The world did not end in a flash of piercing light and pain. Instead, it ended in a faint, whistling sound that curved away from him.
The lethal shard of spiritual steel, which had been spinning directly towards the bridge of his tiny nose, seemed to hiccup in its trajectory. It was as if the air around Lee Wei had become subtly thicker, a lens that bent probability ever so slightly. The shard wobbled, its path deviating by a finger's breadth, and buried itself into the wooden wall just beside his head with a solid thunk. It vibrated there, humming a deadly tune.
Dust and splinters rained down on his swaddling clothes.
For a moment, there was silence in his immediate vicinity, broken only by the distant sounds of the ongoing battle and the panicked cries of the market. Lee Wei lay perfectly still, his infant heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He waited for the inevitable follow-up, for a stray energy blast to finish the job.
But nothing came.
The two cultivators, locked in their aerial duel, blasted past his location without a single glance downward. Their divine sense, a powerful, intangible radar that should have scanned every living being in the area for threats or witnesses, swept over the basket of rags. It paused for a microsecond on the shimmering sword fragment stuck in the wall, then slid over Lee Wei's form as if he were just another lump of fabric. To their heightened perceptions, he registered as nothing more significant than a slightly warm rock.
It worked, he thought, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his mind that had no way to escape his toothless mouth. My talent… it followed me here. It actually works on cultivators!
A moment later, his new mother scrambled over, her face pale with terror, tears cutting clean paths through the dust on her cheeks. She scooped him up, clutching him to her chest so tightly he could barely breathe.
"Wei! My little Wei! You're alive! The heavens have spared you!" she sobbed.
His father joined them, his face grim. "It was a miracle," he muttered, eyeing the still-vibrating sword shard with superstitious fear. "A true miracle."
Lee Wei, pressed against his mother's shoulder, could only agree. It wasn't a miracle of the heavens; it was a miracle of profound averageness. He had been saved by the cosmic equivalent of being too boring to kill.
The years that followed were a masterclass in applied anonymity.
Lee Wei grew into a quiet, observant boy. He was neither tall nor short, neither handsome nor plain. His features were a study in pleasant neutrality, the kind of face that blended into a crowd instantly. He learned to move with a soft, unhurried gait that drew no attention. He spoke in a calm, even tone that was easily forgotten.
In the small town of Azure Willow, nestled in the shadow of the mighty Verdant Cloud Sect, he was known simply as "the Li boy." He helped his parents run their modest inn, "The Restful Traveler," performing chores with a quiet efficiency that made him seem more like a helpful spirit than a person. Guests would often forget he had served them their tea mere minutes after he left the room.
His greatest test came during the town's annual Spirit Grain Festival when he was ten. A boisterous young master from a nearby merchant family, brimming with newly awakened Qi Condensation level strength, decided to show off by bullying the other children. He targeted the son of the blacksmith, shoving him to the ground.
Lee Wei, who had been sweeping the inn's porch, paused. He didn't want to get involved. Drama was the enemy. But seeing the blacksmith's son on the verge of tears sparked a faint ember of his previous life's lingering sense of justice.
He didn't step forward. He didn't speak up. Instead, he continued sweeping, gently directing a small cloud of dust and a single, loose pebble with the bristles. The dust cloud wafted into the young master's face, making him sneeze violently. At the same moment, the pebble rolled perfectly under the bully's descending foot as he took a step to loom over his victim.
The young master yelped, his feet flying out from under him. He landed flat on his back on the hard-packed earth with a sound like a sack of potatoes being dropped. The crowd gasped, then fell silent. The bully, red-faced and humiliated, scrambled to his feet, glaring around for whoever had tripped him.
His eyes swept over Lee Wei, who was diligently sweeping the same spot on the porch, his expression one of pure, vacant innocence. The young master's gaze moved on, eventually settling on a stray dog sniffing near a cart. Convinced the canine was the culprit, he stomped off, shouting curses at the confused animal.
The blacksmith's son shot Lee Wei a look of pure, bewildered gratitude. Lee Wei gave him a slight, almost imperceptible nod before turning to sweep a different area. No one else had seen a thing.
It was then that Lee Wei truly understood the power of his condition. He wasn't just overlooked; he was a catalyst for chaos that never splashed back on him. He was a ghost that could nudge the real world
The announcement came on a day painted in brilliant blue and gold. The Verdant Cloud Sect was opening its doors for the annual disciple recruitment. The air in Azure Willow crackled with anticipation. For most young men and women, this was the chance of a lifetime, a doorway to immortality and power.
For Lee Wei, it was a looming nightmare.
"Wei, you must go!" his father said, his eyes shining with a hope Lee Wei didn't share. "Imagine, our son, an immortal! The honor it would bring to our family!"
"Your father is right," his mother added, stroking his hair. "You are a good boy, a smart boy. Perhaps the immortals will see your quiet diligence."
