Wei Ying stood at the edge of the celestial boundary, gazing down at the swirling clouds
that separated the immortal realms from the mortal world below. Ten thousand years of
existence had left him weary, his spirit yearning for something the endless halls of heaven
could no longer provide. The whispers of celestial courtiers followed him everywhere—
hushed tones speaking of the unfathomable power he wielded, of the countless worlds he
had shaped and unmade with mere thoughts.
"You truly mean to go through with this foolishness?" The voice behind him belonged to
Elder Tian, one of the few beings in existence who dared speak to him directly.
Wei Ying didn't turn. "Is it foolishness to seek meaning when eternity stretches before you
like an endless void?"
"You have ascended beyond the Nine Heavens themselves. What could the Azure Sky
Continent possibly offer one such as you?"
A smile played across Wei Ying's lips, containing mysteries even the Elder couldn't fathom.
"Perhaps it is not what it will offer me, but what I might rediscover within myself."
The wind carried the fragrance of immortal peaches, a scent that had once filled him with
wonder but now registered as little more than a familiar note in the symphony of his
existence. Ten thousand years of cultivation had taken him beyond the highest realms, to a
place where even the Heavenly Dao bowed before his will. And yet, within this ultimate
power, he had found a peculiar emptiness.
"Your identity?" Elder Tian handed him a jade slip, his ancient fingers trembling slightly in
the presence of Wei Ying's suppressed aura.
Wei Ying accepted the slip, absorbing its contents with a mere touch. "Wei Yun, an outer
disciple of the Falling Leaf Sect. How... quaint."
"The weakest of the thirty-six major sects. No one will look for power there."
"Perfect."
With a gesture that rippled through the very fabric of reality, Wei Ying began sealing away
his power. Layer upon layer of divine energy folded inward, compressed and hidden until
only the barest flicker remained visible—the cultivation of a mere mortal at the Foundation
Establishment realm, the third of nine major cultivation stages in this lower world.
The process should have been agonizing, like compressing an ocean into a single drop. But
Wei Ying had transcended pain millennia ago. As his divine sense retracted and his cosmic
awareness dimmed, a strange exhilaration filled him. For the first time in five thousand
years, he felt the unfamiliar sensation of limitation.
"I will be watching," Elder Tian said, concern evident in his weathered features.
Wei Ying smiled again, his appearance already shifting—midnight black hair lightening to
chestnut brown, piercing silver eyes warming to amber, imposing frame becoming more
modest. "No, old friend. You will not. That would defeat the entire purpose."
With that, he stepped off the celestial boundary and fell. ---
The Falling Leaf Sect occupied the lowest slopes of Azure Mist Mountain, far below the
prestigious Cloud Peak Sect that claimed the summit. As Wei Ying—now Wei Yun—
approached the simple wooden gates, he felt something unexpected: nervousness. It had
been so long since he had existed without the cushion of absolute power that the simple
act of presenting himself for judgment carried a novel thrill.
"State your business," demanded the gate disciple, a young man with a sour expression and
the cultivation of late Foundation Establishment.
Wei Yun bowed, the motion feeling strange after eons of receiving others' obeisance. "This
humble one seeks to join the honorable Falling Leaf Sect."
The gate disciple snorted. "Another countryside bumpkin thinking cultivation is the path to
riches and women." He lazily waved a jade measuring tablet. "Channel your qi into this. If
you're lucky enough to have any."
Wei Yun accepted the tablet, considering his options. Too weak, and he would be rejected
outright. Too strong, and he would draw unwanted attention. With delicate precision, he
channeled the tiniest fraction of his sealed power into the jade, causing it to glow a modest
green.
The gate disciple's eyebrows rose slightly. "Early Foundation Establishment. Not
completely hopeless, I suppose." He tossed Wei Yun a token. "Report to the Outer Disciple
Hall. Monthly assessment is in three days. Fail it, and you're out."
Wei Yun bowed again, hiding his amusement. If only this youth knew he was dismissing
someone who could extinguish suns with a thought.
The Outer Disciple quarters proved to be exactly as humble as he had hoped—a simple
wooden building divided into small rooms, each containing four straw pallets. Only two of
his roommates were present: a muscular young man practicing sword forms and a slender
youth poring over a tattered manual.
"Another new arrival?" The sword practitioner paused, sizing Wei Yun up with a practiced
eye. "I'm Liu Chang. That bookworm is Zhu Mei."
Wei Yun offered a respectful nod. "Wei Yun. I hope we can learn from each other."
Zhu Mei glanced up from his manual. "Which province are you from? Your accent is...
unusual."
"I've traveled widely," Wei Yun replied smoothly. "My accent has become a blend of many
regions."
