The golden screen fractured into a fine amber dust, the glowing particles drifting briefly on the mountain breeze before dissolving into the clear air.
Shaurya remained at the crest of the hill, his boots planted firmly in the damp sod. He looked out across the valley where the high timberland gave way to jagged granite ridges, their sharp profiles cutting into the golden sky. Somewhere beyond those mountain passes—down in the lowlands, along the trading routes, or deep within the surrounding wilderness— lay the path he was meant to take. He flexed his fingers into a firm fist, feeling the solid strength in his forearms and the steady, quiet rhythm of his breathing, before taking his first step down the sloping ridge toward the woods below.
Without wasting another moment, Shaurya began making his way down the hill. His steps felt lighter than air as he moved through the tall grass, occasionally glancing around with unconcealed curiosity. Every tree, every flower, every distant mountain seemed fascinating to him. After spending so many years confined to a hospital bed, even a simple forest path felt like an adventure.
The further he traveled, the more alive the world appeared. Strange Birds sang among the branches overhead while a cool breeze carried the scent of earth and wildflowers through the forest.
The golden interface snapped back into existence with a sharp chime, its glowing border flickering against the dark trunks of the surrounding timber.
Shaurya pulled up short, his boots sliding through the damp leaf litter. The smile faded from his mouth as the text organized itself into strict, glowing columns.
[Main Quest: Sect Foundation] [• Accept 10 Disciples within 24 Hours] [• Accept 50 Disciples within 4 Days] [• Accept 100 Disciples within 7 Days] [*Reward for 10 Disciples: Sect Main Structure + 1x Spin Wheel]
He leaned forward, his eyes tracking the top line of the prompt three separate times. The forest around him kept its quiet rhythm—insects droned in the high canopy and a stream gurgled somewhere through the brush—but Shaurya remained rooted to the spot, his mouth opening slightly before snapping shut.
He pointed a finger directly at the glowing text, his eyebrows drawing together as his voice cut through the quiet glade.
"Ten disciples in twenty-four hours? I don't even have a roof over my head, let alone a mountain peak!"
The prompt shifted slightly, new text scrolling smoothly onto the lower half of the frame.
[Then complete the mission and you'll get one.]
"I don't have a single follower, an elder, or a reputation," Shaurya countered, his hand dropping to his hip as he gestured wildly at the empty woods around them. "I don't even know what kingdom this forest belongs to."
[That is unfortunate, host. The countdown has begun.]
Shaurya stared at the static screen, a small muscle in his jaw working as he watched a numerical timer materialize in the top corner, ticking down from twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes. He let out a sharp huff, shaking his head at the hovering interface before his eyes caught a small, pulsing indicator at the edge of the panel—a stylized map highlighting a nearby settlement labeled Blue Stone City.
He flexed his fingers, the initial absurdity of the demand giving way to a sharp, unexpected surge of momentum. "Fine. If you want ten people to sign up for a sect with zero assets, then that's exactly what I'm going to pull off."
He pivoted on his heel and broke into a steady run, his new body moving smoothly over exposed roots and fallen timber without the heavy, gasping fatigue that had defined his past. The trees thinned out rapidly, giving way to dirt tracks beaten flat by cart wheels, which soon merged into a wide, cobblestone road leading toward a set of weathered stone gates.
Blue Stone City served as a regional crossroads, a dense settlement where low-tier sects sent recruiters to scout for fresh talent among the local youth while merchants traded in basic spirit herbs, iron ores, and low-grade beast cores. The morning sun cast long shadows across the main thoroughfare, illuminating a dense crowd of townsfolk, traveling mercenaries, and street hawkers.
Vendors shouted prices over the clatter of wooden cart wheels, children darted between the legs of armed guards, and the sharp scent of roasted melons mixed with the faint, metallic tang of unrefined spirit iron from the smithies. At several wooden tables set up along the curb, representatives from local sects sat with registration scrolls, boredly measuring the spiritual meridians of nervous teenagers.
Everything carried the bustling, energetic rhythm of a thriving border market, yet as Shaurya slowed his pace to merge with the crowd, he noticed subtle undercurrents beneath the noise. Several young cultivators in bruised leather armor hovered near the alleyways, their hands resting nervously on their sword hilts as they cast wary glances toward the central plaza, while the local merchants kept their displays pulled back slightly from the main road, their broad smiles tightening whenever group patrols bearing matching crests marched past.
