Isshin was running out of time. If he wanted the Divine Sword Sect to trust him enough to let him attempt the Thousand Strike Thunder, he needed to act fast. Before he could think of another move, the group crossed paths with another sect.
They were from the Ninefold Path.
No blades were drawn, but the hostility was obvious. The air between the two groups felt heavy, like a spark waiting to ignite. Isshin leaned closer to one of the senior disciples and whispered, asking about the tension. The disciple quietly explained that relations between the two sects had worsened recently. Their territories bordered one another, and incidents involving disciples attacking or ambushing each other had become increasingly common. If things continued this way, a clash during the thunder cultivation in four days was almost guaranteed.
The elder of the Ninefold Path stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the Divine Sword Sect before stopping briefly on the empty spaces among them.
"I see a few of your people are missing," he said with a faint smile. "A shame. Perhaps if they were stronger, there wouldn't have been so much trouble."
The Divine Sword Sect elder didn't rise to the provocation. "We were unfortunate," he replied calmly. "Thankfully, this young man was able to identify the killers. We are now wary of the Wudang Sect."
Isshin was caught off guard. He hadn't done much, yet the elder used him to steer the conversation without hesitation. The attention soon shifted toward him.
Realizing silence would only make things worse, Isshin stepped forward. "My name is Neil. I'm a fourth-stage Nascent Soul cultivator. I don't belong to any sect."
The reaction was immediate. Both sects showed clear surprise. Most of their inner disciples were only at the first stage of Nascent Soul. A sectless cultivator at the fourth stage was rare.
Isshin could feel it. Both sides wanted him.
That worked in his favor. If the sects were focused on him, they would clash over his value rather than suspect his motives. The two elders exchanged a few final words before parting ways, but the Ninefold Path clearly hadn't taken their eyes off Isshin.
"You can't remain sectless forever," the Divine Sword Sect elder said as they walked. "Join us."
Isshin didn't answer immediately. "I might," he said after a moment. "But I came here for opportunities. The Thousand Strike Thunder would help me greatly."
The elder understood. Some of the inner disciples clearly didn't like it. Jealousy flickered in their eyes. They wanted the thunder cultivation for themselves. But the elder only cared about results. If Isshin truly had more potential, then letting him rise was the right decision.
"Show us your worth in the coming days," the elder said. "Then we'll talk."
That night, the group set up camp nearby. Isshin felt it immediately. Someone was planning something. He quietly approached the elder and warned him that trouble might come before dawn. The elder didn't fully understand, but he trusted Isshin enough to stay alert.
Isshin returned to his tent and began cultivating.
Hours passed. The night grew silent. Around two in the morning, three figures moved. One inner disciple and two outer disciples crept toward Isshin's tent. They waited, watching. Isshin appeared fully immersed in cultivation.
In reality, Raijin's system allowed Isshin to keep half his mind alert. His cultivation barely progressed, but even small gains mattered over time. More importantly, he was ready.
Growing impatient, the inner disciple finally gave the signal.
The sword came down in a lethal thrust aimed straight at Isshin's head.
Isshin reacted instantly. He raised both hands and caught the blade, forcing it off course. Blood spilled from his palms as the sword scraped past his face and slammed into the ground beside him. The sound was loud enough to wake the entire camp.
The two outer disciples rushed forward.
Before they could reach him, the air trembled.
Three translucent figures appeared at once, each radiating overwhelming pressure. They struck simultaneously, disarming and injuring the attackers before they even understood what happened.
The elder stepped out of his tent, followed by the rest of the sect.
"Wait! I can explain!" the inner disciple shouted.
"What explanation is there?" the elder asked coldly. "An inner disciple driven by jealousy. What am I supposed to tell your teacher?"
"He attacked me first!" the disciple blurted out.
"Then why are you standing in front of Neil's tent?" the elder replied.
Silence followed.
Losing three disciples was costly, but their actions were unforgivable. Still, the elder turned to Isshin. "What punishment do you suggest?"
Isshin thought carefully. A harsh punishment would make enemies. He needed balance.
"I understand the sect's position," he said. "Taking their lives would only cause trouble later. I want their resources confiscated, and their cultivation sealed temporarily. For my safety."
The elder nodded. It was fair. The disciples agreed. Even some of the inner disciples muttered among themselves, clearly unimpressed with the attacker's behavior.
The elder began forming a complex formation, one that took nearly ten minutes to complete. When it ended, the three disciples collapsed. Their cultivation would be sealed for at least three months.
The elder finished forming the final seal. Light sank into the bodies of the three disciples, and their auras collapsed instantly. Their cultivation would be sealed for at least three months.
The inner disciple's face went pale.
A few of the inner disciples standing nearby exchanged looks. One of them let out a quiet scoff.
"I told you he'd cause trouble sooner or later," he muttered.
Another shook his head. "Always thought he was better than everyone else. Jealousy finally got to him."
"Well," a third said with a faint grin, "there goes another burden off the sect's shoulders."
The words weren't loud, but they were clear enough. The fallen inner disciple clenched his teeth, humiliation burning deeper than the sealed cultivation.
The elder turned away, his decision final. "Take them aside. They will answer to their masters later."
The crowd slowly dispersed, whispers following in their wake.
Isshin stood quietly in his tent, his bloodied palms already beginning to heal. On the surface, the matter was settled. The sect's trust in him had deepened, and his path toward the Thousand Strike Thunder looked clearer than before.
But he knew better.
This incident would not disappear so easily.