By the Riverside, Beneath the Twilight Sky

The orange glow of twilight reflected on the river's surface, creating golden ripples that moved with the flow of the water. Liang Yue knelt by the riverside, his slender hands rubbing a wet cloth against a stone. His black hanfu clung slightly to his body, dampened by the splashes of water. His long, jet-black hair flowed down, with a few strands sticking to his jade-like cheeks.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps approached from behind. (Tap. Tap. Tap.)

Liang Yue turned his head and saw a senior disciple standing there with his arms crossed. His sharp gaze pierced through the air, filled with impatience.

"Liang Yue, have you finished washing the clothes?" His voice was firm, almost like a bark.

Liang Yue lowered his head slightly and continued his work without rushing. (Splash. Splash.) The water rippled as he scrubbed the last piece of cloth against the river stone.

"Not yet, Senior. Two more pieces remain," he answered softly yet respectfully.

Hearing that, the senior disciple frowned, his expression turning irritated.

"Why so slow!!"

Without warning—(Swish! Thud!)—a powerful kick struck Liang Yue's back, throwing his body off balance.

(Splash!!!)

Water splashed high as his body fell into the river. Small waves formed before slowly settling, leaving ripples spreading across the surface. Liang Yue felt the coldness creeping into his entire body, but he only bit his lip, suppressing any signs of anger or resentment.

On the riverbank, the senior disciple merely scoffed before walking away with an arrogant stride. (Tap. Tap. Tap.) His footsteps faded into the distance.

"Such a weak man," he muttered before finally disappearing from sight.

Meanwhile, Liang Yue remained silent in the water, letting his body float for a moment before calmly moving his hands. (Splash... Splash...) With graceful movements, he swam back to the shore, as if nothing had happened. Upon reaching land, he tidied his now-wet hair and walked back to the laundry area.

Without complaints, without resentment, he knelt by the riverside once more. His hands picked up the remaining cloth, then resumed scrubbing it with serene composure. (Scrub. Scrub.)

As if nothing had ever happened.

After finishing the laundry, Liang Yue walked back to the sect with light yet steady steps. On top of his head, a large bamboo basket filled with wet clothes was neatly arranged. Both of his hands were raised, holding the sides of the basket to keep it balanced. Water dripped slowly from the still-damp fabric, leaving a small trail along the stone path.

The laundry area in the Path Immortal Sect was located in the western valley, near a clear river flowing from the snowy mountains. That place was always filled with servant disciples like him, assigned to wash the clothes of Inner and Core Disciples. Though it was part of a grand sect, this place was far from the main pavilion, hidden behind a bamboo forest, signifying how low their status was compared to the talented disciples who could cultivate.

Upon arriving at the drying yard, Liang Yue carefully set down his basket. (Thud.) He let out a soft breath before starting to hang the clothes one by one on the drying lines stretched under the nearly setting sun.

As he hung the first piece of clothing, his voice could be heard murmuring multiplication tables:

"1 × 1 = 1."

He took the next piece and hung it neatly.

"2 × 2 = 4."

His slender hands kept moving, arranging the clothes patiently and meticulously.

"4 × 4 = 16."

Some Inner Disciples passing by glanced at him. At first, they only gave a brief look, but after hearing his repeated murmuring, one of them chuckled.

"Hey, look at that! What is he doing? Learning multiplication while hanging clothes?"

Another disciple chimed in with a mocking tone, his voice dripping with ridicule.

"A mere servant disciple! Do you think memorizing multiplication will make you a genius in this sect?"

They burst into laughter, their voices echoing across the yard.

"He's different from us, after all. His meridians are broken, and his bones are as frail as a woman's. How could he ever cultivate? He's just a servant disciple who will never rise in rank!"

The disciples continued laughing, some even stepping closer to get a clearer look. But Liang Yue remained unbothered. His face stayed calm, his fingers continued hanging the clothes one by one, undisturbed by the jeers trying to tear at his pride.

"8 × 8 = 64."

His voice remained steady, as if the world around him was nothing more than a passing breeze.

"12 × 12 = 144."