Liu Chang resumed his sword practice. "Well, hope you're stronger than you look. The
monthly assessment culls half the new arrivals."
"What does the assessment entail?" Wei Yun asked, genuinely curious about these mortal
cultivation methods.
"Combat, cultivation progress, and pill refinement," Zhu Mei explained. "Excel in one, pass
in another, and you can fail the third and still remain."
Wei Yun nodded thoughtfully. Combat would be simple to manage—he would need precise
control to appear skilled but not suspiciously so. Cultivation progress would require him to
fake struggle. Pill refinement, however, might be genuinely challenging; it had been
millennia since he had personally engaged in such basic alchemy.
"You'll want to avoid Young Master Cai," Liu Chang added, executing a complex sword
maneuver. "He's an inner disciple, but he enjoys tormenting the outer disciples. Especially
the talented ones."
"I appreciate the warning," Wei Yun replied, unpacking his meager belongings.
Zhu Mei lowered his voice. "They say he crippled three disciples last month for refusing to
kowtow when he passed."
Wei Yun's eyes flickered momentarily, a hint of their true silver showing through the amber
disguise. "How unfortunate for him if he attempts such things with me."
His roommates exchanged worried glances, misinterpreting his statement as naive
bravado rather than the deadliest promise in the history of the Azure Sky Continent. ---
The dining hall buzzed with the energy of two hundred outer disciples. Wei Yun sat with his
roommates, observing the social dynamics with fascination. It had been so long since he
had been among mortals—the petty rivalries, the desperate striving, the genuine
camaraderie—all of it carried a vibrancy that the stagnant immortal courts lacked.
"That's him," Zhu Mei whispered, nodding toward the entrance. "Young Master Cai."
A tall youth entered, flanked by four sycophants. His robe, unlike the standard blue of outer
disciples or even the yellow of inner disciples, was trimmed with gold—marking him as a
core disciple, or more likely, the son of an elder. His cultivation was at the peak of
Foundation Establishment, and his bearing suggested he considered this an achievement
worthy of universal admiration.
Wei Yun continued eating his simple rice and vegetables, finding the plain flavors oddly
satisfying after millennia of celestial delicacies.
"New disciples stand when I enter," came a sharp voice.
Wei Yun glanced up to find Young Master Cai standing before their table, his face twisted in
practiced disdain.
For a moment, Wei Yun considered his options. The obvious choice would be to humble
himself, avoiding trouble. But something in him—perhaps that part that had driven him to
this adventure in the first place—rebelled against the idea.
"Forgive me," Wei Yun said mildly. "I wasn't aware the dining hall protocols required
standing for fellow disciples."
A hush fell over the nearby tables. Liu Chang and Zhu Mei froze, horror evident on their
faces.
Young Master Cai's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You must be new indeed, to be so ignorant
of proper respect."
Wei Yun smiled pleasantly. "Enlighten me, then. Which sect rule states that outer disciples
must stand for inner disciples? I'd be glad to read it."
The young master's face darkened. "Rules? I am Cai Feng, son of Elder Cai! My word is rule
enough!"
"Ah," Wei Yun nodded as if in understanding. "So you're saying it's not actually a sect rule,
merely your personal preference? I see."
The dining hall had gone completely silent. Two hundred disciples watched with bated
breath, many likely anticipating the imminent maiming of the foolish newcomer.
Cai Feng's qi erupted around him, a display meant to intimidate. "You dare mock me?
Stand up!"
Wei Yun sighed and carefully placed his chopsticks down. He remained seated but turned
to fully face the young master. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding. I intended no
mockery. I simply wished to understand which protocols I should follow."
"Stand! Now!" Cai Feng's hand moved to the spirit sword at his waist.
Wei Yun's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes—a momentary depth, a
flicker of something ancient and utterly terrifying—gave the young master pause.
"I don't believe I will," Wei Yun said softly.
One of Cai Feng's followers stepped forward. "You ignorant country bumpkin! Young Master
Cai has killed disciples for lesser insults!"
"Has he indeed?" Wei Yun's voice remained pleasant, but the temperature in the dining hall
dropped perceptibly. "How fascinating that the sect allows such behavior."
Cai Feng recovered from his momentary hesitation, drawing his sword with a flourish. The
weapon hummed with spiritual energy, clearly a treasure far beyond what an ordinary inner
disciple should possess.
"It seems I must teach you the proper way to address your betters," he snarled.
Wei Yun finally stood, though unhurriedly. "If you insist on this course of action, I
recommend reconsidering."
The young master laughed. "Your cultivation is barely at the early stage of Foundation
Establishment. Do you think you can threaten me?"
"It wasn't a threat," Wei Yun replied. "Merely advice."
