The robes of the Heng Yue Sect shimmered with hues of amethyst, ebony, alabaster, and crimson. Yet, it was the black garment that signified mastery, a testament to formidable strength. Wang Lin, unable to pierce the veil of his superior’s cultivation, bowed with deferential respect. “Wang Lin greets Senior Brother Zhang. Felicitations upon your ascension to the Black Robes.”

The young man garbed in black leveled his gaze upon Wang Lin. A flicker of recognition softened his stern countenance. “A month past, I attained the Fifth Level of Qi Condensation. Credit is due to thee, in part. Had I not stumbled upon that spiraling wind’s eye whilst searching for you, this breakthrough would have remained elusive.”

Wang Lin, taken aback, stammered, “Senior Brother Zhang? Can the suction wind eye on the precipice aid in cultivation?”

A nod confirmed the query. “Once you crest the Fourth Level of Qi Condensation, the Fifth Level of the Mantra will unfurl, revealing its potency. But you, Junior Brother Wang… alas, your talents are meager. A poor selection, it must be said. Yet, as an inner disciple, diligence is paramount. The lack of spiritual essence clinging to your form suggests the First Level of Condensation was achieved by sheer force of will. Know this: amongst our current inner circle, you are likely the only one not to have mastered even that first step.”

Wang Lin, stung by the words, masked his discomfort with a wry smile. “I shall heed your teachings, Senior Brother, and strive ever harder.” He deftly shifted the subject, masking his unease. “But what brings Senior Brother Zhang to this humble place?”

A subtle smile played upon the lips of the black-robed youth. “A trifle. A registered disciple of the Chore Department has vanished. Rumor places you in the vicinity on the fateful day. Thus, my inquiry.”

Wang Lin remained composed, his voice ringing with disarming candor. “I recall such an encounter. I seldom frequent the Chore Department. Half a moon ago, I passed by, and this registered disciple dared to speak with disrespect. I offered him a lesson in humility. Perhaps, fearing retribution, he chose to abandon his post and flee into the mortal realm.”

Senior Brother Zhang offered a measured nod, a playful glint in his eyes. “A contemptible lackey, hardly worthy of concern. Matters of greater import occupy me. Following deliberations with the Sect Master and esteemed elders, it was deemed unfitting for registered disciples to oversee the Chore Department. An inner disciple should take the reins. Alas, all others are engrossed in their cultivation, loath to relinquish their pursuits.”

Wang Lin’s smile held a bitter edge. “I perceive. The task is to be mine.”

Senior Brother Zhang’s smile broadened, a confirmation. “Prepare yourself for the burdens of the day. The Chore Department languishes in disarray. Rectification is required.” With a final clasp of his fists in farewell, he stepped forth. A shimmering, crystalline sword materialized beneath his feet, carrying him heavenward in a streak of rainbow light, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

Helplessness clouded Wang Lin’s features. The Chore Department was a fetid pool of distractions, a place where his secrets might be unearthed. The endless tasks would devour the precious time needed for his cultivation. Yet, defiance was impossible. With a sigh, he packed his meager belongings and resigned himself to his fate.

As he approached the Chore Department, resolve hardened within him. This posting was not to be endured for long. He would sow chaos, unleash turmoil, until every registered disciple clamored for his removal. Only then could he return to his solitary pursuits.

With this plan firmly in place, Wang Lin began to dismantle the quarters of the former overseer, a youth named Liu. Everything beyond a simple bed and table was summarily ejected into the yard.

As he toiled, disciples trickled into the Chore Department, their faces etched with apprehension. The news of Wang Lin’s ascension had spread like wildfire. Those who had once mocked him now trembled, bracing themselves for the storm.

They dared not offer assistance, shrinking back under Wang Lin’s piercing gaze, their bravado evaporating in the face of his silent fury.

When the task was complete, Wang Lin settled into a chair, his gaze sweeping over the assembled throng of registered disciples. A hundred strong, they were but a fraction of the Sect’s menial laborers. Each day would bring a fresh wave, seeking to fulfill their obligations.

“You,” Wang Lin declared, singling out a youth he recalled mocking him, “Henceforth, you shall chop wood. Five hundred kilograms per day.”

The unfortunate lad stammered, his face paling. “Senior Brother Wang, I… I was assigned to the kitchens. I know naught of woodcraft!”

Wang Lin rolled his eyes, a sardonic snort escaping his lips. “In that case, the quota is doubled. One thousand kilograms!”

The youth collapsed to his knees, wailing in despair. “Senior Brother Wang, have mercy! I know I erred in jesting at your expense, but do not seek vengeance so cruelly! Where am I to find such a mountain of wood? Even five hundred pounds is beyond my capabilities!”

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd. They had anticipated hardship, but not such blatant, personal vindictiveness.

Several registered disciples, fueled by righteous indignation, cried out, “We shall not endure this! We shall seek the Elder’s judgment! This Wang Lin is a rogue!”

“Aye! Let us petition for another to lead us! If our cries fall upon deaf ears, we shall prostrate ourselves at the Elder’s door until justice is served!”

“Indeed! This Wang Lin revels in his petty triumphs. It is an insult that he entered the sect by such desperate means!”

The clamor grew, and finally, a score of disciples broke ranks, surging towards the Main Court, their voices rising in a chorus of grievances. Wang Lin, they vowed, would not be allowed to reign.

Wang Lin, unmoved, leaned back in his chair, offering no resistance. He prayed for their success, for their pleas to sway the Elder. Only then could he be rid of this onerous duty and return to the shadows where his true potential lay.

The remaining disciples wavered, torn between defiance and fear. Should their comrades fail, they would incur Wang Lin’s wrath.

Wang Lin remained patient. After a time, the banished returned, their shoulders slumped, their faces etched with defeat. The shout of rebellion was replaced by the silence of despair.

The sight filled Wang Lin with disappointment. His hopes of a swift liberation were dashed. A grander scheme was required. He cleared his throat, his eyes sweeping over the demoralized assembly. “Those of you who whispered insults behind my back, heed my words! I am here for retribution. If any among you can orchestrate my removal from this wretched post, I shall be in your eternal debt.”

“Senior Brother Wang, have compassion!” A disciple groveled, tears streaming down his face.

“Yes, Senior Brother Wang, we were blind to your worth! Forgive us our trespasses! I… I shall kowtow to you until you grant us mercy!”

“Senior Brother Wang, they all spoke ill of you, but I stood as your shield! I defended you, I…”

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