan smiled, producing a jade slip. "My insights over thirty years. Study it. The first strike, 'Crescent Moon,' is child's play compared to what comes next."
Lin Yi bowed deeply. "Thank you, Master."
"Go," Elder Guan said, closing his eyes. "Settle in. Ask when you're stuck."
Lin Yi left, his mind buzzing. Outside, Fang Yue waited, grinning. "Welcome to the team, Senior Brother. Let me show you your quarters."
The core disciple dormitories were lavish by outer sect standards—private rooms with spiritual arrays to boost cultivation, a shared garden, and even a small hot spring. Fang Yue explained that Elder Guan's disciples were few—only eight core disciples and one true heir—but fiercely loyal.
"Most elders have dozens," Fang Yue said, leading him to a room with a view of the mountains. "But Master prefers quality over quantity. Says spread too thin, and no one truly grows."
Lin Yi nodded, impressed. "Wise."
Once settled, he fetched Pan Yu, who gaped at the dormitories like a child in a candy store. "Senior Brother, this… this is amazing!"
"Get used to it," Lin Yi laughed. "You're part of this now, too."
That evening, Lin Yi tracked down Fang Yue, then descended to the outer sect to find Stewards Zhang and Qiao. "Dinner tomorrow at Drunken Immortal Pavilion—my treat. Fourth floor."
Zhang whooped. "About time! I've been craving their braised pork!"
Qiao smiled. "A celebration is in order. Core disciple Lin Yi—has a nice ring to it."
The next morning, Lin Yi, Pan Yu, Fang Yue, Zhang, and Qiao filed into the Drunken Immortal Pavilion's fourth floor—a private room with silk curtains and a view of the market. Dishes appeared in a flurry: roast duck glistening with sauce, braised pork so tender it melted on the tongue, crystal-clear soup with spiritual herbs.
"To Lin Yi!" Zhang roared, raising his cup. "May he kick core disciple ass!"
Laughter erupted. Qiao clinked cups with Lin Yi. "Remember us little people when you're top dog."
Fang Yue, ever the diplomat, toasted Zhang and Qiao. "Elder Guan speaks highly of those who nurture talent. Your kindness won't be forgotten."
Lin Yi watched, amused. Zhang's enthusiasm, Qiao's calculation, Fang Yue's ambition—all laid bare over wine. Even Pan Yu, quiet as ever, smiled as he sipped rice wine.
By afternoon, everyone was drunk. Zhang slung an arm around Lin Yi, tears in his eyes. "Proud of you, kid. Never thought I'd see the day a Five Spiritual Roots cultivator outshone the prodigies."
Lin Yi grinned. "Just getting started, Uncle Zhang."
Qiao nodded, more sober. "Visit. The outer sect misses its hero."
Lin Yi promised he would. As they stumbled back to the sect, he thought of Elder Guan's jade slip, of the True Scripture Pavilion, of the bracelet's secrets.
*Core disciple*, he mused. *This is just the first step.*
The mountain wind ruffled his hair, carrying the scent of pine and possibility. Below, the sect spread out like a tapestry—outer, inner, core—each level a rung on the ladder to immortality.
He'd climb it. One rung at a time.