In the highest reaches of Azure Spirit Mountain, the Core Pavilion floated in mist and silence.White cranes circled its spires, and below them the sect's elders and disciples moved like shadows in a tapestry of ambition.
Inside a candle-lit chamber, Meng Zhao sat cross-legged before a mirror of polished jade. His reflection shimmered — refined features, black robes embroidered with gold threads, and eyes like still water hiding daggers beneath.
His aide, Lin Fei, knelt beside him. "The evaluation spread through every hall, Senior Brother. They call Lin Xuan the Firestorm Prodigy."
Meng Zhao's smile was slow and poisonous. "Prodigy? He's a cripple wrapped in borrowed power. But names have weight, don't they, Lin Fei?"
Lin Fei bowed his head lower. "They do, Young Master. Especially when whispered by fools who dream of heroes."
Meng Zhao rose, smoothing his sleeves. "Then we'll use those whispers. The sect worships talent — until it fears it."
By dusk, the whispers had changed.
"He's favored by the silver-haired elder.""They say he caught Yue Shuang's attention.""Maybe he's her chosen suitor—""No, fool! He's her puppet! She wants to control him!""He must have bribed the elders after the trial."
Every conversation twisted the truth like a blade.
Meng Zhao's disciples spread the poison artfully — a word here, a smirk there. Nothing direct, but enough to rot faith.
Within a day, Lin Xuan's name was no longer spoken with reverence alone. It was spoken with doubt.
Down below, the Outer Sect buzzed with conflicting energy.
Disciples whispered even as they sparred. Jealous eyes followed Lin Xuan through training fields. Some avoided him; others sought to challenge him, hoping to steal a fraction of his growing fame.
Wu Ming noticed first. "Senior Brother, why does everyone look at you like they're deciding whether to worship you or stab you?"
"Because they haven't made up their minds," Lin Xuan replied calmly.
Chen Yu added, "Someone's feeding the fire."
Li Mei's gaze darkened. "Zhou Ren."
"No," Lin Xuan said softly, eyes narrowing. "Zhou Ren lacks patience. This is someone who understands fear."
He turned slightly, glancing up the mountain where the mist concealed the Core Pavilion. "And how to grow it."
That night, Meng Zhao met with his three chosen agents — Outer disciples, loyal through fear and greed.
The first knelt and said, "We've spread word that Lin Xuan used forbidden fusion techniques. The hawk-eyed elder is furious."
The second whispered, "We've bribed stewards to delay his resource allotments. His group will find empty stores and broken tools."
The third smiled, thin and sharp. "And the assassins you requested, Young Master — they await near the southern ridge. They want payment in spirit stones."
Meng Zhao turned away from them, his back to the candlelight. "You'll get your stones when he bleeds. Not before."
His voice softened — too soft. "Remember: I don't want him dead immediately. I want him tired. Let him climb, let them praise him, let him believe he's safe. Then…"
He lifted his hand, and the candle flame bent sideways as if bowing.
"Break him."
Meanwhile, Lin Xuan sat in meditation beneath an old pine in the Outer Sect's quietest courtyard. The air shimmered faintly around him — not from power, but from stillness too precise to be natural.
The Omni-Talent System pulsed softly.
[External interference detected.][Reputation variable decreasing: "Jealous Whispers" condition active.][Hidden option unlocked – Convert Influence → Loyalty.]
Lin Xuan opened his eyes. Loyalty, he thought. A stronger currency than fear.
He stood, brushing pine needles from his sleeve.
"Wu Ming."
The boy nearly dropped his staff. "Yes, Senior Brother?"
"You talk too much."
Wu Ming blinked. "That's… true?"
"Good," Lin Xuan said. "Talk more."
"What?"
"Spread truth when they spread lies."
Wu Ming's face lit up. "You want me to fight rumors with more rumors? Senior Brother, this is the best cultivation technique ever!"
Li Mei sighed. "We're doomed."
But Chen Yu smiled faintly. "Sometimes chaos needs its own language."
