Three weeks passed.
Liang Yu learned the rhythms of the sect. Morning meditation. Chores—he was assigned to the herb gardens, weeding and watering under the supervision of a bored outer disciple named Shen Wei who spent most of his time napping in the shade. Evening meals in the dining hall. Nights spent trying to force qi through meridians that refused to open.
He made progress. Slow, agonizing progress. After seventeen days, he managed to draw a single thread of qi into his body. It sat in his dantian like a drop of water in an empty well, barely noticeable, doing nothing.
But it was something. Proof that the technique worked. Proof that his body could eventually change.
He also watched. Listened. Learned.
The Verdant Sky Sect was small by cultivation world standards—maybe three hundred disciples total, with perhaps forty inner disciples and a dozen elders. The Sect Leader, a woman named Mu Qing, was said to be at the Nascent Soul stage, though no one spoke of her directly. She was a presence, not a person. A name invoked with reverence and fear.
The sect specialized in wood-element techniques and medicinal herb cultivation. Their products were traded with neighboring sects for resources they couldn't produce themselves—spirit stones, weapons, defensive artifacts. They were respected but not powerful. Neutral in the conflicts that occasionally flared between larger sects.
Safe. Stable. Boring.
Perfect for someone who needs time to grow.
Liang Yu also learned about the people.
Zhao Ming and his friends were exactly what they seemed—ordinary teenagers, not particularly ambitious, content to drift through their discipleship and hope for a lucky break.
Lin Qiu was sharper than she let on. She watched everything, said little, and had a habit of appearing exactly when interesting things happened. Liang Yu made a note to be careful around her.
Zhang Hu was a tragedy waiting to happen. Five years as an outer disciple had hollowed him out. He worked hard, trained hard, and accomplished nothing. His eyes had the flat look of someone running out of hope.
And then there was Lin Fei.
The name came up constantly. In conversations at meals. In muttered resentments during chores. In the way disciples' eyes would flick toward the inner sect quarters, where Lin Fei trained with the elders.
Lin Fei was seventeen. Lin Fei had reached the fifth stage of Qi Condensation in three years—a pace that marked him as exceptional. Lin Fei had been personally mentored by Elder Zhou, the sect's strongest alchemist. Lin Fei was going to be someone important.
Liang Yu hadn't met him yet. But he'd seen him once, from a distance—a tall figure in inner disciple robes, walking with the easy confidence of someone who'd never doubted his place in the world.
Heaven's favored son.
Yes. The system identified him immediately.
What's his story?
The usual. Born to ordinary parents but blessed by heaven. Discovered by a traveling elder at age fourteen. Brought to the sect. Excelled at everything. Respected by peers, favored by superiors, destined for greatness.
And the system wants me to—
The system wants you to decide. Sabotage him? Ignore him? Befriend him? Use him? Each path has rewards. Each path has consequences.
What do you recommend?
I don't recommend. I observe. I reward.
Liang Yu watched Lin Fei disappear into the elders' pavilion and felt something he hadn't expected: not envy, not resentment, but a cold, clinical interest.
He's the protagonist. The hero of this world's story. If this were a novel, he'd win. He'd overcome every obstacle, defeat every villain, and ascend to immortality while everyone who opposed him regretted their choices.
But this isn't a novel. This is real. And real protagonists sometimes lose.
He turned away and walked back to the herb gardens, where Shen Wei was snoring softly in the shade.
New Mission Available: The Shape of Rivalry
Lin Fei's rise has created enemies. Envy festers in the outer sect. Someone is planning something.
Objective: Identify the plot against Lin Fei before it happens
Difficulty: Moderate
Risk: Low (observation only)
Reward: Minor meridian cleansing pill
Time limit: Seven days
Liang Yu read the mission standing in the garden, trowel in hand, dirt under his fingernails.
The system wants me to find someone plotting against Lin Fei.
The system wants you to have information. What you do with it is your choice.
If I warn Lin Fei, I gain his gratitude. Access to an inner disciple. A powerful ally.
If I let the plot happen, I gain... what?
Observation. Data. The chance to see how Lin Fei responds to adversity. The opportunity to position yourself advantageously in the aftermath.
If I help the plotters—
Then you begin. Truly.
Liang Yu turned the possibilities over in his mind like stones, examining each one for weight and sharpness.
Then he went back to weeding.
The next four days were a masterclass in patience.
Liang Yu watched. He didn't follow anyone, didn't ask obvious questions, didn't do anything that might draw attention. He simply observed—the way people looked at each other, the conversations that stopped when he approached, the small tensions that flickered beneath the surface of sect life.
Zhang Hu was the first piece.
The older disciple had been more withdrawn lately. Skipping meals. Showing up late to chores. His eyes had a new quality—not just flat, but focused. Like someone who'd found a purpose.
Liang Yu noticed him talking to a group of outer disciples he usually avoided. Not just talking—whispering. Huddled in corners. Breaking apart when others approached.