When the last piece of clothing was hung perfectly, Liang Yue clapped his hands lightly, shaking off the remaining water from his fingers. Without sparing a glance at the still-laughing disciples, he picked up his empty basket and turned, heading toward the sect's kitchen.

At the Path Immortal Sect Kitchen

The sect's main kitchen was a large building with several stone stoves that were always burning, releasing the tempting aroma of freshly cooked meals. Servant disciples bustled about with their respective tasks—stirring soup, chopping vegetables, or carrying trays of food for the higher-ranked disciples.

Liang Yue placed his basket in a corner before grabbing a knife and sitting by a large wooden table. In front of him, a pile of potatoes and cassava awaited peeling.

Without a word, he began working. (Scrape... Scrape... Scrape...) The sound of the knife peeling potato skins created a rhythmic beat, matching his practiced movements. Though his hands were soft, he had long grown accustomed to rough labor.

One of the kitchen cooks, an elderly man with graying hair, observed him for a moment before giving a small nod.

"At least this kid is diligent," he murmured before returning to stirring the large pot of soup.

Liang Yue remained silent, his eyes focused solely on his task. He understood well that in this sect, speaking too much would only bring trouble. All he could do was continue working—quietly, diligently, and indifferent to the world around him.

The night sky stretched above the Path Immortal Sect, adorned with dimly flickering stars amidst the cold mountain breeze. The lanterns in various pavilions had begun to dim, leaving only a few faint glimmers in the distance.

In a hidden corner of the sect, there was an old storage room rarely visited by anyone. The place was filled with stacks of grain sacks, wooden crates, and the distinct scent of dust. This was Liang Yue's sleeping quarters—a servant disciple deemed the weakest and most useless among all the sect's inhabitants.

In the deepest part of the storage room, he sat cross-legged atop a pile of grain sacks that had served as his bed for years. In his hands were ten boiled potatoes—leftovers from the sect's kitchen, his usual share of food. Beside him was a bowl of thin soup, containing little more than a few wilted vegetable pieces.

He picked up a potato, taking a slow bite. The taste was bland, slightly dry, but he was used to it. The food he received was always the leftovers of other servant disciples. Since he was considered the weakest, his accommodations were also the worst—no room, no bed, just a damp and cold storage corner.

As he chewed, his clear eyes stared blankly at the dark ceiling.

"Path Immortal Sect… yet not a single one has ever attained immortality. How ironic."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, his tone laced with irony.

["This sect promises immortality, drawing in talented young cultivators with dreams of godhood, but in reality, even the best among them will probably never surpass the limits of human immortality. And among them, I was the lowest—a servant disciple with broken meridians, no potential, no hope like other servant disciples. But I am little different."]

But Liang Yue paid no mind to the tragedy of his fate. He simply bit into another potato, chewing it calmly. To him, tomorrow was just another day to endure.

Night deepened, and the mountain winds whispered through the cracks in the wooden storage room. The only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets. After finishing his simple meal, Liang Yue lay down on the grain sacks that had become slightly worn over time.

His eyes closed, and his breathing gradually steadied. Despite the biting cold, he was accustomed to it.

However, in the midst of his sleep, a soft voice echoed from outside the storage room.

"Liang Yue…"

(Creak… Creak…)

The rickety door of the storage room slowly opened, the wood groaning as it moved. Light footsteps approached.

"Wake up, I brought something for you."

Liang Yue's eyes opened, and he saw a young girl standing beside him. She was around his age, about fifteen, yet she wore a white hanfu embroidered with blue patterns—marking her status as a Core Disciple of the sect. Her long hair was tied into twin tails, her face clean and bright, with eyes filled with mischief.

"Meng Qing…" Liang Yue's voice was hoarse from sleep.

The girl gave him a small smile before sitting down next to him. From within the sleeve of her robe, she pulled out a piece of roasted meat, still warm, its savory aroma filling the musty storage room.

"Take this. You need to eat better."

Liang Yue looked at her for a moment before sighing and accepting the meat. (Rustle.) His slender fingers felt its warmth against his palm.

"Thank you," he murmured before taking a bite. The rich flavor spread across his tongue—a stark contrast to the bland food he was used to.

Meng Qing leaned back against a pile of grain sacks, crossing her arms. "You're as stubborn as ever. I know you'd never ask for help, so I brought it to you directly."

