Morning bells echoed through the Azure Heaven Sect, their solemn chimes rolling across the peaks like waves of metal and wind. Normally, such bells signaled meditation sessions, morning sword practice, or ordinary announcements. But today… the sound carried weight. Urgency. Even unease.
Disciples hurried across courtyards, whispers following them like a tide. Everyone had heard the stories. Last night's battle had left too many questions unanswered.
"Did you hear? Elder Wu Tian's disciple struck down three Core Formation elders!"
"Impossible. Even Elder Wu Tian himself could not—"
"I saw it with my own eyes! He raised a single finger, and they vanished!"
"No one could hide that kind of power without Heaven noticing. If it's true, then…"
"…then he's no ordinary cultivator."
The murmurs grew louder with every passing hour. The name "Jiang Hao" passed from lip to lip, twisted into legend before the ink of reality had even dried. Some claimed he was a reincarnated immortal. Others whispered that he was a spy planted by ancient sects. A few even muttered that he might be a demon wearing human skin.
By noon, every corner of the Azure Heaven Sect knew his name.
And where was Jiang Hao, at the center of it all?
Kneeling in the medicinal garden, sleeves rolled up, carefully pruning stalks of spirit ginseng with a small pair of shears.
"Mm… too many roots," he muttered, tilting his head. "If you grow too quickly, you burn out. Better to grow steady, one inch a day."
The irony escaped him completely.
A pair of junior disciples crept past the garden path, their steps hurried, their voices hushed. But even hushed whispers carried in the quiet of the mountain air.
"That's him! Elder Wu Tian's disciple!"
"He looks so… normal."
"Normal?! He erased three Core Elders! He's hiding it!"
Jiang Hao sighed faintly, clipping another root. His ears were sharp; their words reached him as clearly as if they'd spoken at his side.
Rumors again. Already?
He pressed his lips together. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Attention. Curiosity. Worship or suspicion—it didn't matter. Either one led to the same thing: overtime.
And Jiang Hao despised overtime.
Up on the Jade Pavilion terrace, Lin Xueyao stood with her hands clasped behind her back, overlooking the mountain valley below. The wind carried fragments of chatter upward, all of them circling the same name.
Her gaze sharpened.
So it had begun. The ripple he had tried to avoid was spreading into a wave. And the sect… the sect would not stay silent.
She turned as a group of elders entered the pavilion, their expressions grave. They bowed to her politely—her status as the Sect Master's niece carried weight—but she did not return their greetings. She simply studied their faces, waiting.
At last, one elder spoke. "Lady Lin. There will be a council at dusk. The Sect Master himself wishes to address… the matter of Jiang Hao."
Lin Xueyao's brows arched faintly. "So soon?"
"The rumors are growing uncontrollable. If we do not act now, they may spread beyond the sect."
Lin Xueyao's gaze flickered toward the horizon, where the clouds lay heavy and dark. She remembered the oppressive silence after his finger fell. She remembered the way her heart had thudded against her ribs.
A storm was coming. She could feel it.
"Very well," she said softly. "I will attend."
By dusk, the council hall blazed with lamplight. Elders filled the chamber, their robes rustling like restless waves. At the head sat the Sect Master himself, dignified and calm, though his eyes betrayed sharp calculation.
Jiang Hao, summoned by Elder Wu Tian, entered quietly. He wore plain robes, carried no weapon, and bowed politely before sitting cross-legged at his master's side.
Dozens of gazes pinned him instantly.
Some were wary.Some curious.Some openly hostile.
The weight of their scrutiny pressed heavily, yet Jiang Hao remained unmoved. He folded his hands neatly on his knees, expression serene, as though he were listening to a lecture on herb-drying techniques rather than a trial of reputation.
The Sect Master's voice finally broke the silence.
"Jiang Hao."
"Yes, Sect Master."
"Last night, three Core Formation enemies perished within our walls. Witnesses claim their deaths came by your hand. Tell me, is this true?"
The hall seemed to lean forward.
Jiang Hao lowered his gaze modestly. "I merely defended my colleagues, Sect Master. Nothing more."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. One elder scoffed. "Merely? Boy, do you even understand what you've done? Three Core Elders of the Demon Sect—obliterated with a gesture! If you wield such strength, why have you hidden it?"
Jiang Hao's eyes flicked upward, calm and unreadable. "Because I prefer not to work overtime."
Silence. Absolute silence.
The elders exchanged baffled looks. Even the Sect Master's brow twitched, though his composure remained. Elder Wu Tian closed his eyes, sighing heavily.
Another elder slammed his hand on the table. "You mock us with riddles! This is no time for games!"
But Lin Xueyao's voice cut in smoothly, sharp as a blade. "Is it mockery, Elder Zhou? Or is it his truth? He fought when our sect was in peril. He saved lives. Would you rather he had stood aside?"
All eyes turned toward her. She stood tall, calm, her gaze fixed on Jiang Hao with unnerving intensity.
The Sect Master raised a hand, silencing the chamber. His voice was measured, deliberate.
"Whether by modesty or evasion, your words do not lessen what has been witnessed. Jiang Hao, you have drawn Heaven's gaze. The Demon Sect will not let this pass. Even within our walls, whispers grow. Therefore…"
His eyes hardened.
"…you must choose. Step forward and accept a place among the sect's inner disciples, where your power may be guided and contained… or continue to hide, and risk suspicion consuming you from within."
The hall erupted in murmurs again. This was no small matter. To be named an inner disciple directly, bypassing years of trials and ranks—such a thing was nearly unheard of.
Wu Tian's hand tightened on Jiang Hao's shoulder, silent urging in his grip. Lin Xueyao's eyes narrowed, searching his expression.
Jiang Hao lowered his lashes. The choice seemed weighty. Monumental. But inside, he sighed.