He's recruiting.
The second piece came from Lin Qiu.
She found Liang Yu in the garden on the fifth day, appearing silently beside him as he worked.
"You're watching," she said. No greeting. No preamble.
Liang Yu kept weeding. "I'm always working. Shen Wei doesn't care what I do as long as the weeds disappear."
"Don't play stupid. I've seen you. At meals. In the courtyard. You watch everything."
He looked up. Met her eyes. She was sharper than he'd given her credit for.
"Observation is free," he said. "Costs nothing. Might be useful someday."
"Useful for what?"
"Survival."
She held his gaze for a long moment. Then she nodded, once, and crouched beside him, pulling weeds with quick, efficient movements.
"Zhang Hu is going to do something stupid," she said quietly. "He's been meeting with Wu Chen and the others. Wu Chen hates Lin Fei—has since they were children. Thinks Lin Fei stole his place."
Wu Chen. Another name for the list.
"What kind of stupid?"
"I don't know. But Zhang Hu has nothing left to lose. That makes him dangerous." She glanced at Liang Yu. "You should stay away from it."
"Why tell me?"
"Because you're new. Because you're not part of their games yet. Because—" She paused, pulling a particularly stubborn weed. "—because someone should know. In case it goes wrong."
Liang Yu filed that away. Lin Qiu is worried. Lin Qiu wants insurance. Lin Qiu is giving me information so that if things explode, she can say she tried to warn someone.
Smart. Cautious. Useful.
"Thanks," he said. "I'll be careful."
She nodded and left, as silently as she'd arrived.
The third piece came on the sixth day.
Liang Yu was returning from the dining hall when he saw them: Zhang Hu, Wu Chen, and two other outer disciples he didn't recognize, slipping into the meditation grove after dark. Not unusual—disciples meditated at all hours. But the way they moved, the way they checked for observers, set off alarms in his head.
He didn't follow. Too obvious. Too risky.
Instead, he circled wide, approaching the grove from the opposite side, using the trees and darkness for cover. Found a spot where he could see without being seen.
They were gathered around a small clearing, speaking in low voices. Wu Chen was doing most of the talking. Zhang Hu stood slightly apart, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"—the herb gathering mission next week. He always goes alone. Elder Zhou's orders—wants him to learn independent identification."
"Can we guarantee it?" One of the unknowns.
"Zhang Hu will be on the support team. He can confirm the timing."
Liang Yu's eyes moved to Zhang Hu. The older disciple nodded slowly.
"Then it's simple. We're already assigned to herb gathering. We'll be in the same area. The outer reaches have demon beasts—everyone knows that. If something happens to Lin Fei out there, it's tragic but not suspicious."
"And the body?"
"Demon beasts don't leave bodies."
Silence. Then Zhang Hu spoke, his voice rough.
"What about the others? The ones assigned with us?"
"They'll be dealt with. Or they'll keep quiet. Either way."
Liang Yu watched them plan a murder. Watched them justify it to themselves. Watched the hunger in their eyes—the hunger for Lin Fei's position, for his opportunities, for the life he had that they couldn't reach.
This is the cultivation world. This is what it does to people.
He slipped away as silently as he'd come.
Mission Complete: The Shape of Rivalry
Details: Plot identified. Participants: Wu Chen (ringleader), Zhang Hu (insider), two unknown outer disciples. Method: ambush during herb gathering mission, staged as demon beast attack. Timing: six days from now.
Reward: Minor meridian cleansing pill (available for claiming)
New Mission Available: The Fork
Information is power. Power requires choice.
Objective: Choose a path
Warn Lin Fei → Reward: Lin Fei's gratitude (significant)
Warn the sect → Reward: Reputation as loyal disciple (moderate)
Inform the plotters that you know → Reward: Leverage over plotters (variable)
Let it happen → Reward: Observation of aftermath (informational)
Other approaches → Reward: Variable (depends on execution)
Note: This choice will have consequences. Choose carefully.
Liang Yu sat in his room, the meridian pill in his hand—a small white sphere that smelled of herbs and something chemical. One dose. It would clear a fraction of his blockages. Not enough to transform him, but enough to make cultivation slightly less impossible.
He could take it now. Gain a small advantage. Then decide.
Or he could wait. Use it as leverage. Trade it for something.
Or he could do something else entirely.
The system waited. The world waited. Lin Fei continued training, oblivious to the danger coiling around him.
Liang Yu thought about Zhang Hu's face in the clearing. The emptiness in his eyes. The hunger that had hollowed him out.
He thought about Lin Fei's confidence. His easy stride. His certain future.
He thought about himself. Sixteen years old. No talent. No connections. A single drop of qi in his dantian and a lifetime of catching up ahead of him.
What would a villain do?
What would a survivor do?
Are they the same thing?
He didn't know yet. But he was starting to understand the shape of the question.