The sun was still hanging in the sky when Lu Chen crossed the threshold of the Sky-Reaching Sect.
Perched on the eastern edge of the Central Plains, the Sky-Reaching Sect was one of the five supreme-tier orthodox sects of the Mortal Dominion of Cang Zhou—alongside the Sword Pavilion Sect, the Vermilion Bird Sect, and two others whose names were less relevant to a disciple who had nearly been digested by a toad. Below them were dozens of lower-tier sects like the Jade Cloud Sect, where politics mattered more than cultivation and where ex-fiancées went to forget their debts.
Lu Chen knew none of this. He had been a disciple for nearly four years now. He knew the sect had walls and gates and a formation that hummed when he entered. That was enough.
He felt it the moment he stepped through — a subtle pressure, like the air itself had thickened. The sect's defensive formation stirred somewhere beneath his feet, a slumbering beast waking to assess the trespasser. A low hum vibrated through the stone, ancient and patient, like the breath of something that had been waiting long before the sect was built. Ancient script flickered along the gate's edges, faded but alive, and the stone beneath his boots carried the accumulated weight of generations. For a heartbeat, something vast and ancient turned its attention toward him, ready to smite whatever fool had dared to enter uninvited.
Then it sensed his token.
The formation grumbled with a low vibration that Lu Chen was too weak to perceive and settled back into its slumber. Reluctantly. Like a guard dog called off its prey at the last possible second.
Lu Chen felt none of this. He walked forward, oblivious, and entered the sect proper.
The courtyard was empty.
Not quiet. Empty. No disciples practicing forms. No patrols making rounds. No servants sweeping the stone paths. Even the wind seemed to have taken the day off. The silence pressed in like a held breath.
For a moment, just a moment, Lu Chen let himself feel it, the exhaustion that had been building for a week. He was back. He had made it. He was still alive.
Four years in this sect. Four years of being invisible. And now I'm back to the same empty courtyard, the same silence, the same nothing.
Some things never changed.
He pushed the thought away. There was no time for that.
Lu Chen stopped. Looked around. Blinked.
"Did I come to the wrong sect?"
"Then where is everyone?"
Across the courtyard, a figure waddled into view.
Round. Extremely round. Robes straining with the commitment of fabric that had agreed to a job and was deeply regretting it. He moved with the particular determination of a man who was going somewhere and intended to arrive there eventually, though he made no promises about when.
Lu Chen squinted. "Is that... Xuan Hong?"
Lu Chen hurried over. "Xuan Hong! What's going on? Where is everyone?"
Xuan Hong turned.
His face set in the grumpy expression of a man who had been yelled at one too many times today, moved through several stages. Recognition. Confusion. Disbelief.
And then, pure unfiltered terror.
"GHOST!" Xuan Hong shrieked, stumbling backward. "GHOST! SOMEONE HELP ME! THERE'S A GHOST IN THE SECT!"
Lu Chen blinked. Looked behind him. Saw no one.
Is he talking about me?
Lu Chen turned back to Xuan Hong, who was now scrambling toward the nearest building, his round body moving with surprising speed for someone shaped like a medicine ball.
"THE GHOST WANTS TO RAPE ME!" Xuan Hong's voice cracked across the empty courtyard. "I KNOW I MIGHT BE CUTE AND FUN-SIZED, BUT I PREFER A LADY!"
Blood shot to Lu Chen's head.
His vision went red. His eye twitched. His hand formed a fist.
Cute and fun-sized.
I'm going to kill him.
With my bare hands.
Lu Chen moved.
Phantom Mirage Step.
He appeared beside Xuan Hong in a flicker of motion. The round disciple's eyes went wide. He tried to change direction, tripped over his own feet, and began to fall.
Lu Chen caught him.
And then he slapped him.
CRACK.
The sound echoed across the empty courtyard like a firecracker with something to prove.
"Your sister is a ghost!" Lu Chen roared. "Your whole family are ghosts! You're the raping ghost! I'm a DISCIPLE!"
Xuan Hong's head snapped to the side. His eyes crossed. His brain, which had been running purely on terror fumes, rebooted.
He blinked.
Touched his cheek.
It was warm. Very warm. And very, very painful.
A ghost couldn't physically slap him.
A ghost couldn't catch him mid-fall.
A ghost couldn't—
"Oh," Xuan Hong said slowly. "Oh." His face crumpled. "LU CHEN! YOU'RE ALIVE! WE ALL THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!"
[DING!]
[Host's title 'Head Smacker' has evolved to produce a skill!]
[Head Smacker: A title produced as a result of a tiny pebble smacking host into the his current world, further granting Host exceptional talent in smacking people into and out of consciousness.]
[Skill Unlocked: Head Smack (Legendary)]
[Skill Tree:]
[Consciousness Smack: Smack someone into consciousness or out of consciousness.]
[Sense Smack: Smack the wisdom out of someone or back into someone.]
[???: Locked. Smack more people to unlock additional branches.]
Lu Chen stared at the notification.
You're joking.
This is a skill. Smacking people is a skill?
I hate you.
Despite himself, Lu Chen felt a flicker of satisfaction. A legendary skill. From slapping a round disciple. The universe had a sense of humor, apparently. He filed it away for later use.
Xuan Hong, still clinging to Lu Chen's sleeve, babbled on. "You didn't come back! The mission was two days and then it was three and then it was a week and then nobody heard anything and—"
"How long was I gone?" Lu Chen asked flatly.
"A week! Some disciples even erected an altar for you! Incense and everything! They've been telling everyone you were a hero who died saving the world from a hundred demonic cultivators single-handedly!"
Lu Chen felt something warm and wet threaten to escape his mouth.
Did I almost cough blood just now?
"An altar," Lu Chen repeated. "They built me an altar."
"Yes! They bow to it every morning! They say prayers!"
The temperature around them dropped several degrees.
"Who." Lu Chen's voice was very quiet. "Who organized this?"
Xuan Hong's mouth snapped shut. He looked at Lu Chen's face. He looked at the ground. He looked at the general direction of the horizon, as if calculating escape routes.
"I..." he swallowed, "...can't remember."
Lu Chen looked at him.
Xuan Hong's survival instincts and his self-preservation instincts held a very brief meeting and reached a unanimous decision.
"Mo Tian," he said. "Mo Tian is the leader. He organized everything."
Mo Tian, he thought inwardly. You can't blame me. I was forced.
Lu Chen released Xuan Hong, who crumpled gently to the ground and stayed there. Lu Chen turned toward the inner sect, his jaw set.
"Mo Tian."
He took one step.
Blood qi at sixty percent. Not terrible. Not ideal. I need to recover before the Ascension Meet.
Then stopped.
Turned back.
"Xuan Hong."
The round disciple, from the ground, flinched. "Yes?"
"Where is everyone? Why is the sect empty?"
Xuan Hong blinked. "The Outer Sect Martial Ascension Meet? Isn't that why you came back?"
Lu Chen stared at him.
The Ascension Meet.
The duel.
Zhang Long.
"When did it start?"
"Just now! Everyone's at the central arena! If you hurry you might still—"
Lu Chen was already gone.
Phantom Mirage Step. Phantom Mirage Leap. Phantom Mirage Step.
He disappeared down the path in a blur, leaving nothing behind but dust and a very confused Xuan Hong sitting on the ground.
The round disciple sat there for a moment, processing everything that had just happened.
Then he scrambled to his feet.
"WAIT FOR ME! TAKE ME WITH YOU!"
[TO BE CONTINUED...]