1: Chapter 1 A Broken Sect, A Mess

Rain dripped from the cracks in the Sect gate plaque, hitting the old Sect Master robe on Sect Master Di Kun's shoulders, spreading a dark water stain.

Two strokes were missing from the three characters "Taichu Sect" on the plaque, and the last character "Sect" had a hole eaten by insects; when the wind blew, wood shavings fell along the lintel. In front of the Sect gate, there should have been bells and drums, incense tables, kneeling Disciples, and an Elder proclaiming the continuation of the lineage, but at this moment, there was only half a stick of broken incense, a peeling offering table, five old and weak servants, and a Sect Protection Elder sitting on a rattan chair, coughing as if he were about to spit out his lungs.

Sect Master Di Kun stood before the offering table, the black and gold Sect Master robe draped over him, its cuffs a full inch too short.

This robe was not newly made; it had been dug out from the belongings of the previous Sect Master. There was a sword mark on the left shoulder, the back hem had been scorched by fire, and the belt was missing a button. Wearing it, he didn't look like a successor Sect Master, but rather like someone who had picked up a rag from the ruins that could still block the wind.

The Sect Protection Elder raised his withered, thin hand, veins taut on his wrist, his palm holding a black iron sect leader token.

"Sect Master Di Kun."

As soon as the old man spoke, a sound like a broken bellows rattled in his throat. He always carried the scent of aged medicinal dregs; the more he suppressed his sickness, the more that bitter smell seeped out.

"From this day forth, you are the seventy-third Sect Master of the Taichu Sect."

Sect Master Di Kun looked down at the sect leader token.

The token was smaller than a palm, its edges polished to a shine, with an incomplete Taichu pattern carved in the center and several fine cracks on the back. It lay quietly in the old man's palm, its chill piercing through the rain and wind, seeping into his bones.

The five servants knelt down sparsely.

Someone's knee hit a loose stone, making them wince in pain; someone else kept their head down but darted their eyes toward the foot of the mountain; another old servant leaning on a crutch didn't kneel steadily and nearly knocked over the offering table.

"Greetings... Sect Master."

The voices scattered like spirit money shredded by the wind.

The corners of Sect Master Di Kun's mouth twitched.

He had transmigrated into this world of cultivation exactly one year ago, with no System, no background, no elderly mentor, and no mysterious ring picked up by the roadside. Other transmigrators started with destiny on their side, but he started as an outer Sect servant—carrying water, chopping wood, enduring scolding, and having to guard against being snatched away by a Yao Beast at night.

In this year, what he was best at was not Cultivating, but playing the submissive subordinate.

When Disciples from powerful Sects came to collect taxes, he smiled and served tea; when the manager skimmed off Spiritual Plant rice, he lowered his head and accepted it; when Loose Cultivators from the foot of the mountain attacked, he hid in the woodshed, counting their footsteps, only coming out to move the corpses after they had left.

Staying alive was more important than anything else.

But he hadn't expected that after enduring for a year, the first "Opportunity" he would get was inheriting a dying, broken Sect.

The Sect Protection Elder handed over the sect leader token, his fingertips trembling.

Sect Master Di Kun took the token, the cold sensation pressing into his palm. He did not kneel to thank the heavens or ancestors, nor did he spout empty words about revitalizing the Sect; he simply gripped the token tightly and looked up at the old man.

"How much is left in the accounts?"

The five servants buried their heads even lower.

The Sect Protection Elder coughed twice, his cuffs stained with dark red. He fished a thin ledger from his robes; the paper pages were curled from dampness, and the cover was covered in mildew spots.

"There is enough Spiritual Plant rice for seven days. Twenty-seven Low-Grade Spirit Stones, ten of which must be reserved for the Sect protection Formation, otherwise the Sect gate won't even be able to block the weakest gray-skinned wolves at night. Medicinal Plants... none left. Medicinal Pill, half a bottle of Inedia Powder, most of its potency has dissipated."

Sect Master Di Kun opened the ledger, his fingertips pressing over the lines of crooked, small characters.

Seven days.