Near the edge of the market, a crowd had pulled back to form a wide ring, leaving a boy and a girl trapped against the stone wall of an apothecary. Before them stood three thick-set guards led by a young man draped in embroidered silk robes, his fingers heavy with silver rings.
"You think your name still carries weight in this city?" The young master sneered, taking a slow step forward as he looked down at the pair. "Your family house was sold off three days ago. You are broke, your meridians are clogged, and you have nowhere left to run."
With a flick of his silk-draped wrist, a sharp wave of unseen force erupted from his palm. The impact struck the two siblings squarely in the chest, lifting them off their feet and slamming them hard against the cobblestones. The boy scrambled to shield his sister, coughing into the dust as the young master gestured to his largest guard.
From forty paces away, Shaurya leaned around a high fruit display, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. A slow, broad grin spread across his face as he took in the young master's posture, the cornered siblings, and the gathering crowd. This was the exact setup, pulled straight from the pages of every classic chronicle he had ever read—the desperate talents, the arrogant bullies, the dramatic entrance waiting to happen.
He didn't wait for the guards to close the gap. Digging his heels into the dirt road, Shaurya launched himself forward, his new body answering with immediate, effortless power.
The largest goon raised a heavy iron-bound gauntlet, aiming a brutal fist down toward the boy's face.
Before the strike could fall, a shadow cut across the sunlight. Shaurya twisted mid-air, drawing his leg back and driving a heavy side kick straight into the center of the goon's chest. The impact sounded like a wooden plank snapping in two. The two-hundred-pound guard flew backward through the air, crashing spine-first into a stacked wooden fruit cart.
The wooden frame shattered on impact, spraying cracked melons and splinters thirty feet down the cobblestone street.
The bustling market fell completely silent. The shouting vendors went mute, children stopped running, and even the local sect recruiters at their registration tables turned to stare at the wreckage.
Shaurya landed lightly on his feet, smoothing the front of his tunic before turning back toward the two siblings lying in the dust. "You can breathe easy now," he said, offering them a bright, reassuring smile. "I've got this covered."
The young master's face flushed a deep, ugly red as he backed away, pointing a trembling finger at the ruined cart. "Kill him!" he screamed. "Cut him down right now!"
The two remaining guards drew broad, jagged hunting knives from their belts, their faces twisted in rage as they charged from both sides.
As they closed the distance, the ambient light around Shaurya seemed to settle, and a narrow golden interface flickered briefly in the corner of his vision.
[System Alert: Host Cultivation — Qi Initiate Lv.3] [Divine Body Buff: Agility & Perception Maxed]
To Shaurya's eyes, the rushing guards seemed to drag themselves through thick water. He could count the individual beads of sweat rolling down the lead guard's temple and watch the slow, clumsy arc of the incoming iron blade. A quiet laugh bubbled up in his chest as he shifted his weight back, sliding his lead foot half an inch to the left to let the first knife whistle harmlessly past his collar.
The first attacker's iron blade hissed through empty air, missing Shaurya's neck by inches. Shaurya reached out, his fingers locking onto the guard's wrist like a vise. Using the man's own momentum, he pivoted on his heel, swung the broad goon in a wide arc, and released him into the thick trunk of a nearby banyan tree. The wood groaned under the impact, and the man crumpled into the roots.
The second guard lunged before his comrade hit the dirt, but Shaurya dropped his weight low, sweeping his back leg across the cobblestones. The strike caught the attacker straight across both ankles. The man's legs went out from under him, sending his upper body crashing hard against the stone floor.
The third goon pulled his knife back, his eyes darting between his two fallen companions, his knuckles turning white around the hilt.
Before he could take a step back, Shaurya shifted past his guard. He drove a tight elbow straight into the small of the man's back, folding him in half, followed by a light, precise tap of his index finger to the center of the man's forehead. The guard's eyes rolled back instantly, and he collapsed onto his side, inert.
Shaurya flexed his fingers, shaking out his wrists as he turned his attention toward the remaining young master.
The youth backed away until his heels hit the stone rim of a well, his silk robes fluttering as his knees shook. "You... do you have any idea who my father is?" he stammered, his voice cracking as he reached for a jade pendant at his hip. "I am an inner disciple of the Jade Fire Sect! Step any closer and—"
Shaurya raised a pinky finger to pick absently at his ear, his posture completely relaxed as he took a slow step forward. "I've heard this speech enough times to memorize the cadence."
The young master's face flushed dark red with desperation. He forced his hands together, trying to channel his internal energy. A thin, unstable red glow sputtered across his knuckles as he raised his palms.
