"Name, gender, age," the old man behind the registration desk barked, peering at Xing Jue over the top of his spectacles. His quill hovered over a piece of parchment.
Xing Jue mimicked the old man's tone, although his lips twitched with amusement. "Xing Jue. Male. Sixteen." Seriously? he thought. Do I really need to tell you I'm male?
The registrar frowned, about to unleash his displeasure, but then he seemed to think better of it. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he waved his hand dismissively. "Put this on," he said, tossing a blue robe and a sealed envelope onto the desk, "and then get in line over there. They'll tell you what to do."
Xing Jue shrugged on the robe and joined the queue. Dozens of other initiates, all dressed in identical blue robes, stood patiently in a loose formation, listening intently to… nothing. He craned his neck, trying to see what was happening at the front, but it was impossible to see past the wall of blue. After what seemed like an eternity, a tall, imposing-looking elder, dressed in a similar, but more elaborate, robe, strode onto the raised platform in front of them.
"Greetings, and welcome," the elder boomed, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "On behalf of the Heavenly Wind Pavilion, allow me to extend to you…" The speech went on for what felt like hours. Xing Jue did his best to pay attention—he really did—but the elder's monotonous voice, combined with the lack of sleep, made it difficult. By the time the elder finished, most of the initiates looked as relieved as he felt.
From there, they were herded towards their new living quarters – a far cry from the luxurious palace he'd briefly glimpsed earlier, that was for sure.
"You've gotta be kidding me…" He stared out of his window, his jaw slack with astonishment. Sure, his little room was tiny—barely ten square meters—but at least it was his. The view outside, on the other hand…
Rows upon rows of identical, ramshackle huts stretched as far as his eye could see, clinging to the side of the mountain like barnacles to a ship's hull. From this distance, they looked like… well, they looked like slums. A far cry from the opulent buildings he'd seen earlier. Now that was where the real disciples lived. The ones who were actually accepted into the Inner Division…
Xing Jue sighed, letting the curtain fall back into place. He knew he should be grateful for what he had - most people would kill for the opportunity to join the Heavenly Wind Pavilion, even as an Outer Division disciple - but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy every time he looked out his window.
And that girl... every time he closed his eyes, he could practically feel her presence, could almost smell the sandalwood scent of her hair… He needed a distraction.
He closed his eyes, willing the memory of her smile to chase away the disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him.
The insistent rapping on his door yanked Xing Jue out of a deep sleep. "What in the…?" he roared, flinging open the door, ready to unleash his fury on whoever had dared to wake him. His words died in his throat.
"Um, sorry to wake you," the skinny boy with owlish spectacles stammered, taking a hasty step back. "But... today's the day they hand out the积分. You know…"
It all came flooding back in a flash. Right. Points. 积分. The lifeblood of the Heavenly Wind Pavilion. Need to buy food? Points. Weapons? Points. Training manuals? More points. "Crap! I completely forgot!"
"This is it? This is the legendary 积分 card?" Hours later, standing in line outside the 积分 distribution center, Xing Jue couldn't help but feel a bit underwhelmed. It looked… well, like a piece of tinted glass. Not very impressive for something that held so much power. He held it up, examining his reflection in the polished surface. "Three hundred points," he muttered, tracing the numerals engraved on the bottom right-hand corner. "Let's see how far that gets me."
His stomach chose that moment to remind him he hadn't eaten anything since arriving at the Heavenly Wind Pavilion, so he pocketed his new 积分 card and headed towards the dining hall, hoping that they accepted points as payment.
The familiar figure, hunched over in the shadows, stopped him in his tracks. "Hey! Four-Eyes!" he called out, waving.
Four-Eyes looked up, his face lighting up in recognition…before his eyes darted nervously towards the five or six older disciples clustered around him. "Xing Jue?" he whispered, glancing around as if he were afraid of being overheard, his gaze pleading with him to move along.
"So, you do know this loser, eh, Four-Eyes?" A tall boy with a nasty scar snaking down his cheek sauntered forward, giving Xing Jue the once-over. Xing Jue made sure to keep his Aura suppressed so that the boy wouldn't sense how outmatched he really was.
"No! I mean… we're not… We haven't…" Four-Eyes stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of the older boy's scrutiny. He kicked at a loose stone on the ground, avoiding Xing Jue's gaze.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. Poor Four-Eyes, he was probably being bullied by this idiot and his goons.
Xing Jue crossed his arms over his chest. "What's going on here, then? Come on, spit it out."
The scarred boy laughed—a harsh, grating sound—and jerked his chin at Four-Eyes. "Just welcoming our newest recruit. He still owes us a little… processing fee. Don't you, newbie?"
