**Chapter 3: Embers of Defiance**
The night air was thick with moisture, the remnants of the storm still clinging to the city like the breath of a dying beast. Shen Liang stood in the alleyway, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The aftershock of the stolen power hummed through his veins like liquid fire.
For the first time in his life, he felt the presence of Qi within him—a fragile ember, but an ember nonetheless.
Bai Cheng and his group were now silhouettes in the distance, oblivious to what had just transpired. Shen Liang's lips curled into a smirk. The world had always spat upon him, but now? Now, he had a means to spit back.
He took a slow breath, his mind racing. His newfound strength needed testing, but he couldn't afford reckless action—not yet. He clenched his fists and flexed his fingers. The stolen Sky Piercing Technique whispered in his mind, an inherited instinct itching to be unleashed.
A flicker of movement caught his eye—a beggar crouched in the shadows, wide-eyed and trembling. The man had witnessed everything.
Shen Liang stepped forward, his voice low and edged. "You saw?"
The beggar shuddered but nodded quickly. "I— I swear, I won't tell a soul!"
Shen Liang studied the man, his thoughts cold and calculating. He had two choices—silence the witness or ensure loyalty. He chose the latter.
With a flick of his wrist, he released a fraction of his stolen Qi, letting the power dance around his fingers. The beggar gasped, his fear mingled with awe.
"You say nothing, and I say nothing," Shen Liang said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken threats. "But if word gets out… you won't have a tongue left to speak with."
The man nodded frantically. "Understood, sir. I—I saw nothing."
Shen Liang turned away, satisfied. He had no desire for unnecessary bloodshed. Not yet.
---
The next morning, the outer sect of the Silver Moon Sect buzzed with activity. Disciples moved about, sparring, meditating, and flaunting their cultivation ranks. Shen Liang entered the training grounds, his presence unnoticed as always.
Today would be different.
He walked past groups of disciples practicing their techniques. A group of younger students whispered as Bai Cheng's cronies boasted about their master's inevitable ascension to inner sect status.
Shen Liang ignored them. He had his own test to conduct.
He stepped into an empty sparring ring and exhaled slowly. He raised his hand, drawing upon the Sky Piercing Technique's basic stance. The knowledge came unbidden, like muscle memory awakening for the first time.
A nearby disciple sneered. "What's a cripple like him doing here?"
Another chuckled. "Probably trying to clean the dirt with his face again."
Shen Liang paid them no mind. He focused. He felt the Qi pulse through his limbs, coiling and tensing like a loaded spring.
Then, he moved.
A sharp gust of wind erupted around him as he executed the first strike of the Sky Piercing Technique. His movements were not as fluid as a true master's, but they carried a newfound force—an undeniable presence of power. Dust kicked up around him, the air trembling with the aftershock.
Silence fell upon the training grounds.
The sneering disciple's face paled. "That—That was—"
The world had called him a cripple.
The world had abandoned him.
But now, the world would learn to fear him.
Shen Liang lowered his stance, his smirk returning. This was only the beginning.
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