The sun hung high over the Falling Sword Sect, gilding the courtyard in warm gold. The disciples were mid-practice, brooms moving in synchronized sweeps, dust spiraling like miniature tornadoes. Shen Liang leaned against the pavilion railing, sipping tea and watching, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Master… should we really continue training while they're still outside?" Zhao Fei whispered, her eyes flicking toward the main gate.
Shen Liang squinted at the approaching figures, three cloaked cultivators slipping through the forest ridge with surprising stealth. "Ah, the first flies…" he murmured. "Curious little pests, testing if the honey is real."
The disciples noticed the tension. One whispered, "Master, they… they look like trouble."
Shen Liang chuckled, twirling his broom. "Good eye. And what do we do with trouble?"
"Uh… sweep it away?" a timid disciple suggested.
"Exactly!" Shen Liang exclaimed, voice loud enough for the newcomers to hear. "But remember... sweep with discipline. Sweep with intent. And… sweep them off the path of arrogance."
The three intruders froze as a faint golden aura shimmered from the broom-wielding disciples, a rhythmic hum vibrating through the courtyard. It wasn't just dust flying but each stroke radiated faint sword qi, slicing the air with precision.
The lead intruder, a lanky man from Flowing River Hall, frowned. "So… they really use brooms to cultivate?"
Shen Liang waved casually. "Not just cultivate. We sweep floors, hearts, and occasionally, the delusions of minor sect disciples."
Zhao Fei muttered, "Master… you can't keep teasing them like that…"
Shen Liang winked. "Oh, I can. And I will."
He raised his broom, the golden aura around it flaring. "Sweep attack formation everyone!"
The courtyard erupted. Dozens of brooms moved as one, forming an invisible wave of sword qi. Dust and small stones twirled in golden arcs, the air itself humming in harmony with the sweeps.
WHOOSH!
The intruders barely had time to react. One was gently knocked off balance, not harmed, but enough to feel the power and precision. The second stumbled backward, leaving a shallow groove in the stone path as the broom arcs brushed past. The third froze, eyes wide, sensing faint cuts of sword qi on his shoulder.
"Wha..what kind of broom…?" the lead intruder gasped.
Shen Liang leaned casually on his broom. "The kind that doesn't miss. Discipline over power, rhythm over rage, and maybe… a pinch of humor."
The disciples laughed lightly, maintaining perfect formation. Even as the intruders scrambled, the courtyard remained immaculate, no dust disturbed beyond necessity.
Atop the Inner Sect pavilion, Sect Master Liang Feng's eyes narrowed in silent approval. "Interesting… Level 10 sect, and yet their coordination rivals many Level 8 inner halls."
Grand Elder Wu chuckled softly. "The broom may appear humble, but in capable hands… it sweeps heaven itself."
The System pulsed faintly in Shen Liang's mind:[Hidden Quest Update: Defend the Sect's Honor During Empire Inspection – Minor Skirmish Completed]
[XP +540 | Foundation Realm – Mid Stage (Stabilizing)][Hidden Class Progress: Sword Laborer of Heaven – Awakening 95% → 97%]
[Sect Morale +7% | Outer Sect Reputation +8%]
The intruders retreated hastily, no harm done, but their pride bruised and egos rattled. From behind a tree, the Flowing River Hall envoy muttered into a transmission jade: "Report: The rumors are true… the broom technique is real… and terrifying."
Shen Liang flicked his broom lazily. "Next time… bring a dustpan. It's more polite."
The disciples giggled. Even Zhao Fei couldn't help but shake her head. "Master… you're impossible."
"I prefer 'creative'," Shen Liang said, eyes glinting with mischief. "And now… back to work. Remember: intent born from rhythm, rhythm born from practice, and practice… begins with a broom."
As the courtyard echoed with synchronized sweeping, the golden arcs of sword qi painting the morning air, it was clear: the Falling Sword Sect was no longer forgotten, and even minor intruders knew better than to underestimate it.
Beyond the mountains, scouts and spies would report—half in disbelief, half in awe. And the Eastern Divine Continent would soon learn that brooms could cut deeper than pride itself.