The Verdant Cloud Sect was nestled in the heart of the Misty Peaks, a sprawling mountain range shrouded in perpetual fog. Its towering pagodas and ancient stone pathways were surrounded by lush forests and cascading waterfalls. Spiritual energy flowed freely here, making it an ideal place for cultivation—at least, for those who were willing to put in the effort.

Li Xiaohei, however, was not one of those people.

"Xiaohei! Get up, you lazy brat!" Senior Brother Zhang's voice thundered through the thin walls of Xiaohei's hut, shaking the wooden beams. "Elder Wang is already at the training grounds, and if you're late again, he'll have your head on a platter!"

Xiaohei groaned, burying his face deeper into his threadbare pillow. "Senior Brother Zhang, have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—cultivation is overrated? I mean, what's the point of living forever if you can't enjoy a good nap?"

The door slammed open, and Senior Brother Zhang stormed in, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. He was a man of discipline, with a chiseled jaw and a permanent scowl that made him look like he'd been carved from stone. His robes, though simple, were immaculate, a stark contrast to Xiaohei's disheveled appearance.

"Xiaohei," Zhang said through gritted teeth, "you've been here for three years, and you're still at the first level of Qi Condensation. Do you know what that makes you?"

"A late bloomer?" Xiaohei offered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His black hair stuck out in all directions, and his robes were wrinkled from sleeping in them.

"It makes you a disgrace to the sect," Zhang snapped. "Do you even remember why you're here?"

Xiaohei's playful grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Of course I do. I'm here because my dear uncle thought it would be 'good for me.' You know, build character, learn discipline, all that nonsense."

Zhang crossed his arms, his expression softening slightly. "Your uncle sent you here because he wanted you to have a better life. The Verdant Cloud Sect may not be the most powerful, but it's a place where even someone like you can find their path. If you'd just put in a little effort—"

"Effort is overrated," Xiaohei interrupted, swinging his legs off the bed. "Besides, I'm not cut out for all this 'cultivation' business. I'm more of a... free spirit."

Zhang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're impossible. Just get to the training grounds. Elder Wang is in a foul mood today, and I don't want to be the one explaining why you're late—again."

As Zhang left, Xiaohei grabbed a piece of stale bread from the table and took a bite, grimacing at the taste. He glanced around his tiny hut, which was little more than four walls and a roof. A single window let in a sliver of sunlight, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air. It wasn't much, but it was home—for now.

---

The Verdant Cloud Sect was one of the smaller sects in the region, known for its emphasis on harmony with nature and its strict adherence to tradition. While it lacked the prestige of the larger sects, it was a place where even the most ordinary disciples could find their footing—provided they were willing to work hard.

Xiaohei, however, was anything but ordinary.

He had arrived at the sect three years ago, a scrawny teenager with nothing but the clothes on his back and a letter from his uncle. The letter had been short and to the point:

*"Take care of my nephew. He's... different. But he has potential, if he can ever learn to focus."*

Xiaohei had never known his parents. He'd been raised by his uncle, a wandering merchant who spent more time on the road than at home. When Xiaohei was fifteen, his uncle had decided it was time for him to "grow up" and sent him to the Verdant Cloud Sect. Xiaohei had protested, of course, but his uncle had been adamant.

"You need discipline, boy," his uncle had said. "And maybe, just maybe, you'll learn something useful."

Xiaohei had hated the idea at first, but over time, he'd grown used to life at the sect. It wasn't so bad, really. The food was decent (when he could get his hands on it), the scenery was beautiful, and the other disciples were... tolerable. But cultivation? That was another story.

---

When Xiaohei finally arrived at the training grounds, he was met with the sight of dozens of disciples practicing their forms under the watchful eye of Elder Wang. The elder was a tall, imposing figure with a long white beard and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through you. He was known for his strictness and his low tolerance for laziness—two qualities that made him Xiaohei's least favorite person in the sect.

"Ah, the prodigal disciple graces us with his presence," Elder Wang said dryly as Xiaohei approached. "Tell me, Xiaohei, did you have a pleasant nap?"

