MONTHS WENT BY QUIETLY…

  On this day, the Azure Cloud Sect buzzed like a stirred beehive.

  Every courtyard rang with the clash of wooden swords, the thud of fists against stone dummies, and the grunts of disciples pushing their bodies past exhaustion. The Inner Sect Entry Trials were only two months away. For many outer sect disciples, it was the chance of a lifetime. Passing meant status, resources, and a future. Failing meant stagnation in the shadows, perhaps forever. Rumors of the masked vigilante had died down a bit, but some still whispered about him, wondering if he would ever show up again. To some, he was inspiration, proof that hidden strength could overturn the arrogant. To others, he was a rival to surpass, a reminder that unseen geniuses might rise at any moment. The sect boiled with ambition and suspicion alike.

  Li Wei continued his charade. By day, he hauled buckets of water and swept the dusty courtyards. He let his shoulders sag and his steps drag. By night, he trained in secret, guiding the lotus’s energy through his meridians with care.

  In a private courtyard, Zhao Feng sat surrounded by his loyal lackeys. His sharp eyes gleamed as one disciple reported, “Senior Brother Zhao, the Buddha Mask Disciple hasn’t struck in a while. Without smoke, we can’t find the fire.”

  Zhao Feng sneered. “A self-righteous clown hiding behind a mask. Does he think himself a hero? He dares shame outer sect disciples under my nose. He’ll pay.”

  Another lackey leaned forward eagerly. “Do you have a plan, Senior Brother?”

  “Yes,” said Zhao Feng. “We shall draw him out.”

  “How shall we draw him out, Senior Brother?” another lackey asked.

  Zhao Feng tapped the table, voice cold. “We set a bait. Have a weak disciple carrying pills alone at night. When our vigilante comes to play hero, we’ll be waiting.”

  The lackeys nodded, their faces alight with smiles.

  Zhao Feng’s gaze darkened. In his heart, for some reason, he still suspected Li Wei. But that was absurd. That cripple could not possibly have returned to cultivation. He had seen him. Seen how he moved sluggishly throughout the day while carrying laundry or buckets of water. His body didn’t emit even a hint of qi. It couldn’t be Li Wei…

  Two nights later, Li Wei slipped quietly through the sect for a walk like usual. His mask was under his shirt, in case he needed it.

  As he turned a corner, he found a lone disciple clutching a pouch, surrounded by sneering figures.

  He slipped back into darkness, tied on his mask, and stepped forward.

  The bullies turned and smiled.

  Li Wei sensed the set-up too late.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  A shout split the night. “Brother Zhao Feng, he’s come! The vigilante!”

  From the rooftops, Zhao Feng and his lackeys descended, surrounding the courtyard. Torches flared, illuminating Li Wei’s masked face.

  “Caught you,” Zhao Feng said, lips curling. “Let’s see who you really are.”

  When Zhao Feng lunged, Li Wei darted forward, striking two lackeys with precise blows to clear a gap. He twisted away from a spear thrust at him, rolled beneath a torch, and leapt out of the circle.

  “Stop him!” Zhao Feng roared, firing a blast of qi at Li Wei.

  Li Wei ducked under the blast, the attack singing some of his hair. Zhao Feng appeared before him, launching a fierce kick at his chest. The kick sent Li Wei flying back, but he leapt back on his feet.

  Figures rushed toward him, but Li Wei’s movements were sharp, faster than they expected. He vaulted over the courtyard wall, vanishing into the shadows of the outer sect.

  Li Wei’s breath burned as he fled, pain stabbed deep into his chest. His qi surged wildly, out of control. The lotus within his dantian shuddered violently, its petals closing tight as if resisting his guidance.

  Li Wei stumbled into the forest beyond the sect walls, collapsing to his knees. His vision blurred. His qi spiraled chaotically, tearing at his meridians.

  “Not now,” he gasped, clutching his chest. “Not again…”

  The kick Zhao Feng sent to his chest wasn’t an ordinary kick. It was the same technique he had used against Li Wei on the martial stage three years ago, the technique that crippled Li Wei. Only, Zhao Feng seemed to have further perfected this vile technique. The qi surrounding his kick seemed ordinary, but it contained a chaotic energy that pierced the opponents body silently and tore into their meridians, tracing back to their dantian.

  A single misstep earlier and all of Li Wei’s progress would have unravelled. Had Zhao Feng gotten a chance to kick or strike him a second time, he would have been crippled again, perhaps permanently this time.

  The next day, pale and shaken, Li Wei found Xian Lan in the library. His friend was searching through dusty shelves, a stack of basic manuals at his side.

  “Xian Lan,” Li Wei said, voice hoarse. “I need your help.”

  Xian Lan turned quickly. “What happened to you? You look like death itself.”

  Li Wei hesitated, then forced the lie past his lips. “I can’t explain everything. Someone in the sect… is blackmailing me. They threatened my family. They want a particular breathing technique from the library. If I don’t bring it, they’ll harm them.”

  Xian Lan’s eyes widened. “What? Someone dares to harm Aunt Qiuxia and your elder brother? Who would—”

  “I can’t say,” Li Wei interrupted quickly. “I’ll return the manual. They only wish to lend it for a time. But I can’t risk being seen taking it myself. Please, help me.”

  Xian Lan’s jaw clenched, anger flashing in his eyes. “Cowards. Harming family to control someone… How vile.” He looked at Li Wei, then nodded firmly. “All right. Tell me what you need.”

  Li Wei described the manual, an obscure text called 'Cycle of the Mortal Zodiac Wheel'. It was an ancient breathing technique.

  Li Wei had known of the breathing technique since before he was crippled, and had once thought it was an unorthodox technique. However, the librarian had corrected him, explaining that the zodiac way originated from the Western Province, a predominantly orthodox region of the continent.

  'The word 'zodiac' in the technique's name refers to a belt of the sky that the Sun, Moon, and planets move through over the course of a year,' the librarian had elucidated. 'Long ago, in the Western Province, people cultivated through their zodiac signs, which are determined by the Sun’s position at their birth. These signs were believed to influence not just their personality and life path, but also their cultivation. This particular technique, 'Cycle of the Mortal Zodiac Wheel', is an orthodox breathing technique from an era when the zodiac way was popular. But the Western Province is different from how it was in ancient times. The zodiac way and zodiac techniques are no longer as popular there. Zodiac signs aren't held in as high regard as they once were. Would you still like to borrow this manual, Young Master Li? It'll only cost you three student points.'