The footage "leaked". (Sarah leaked it at 7:02 PM).

  By 8:00 PM, the internet had done what the internet does best: it took a sacred warning from an ancient cultivation sect and turned it into a dance craze.

  That night, there were hundreds of TikToks. Then thousands.

  It started with kids in high school gymnasiums. They would stand nose-to-nose.

  Kid A: "I challenge you!"

  Kid B (deadpan): "Junior, you court death!"

  *Bass drop.*

  Then came the "Gravity Challenge."

  Big, muscular guys were filmed trying to push over their smaller, scrawnier girlfriends. The girls would stand perfectly still, staring at their Apple Watches and asking, "Are we hugging?" while the guys turned purple from exertion. (Most of these were staged using hidden walls or clever angles, but the effect was hilarious).

  Twitter was trending:

  \#YouCourtDeath

  \#GravityIsASuggestion

  \#ParkSect

  A barista in Seattle filmed herself writing "You Court Death" on a cup for a customer who ordered a decaf soy latte with extra foam. It got 200,000 likes in an hour.

  A clip of a cat refusing to be moved off a keyboard went viral with the caption: *"The cat has mastered the Azure Cloud Stance."*

  Even the NYPD got involved. A video surfaced of two officers in a patrol car. The driver runs a red light. The partner looks at him slowly and says, "Officer... you court death."

  In the basement of the Power Station, Sarah watched the numbers climb on a projector screen she had set up. The graph looked like a cliff face.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "It was madness," she whispered, her face illuminated by the blue light of the ascending curve. "It was epic."

  Wei sat in the corner, darning a hole in one of his spare robes. He looked up at the screen.

  "Why are they dancing?" Wei asked, pointing to a video of a teenager doing a backflip while shouting his catchphrase. "That form is terrible. He will injure his lumbar."

  "They're not cultivating, Wei," Sarah said, tapping her tablet. "They're *engaging*. Do you know what our engagement rate is? It's higher than the Super Bowl ads."

  She pulled up an email.

  "Nike just called. They want to know if you can wear their shoes while 'declining gravity.'"

  "My cloth shoes are superior," Wei dismissed. "Rubber soles disconnect me from the earth qi."

  "We'll tell them it's a 'Custom Heritage Line'," Sarah decided instantly. "We'll sew a swoosh on your slippers."

  Wei sighed. He looked back at the screen, where a golden retriever was currently barking "You Court Death" (via subtitles) at a vacuum cleaner.

  "I warned them," Wei muttered. "I told them the Dao is not a toy. And now... they meme."

  "It's working, Wei," Sarah grinned. "The enrollment requests for the 'Park Sect' just crashed the website. We have five thousand people on the waiting list. And..."

  She paused.

  "And what?"

  "And Jax Reynolds just posted a video," Sarah said, her voice turning serious. "He's not laughing."

  She clicked a link.

  The video was dark, filmed in a gym. Jax was punching a heavy bag. He was hitting it so hard the chain was rattling. Sweat poured down his face. He wasn't performing. He was angry.

  He stopped punching and looked at the camera. His eyes were bloodshot.

  "You think it's a joke?" Jax growled. "You think he's magic? Tomorrow. The Cage Match. We'll see who courts death when the cameras catch him bleeding."

  The video ended.

  Wei resumed darning his sock.

  "He has weak mental fortitude," Wei observed. "He allows the comments to disturb his Heart Demon."

  "Wei," Sarah said. "He's going to try to hurt you. For real this time."

  Wei snapped the thread with his teeth.

  "Good," Wei said. "Pain is a better teacher than words. Tomorrow, class is in session."