Xiaohei scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Actually, I was meditating. You know, cultivating my inner peace."

Elder Wang's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? Then perhaps you'd like to demonstrate your progress for us."

Xiaohei's grin faltered. "Uh, maybe later? I'm still... warming up."

The other disciples snickered, and Xiaohei shot them a glare. He recognized a few of them—Li Mei, the sect's rising star, with her flawless technique and icy demeanor; and Wang Jun, a burly disciple who seemed to take pleasure in making Xiaohei's life difficult.

"Enough," Elder Wang said, silencing the laughter with a single word. "Xiaohei, you will spar with Wang Jun. Let's see if your 'inner peace' has done you any good."

Xiaohei's heart sank. Wang Jun was at the fifth level of Qi Condensation, far beyond Xiaohei's meager abilities. This was going to be painful.

---

The two disciples faced each other in the center of the training grounds, the other disciples forming a circle around them. Wang Jun cracked his knuckles, a smug grin on his face.

"Ready to lose, Xiaohei?" he taunted.

Xiaohei forced a smile, though his stomach was churning. "Ready to find out how it feels to be beaten by the weakest disciple in the sect?"

Wang Jun's grin faded, replaced by a look of annoyance. He lunged forward, his fist glowing with spiritual energy. Xiaohei barely had time to dodge, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over his own feet.

The crowd erupted in laughter, but Xiaohei didn't have time to care. He focused on staying alive, dodging and weaving as Wang Jun's attacks came faster and faster. It was clear that Wang Jun was toying with him, drawing out the match to humiliate him further.

But then, something unexpected happened.

As Wang Jun swung another punch, Xiaohei ducked under it and, in a moment of desperation, kicked out with all his strength. His foot connected with Wang Jun's shin, and the larger disciple stumbled, his balance faltering.

The crowd fell silent.

Xiaohei didn't waste the opportunity. He darted forward, aiming a punch at Wang Jun's stomach. It wasn't a powerful blow, but it was enough to send Wang Jun sprawling to the ground.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, the crowd erupted in cheers—not for Xiaohei, but for the sheer absurdity of what had just happened.

Xiaohei stood in the center of the training grounds, his chest heaving and his legs trembling. Wang Jun glared at him from the ground, his face red with embarrassment. The crowd's laughter had died down, replaced by murmurs of disbelief.

Elder Wang stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Well done, Xiaohei. It seems even a broken clock is right twice a day."

Xiaohei grinned, though his body felt like it was about to collapse. "Thanks, Elder Wang. I'll try not to let it go to my head."

Wang Jun scrambled to his feet, his fists clenched. "That was a fluke! You got lucky, that's all!"

Xiaohei shrugged, his grin widening. "Luck beats skill any day. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Wang Jun lunged forward, but Elder Wang raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Enough. Return to your training, Wang Jun. And Xiaohei—" He fixed the lazy disciple with a stern look. "Don't let this go to your head. You're still the weakest disciple in the sect."

Xiaohei saluted mockingly. "Wouldn't dream of it, Elder Wang."

As the elder walked away, Xiaohei turned to leave the stage, only to find Li Mei blocking his path. She was tall and elegant, with sharp features and an air of cold superiority. Her icy gaze made Xiaohei feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.

"That was... interesting," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. "But don't think for a second that you've proven anything. You're still a waste of space."

Xiaohei tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "You know, Li Mei, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous of my natural talent."

Li Mei's lips twitched, but she didn't smile. "Talent? You call that talent? You stumbled around like a drunkard and got lucky. That's all."

Xiaohei placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. "Ouch. And here I thought we were friends."

Li Mei rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving Xiaohei alone. He watched her go, a faint smile playing on his lips. She was right, of course. He had gotten lucky. But luck was better than nothing, right?

As he started his training with others, Xiaohei couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Sure, he was the weakest disciple in the sect. Sure, he had no interest in cultivation. But for once, he hadn't completely embarrassed himself. That had to count for something.