The outer court lay quiet beneath the afternoon sky.
When Raph reached his residence, someone stood in front of his door.
A young man froze the moment he saw him approaching, shock cracking through his voice. "Qi… Qin Yu? You… You are alive?"
From the body's lingering memories, Raph recognized him.
Chen Longwei. His roommate.
"I'm tired," Raph said in a lazy tone. "I'm resting, Brother Chen. Don't disturb me for now."
He walked past him and pushed the door open without bothering to listen to his response.
Chen Longwei stood frozen in place, mouth hanging open. "He really came back alive."
As the door closed and silence filled the room, Raph stood still for a long moment, then turned toward the mirror on the wall.
The face that looked back at him was unfamiliar and young.
Too young.
"That old man…"
His fingers brushed his chest. "What did you really do to me?"
Memories shifted.
A year in the sect.
Qin Yu didn't have a partner.
Countless failed attempts.
A weak foundation.
Nineteen years old.
Still an outer court disciple.
No backing.
No strength.
In simple words, a useless existence…
"If this really is rebirth…" he muttered in a low tone, as if he was complaining, "then I woke up in the worst possible state."
In the Azure Cloud Pavilion outer court, disciples were left to fend for themselves. No assigned partners. No guidance. If they wanted to cultivate, they had to find someone willing to pair with them.
Raph never did.
Not for lack of looks.
At first, many came.
Then they saw his talent.
Then they left.
In this place, looks meant nothing without strength.
"No one is foolish enough to bet their future on a pretty face," he said quietly.
The mirror reflected his faint smile.
"Even if that face once brought goddesses to their knees."
He leaned back against the wall and exhaled slowly.
"That old man threw me into the mud…"
His gaze lifted.
"But mud still leads to the sky."
For a brief moment, images flickered in his mind.
Women who once stood at the peak.
Figures who shook worlds.
Faces he once held.
"If they still exist in this world… I will find them again."
His hand tightened into a fist as his eyes sharpened.
After cleaning himself, he crushed some medicinal powder and pressed it against the hole in his chest. The medicine burned as it sank in. He wrapped the cloth tight, layer by layer, until the bleeding stopped and the pain dulled into a steady ache. Only then did he sit down on the edge of the bed and close his eyes.
By that time, the outer court was already boiling.
"What? Qin Yu beat Li Meiran?"
"The same wastrel who can't even perform properly in bed?"
"I swear it! Li Meiran stabbed him straight through the chest, then QinYu roared, and everyone around the stage spat blood like fountains!"
"Bullshit. A shout did that?"
"I didn't believe it either until I saw Li Meiran lying flat on the ground myself…"
The words spread through corridors and courtyards, from training grounds to resting halls.
Even Elder Sun, who had personally ended the fight, found his thoughts drifting back to that instant. The pressure. The suffocating weight that crushed the air. The way his heart had stuttered inside his chest for a brief, terrifying moment.
Li Meiran sat before him now, face pale, head pounding.
"What happened on that stage?" Elder Sun demanded. "Tell me everything."
Li Meiran clenched his fists. His voice sounded strained. "I stabbed him cleanly right in the chest. Before that… it was like sparring with a fool who had never learned to swing a sword. Then suddenly…"
His breath hitched.
"It wasn't the same person anymore."
A shiver ran down his arms. "The moment my blade went in… the way he looked at me changed. It felt like my bones were being peeled apart by his eyes alone."
Silence lingered.
Elder Sun's brows tightened. "That killing intent did not come from panic," he said slowly. "Nor from rage born in a moment. That kind of pressure comes only from walking the edge of death over and over again."
His gaze sharpened as he asked. "Who is Qin Yu?"
Li Meiran lowered his head. "I… I don't know."
"You may go," Elder Sun said. "If I see you step onto a stage without permission again, you will not leave it so easily."
"This disciple wouldn't dare."
After Li Meiran left, Elder Sun turned toward the records. He expected arrogance. Talent. A hidden lineage. Something that would make sense.
What he found instead left him staring at the page in silence.
Nearly two years in the sect.
No progress.
No partner.
A useless reputation.
He looked up slowly.
"Mental disorder… incapable of proper union… no talent…"
He turned to the elder beside him. "Is this… accurate?"
Elder Mu nodded. "The outer court knows him well. That face keeps him here. That's all."
Elder Sun let out a long breath. "What a waste."
"He might have survived if only his mind were sound," Elder Mu sighed. "In this world, even a pretty face needs a spine."
Elder Sun said nothing at first. The image of Raph's calm eyes rose again in his thoughts. That gaze. That stillness. That pressure.
"That boy looked nothing like this record today."
Elder Mu spread his hands. "Then all I can say is that something has changed."
Their talk drifted to other matters. To grandchildren. To future pairings. The weight of Raph's name slipped quietly into the shadows of Elder Sun's thoughts.
*
When Raph finally opened his door again, the sun was already slanting low across the outer court. Chen Longwei stood outside, eyes wide. Beside him was a young woman with clear skin and bright eyes: Song Jiao-His roommate's partner.
"You're really alive…" She muttered in surprise.
"Still breathing," Raph replied casually.
His shirt was back in place. The blood was gone.
"How's the wound?" Chen Longwei then asked him in a bit of concern.
"Bug bite."
Chen Longwei let out a short laugh. "Bug bite, huh…"
He stared at Raph's face a moment longer than before. Something about him felt wrong. The posture. The eyes. The quiet steadiness where foolishness once lived.
"You heading out?"
"Just walking," Raph said, already stepping toward the door.
"But your injury—"
"Still a bug bite."
After he left, Song Jiao tilted her head. "He looks different today."
Chen Longwei blinked. "You think so too?"
"He seems… sharper."
Then she smiled faintly, adding. "Also more handsome."
Chen Longwei stared. "That's what you noticed?"
She laughed softly and leaned into his chest. "Relax. No matter how handsome he becomes, you're still the one who shares my bed."
His ears turned red.
Before he could reply, she pulled him toward the room. The door closed behind them, and the noise of the outer court swallowed the last of their voices.
*
Within the Azure Cloud Pavilion stood a single building that never slept. Its doors opened from dawn to dusk, yet its breath never faded.
Disciples passed through its gates every hour, their robes brushing against polished stone, their eyes filled with hunger.
This place was known as the Mystic Cloud Treasury. Inside, medicine rested beside weapons, spirit stones beside rare treasures. Anything a cultivator could desire waited behind its counters.
The only thing that mattered here was whether one could afford it.
The currency of this place was not gold or silver. It was Sect points.
These points held no meaning beyond the sect's walls, yet within them, they decided everything. A disciple could earn them through missions, through merit, or through transactions with others. With enough Sect points, one could climb through the ranks faster than even natural-born geniuses.
Raph stood before a long wooden counter.
Behind it sat an elderly man with narrow eyes and a calm, unreadable face.
"How much for this?" Raph asked quietly, placing a jade slip on the counter. "Styx Flower."
The elder's fingers paused.
His gaze lifted slowly. "Styx Flower?" he repeated. "Outer Court disciples do not usually come asking for things like this."
"How much?" As Raph asked again, this time with a sharpened gaze, the elder leaned back slightly.
"Ten thousand."
The number settled into the air.
Raph's brows lifted just a little.