The imperial capital of Heaven's Reach sparkled like a field of diamonds. The sun reflected off floating pavilions, gilded banners, and rivers of distilled qi that ran through the streets. The Thousand-Sect Tournament was about to begin, a spectacle that brought the strongest cultivators from all nine provinces together.
From the top of the imperial dais, the Emperor observed the parade of sects. Golden armor, divine robes, and mystical auras filled the streets. Yet, amidst the pomp and gravitas, one little group trudged along…
Brooms in hand.
Shen Liang strolled with the casual gait of a man heading to breakfast, his robe slightly dusty, hair messy in a way that somehow screamed effortless mastery. Zhao Fei trotted behind him, balancing a scroll of sect instructions in one hand and a broom in the other.
A disciple whispered nervously, Master… the other sects… they have floating swords, spirit beasts, arrays… and we have… brooms.
Shen Liang grinned, twirling his broom lazily. Ah… but we also have rhythm, discipline, and impeccable comedic timing. The broom is subtle... it teaches without asking. And nothing disarms the prideful like a good sweep!
A junior disciple leaned over, whispering, Do you think the Emperor will notice us?
Shen Liang shrugged, eyes half-lidded. If Heaven notices dust in the corner of a palace, I think the Emperor can handle a broom.
The Falling Sword Sect's entry drew whispers and stifled laughter. From atop the grand dais, imperial guards and noble sect leaders raised eyebrows. Many whispered to each other: Are they… really carrying brooms?
Shen Liang raised his broom high, bowing theatrically. Salutations, honored guests! And to the Emperor… hello! I'm Shen Liang, master of broom labor, janitorial enlightenment, and occasionally, subtle destruction.
The crowd froze. One young cultivator from the Heavenly Sword Pavilion whispered, Did he just call broom sweeping… subtle destruction?
Shen Liang winked at Zhao Fei. Subtle destruction, my dear. Step one in making enemies respect you without damaging property.
A pebble on the cobblestone street trembled under the invisible flow of his broom aura. Dust and leaves danced around him in spirals, moving with uncanny precision. Even the minor courtiers noticed, pointing and whispering.
He… he moves differently.
Yes… calm… radiant… yet… a little ridiculous.
And then the Emperor turned.
The moment Shen Liang's aura brushed the Emperor's perception, the crowd felt it.
Not an overwhelming attack. Not a blinding surge of qi.
Just… stillness.
It was the quiet authority of someone who had mastered his path, yet refused to take himself seriously. The Heavenly Rhythm pulsed from him in subtle waves, imperceptible yet undeniable. It was like watching a river bend around rocks naturally, or a cloud drift through the sky without effort — effortless mastery in motion.
Luo Yan, standing beside the imperial dais, narrowed her eyes. Her sword hung at her side, still humming faintly with anticipation. She murmured, almost to herself, He walks like a mortal… yet Heaven listens.
Shen Liang, oblivious to the cosmic compliments being whispered in hushed awe, tripped slightly over a small stone, caught himself with the broom, and bowed to the Emperor. Apologies! Slight misalignment of dust particles. Nothing serious.
Zhao Fei groaned. Master! That… that was unintentional grace, not clumsiness!
Shen Liang tilted his head, pondering. Unintentional grace… I like that. Sounds fancy enough to be a secret technique. I shall call it… Slip Sweep.
The crowd didn't know whether to laugh, cringe, or bow in respect.
The parade continued, Shen Liang walking as though the entire empire were his courtyard. Each broom tap on the ground produced subtle arcs of golden qi, faintly slicing through imperfections in the air. Observers could feel the harmony radiating from him.
Look! one scholar whispered, pointing. Even the dust follows him!
Impossible! another replied. No mortal controls Qi this subtly… except… His voice trailed as his eyes widened.
From the Inner Pavilion, Sect Master Liang Feng observed quietly. The broom… has become a true extension of him.
Grand Elder Wu leaned forward, stroking his beard. He is ridiculous, yet correct. Confidence without pretense… discipline without arrogance… comedy without insult. If the Emperor notices… mark my words… the Falling Sword Sect will be impossible to ignore.
Shen Liang, of course, noticed none of this. Instead, he paused mid-step, spun his broom lazily, and whispered to Zhao Fei, Do you think the Emperor would notice if I… swept a minor noble's ego into a corner? Asking for educational purposes, of course.
Zhao Fei groaned. Master! Don't tempt fate.
Then the Emperor's gaze fully fell upon him.
Unlike other cultivators, who flexed, flared, or shouted to attract attention, Shen Liang simply stood, broom in hand, rhythm pulsing from every fiber of his being. The golden aura around him shimmered subtly — not as a display of power, but as a natural extension of his inner Dao.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. He had seen many masters, warriors, and sect leaders over decades. Yet none emanated such a sense of unshakable calm… combined with undeniable… ridiculous charm.
Beside him, Luo Yan's lips twitched. For all her pride, she could not suppress the faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her features. The rumors… they do not exaggerate. This man… actually walks the Dao.
Shen Liang, noticing nothing, yawned dramatically. Ah… Emperor! Did you sleep well? Hope the tea's not too bitter. He gave a lazy wave. Careful not to slip on the aura; it's a little slippery today.
The Emperor blinked.
The crowd fell silent.
Zhao Fei buried her face in her hands. Master… why do you do this?!
Shen Liang shrugged. Attention is just a broomstroke away from admiration. Or disaster. Let's see which side Heaven prefers today.
Somewhere above, the System pulsed:
Hidden Quest Update: Prove the Dao Beyond Form – Imperial Attention Achieved.
XP +720 | Foundation Realm – Mid Stage Stabilized
Sect Reputation +15% | Morale +10%
Shen Liang twirled his broom lazily, humming a tune only he and the Heavenly Rhythm could hear. Tomorrow… we sweep the tournament. Today… we gather attention. And perhaps, a little awe. All in a day's labor.
Luo Yan's eyes lingered on him as he walked away. This man… is not what the empire claims. He is… something else entirely.
And the Emperor, from his grand dais, thought to himself for the first time in decades, Perhaps the broom is mightier than the sword.
The Falling Sword Sect, broom in hand, had officially begun its rise in the empire — and all while laughing in Heaven's face.