Departing from the mission pavilion, Alex trudged towards his quarters, his steps echoing with the weight of solitude.
Time stretched and compressed as he journeyed, until at last, he arrived at his destination.
His quarters were a modest thing, a mere cubicle barely larger than a monk's meditation cell.
Dominating the confined space was a single, unremarkable bed, its presence so consuming that it absorbed more than half of the room's dimension.
The quarters, bereft of all but the most necessities, reflected the stark reality of Alex's station.
Once filled with the simple trappings of life, it now stood empty, a stark testament to his status as the trash of the Cloud Moon Sect.
Alex sighed, a long, weary exhalation that seemed to drain the last of his strength.
Without bothering to shed his threadbare and soiled garments, he surrendered himself to the minimal comfort of the bed.
The moment his head found the meager pillow, he tumbled into the abyss of slumber.
*****
Emerging from the cocoon of sleep, Alex awoke, his spirit rekindled and his body invigorated.
Darkness still reigned outside, the world ensnared in the grip of night.
He did not rise immediately but instead, lay there, his mind whirling like a storm as he contemplated his path forward.
After a time, he roused himself, spending a few precious moments attending to his hygiene and changing his bedraggled attire into the official garb of the sect - a brown robe emblazoned with a luminous white moon on its chest, the symbol of the Cloud Moon Sect.
Finally ready, Alex approached the door, opening it to greet the nascent dawn.
Stepping outside, he charted his course toward the sect's armory, his mind set on acquiring a superior weapon and replenishing his supply of rejuvenating pills.
As he journeyed, he felt the weight of curious eyes upon him.
Whispers rustled like autumn leaves in the wind, the news of his bold challenge to Zhong Jie having spread like wildfire among the outer sect disciples.
Faces peered at him, their expressions a mixture of awe and disdain. "Is that him?" one of the disciples queried, his finger subtly pointing Alex's way.
"Who else could it be? How many trash Li Weis do we have?" scoffed another, his tone laced with contempt.
"Why would he challenge Zhong Jie? Is he courting death?" The question hung in the air, pregnant with disbelief.
"Perhaps he desires his end," came a dismissive reply, the speaker's disgust evident in his tone.
Alex caught snatches of their conversation, and a derisive snort escaped his lips. "Fools," he muttered under his breath as he maintained his steady pace towards the sect's armory.
His challenge to Zhong Jie was a calculated move, a gambit to establish his dominance among the outer sect disciples. In doing so, he hoped to improve his living conditions and stature within the sect.
And following that, his sights were set on the inner sect, where he would gain access to superior weaponry and advanced cultivation techniques.
Ignoring the whispers and stares, Alex continued his journey.
Time once again stretched and compressed as he moved forward, until at last, the armory came into sight.
While not as colossal as the mission pavilion, the armory still boasted an imposing size.
Alex crossed the threshold, his gaze sweeping across the vast interior.
It was relatively quiet, with only three or four individuals present. Two of them were the stoic sect guards, their gazes as sharp as the weapons they protected. The others were outer sect disciples.
As Alex stepped further into the armory, the outer sect disciples turned their gaze toward him.
However, he paid no heed, his focus only on the vast collection of weapons that lay before him.
He moved unerringly towards the array of weapons, his eyes scanning the displays.
Unfortunately, daggers - his weapon of choice - were not popular among the cultivators, making his search for a suitable one arduous.
The armory was brimming with swords, axes, and various other weapons, yet the elusive dagger remained out of his grasp.
His preference for daggers stemmed from his past life, where his experience in the special forces acquainted him with guns and knives.
Fighting with a dagger was akin to battling with a knife, and this familiarity was a comfort in an unknown world.
Furthermore, the body he transmigrated into - originally belonging to Li Wei - was accustomed to using a dagger.
Li Wei was not renowned for his skill with a dagger, but due to a lack of contribution points, a dagger was his only option.
Alex continued his search, his hope dwindling with every passing moment.
His gaze only fell upon low-quality daggers, some even worse than his current one.
With a sigh, he approached one of the sect guards, his tone steady as he voiced his concern. "I can't seem to find any high-quality daggers here. Are there none?"
The guard's gaze met his, his reply polite yet devoid of any emotional undertone. "There are no high-quality daggers here."
Disappointment washed over Alex, the prospect of learning a new weapon daunting.
The system's mission deadline was fast approaching and the idea of mastering a new weapon while also hunting a high-staged lesser Qi beast seemed impossible.
With a heavy heart, he sought confirmation. "Are there truly no high-quality daggers here?"
The guard's nod affirmed his fears, but something in his demeanor hinted at a hidden truth.
Alex's experience in the special forces had honed his observation skills, and he could tell the guard was withholding information.
"Are you certain there are no good daggers here? Are you hiding something from me?" he pressed.
The guard hesitated, his gaze lingering on Alex for a moment before he finally spoke. "Indeed, there are no high-quality daggers here. However, Elder Liang has one."
A glimmer of hope sparked within Alex, only to be extinguished by a memory inherited from Li Wei.
Elder Liang, akin to Elder Zhen, was a revered Cloud Moon Sect elder.
Tragically, the loss of his only disciple six years prior led to a drastic change in his demeanor.
Once a respected steward of the sect's armory, Elder Liang had withdrawn from society following this tragic event.
Rumors circulated of his erratic behavior, with some sect disciples claiming to have sustained grave injuries after an encounter with him.
His current reputation painted him as a recluse, one who had surrendered to insanity.