The air in the courtyard thickened, heavy with disbelief and simmering violence. Senior Disciple Han's face flushed a dark crimson, the vein on his temple pulsing. That single, insolent tap from a bamboo stick wasn't an injury; it was a cataclysm to his pride.
"You insect!" he spat, the practice sword in his hand seeming to hum with his gathering qi. "You think a cheap trick saves you?"
Lee Jin didn't answer. His entire world had narrowed to two points: the furious disciple advancing on him, and the serene disciple under the plum tree, highlighted by the ethereal blue screen. The system's recommendation pulsed softly: Copy 'One Moon Circulation (Proficient)'.
He had to choose. Fight with a stolen swordsmanship he lacked the strength to wield properly, or seize the very foundation he lacked?
Han lunged again, this time using a broader, sweeping slash—the 'Moon's Embrace'—designed to corner and crush. The wind of it ruffled Lee Jin's ragged hair.
Lee Jin chose.
He didn't try to counter.Instead, he threw himself into a graceless, desperate roll toward the plum tree, the move born of pure survival instinct, not any copied skill. Dirt stained his already worn robes. Laughter erupted from the watching disciples, the tension momentarily broken by his undignified scramble.
"Running? Now he shows his true nature!" someone jeered.
But Lee Jin wasn't running away. He was running toward. He came to a skidding halt a few paces from Disciple Hong, who opened one eye, his meditation disrupted by the commotion, his expression one of mild annoyance.
[Target in range. Initiating copy.]
[Copying: 'One Moon Circulation (Proficient)'... 10%...]
Senior Disciple Han was already upon him, his shadow falling over Lee Jin. "No more games, trash!"
[50%...]
The practice sword descended in a blur. Lee Jin, still on his knees, did the only thing he could think of. He repeated the Falling Petal Stroke with his empty hand, a knife-handed chop aimed not at Han, but at the wrist controlling the sword. It was a theoretical move, drawn purely from the copied skill's understanding of angles and vulnerabilities.
It missed by a wide margin. Lee Jin's body was too slow, too weak. But the unexpected, technically precise motion made Han flinch and adjust his strike, which instead of cracking Lee Jin's skull, slammed into his shoulder.
CRACK.
White-hot agony exploded in Lee Jin's left shoulder. A bone was definitely bruised, if not cracked. He cried out, collapsing onto his side.
[90%... 100%!]
[Skill 'One Moon Circulation (Proficient)' successfully copied.]
[Integration in progress. Warning: Target's Meridian Configuration differs. Adjusting…]
A new, profound sensation flooded Lee Jin's being. It wasn't the sharp, mechanical insight of a sword stroke. This was deeper, warmer, a river of understanding about the body's own inner pathways. He suddenly knew how qi was supposed to feel as it was drawn from the world, filtered through the lungs, and guided down the spine to the dantian before cycling out to the limbs. He understood the rhythm of the breath that facilitated it, the specific mental focus points that Disciple Hong used to achieve 'Proficient' mastery. It was a complete, operational manual to a process that had been a locked door for three years.
And as the knowledge integrated, something miraculous happened.
The violent impact of Han's blow had sent a shockwave of chaotic, unfocused energy—Han's own qi—rampaging into Lee Jin's meridians. Before, such an invasion would have caused numbing pain or internal bruising. Now, with the newly copied One Moon Circulation technique instinctively activating, that invasive qi was… processed.
It was a minuscule amount, crude and brutish. But Lee Jin's newly informed meridians, following the proficient pattern, grabbed hold of it. They didn't absorb it as his own—it was foreign and incompatible—but they circulated it. The chaotic energy was forced into a single, painful loop down his spine and expelled through the pores of his injured shoulder in a faint, dark vapor.
The agonizing throb in his shoulder lessened, just a fraction. The internal reverberation of the blow dissipated.
Han, standing over him, raised his sword for a final, disciplining strike to the legs. "Let's see you fetch water with broken kneecaps, you thieving rat—"
"Enough."
The voice was quiet, but it cut through the courtyard like a blade of ice. Elder Wu, the stoic, grey-bearded overseer of the junior training grounds, stood at the entrance. No one had seen him arrive. His hands were clasped behind his back, his eyes like chips of flint.
Senior Disciple Han froze, then immediately bowed deeply. "Elder Wu! This worthless outer disciple was caught stealing our sect's techniques! He mimicked the Falling Petal Stroke! I was merely administering discipline!"
Elder Wu's gaze swept over the scene: the spilled water, the broken bamboo, Lee Jin clutching his shoulder on the ground, the gathered disciples. It lingered on Lee Jin for a heartbeat longer than the rest.
