Chapter Seven: The Scorn of the Path
The days following Wei Feng's selection of the Mist Spirit Gu were filled with a tense air of quiet expectation. He had chosen his Gu, the one that resonated with his own instincts, but he had not expected the aftermath to be so brutal. The moment the decision was made, whispers had already started to spread among the disciples of the Heaven's Path Sect. He could hear them everywhere—behind his back, in the halls, in the courtyards. Those whispers spoke of his choice, not with admiration, but with disdain.
Wei Feng's heart had been light and his steps full of confidence when he first selected the Mist Spirit Gu. He knew that, despite the peculiar reputation of the Gu, he would be able to master it. He believed in his abilities, his understanding of Gu, and his own intuition. Yet, as he was summoned before the elders and senior disciples for the first time since his choice, he realized just how wrong he had been about his expectations.
The grand hall of the Heaven's Path Sect was vast, its marble floors reflecting the light of numerous glowing crystals. But even this magnificence felt cold to Wei Feng, as he walked into the center of the room. Around him stood the sect's elders and the more prominent disciples, their eyes heavy with judgment.
He bowed deeply, showing his respect as he had been taught. The elder who had guided him in his choice of Gu, Elder Zhang, stood before him with an expression unreadable but filled with an air of disappointment.
"Wei Feng," Elder Zhang began, his voice carrying an authority that immediately drew the attention of the room. "Your choice of Gu has left many of us surprised and concerned. The Mist Spirit Gu is a Gu of deception, illusion, and subtlety, one that often falls into the hands of those who would prefer to manipulate others rather than face the world directly. It is not a Gu for the righteous, nor for those who would walk the path of true cultivation."
Wei Feng's eyes remained steady as Elder Zhang's words fell like cold water on his heart. He had heard these words before—whispers among the disciples, murmurs in the training halls. But now, here they were, spoken aloud in front of the most powerful figures of the sect. The truth of the judgment was undeniable.
Before Wei Feng could respond, one of the senior disciples, a young man named Li Hu, stepped forward. His eyes were sharp and filled with mockery.
"You've chosen a Gu that is nothing more than a crutch for the weak," Li Hu sneered, his voice dripping with scorn. "To rely on illusions and tricks is the path of a coward, not one of true strength. What is your next step, Wei Feng? Will you deceive us all into thinking you have power?"
Wei Feng's gaze hardened. He had expected some opposition, but this... this open disdain was more than he had anticipated. The members of the sect, those he had looked up to just days ago, now turned their backs on him, casting him as someone unworthy.
Elder Zhang raised a hand, silencing Li Hu, though his eyes held a glimmer of amusement. "But there is something more serious, Wei Feng. Your talent for Gu conservation is barely above a tier C level. To have chosen a Gu of such complexity with such a poor foundation—do you not realize how foolish that is? Your cultivation will falter. Your progress will be slow. You will be outpaced by others who have better natural talent."
Wei Feng clenched his fists, the weight of the elder's words pressing down on him. Tier C talent. It was the worst classification for a Gu conservator. It meant that his ability to hold and refine Gu energy, to sustain the very essence of his chosen Gu, was below average. In a world where cultivation was everything, this was a damning judgment. And yet, despite it all, Wei Feng stood firm.
"I will master it," he said, his voice unwavering. "It may take time, but I will become the master of this Gu, regardless of my talent."
A murmur passed through the crowd of disciples, many of them exchanging looks of disbelief. His words sounded bold, but to them, it was nothing more than the stubbornness of a young fool.
The sect's elders did not reply immediately, but Wei Feng could feel their gaze lingering on him, as though they were trying to see through him, to measure the depth of his resolve. It was Elder Zhang who spoke next, his voice softer, almost pitying.
"You misunderstand, Wei Feng. We do not question your resolve. We question your choice and your ability to keep up with those who have natural talent. Your Gu may be one of deception, but it is also one of tremendous difficulty. If you cannot sustain it, you will fall behind. You will have no future here."
The words stung more than Wei Feng cared to admit. But instead of shrinking from the pressure, he found something deep within himself—something cold, something calculating. It was as if a spark of defiance had ignited in his heart, setting him ablaze with determination. He would prove them wrong.
"I will not be defined by my talent," Wei Feng declared, his voice carrying louder now, firm and unyielding. "I will surpass every one of you, no matter how difficult it may be. I will make my own path. And when that day comes, you will see that it was worth it."
For a long moment, the room was silent. The elders and disciples exchanged uncertain glances. The tension was palpable, and Wei Feng could almost hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. And yet, none of them spoke. They simply stared at him, studying him as if he were a curiosity—a specimen to be watched, to see whether he would break or rise.
Finally, Elder Zhang nodded, as though satisfied with the resolve he saw in Wei Feng's eyes. "Very well. If you wish to walk this path, then we will not stop you. But know this: you walk it alone. And it will be a hard and lonely journey."
With that, the elders turned their attention to other matters, their disapproval lingering in the air like a thick fog. Wei Feng felt the weight of their scorn, but something within him hardened, like a blade being forged in the furnace. He would not bow. He would not fail.
As he left the hall, the eyes of his fellow disciples followed him. Some with pity, others with amusement, and still others with disdain. Wei Feng did not care. He had chosen his path, and now it was up to him to prove that it was the right one.
In the coming days, as he trained, the scorn of his peers only grew. They whispered behind his back, laughed at his failures, and mocked his every misstep. But Wei Feng did not falter. He embraced the challenge, throwing himself into his cultivation with all the energy he had. Each time he felt the sting of ridicule, he used it to fuel his determination. Every insult, every sneer, every mockery only made him more resolute.
His progress was slow, yes. His talent for Gu conservation was barely enough to keep up with his own Gu's energy demands. But Wei Feng did not give up. He learned, he adapted, and slowly, bit by bit, he began to improve.
And with each passing day, as his control over the Mist Spirit Gu deepened, he began to realize something—the true power of the Gu was not in its illusions or tricks, but in its ability to make one see the truth. The truth about himself. And the truth was, Wei Feng would not be defined by others. He would define himself.
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