With a roar, Cai Feng struck, his sword trailing azure light as it slashed toward Wei Yun's
chest. The attack was actually quite impressive for one of his cultivation level—fast,
precise, and empowered by high-quality spiritual energy.
Wei Yun didn't appear to move. Yet somehow, Cai Feng's blade passed through empty air,
missing its target entirely. The young master stumbled, thrown off balance by the
unexpected miss.
"How did you—" he began, only to find Wei Yun standing slightly to his left, expression
unchanged.
"As I said," Wei Yun offered, "you might want to reconsider."
Rage contorted Cai Feng's features. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, each more powerful
than the last. Spiritual energy blazed from his sword, forming phantom blades that
attacked from multiple angles.
To the watching disciples, it appeared that Wei Yun was moving with incredible speed,
narrowly evading each strike. In reality, he was simply shifting his position with microscopic
precision moments before each attack landed, making it seem as though Cai Feng was
missing by hair's breadths.
"Stand still and fight!" the young master bellowed.
Wei Yun smiled. "If you insist."
When the next strike came, Wei Yun raised two fingers and lightly tapped the oncoming
blade. The simple contact sent a minute pulse of energy through the weapon, causing it to
vibrate at precisely the frequency needed to shatter.
The treasured sword exploded into fragments, eliciting gasps from the audience.
Cai Feng stared in disbelief at the hilt in his hand, then at the unassuming figure before him.
"What... what technique was that?"
"Nothing special," Wei Yun replied truthfully. "Just a matter of understanding the proper
resonance."
The young master's face contorted with fury. "Do you know what you've done? That sword
was a gift from my father!"
"Then perhaps it will be a valuable lesson in taking better care of your gifts," Wei Yun
suggested mildly.
Cai Feng's followers finally overcame their shock, moving to surround Wei Yun. "You'll pay
for this insult to Young Master Cai!"
A commotion at the dining hall entrance interrupted the confrontation. The disciples parted
hastily, making way for an elderly man in flowing white robes. Even in his diminished state,
Wei Yun instantly recognized the powerful cultivation aura—this was someone at the
Nascent Soul realm, the seventh level of cultivation.
"Elder Cai," whispered voices throughout the hall.
The white-haired elder surveyed the scene with cold eyes. "What is happening here?"
Cai Feng immediately bowed. "Father, this outer disciple insulted me and destroyed the
spirit sword you gifted me!"
The elder's gaze fell on Wei Yun, who stood calmly amid the tension. "Is this true, disciple?"
Wei Yun offered a respectful bow, precisely appropriate for an outer disciple addressing an
elder. "Honorable Elder, Young Master Cai demanded I stand when he entered the dining
hall. When I inquired about this rule, he attacked me. I defended myself, and regrettably,
his sword shattered in the process."
Elder Cai's eyes narrowed. "A mere early Foundation Establishment disciple shattered a
mid-grade spirit sword?" He extended his spiritual sense, probing Wei Yun's cultivation.
Wei Yun allowed the elder to sense exactly what he wished to be seen—a solid Foundation
Establishment cultivation with unusually refined qi quality.
"Interesting," the elder murmured. "Your qi is remarkably pure for your level."
Wei Yun bowed again. "Thank you, Elder. I focus on quality over quantity in my cultivation."
The elder turned to his son. "You were defeated by an outer disciple? Perhaps this will
teach you not to rely on treasures but to cultivate true strength."
Cai Feng's face flushed with humiliation. "Father, he used some strange technique—"
"Enough," Elder Cai cut him off. "Return to your quarters. We will discuss this later."
As the young master slunk away, the elder gave Wei Yun another appraising look. "What is
your name, disciple?"
"Wei Yun, Elder."
"Wei Yun." The elder nodded slowly. "Remember that while skill is admirable, provoking
your seniors is not the path to advancement in our sect."
"I will remember your wisdom, Elder," Wei Yun replied with perfect humility.
As Elder Cai departed, the dining hall erupted into excited whispers. In a single encounter,
the newcomer had defeated a young master, shattered a valuable spirit weapon, and
caught an elder's attention—all while maintaining his composure.
Wei Yun returned to his seat, where his roommates stared at him with a mixture of awe and
terror.
"Are you insane?" Liu Chang hissed. "You've made an enemy of the most powerful family in
the sect!"
"Also," Zhu Mei added, eyes wide, "that was amazing. How did you do that with just two
fingers?"
Wei Yun picked up his chopsticks and resumed eating his now-cold rice. "As I told the
elder—quality over quantity."
As he ate, he reflected on the encounter. It had been... refreshing. For millennia, none had
dared challenge him. The simplicity of this confrontation, the raw emotions, the genuine
stakes—it reminded him of his own beginnings, countless eons ago.
Perhaps this journey would prove more interesting than he had anticipated.