"You're kidding, right?" Xing Jue's eyebrow shot up in disbelief. Was this guy serious? "You think you can just… what is this, amateur hour?"
Scarface threw back his head and roared with laughter, as if Xing Jue had just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. His cronies joined in, their laughter echoing menacingly off the stone walls.
"So, it's like that, is it?" Xing Jue's lips curved into a smile. It was good to know that even in a prestigious sect like the Heavenly Wind Pavilion, the strong still preyed on the weak. Good to know.
Scarface stepped closer, cracking his knuckles. "Tell you what, newbie," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Two hundred points. Hand it over now, and we'll forget this little… misunderstanding ever happened."
Xing Jue ignored the bully, turning instead to Four-Eyes. "You actually gave them your points?" He'd noticed that Four-Eyes' card now displayed a big, fat zero.
Four-Eyes nodded miserably.
That was all it took. Scarface lashed out, catching Four-Eyes squarely in the gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath, but remained silent.
"Who did you give it to? I said, who?" Scarface bellowed.
"N-no one… I… I spent it, all right?" Four-Eyes whimpered.
Scarface grunted, satisfied, then turned back to Xing Jue. "See? That's what happens when you cooperate-"
That was as far as he got. Xing Jue's fist connected with his jaw in a satisfying crunch of bone on bone. Scarface staggered, spitting blood and teeth, before collapsing in a heap at Xing Jue's feet.
"You little…!" one of the other disciples snarled, lunging towards Xing Jue with a roar.
Xing Jue didn't even bother dodging. He sidestepped the poorly executed attack and slammed his fist into the boy's stomach. The air left his lungs in a rush, and he crumpled to the ground beside his unconscious leader.
The remaining disciples stared at Xing Jue, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief. He'd taken out Scarface and his buddy without even breaking a sweat! And he hadn't used his Aura at all, that much was clear.
"Let's make this simple, shall we?" Xing Jue said softly, his voice barely a whisper, but it cut through the air like a knife through silk, silencing the whispers. "Each of you is going to transfer two hundred points to Four-Eyes, and then you're all going to forget you ever met me. Understood?" He knelt beside their fallen comrades, relieving them of their 积分 cards. He studied the cards briefly—twelve hundred, two thousand—before swiping them across his own. His card now held a very satisfying thirty-five hundred. His lips twitched; he was going to enjoy spending that.
The remaining disciples, suddenly eager to demonstrate their willingness to cooperate, scrambled to obey, transferring their hard-earned points to Four-Eyes' card without a word of protest. They practically tripped over their own feet as they gathered up their unconscious friends and melted away into the crowd. Xing Jue watched them go, his gaze cold and unforgiving. He'd just arrived, and already he was making enemies. He couldn't say he minded.
"You're… you're a Warrior Adept? Four-Eyes stammered, staring at him as if he'd sprouted wings.
Xing Jue chuckled. "Among other things. But… you could have handled that yourself, you know. You're no slouch, even if you don't like to fight. What happened back there?"
"I… " Four-Eyes hesitated, then sighed. "I thought… well, I just figured it would be… easier. They do this every year, you know. Target the new recruits. Extort them for their points."
Xing Jue shook his head sadly; he'd known people like Four-Eyes back at the orphanage. Smart. Talented. But easily intimidated. It wouldn't last; not if he had anything to say about it. He clapped a hand on Four-Eyes' shoulder. "Next time, you push back," he said, his voice firm. "Push back hard. Got it?"
"Yeah. You're right," Four-Eyes' voice trembled slightly, but he stood a little taller, holding Xing Jue's gaze. "Thank you, Xing Jue." He hesitated, then held out his 积分 card. "Listen… You saved me back there. And you got all those points back, anyway. I want you to have this."
Xing Jue stared at the card —twelve hundred points—then back up at Four-Eyes. It was obvious that he meant it. Four-Eyes was a good kid. Loyal. He'd make a good friend. "Nah, keep it." He smiled, clapping him on the back. "Consider it a loan. You can buy me lunch."
They headed off toward the dining hall, leaving two shadowy figures to watch them from the alleyway.
"Well, well… A Warrior Adept, just like that. Interesting," the taller of the two murmured, his gaze fixed on Xing Jue's retreating figure.
"Looks like we have some competition. Zhao Wang isn't going to like this." The second boy's lips curved into a cruel smile, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. "We should get rid of him. Sooner rather than later."
The taller boy shook his head. There was no need to be hasty. "Patience. Let Zhao Wang handle it. He's got a temper, our Zhao Wang. This time, though…" his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "This time, I'm placing a wager. And I never lose."