He had originally thought it was a mess, but upon opening it, he realized even the stall itself was about to be carried away.

The Sect Protection Elder lowered his voice: "There is one more thing. In three days, the Border Wasteland Sect evaluation envoy will arrive. If we fail the evaluation, the Taichu Sect's lineage will be demoted, and the Sect gate and spiritual fields will be reclaimed by the Sect Affairs Bureau."

A wooden basin in the hands of a servant nearby fell to the ground, half a basin of rainwater splashing into the mud.

Sect Master Di Kun did not look up; he simply closed the ledger and tapped his fingertips on the cover twice.

"What is required for the evaluation?"

"A minimum of three formal Disciples, one functional Gathering Spiritual Qi Formation, one complete Legacy Cultivation Technique, and one Elder capable of presiding over Sect affairs." With each item the Sect Protection Elder mentioned, his complexion turned grayer. "We currently... only have two nominal Disciples on the registry, and it's hard to say if they are even still on the mountain. Two corners of the Gathering Spiritual Qi Formation are broken, half the library of Legacy Cultivation Techniques is lost, and it wouldn't be strange if these old bones of mine couldn't last until the day of the evaluation."

The sound of rain suddenly grew louder.

The broken incense on the offering table was soaked by the rain, emitting a slightly burnt, bitter smell.

Sect Master Di Kun tucked the sect leader token into his sleeve and turned to look inside the Sect gate.

"Show me around."

The main peak of the Taichu Sect was not high, but it was terrifyingly empty.

The stone steps along the mountain were cracked in a dozen places, with weeds sprouting from the crevices, covering the path that had once been paved with bluestone. The sword-testing stone in the center of the Martial Arts Arena was broken in two, the broken edges covered in moss. In the corner, three wooden stakes had fallen over, the sword marks on them already eaten into chaotic holes by insects and ants.

The door lock of the Scripture Pavilion had long been broken.

Sect Master Di Kun pushed the door open and entered; the scent of damp wood rushed to meet him. Most of the bookshelves had toppled over, and the remaining Jade Slips were mostly empty shells. Dust marks remained in a row of compartments near the window where the core Cultivation Technique of the Sect should have been placed; now, only a few indentations remained where they had been hastily pried away.

He reached out and ran his hand along the edge of the bookshelf, his fingertips coated with a layer of dust.

"Who moved them?"

The Sect Protection Elder held onto the door frame, his coughs stuck in his chest: "Over these years, Disciples have either scattered or died. Some swiped a few volumes of Cultivation Techniques before they left; others took the Jade Slips to the market to trade for Spirit Stones. I tried to stop them, but I couldn't."

Sect Master Di Kun picked up a broken Jade Slip from the floor; it only contained half a line of a mantra, its spiritual light so dim it was about to extinguish.

"If you couldn't stop them, then keep a tally."

The Sect Protection Elder looked up at him.

Sect Master Di Kun put the broken Jade Slip back on the shelf, his voice steady: "Are the names of those who took things from the Taichu Sect still on record?"

The old man was silent for a moment, then fished an old register from his sleeve.

"They are."

Sect Master Di Kun took it and tucked it into his robe.

When he walked out of the Scripture Pavilion, the sky had descended to the mountainside. The Spiritual Qi on the main peak was pitifully thin; even the Spiritual Plants on both sides of the mountain path were growing yellow and withered. The base of the Sect protection Formation was buried at the four corners of the square, with two of them cracked, revealing the blackened spiritual patterns inside. Sect Master Di Kun crouched down and lightly touched the Formation base with the sect leader token.

Click.

A crisp sound came from inside the Formation base, and a piece of stone crumbled off, rolling to his feet.

If this thing could be called a Formation, it could only be considered a fishing net full of holes.

Urgent footsteps suddenly came from down the mountain.

A thin, small servant rushed up the stone steps, rain and sweat mixed on his face. He ran to Sect Master Di Kun and his knees went soft, causing him to kneel down.

"Sect Master, someone from the Red Snake Sect has come to deliver a message!"

Sect Master Di Kun picked up the stone fragment from the Formation base and weighed it in his palm.