Shaurya's arm blurred. He didn't throw a punch or drive a heavy palm. Instead, his index finger extended, striking directly into the lower dantian below the youth's navel with the quiet precision of an awl tapping glass.
A sound like a hairline fracture spreading through glazed porcelain echoed across the clearing.
A sharp burst of unrefined energy blew outward from the young master's spine, kicking up a ring of dust and fallen leaves around his boots. The red light around his hands flickered out like a snuffed candle flame, his eyes went blank, and he slid down the stone rim of the well, completely unconscious.
Shaurya stood over him for a moment, adjusting his sleeves. Then, the sharp focus in his eyes vanished, replaced by an open, energetic grin as he turned around to face the two siblings huddled near the wall. He smoothed down the front of his tunic, threw his hands behind his back, and tilted his chin up.
"I am Shaurya, Master of the Sanatan Flame Sect," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet alley. "I see proper potential in both of you. If you are willing, I am offering you a place in my sect."
The boy and his sister remained frozen on the stone floor. They looked at the shattered fruit cart, at the three guards groaning in the dirt, and at the unconscious young master leaning against the well, before turning their gazes back to Shaurya's expectant face.
When the silence stretched past five seconds, the confident smile on Shaurya's face flickered, a slight twitch touching the corner of his eye as he scratched the back of his neck. "Of course, if you'd rather not, I won't force—"
Before he could finish the sentence, both siblings dropped forward, pressing their foreheads directly against the cold cobblestones.
"We greet the Sect Master!" the boy called out, his voice thick with emotion as his sister echoed the words beside him.
A narrow golden pane flickered in Shaurya's peripheral vision.
[Disciples Accepted: 2/10] [+2 Dharma Points] [+10 Dharma Points (Bonus: Good Karma)]
Shaurya drove his fist down into the air, a wide grin breaking across his face as he let out a quiet, triumphant laugh under his breath, casting a quick glance toward the golden sky above. The siblings raised their heads slightly, watching his sudden movement with wide, bewildered eyes.
Shaurya caught them staring, immediately cleared his throat, and straightened his spine, pulling his hands back into his sleeves. "Ahem. Stand up, both of you. We have eight more spots to fill before the day ends."
As they stepped out of the narrow alley and rejoined the main road, Shaurya focused his thoughts inward, speaking directly to the interface hovering in his mind. 'System, they can't be walking around in torn, dusty clothes if they belong to my sect. Do you have proper robes in store?'
The interface hummed, new text scrolling across his vision.
[Uniform Pack Purchased — 10 Dharma Points deducted] [Item: Unlimited Sanatan Flame Sect Robes] [*Note: Basic durable fabric infused with minor dirt-repellent properties.]
Shaurya's eyebrows shot up as he checked his remaining balance. 'Ten points? You just took almost everything I earned from saving them!'
[Product quality requires appropriate compensation, host. Transaction complete.]
Shaurya let out a heavy breath, shaking his head at the static prompt, but as he looked back up, the narrow street opened out into a wide, stone-paved plaza lined with carved stone pillars and crowded recruitment booths. They had reached the central square of Blue Stone City.
The broad cobblestone plaza hummed with the collective noise of hundreds of hopeful youths and busy recruiters. Overhead, grand silk banners painted with intricate clan crests fluttered high above elaborate wooden recruitment stages set up in a wide semicircle.
Every year, the regional factions of Blue Stone City gathered in the square to scout for fresh talent. In a land governed by martial strength, a steady stream of promising disciples meant survival, influence, and access to nearby spirit veins, forcing even the most established factions to compete fiercely for the top recruits.
"This is the official city recruitment ceremony," the boy, Xiao Rui, explained, leaning closer to Shaurya as his sister stayed close at his side. "The ten major sects in our region have set up their testing pavilions here today. The highest among them holds a Rank Nine standing."
Shaurya rubbed his chin, his eyes darting across the high stages and testing arrays. "How does the ranking structure work in this world?"
"It spans twelve tiers," Xiao Rui answered without delay. "Rank Twelve is the baseline for recognized sects, while Rank One sits at the absolute peak. Each numerical rank is further split into Low, Mid, and High grades based on the strength of their elders, the quality of their spirit veins, and the breadth of their territories."
In this land, a faction's rank governed its access to rare cultivation manuals, high-tier spirit stones, and defensive formations. Powerful sects controlled vast mountain ranges and dictated terms to royal courts, while lower-ranked factions scraped by on the scraps left behind in border towns like this one.
As Shaurya considered the system, a thin, transparent golden interface flared briefly in his line of sight.