That's exactly what I'm afraid of, Lee Wei thought miserably.
He had no desire to leap between mountains, fight bloody battles for resources, or engage in convoluted plots with ancient demons. He wanted to inherit the inn, marry a nice, quiet girl, and live a long, uneventful life serving tea and listening to travelers' stories. The sect was a pit of protagonist energy, and he wanted no part of it.
But he couldn't refuse his parents. Their dreams were written plainly on their faces. So, with the feeling of a man walking to his own execution, he joined the throng of hopeful youths gathering in the town square.
The recruitment was a spectacle. A majestic flying shuttle, carved from jade and gleaming with spiritual light, descended from the clouds. From it emerged several figures in pristine blue and white robes, their auras calm yet imposing. The lead was an elder with a long grey beard and eyes that seemed to see right through you.
One by one, the teenagers stepped forward to be tested. They placed their hands on a crystalline orb that flared with brilliant colors—azure for water, crimson for fire, vibrant green for wood. Each flash was met with gasps and cheers. The disciples from the sect recorded the results on long, silken scrolls.
When it was Lee Wei's turn, he shuffled forward, keeping his head slightly bowed, his posture relaxed and unassuming. He placed his hand on the orb. It felt warm, humming with a vast, internal power.
For a long moment, nothing happened. The elder overseeing the test frowned slightly. Then, the orb glowed. But it wasn't a brilliant, pure color. It was a faint, murky, beige-ish light, the color of weak tea or dirty parchment. It flickered uncertainly, as if the orb itself was confused.
The recording disciple, a young man with a severe face, squinted at the orb. "Um... Elder Guo? The spirit crystal is... undecided. It registers a spiritual presence, but the affinity... it seems to be... all of them? And none of them? The reading is... perfectly average."
Elder Guo waved a dismissive hand, his attention already on the next, more promising candidate. "Record it as 'Neutral, Low-Grade,' and move on."
The disciple nodded, dipping his brush in ink. He unrolled the silken scroll, his eyes moving down the list of names. His brush hovered, ready to mark Lee Wei's result. He scanned the list once, then twice. A faint look of confusion crossed his face. He looked from the scroll to Lee Wei and back again.
Lee Wei held his breath.
The disciple shrugged, a slight irritation on his face. "Whatever. Must have already been tested." He rolled the scroll back up without making a mark. "Next!"
Lee Wei was shunted to the side, into a group of other accepted disciples. He stood there, surrounded by buzzing, excited teenagers, all comparing their brilliant affinities. He felt a wave of profound relief so powerful his knees felt weak. He had done it. He was in, but as the most ignored, lowest-level disciple. It was perfect.
He was assigned to the Miscellaneous Affairs Peak. He was to be a janitor disciple, in charge of cleaning the dusty, forgotten Pavilion of Forgotten Tomes. It was the most boring, overlooked posting imaginable.
As he was handed his rough-spun grey disciple robes and a simple wooden token, he finally allowed himself a small, internal smile. This was it. The perfect hiding place. A backwater role in a massive sect. He could sweep floors, dust shelves, and live out his days in peaceful obscurity.
His first task was to report to the pavilion and receive his duties from the groundskeeper. He pushed open the heavy, oak doors, stepping into the cavernous, silent hall. Towers of scrolls and shelves of dusty jade slips reached towards a shadowy ceiling. The air was thick with the smell of old paper and neglect.
There was no groundskeeper in sight. The place was utterly deserted.
In the center of the main room, however, one desk was clear of dust. On it, resting on a bed of black velvet as if it were a priceless treasure, was a single, pristine jade slip. It glowed with a soft, internal light, utterly out of place in the surrounding decay.
Curiosity, the same curiosity that had made him look at the banana peel in his past life, got the better of him. He reached out, his fingers brushing the cool, smooth surface of the jade.
The world dissolved.
The dusty library vanished, replaced by a maelstrom of swirling, golden characters that burned themselves into his mind. A voice, ancient and powerful, thundered in the vault of his consciousness, filled with triumphant joy.
"AT LAST! AFTER A MILLENNIUM OF WAITING, A SOUL HAS TRIGGERED MY SOUL BINDING ARRAY! YOU HAVE PASSED MY CUNNING TESTS OF STEALTH AND PERCEPTION TO FIND MY HIDDEN LEGACY! YOU ARE NOW THE OFFICIAL SUCCESSOR OF I, THE VANISHED CELESTIAL ARCHIVIST, AND SHALL INHERIT ALL MY SECRET TECHNIQUES AND..."
The voice paused. The torrent of characters stuttered. Lee Wei could feel a vast, bewildered presence scanning him.
"...wait a moment," the voice boomed, its tone shifting from triumphant to utterly perplexed. "Who in the nine hells are you? Your spiritual signature is weaker than a gnat's whisper. How did you even get in here?"