"Speak."

"They said that if we fail the evaluation in three days, the Red Snake Sect will take over the Sect gate, the three acres of spiritual fields behind the mountain, and the spiritual spring at the foot of the mountain." The servant swallowed, his voice getting lower and lower. "They also said... that the Sect Master should pack up early, so it doesn't get ugly when the time comes."

The Sect Protection Elder's withered hand trembled, the scent of medicine mixing with the smell of blood.

"Too arrogant!"

Sect Master Di Kun raised his hand to stop him, the stone spinning half a turn between his fingers.

"Who came?"

"An outer Sect deacon from the Red Snake Sect, one of Han Lishan's men. He didn't come up the mountain, just left the message at the teahouse at the foot of the mountain and had the teahouse owner spread it."

Sect Master Di Kun smiled.

It was not an angry smile, nor a cold one, just the corners of his mouth curving gently, as if he had heard that a debt finally had a creditor.

The Red Snake Sect hadn't come up to grab it directly; they were waiting for a legitimate excuse after the failed evaluation. Making the statement first was to force the Taichu Sect to dissolve from within, saving them the effort.

They weren't stupid.

And precisely because of that, it was even more troublesome.

Sect Master Di Kun tossed the stone back beside the Formation base; it rolled twice and wedged into the crack.

"Pass the word: everyone still on the mountain is not allowed to leave the Sect tonight. Anyone who wants to leave can come to the main hall tomorrow morning to collect three jin of Spiritual Plant rice."

The servant was stunned: "Sect Master, we're still giving out rice?"

Sect Master Di Kun looked at him: "If you flee on an empty stomach, you won't get far. Take the rice before leaving; at least you won't die outside the Taichu Sect gate and ruin my reputation as the new Sect Master."

The servant's lips moved, and he kowtowed.

"Yes."

The Sect Protection Elder watched Sect Master Di Kun, rainwater dripping along his gray eyebrows. He did not try to persuade him further, leaning against the wall and slowly following.

When night fell, Sect Master Di Kun entered the Founders Hall.

This hall was the only building in the Taichu Sect that could still be considered intact. The hall doors were tall, the paint peeling, the door knockers mottled with copper rust. When Sect Master Di Kun pushed the door open, the door hinges emitted a harsh, grating sound, startling a nest of gray sparrows on the rafters.

In the center of the main hall, there was no golden statue, only a broken black stele.

The broken stele was taller than a person, its surface covered with cracks, as if it had been struck by lightning and then burned by fire. Two blurred characters were carved on the face of the stele—Taichu.

Sect Master Di Kun stood before the stele, rainwater dripping from the hem of his robe onto the floor tiles.

The Sect Protection Elder walked up behind him, his voice much lower: "This stele has been passed down by our ancestors. After the great annihilation a hundred years ago, most of the Sect's Legacy was severed, and only this remained in the Founders Hall. Several generations of Sect Masters have tried it, but there was no response."

Sect Master Di Kun took out the sect leader token from his sleeve.

The black iron token pressed against the broken stele, emitting a slight clinking sound.

The hall was very quiet.

Wind poured in from the broken windows, blowing up a corner of the white cloth on the offering table. Cold ash had accumulated in the incense burner in the corner, and the wind swept shallow ripples across the surface of the ash.

The broken stele did not light up, nor did it shake.

Sect Master Di Kun waited a moment, then tried a few other positions. He pressed the sect leader token against the cracks, against the two characters "Taichu", and against the base of the stele. Each time, only the cold touch of stone was returned.

He withdrew the token and tapped his knuckles against the face of the stele.

Dull, deathly silent.

Sect Master Di Kun lowered his eyes to look at his own palm.

In this year, it wasn't as if he hadn't waited. On the first day of his Transmigration, he waited for a voice to sound in his head; when he was kicked into the mud by the servant manager, he waited; when he was too hungry to sleep at night, he also waited. Eventually, he began to suspect that he wasn't the protagonist, but just an extra piece of trash in the world of cultivation.

Today, when he received the sect leader token, he had held onto one last glimmer of hope.

