The Azure Heaven Sect was alive with movement, even at dawn. Disciples practiced in courtyards, their qi flowing through the air like a soft hum of energy. Yet beneath the serene facade, whispers traveled faster than any mortal could hope to hear.
"Did you see him at Scrap Peak?" one disciple muttered, eyes wide.
"He… he reached the summit without breaking a sweat."
"They say his meridians are shattered… yet he wields power like a saint."
Even within the inner circles, rumors of the Crimson Rebirth—as some secretly called him—spread like wildfire.
Jin Baiyu strode through the courtyard, calm and detached. He had no interest in gossip or idle recognition. Every movement was measured, every glance calculated. He had survived death before, and nothing here could intimidate him.
Sect Politics Unfold
By mid-morning, Jin was summoned to the Outer Sect Headquarters, a sprawling hall of jade and crystal, where the elders gathered. Qiu Jian, still smarting from his defeat at Scrap Peak, was already there, arms crossed, silver hair glinting in the sunlight.
An elder with long, flowing robes spoke, voice sharp yet restrained. "Jin Baiyu, your performance at Scrap Peak has been… remarkable. However, several disciples have raised concerns."
Jin tilted his head, crimson eyes scanning the room. "Concerns?"
"Yes," the elder continued, narrowing his eyes. "Your methods are… unconventional. Excessive force against opponents. Disruption of the training arrays. Some claim you humiliate others intentionally."
Jin's lips curved slightly. "Unconventional? Perhaps. But ineffective? Never. And humiliation… is a lesson many fail to understand. Power is not about manners—it is about survival."
The room fell silent. Even Qiu Jian opened his mouth, but no words came.
First Target — Qiu Jian
Qiu Jian finally spoke, voice low and dangerous. "You will regret showing off like that. The Inner Sect cultivators do not forgive foolishness, Baiyu. You are stepping on a path you do not understand."
Jin's expression remained calm. "I understand perfectly. I understand the weak, the ambitious, and the foolish. And I understand which one of you will fall first."
The elders frowned, but no one dared contradict him. Jin's calm confidence, even in the presence of Inner Sect disciples, carried a threat none could ignore.
Let him plot, Jin thought. Every scheme I encounter is merely a step toward my own ascension.
Training With Shadows
After the meeting, Jin retreated to the secluded gardens of the sect. While other disciples practiced openly, Jin's methods were different. He drew upon the faint remnant of the Asura God Scripture lingering in his soul.
He closed his eyes. Shadows stretched from his fingertips, merging with the soft morning light. Each movement was precise, rehearsed over centuries of memory and experience. The faint mortal body constrained him, but only slightly.
By midday, he had formed small shadow constructs—extensions of himself that could move independently, attack, or defend.
Wu Hao, peeking from behind a rock, whispered in awe, "Baiyu… you're insane. No one in the sect can do that."
Jin didn't look at him. "Insanity is relative. Power is absolute."
The Challenge of the Inner Sect
Word of Jin's training and Scrap Peak performance reached the Inner Sect candidates, and Qiu Jian was not alone in his resentment.
Later that evening, as the moon rose over the Azure Heaven Sect, Jin walked the corridor leading to his dormitory. The air shifted, charged with subtle energy.
From the shadows, five Inner Sect disciples emerged, weapons drawn. Qiu Jian led them, eyes flashing.
"You've drawn attention to yourself," he said, voice tight. "And now, you must pay the price for your arrogance."
Jin's crimson eyes gleamed faintly. "Then let us begin."
First Combat in the Sect
The five disciples charged simultaneously, spiritual weapons blazing. Normally, a single strong disciple could dominate weaker Outer Sect recruits—but Jin was neither normal nor weak.
He moved with a predator's grace, shadows weaving around him, deflecting strikes and subtly manipulating the battlefield. Within moments:
One disciple's sword shattered under his pressure.
Another was pinned by shadow tendrils, lifted off the ground.
The remaining three hesitated, realizing instinctively that this boy—this reborn Asura Emperor—was beyond their comprehension.
Qiu Jian's eyes narrowed. "This… should not be possible."
Jin stepped forward, voice calm and cold. "Do not underestimate what you cannot perceive. Your strength is meaningless when your mind is weak."
With a subtle motion, Jin released a pulse of energy that sent the three remaining disciples tumbling to the ground, dazed but alive.
He turned to Qiu Jian, expression serene. "Your turn."
The Turning Point
Qiu Jian lunged with a sword infused with energy, faster than any mortal eye could track. Yet Jin moved with a calculated calm, sidestepping and using shadow constructs to intercept. The blade collided with shadows, the force redirected, leaving Qiu Jian unbalanced.
A single strike to the shoulder forced him to his knees. Crimson light flickered faintly around Jin's eyes—not fury, but amusement.
"You are not yet ready to face me," Jin said softly. "But do not worry. You will have many opportunities to improve… or die trying."
Qiu Jian's chest heaved. Hatred burned in his gaze, but he could not deny the truth. This boy—no, this monster reborn—was untouchable.
Aftermath and Whispers
By the time the night descended fully, whispers of Jin Baiyu's power had spread throughout the sect.
Disciples avoided his path, elders observed quietly, and Qiu Jian plotted silently. Even Wu Hao, wide-eyed and trembling, realized one truth:
"This… is not the same Baiyu from the village. He's… something else. Something terrifying."
Jin returned to his quarters alone, shadows following him silently. He seated himself, meditating, letting his crimson qi stabilize within his weakened mortal shell.
The Azure Heaven Sect is mine to shape, he thought. And every obstacle, every rival, will either serve me… or fall beneath me.
Outside, the wind whispered through the peaks, carrying a faint promise of the chaos to come.