The dawn was but a fledgling, its light barely piercing the mountain mists. Within Hengyue Sect, a dark jest was brewing, and a new chore assigned.

“Brothers,” declared Wang Zhuo, his voice ringing false with camaraderie, “I rarely implore you for such favors, but this time I beg your support! Grant me your votes!”

And so it was decided.

“Indeed,” echoed voices from Xuandao Sect, “let us leave this matter in your capable hands.” Yet beneath the surface of agreement, currents of unease swirled. Liu, a disciple of Xuandao, sought to demur, invoking the authority of his elders. But a cough, subtle yet commanding, from a middle-aged figure at the rear silenced his protest. “Very well,” Liu conceded, his expression strained, “we shall not interfere with the esteemed disciples of Hengyue.”

A cruel smile stretched across Wang Zhuo’s face as he turned, his voice amplified for all to hear. “Junior Brother Wang Lin,” he proclaimed, “I entrust to you the humble task of tending to the Thousand-Legged Centipede. Be vigilant!”

A wave of understanding washed over the disciples of Xuandao Sect. Wang Lin had clearly incurred Wang Zhuo’s displeasure, marked for scorn and servitude.

“Ah, so it is Junior Brother Wang Lin,” chuckled one of Hengyue’s inner circle, his voice dripping with mockery. “I had wondered whom Wang Zhuo meant. A fitting choice, I must say.”

“His talents lie elsewhere,” another added, “or rather, nowhere. Practicing is a waste of time for him, and he would be a disgrace upon the stage.”

“Truly,” a third chimed in, “who else but the least amongst us could perform such a menial task? Junior Brother Wang Lin, do well, and do not shame Hengyue Sect!”

The chorus of derision echoed through the courtyard, confirming the judgment passed upon Wang Lin. He was not only Wang Zhuo’s target, but also the butt of jokes due to his perceived lack of skill. Among all sects, such things were often the cause of trouble. Thus, Wang Lin was swiftly written off as worthless in the minds of the Xuandao disciples.

Zhou, the woman seated beside him, frowned, her eyes flashing with distaste as she regarded Wang Zhuo. “Junior Brother Wang Lin,” she murmured, “if I had not come, he would not have targeted you. I…”

Wang Lin shook his head. Wang Zhuo’s animosity was no recent development. Since their initial meeting, he had taken every opportunity to mock and belittle him. Whispers of Wang Lin’s failed attempt at ending his own life had followed him, marking him as an outcast in the eyes of the inner circle.

Moreover, he possessed only the third level of Qi Condensation, placing him at the bottom rung amongst the inner disciples.

Strength was the currency of this world. Wang Lin glanced at the Thousand-Legged Centipede, its form radiating a palpable menace, and resolved to ignore the taunts.

Soon after, Wang Zhuo dispatched several disciples to lead their Xuandao guests to their chambers.

As Liu of Xuandao Sect, blessed with a single water-aligned spirit root, departed, he cast a knowing glance at Wang Lin. “This is Junior Brother Wang Lin, I presume,” he said softly. “Our Thousand-Legged Centipede is a wild and untamed creature. Take caution when feeding it. Do not approach too closely, lest you suffer harm.”

Wang Zhuo met Wang Lin’s gaze with a sneer before turning away. Before long, the courtyard stood empty, save for Wang Lin.

Zhou frowned, spoke a few more words of comfort to Wang Lin, and then rose to leave.

Alone in the square, Wang Lin rose and walked towards the Thousand-Legged Centipede. He paused ten paces distant, carefully scrutinizing the beast.

Its body, a series of segmented rings, was armed with rows of dark, blade-like legs. Each segment bore black spots, hinting at hidden venom. Most striking were the two massive pincers adorning its head, radiating an aura of predatory power.

Two long, crimson antennae swayed and writhed in the air, like serpentine tendrils.

As if sensing Wang Lin’s gaze, the centipede’s eyes flickered open, and a wave of chilling intent washed over him.

A coldness gripped Wang Lin, but the spiritual energy within him surged, quickly dispelling the sensation.

Surprise flickered in the centipede’s gaze before it closed its eyes, indifferent once more. Wang Lin’s eyes sparkled, his mind now spinning as if he has met a fellow human.

He turned and strode into the mountains, his senses reaching out to discover nearby prey. Soon, he returned, cradling several small creatures in his hands.

Along his path, he encountered other disciples of Xuandao. Wang Lin continued his way, the laughter of the other disciples drawing the attention of the Xuandao sect.

Ouyang, a beautiful female disciple from the Xuandao Sect, said, “Junior brother, the centipede will not get full with those. You should find a larger worm.”

“Junior Sister Ouyang, do not bother with this fool. He failed the tests when he first attempted cultivation.”

“True disciple? Then he should be a true inner member of the Hengyue Sect.”

“Oh, right, he used some method to please the elders, becoming their disciple, but he’s talentless. A waste and a joke.”

Wang Lin remained silent, ignoring them as he headed back.

The Thousand-Legged Centipede opened its eyes, glanced briefly at the beasts, and emitted a wisp of black gas. The gas enveloped the animals, who trembled.

In a blink, the creatures dissolved into pools of blood, which was consumed by the centipede as a crimson stream.

Wang Lin stepped back, his eyes gleaming. Centipedes were known for their potent poisons.

A book from his youth had stated the centipede’s toxins was related to their size. The bigger, the stronger.