Days passed. The poison spread — but so did something else.
Wu Ming's clumsy honesty became comedy that drew disciples closer. "Did you hear? Senior Brother Lin punched an Ashflame Lion with philosophy!"
Li Mei's cool discipline earned respect among female disciples. Chen Yu began training others quietly, passing down what Lin Xuan taught him.
Without realizing it, the Outer Sect began shifting. Whispers of envy were slowly buried under murmurs of gratitude and admiration.
Even those who distrusted Lin Xuan found themselves repeating his words:
"Work. Breathe. Stand."
High above, Meng Zhao felt the change through his informants.
"What do you mean they like him more?" he snapped. "You spread corruption, not praise!"
The spy stammered. "I-I don't understand, Young Master! It's like they… believe in him more now. He doesn't defend himself, doesn't argue—just acts!"
Meng Zhao's palm slammed into the table, cracking the wood. "Then we'll move to stage two."
He reached for a scroll — a bounty seal with the emblem of the sect's Night Talons, assassins who answered only to coin and shadow.
"If words won't break him," he said coldly, "blood will."
Three nights later, mist rolled down from the northern cliffs.
Lin Xuan's courtyard lay silent, moonlight glinting off the surface of a small pond. The only sound was the soft rhythm of Wu Ming's snoring inside.
A shadow passed over the roof. Another followed. Then a third.
The Night Talons moved like smoke, masks gleaming faintly. Their leader raised two fingers, and blades whispered free of sheaths.
They dropped into the courtyard.
Lin Xuan opened his eyes.
The first assassin lunged — only to find his dagger redirected into the ground by a flick of Lin Xuan's spear. The second struck from the side; Lin Xuan pivoted, using the first man's body as shield.
The third threw a chain, crackling with dark qi. Lin Xuan stepped back — too calm, too quiet. His spear traced a single curve, redirecting the chain's momentum into the wall, snapping stone.
He exhaled. The spear's wind flared — not fire, not lightning, just precision.
In three breaths, the assassins lay unconscious.
Lin Xuan knelt beside their leader, pressing a hand to his collarbone.
"Who sent you?"
The man wheezed. "A… Core disciple. Name hidden. Gold… many gold."
Lin Xuan's voice was soft. "Tell him this."
The assassin stared up, trembling. "Wh-what?"
Lin Xuan's lips curved slightly. "You can't cut a storm."
He struck the man's neck lightly, rendering him unconscious, then stood and looked to the horizon.
The moonlight painted the mountains silver. Somewhere above, in the Core Pavilion, a man would wake uneasy without knowing why.
On another peak, Yue Shuang watched through a frost mirror, expression unreadable.
She had seen everything — the assassins, the calm, the refusal to kill.
"He doesn't retaliate," she murmured. "He endures."
The frost mirror cracked.
"That will make him the most dangerous of all."
As Lin Xuan returned to his meditation seat, the Omni-Talent System pulsed again.
[Hidden Threat Neutralized.][System Adaptation: Social Resonance unlocked.][Function: Convert influence and faith into temporary cultivation feedback.]
He exhaled slowly, feeling faint warmth flow through his veins — not raw power, but a deeper stability. The kind born from trust, not fear.
Wu Ming stumbled out, hair wild, clutching his staff. "Senior Brother! I had a nightmare that assassins—oh."
He blinked at the broken wall, unconscious men, and the faint scent of blood.
"...Never mind."
By morning, the bodies of the Night Talons were found outside the Outer Sect gate, bound neatly, their masks removed, their weapons broken. No one claimed responsibility, but every rumor pointed the same direction.
Lin Xuan never mentioned them.He trained. He worked. He breathed.
And within the sect, fear began to shift direction — no longer toward him, but around him.
In the Core Pavilion, Meng Zhao stared at the news scroll delivered by a trembling steward.
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
"So, you survived," he said softly. "Good. Then we'll make the next cut deeper."
He turned to the window, where the sect stretched below like a kingdom of ants.
"Let's see how calm your storm remains when I turn your friends against you."