Liang Yue chewed slowly before speaking. "You know this is dangerous. If someone sees you coming here, you could get into trouble."

Meng Qing merely chuckled. "Who cares? I'm a Core Disciple. Who would dare question me for visiting an old friend?"

Liang Yue didn't respond, only offering a faint smile. He and Meng Qing had known each other since childhood, before they joined the sect. They once trained together in their small village, dreaming of becoming great cultivators. But fate had other plans. Meng Qing possessed extraordinary talent and rose to the ranks of the Core Disciples, while he… was nothing more than a servant, dismissed as worthless.

Yet, despite their vast difference in status, Meng Qing never forgot him.

"You need to eat more. You're too thin," Meng Qing muttered, glancing at him. "Are the Inner Disciples still harassing you?"

Liang Yue smiled faintly. "That's normal."

Meng Qing sighed. "If they ever try anything in front of me, I'll—"

"No need," Liang Yue cut her off softly. "I can handle it myself."

Meng Qing stared at him for a long moment before scoffing. "Stubborn as always."

A brief silence settled between them, the only warmth in the cold night being their quiet companionship. Liang Yue ate his food slowly, while Meng Qing simply gazed at the dark wooden ceiling.

"Hey, Liang Yue," she suddenly spoke, her voice softer this time. "Do you still dream of becoming strong?"

Liang Yue paused before answering, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know. But if there's a way, I want to try."

Meng Qing gave a small smile. "Then don't give up. I'm still waiting for you."

Liang Yue said nothing, merely tightening his grip on the remaining food in his hand.

Under the moonlight seeping through the wooden slats, the two old friends sat together in silence. Though the world saw them as different, in moments like these, they were just the same as before—two children who once dreamed together.

Before him, Meng Qing leaned against the grain sacks, watching him with curiosity.

"Hmm… I think I've figured out how to become strong," Liang Yue suddenly murmured, his eyes glinting faintly under the dim lantern light in the corner of the storage room.

Meng Qing raised an eyebrow, her body leaning slightly forward. "Really? How?"

Liang Yue smirked, chewing the last of his food before replying. "By thinking and never giving up. The more I fail, the more I move forward. And I have to leave the sect."

Meng Qing was silent for a moment before suddenly chuckling. "Pff… what kind of nonsense is that?" she said, amused. "That sounds like something a stubborn fool who refuses to accept reality would say. And leaving the sect is impossible for you."

Yet, though her words were light, turmoil swirled in her heart.

["My poor little brother… Why have you become like this? Why must you suffer like this? Is this world truly so unfair? Just wait until my strength recovers—I will save you."]

Her gaze softened slightly as she watched Liang Yue, who remained composed despite his hardships.

In truth, Liang Yue was her half-brother—her own flesh and blood, someone she should have protected. But for the sake of his safety and the Qing family's reputation, that truth had to be hidden.

After their father's death, the new family head, Ming Qing, erased Liang Yue's identity from the Qing bloodline. He was sent to the sect as a mere servant disciple, treated as a worthless outcast with no future. All of it was done to protect the family's honor and to prevent Liang Yue from becoming a target for those who wished to destroy their father's lineage.

Meng Qing knew all of this. But there was nothing she could do.

The only thing she could do was ensure that Liang Yue survived. Even if it meant meeting him in secret, even if it meant watching him suffer without being able to change his fate.

Liang Yue finished his meal and let out a light sigh. "Meng Qing, why do you always sneak over like this? Wouldn't it be easier if you just stopped bothering with me?"

Meng Qing smiled, though there was a trace of sadness in it. "Because I want to. Besides, I'm curious if you'll ever prove your theory right."

Liang Yue chuckled softly. "Just wait and see."

Meng Qing exhaled before standing up. "Alright, I should go before someone notices my absence."

Liang Yue simply nodded. Meng Qing took a few steps toward the door but turned back one last time.

"Liang Yue, never give up."

Liang Yue watched as her figure disappeared into the night, then lay back down on his grain sack bed. His eyes stared at the rickety wooden ceiling, but his

thoughts wandered far.

"Never give up, huh…?" he murmured softly before finally drifting into sleep.