[System Sect Rank is calculated differently from regional world standards.] [Detailed criteria will unlock as foundational discipleship milestones are met.]
Shaurya gave a subtle nod, his eyes scanning the elaborate displays across the square. 'The numbers are all that matter for today anyway.'
The surrounding factions had spared no expense to draw the crowd's attention. Several high-tier pavilions featured carved mahogany furniture and banners woven with gold thread. Others displayed shimmering spirit weapons, high-grade pill bottles, and ancient bamboo scrolls on velvet cushions to entice passing talents. One faction had hired a full troupe of traditional musicians to play heavy brass drums, while another had two senior disciples performing synchronized sword routines on a wooden platform to wild cheers from the crowd.
Shaurya observed the spectacle in quiet contemplation for several minutes before turning back to the siblings with a sharp, decisive look. "I know exactly how we are going to handle this."
Ten minutes later, the two siblings stood completely motionless at the edge of an empty clearing near the square's eastern oak tree.
Xiao Lian's eyes slowly drifted from a rickety wooden table with three missing nails, to a wobbly, three-legged stool, and finally up toward a faded piece of canvas hanging crookedly from a low branch.
Xiao Rui swallowed hard before breaking the silence. "...Master."
"Speak," Shaurya replied, adjusting the knot on the rope holding up the far side of the canvas.
"What exactly are we doing here?"
Xiao Rui looked back at the makeshift sign. The words SANATAN FLAME SECT had been painted across the rough cloth in jagged black ink, though the fabric itself looked like a discarded flour sack pulled from a alleyway trash pile.
Passing pedestrians were already stopping to stare, pointing at the strange setup. At a nearby silk pavilion, a senior elder from a Rank Nine sect lowered his porcelain tea cup, removing his spectacles with a slow, deliberate hand to ensure the sight before him was real.
Unbothered by the growing audience, Shaurya dragged the three-legged chair beneath the oak tree and sat down, crossing his legs with slow, deliberate calm. Reaching into his sleeve, he pulled out a pair of dark glass spectacles provided by the system inventory and settled them onto the bridge of his nose.
Despite sitting behind what looked like an abandoned market stall, his spine remained rigid and his chest high, carrying an unyielding, quiet authority that contrasted absurdly with his surroundings.
Xiao Rui watched his new master in silence, a knot of deep anxiety tightening in his stomach. "Master... I don't think any of the other sects recruit like this."
Shaurya didn't answer. Instead, he picked up a crude, cone-shaped megaphone rolled from thick brown paper and parchment, pushing himself off the stool to stand at the edge of his designated patch of dirt.
The square remained noisy, with hundreds of youths queueing in front of the grand pavilions. Nobody paid the under-maintained wooden table under the oak tree any mind.
That quiet lasted precisely three seconds.
"PEOPLE OF BLUE STONE CITY!"
The roar erupted from the rolled paper cone with the sharp, physical force of a thunderclap, echoing off the stone facades surrounding the plaza.
The drumming stopped mid-beat. The sword-demonstrating disciples stumbled on their platform. Vendors froze with their hands in their grain sacks, and a flock of pigeons launched into the air from the nearby eaves in a panic.
Thousands of heads turned in unison toward the solitary figure wearing dark glass spectacles beneath the oak tree.
Shaurya lifted the paper cone again, his voice rolling smoothly across the quieted square. "ARE YOU SATISFIED WITH MEDIOCRITY? DO YOU SEEK TO ALTER THE COURSE OF YOUR DESTINY?"
The crowd blinked in collective confusion. A few curious children broke away from their parents to run closer, followed by several wandering mercenaries and unaligned youths who had failed the initial meridian tests at the major stages.
"THEN ENTER THE GATES OF THE SANATAN FLAME SECT!" Shaurya declared, gesturing dramatically toward his lopsided banner. "WHERE YOUR TRUE PATH BEGINS TODAY!"
Silence settled over the central plaza.
At the grandest pavilion in the square, a elder lowered his scroll, staring at Shaurya as if assessing a strange, unknown creature that had wandered into the city. Nearby disciples whispered among themselves, pointing at the dark glass spectacles covering his eyes.
From the middle of the gathered crowd, an older cultivator finally voiced the question echoing in everyone's mind. "...Who in the world is this lunatic?"
Behind his dark spectacles, Shaurya's grin broadened into a sharp, confident curve. The entire plaza was looking directly at his banner, and in the art of building a legacy from nothing, securing the room's undivided attention was always the first step.
To Be Continued....