Now, that glimmer of hope had been smashed to pieces by the black stele.

The Sect Protection Elder stood to the side, not asking what he was testing.

Sect Master Di Kun put the sect leader token away again and walked over to sit before the offering table. One leg of the wooden chair for the Sect Master's seat was short; when he sat down, the whole chair tilted half an inch to the left, and right by his feet, rain leaked from the roof, drip, drip, accumulating into a small puddle of water.

Spread on the table were the ledger, a map, and the Sect rules.

The ledger recorded debts, the map marked the Red Snake Sect and the Black Mist Demon Ridge, and the first page of the Sect rules had half a corner eaten by insects; the remaining characters still spoke of "protecting fellow Disciples, the lineage shall not be broken."

Sect Master Di Kun tapped his fingertips lightly on the table.

Three days to the evaluation.

Seven days of rations.

The Red Snake Sect was eyeing the Sect gate, and the hearts of those within the Sect were scattered. The Sect protection Formation was broken, the Cultivation Techniques were incomplete, the Disciples had all run away, and the Elder was dying.

This game started even more simply than Hell difficulty; they didn't even issue a beginner's wooden sword.

Footsteps sounded outside the hall door again.

The Sect Protection Elder had returned, his robes soaked through, the color drained even further from his face. In his hand, he clutched a transmission talisman, the edges of the talisman paper charred black; it had just been used.

"Sect Master, something has happened at the Black Mist Demon Ridge."

Sect Master Di Kun looked up.

The old man placed the transmission talisman on the table, his fingertips still trembling: "The Liu Family Village at the foot of the mountain sent a message; last night, Yao Beasts came down from the mountain and snatched away three households. The black mist of the Demon Ridge has expanded outward by ten miles; the old hunters say this is a precursor to a beast tide."

The rain leaking from the roof hit the ground, splashing onto the edge of the map. The four characters "Black Mist Demon Ridge" were blurred by the water, the ink marks looking like a shadow that was spreading.

Sect Master Di Kun picked up a paperweight to hold down the map.

"How long until the beast tide?"

"As soon as three to five days, at the latest half a month."

Three to five days.

It clashed with the evaluation.

Sect Master Di Kun stared at the map for a long time, then turned the ledger to a blank page and picked up a cracked writing brush from the side of the table. The brush tip was dry and stiff; he dipped it in a little rainwater and wrote the four words "Evaluation", "Red Snake Sect", "Beast Tide", and "Grain" on the paper.

The handwriting was not particularly good, but the strokes were steady.

The Sect Protection Elder looked at him: "Sect Master, the Taichu Sect can no longer... withstand any more turmoil."

Sect Master Di Kun did not look up.

"Even if it can't withstand it, it must."

He drew a circle next to "Evaluation" and a horizontal line next to "Red Snake Sect".

"From now on, the Sect gate is closed, the Spiritual Plant rice is to be centralized, and the side room next to the main hall is to be converted into a temporary storehouse. Call everyone still on the mountain; I need to know who can repair Formations, who can farm, who can fight, and who can only eat."

The Sect Protection Elder was stunned.

Sect Master Di Kun put down the writing brush and raised his hand to press down on the moldy ledger.

"If there is no cheat, then we play according to the strategy for having no cheat. Three days is not long, but it's enough for us to drag a dead end into a half-dead one."

He stood up and walked to the hall door; the rainy night pressed down on the entire Taichu Sect. The distant mountain forest was pitch black, and the sporadic lights at the foot of the mountain were swayed by the wind, as if they might extinguish at any moment.

Inside the Founders Hall, the broken black stele stood silently.

Sect Master Di Kun looked back at it once, the glimmer of disappointment in his eyes suppressed, leaving only calculation and coldness. He held the sect leader token in his palm and turned to walk toward the offering table, preparing to spread the map out again.

The candle flame in the hall suddenly flickered.

There was no wind, yet the flames all bent toward the broken stele. Deep within a crack on the black stele's surface, a wisp of pale silver pattern emerged silently, slowly lighting up along the incomplete strokes of the two characters "Taichu".