"Mimicry?" Elder Wu finally said, walking forward. He stopped before Lee Jin. "Show me."
Lee Jin's blood ran cold. Could the system be detected? Was this the end before it even began? He forced himself to sit up, his shoulder screaming in protest. He had no weapon.
"He used a stick, Elder!" Han interjected eagerly.
Elder Wu flicked a finger. A fallen twig from the plum tree shot into his hand. He tossed it at Lee Jin's feet. "Show me the Falling Petal Stroke."
There was no choice. Gritting his teeth, Lee Jin picked up the twig. He stood, his body trembling from pain and adrenaline. He closed his eyes for a second, calling upon the copied skill. The form was there, pristine in his mind. His body, weak and injured, tried to comply.
He moved through the stroke. It was pathetic. No power, no speed, his stance wobbly, his movements brittle with pain. But the shape of it, the precise geometry of the arc, the exact moment of the hypothetical qi infusion at the tip—these were flawless. It was like watching a master's sketch rendered by a shaking, child's hand. The essence was undeniable.
A murmur rippled through the disciples. Even they could see the eerie, discordant accuracy.
Elder Wu's eyebrow twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Where did you learn this?"
"I… I have watched Senior Disciple Han practice many times… while doing my chores," Lee Jin gasped, the half-truth tasting bitter. "I must have… remembered."
"Impossible!" Han spluttered. "A talentless fool cannot learn by sight alone! He must have stolen a manual!"
"Our manuals do not leave the Scripture Pavilion," Elder Wu said quietly, his eyes still drilling into Lee Jin. "And his qi is a barren wasteland. He could read a thousand manuals and gain nothing." He paused. "Yet, the form is correct. A hollow shell, but a perfect one."
The Elder fell silent for a long moment. "A curious anomaly. Senior Disciple Han, your zeal is noted, but your judgment is lacking. Breaking the bones of a outer disciple over a poorly executed mimicry is excessive. You will copy the Sect's Code of Conduct ten times. This one," he gestured to Lee Jin, "will tend to his injury in the infirmary. He is to resume his duties tomorrow."
It was a dismissal. A bizarre, inconclusive dismissal that left everyone unsettled. Han bowed, seething with humiliation. The other disciples scattered, casting bewildered looks back at Lee Jin.
Elder Wu turned to leave, then glanced over his shoulder. "Watching is not a crime, boy. But remember, a painting of a feast will not fill your belly. Without the river to fill it, the canal is just a ditch."
With that, he was gone.
Lee Jin was left alone in the emptying courtyard, cradling his throbbing shoulder. The pain was real, sharp. But beneath it, humming in his veins, was something new. A current. Faint, so faint it was barely a whisper, but it was there. It was the echo of the One Moon Circulation technique, a ghost of a river starting to flow in the barren ditch of his meridians.
He had paid a price in pain and blood. But he had gained his foundation.
As he limped toward the sect's infirmary, a humble, single-room building on the outer grounds, his mind was already racing. The system's screen glowed softly in his vision.
[User: Lee Jin]
[Cultivation: Body Tempering Stage (1st Layer - Stabilized)]
[Copied Skills: Falling Petal Stroke (Competent), One Moon Circulation (Proficient)]
[Analysis Mode: Active. Range: 10 Meters.]
Body Tempering Stage, First Layer. Stabilized. He was officially, for the first time, a cultivator. The lowest of the low, but no longer a complete void.
He reached the infirmary, a room smelling of herbs and dust. An elderly, non-cultivating attendant grunted, applied a pungent poultice to his shoulder, and bandaged it roughly. "Rest here tonight. Don't be a bother."
Lee Jin lay on the hard cot, staring at the ceiling beams. The events of the day replayed in his mind. The system had limits—it couldn't instantly give him strength or power, only the knowledge and the pathway. He had to walk that path himself. He had to train, to nourish his body, to convert the copied skills from hollow forms into genuine strength.
And he had drawn attention. Elder Wu's gaze had been more analytical than suspicious, but it was attention nonetheless. He needed to be careful. He needed to grow in the shadows.
A new prompt appeared, glowing in the dark room.
[Analysis of 'Elder Wu' incomplete. Insufficient data. Qi signature too dense.]
[Recommended Short-term Objective: Copy 'Basic Physical Conditioning' and 'Herbal Knowledge' from Outer Disciple Attendants to improve bodily vessel and resource acquisition.]
A slow, determined smile spread across Lee Jin's face in the darkness. The first stolen breath of qi cycled slowly, painfully, but steadily through his newly charted meridians.
The canal was no longer just a ditch. It was ready. And Lee Jin now knew how to find the rivers to fill it. The Silent Moon Sect was brimming with them. He just had to learn how to copy them all.