Inner disciple? That means mandatory missions. Endless banquets. Sect duties. Meetings… He winced inwardly. Meetings are the worst overtime of all.
Outwardly, his expression did not change.
"Sect Master," he said softly. "With respect… I decline."
Gasps filled the chamber. Several elders surged to their feet.
"You dare—!"
"Presumptuous—!"
But the Sect Master's hand silenced them again. He studied Jiang Hao, eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, the faintest trace of a smile touched his lips.
"Very well. If that is your choice… then we shall see how long peace indulges you."
The chamber fell silent again, but the storm outside the sect's walls only grew darker
The council chamber remained heavy with silence long after Jiang Hao's refusal. The torches on the walls crackled faintly, their smoke curling upward like restless spirits. Elders who moments ago had shouted now sat stiffly, exchanging glances that carried both outrage and unease.
Jiang Hao remained still, hands folded, expression calm, as though the storm around him were nothing more than idle chatter about weather.
Elder Wu Tian exhaled slowly, forcing his hand to unclench from his disciple's shoulder. He had expected nothing less. Jiang Hao would never willingly chain himself to sect duties. And yet… seeing the open hostility gathering in the eyes of the elders, he felt the weight pressing heavily against his chest.
The Sect Master finally rose. His robe sleeves fell in graceful arcs, his voice measured but carrying unquestionable authority.
"The decision is made. Jiang Hao will remain an outer disciple."
A collective murmur swept the hall.
"Outer disciple? After what he's shown—"
"He rejects responsibility!"
"This will only breed discord!"
The Sect Master's gaze swept across them, silencing dissent. "Do you question my judgment?"
Heads bowed, though discontent simmered in every line of their shoulders. The Sect Master let the silence linger, then turned.
"Jiang Hao. You may go."
Jiang Hao rose smoothly, bowed once, and left the hall without a flicker of hesitation. His steps were unhurried, steady, like a man returning from a brief errand.
When the great doors closed behind him, the murmurs returned like floodwater breaking through a dam.
"This cannot be tolerated."
"Outer disciple or not, rumors will spread beyond the sect walls!"
"What if Heaven itself notices? What if the Demon Sect already moves?"
Wu Tian's jaw tightened. He slammed his palm against the armrest of his chair, the crack echoing through the hall. "Enough! You speak as though he were a curse upon us. Without him, the Demon Sect would have slaughtered hundreds last night!"
Some elders flinched, others glared, but none spoke against him directly. His reputation and rank placed him just beneath the Sect Master himself. Few dared challenge him openly.
The Sect Master lifted his hand. "This discussion ends here. Jiang Hao's choice is his own. We will not force him."
But his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he added, "Still… keep watch. Both of him, and of those who watch him."
Outside the council hall, Jiang Hao walked down the lantern-lit path, his hands tucked calmly into his sleeves. The night air was crisp, carrying faint traces of pine and smoke from still-smoldering ruins.
He exhaled softly. That was tedious. Far too many words for so little meaning.
To him, the meeting was nothing but wasted hours. He had answered truthfully. He wanted no elevation, no titles, no duties. He wanted only his steady routine. Morning cultivation hall sweeping, midday garden tending, evening tea on his rooftop. Simple. Predictable.
But the whispers that followed him down the path told him simplicity would not last.
"Is that him…?"
"Yes. That's Jiang Hao."
"Outer disciple or not, you saw what he did…"
Disciples passing him bowed quickly, their eyes wide, their postures stiff. Some looked at him with awe. Others with suspicion. A few with thinly veiled envy.
Jiang Hao kept walking, ignoring them all. But deep inside, a faint sigh stirred. So much for peace.
Atop a shadowed ridge outside the sect walls, three black-clad figures crouched, their eyes gleaming with malice. They had witnessed the aftermath of the council through secret arts, their faces twisted in both fear and hunger.
"That… was the one."
"Yes. The disciple who erased our Core Elders."
A third figure licked his lips, voice low. "The Master will want him alive. Imagine it—power sealed, waiting to be bent to the Demon Sect's will…"
The others shuddered. The very thought of confronting him made their bones cold. But the Demon Sect's orders were absolute.
One raised a talisman, its crimson glow pulsing in the dark. "We send word tonight. The Sect Master must know at once. A hidden immortal has revealed himself."
The talisman vanished into flame, streaking across the sky like a blood-red star.
In the inner courtyards, Lin Xueyao paced slowly beneath a moonlit archway. Her mind was a battlefield.
She had expected Jiang Hao to refuse elevation. The calm certainty in his voice had not surprised her. And yet… the brazenness of it shook the entire sect.
He wasn't hiding, not truly. He was simply refusing to play by the rules everyone else obeyed. That kind of man was dangerous. That kind of man was… intoxicating.
Her fists clenched at her sides. "Fool. You'll draw every storm to yourself."
Yet her voice trembled ever so slightly. She could not deny the pull. The memory of his serene gaze, his unshaken composure under the council's weight—it lingered like a brand on her heart.
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breath. "Jiang Hao… just what are you?"
Meanwhile, back in his hut, Jiang Hao sat cross-legged with a small clay teapot warming beside him. He poured himself a cup, the steam curling upward.
The sect buzzed like a hive outside, rumors spreading like wildfire. Elders schemed. Disciples whispered. Enemies watched from beyond the walls.
And Jiang Hao?
He took a sip of tea, set the cup down, and murmured:
"I'm not working overtime."
The words were quiet, but firm. A vow to himself.
He would not bow to pressure, nor let his peace be stolen. Whatever storm brewed, whatever enemies stirred, whatever Heaven itself prepared—he would face them only when they intruded upon his hours.
Until then, he would sip his tea.
And the world would have to wait.