The Great Hall of the Cloud-Step Sect was decorated with paper lanterns that swayed gently in the draft, their golden light struggling to penetrate the gloom of the ancient wooden rafters.Dimas stood in the center of the room, his face twisted into a mask of intense, suffering concentration.His legs felt like they were being scrubbed with sandpaper, the result of a two-hour hike in synthetic fibers that had clearly not been designed for the rigors of mountain-top cultivation.He needed to sit down, but the sect elders were currently watching him with the kind of reverent, unblinking intensity usually reserved for stone statues of legendary deities."Ancestor," Elder Feng whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion that was half-awe and half-terror. "Your endurance is truly beyond our comprehension."Dimas offered a strained, tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked like a profound, meditative expression rather than a grimace of physical agony.He was just about to ask if he could exc

The Great Hall had finally cleared out, leaving behind only the scent of old incense and the lingering silence of a thousand-year-old mountain retreat.Dimas slumped against a sturdy cedar pillar, the sharp bite of his heat rash finally becoming a manageable throb rather than a burning flame.He watched the shadows play against the tapestries, wondering if he would ever find a way back to the comfort of his air-conditioned apartment in Jakarta.Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic tapping sound echoed from the far end of the hallway, growing louder with each passing second.Mei Lin emerged from the gloom, her expression unreadable, her hands resting near the hilt of her jade-handled blade.She did not look at him with the reverence of the elders, but with the cold, piercing calculation of a predator."You are not an ancestor," she said, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that made the hair on Dimas’s arms stand up."You have no mastery of Qi, your movements are clumsy at best, a

The morning sun clawed its way over the jagged peaks of the Cloud-Step mountains, casting long, mournful shadows across the training courtyard.Dimas stood on the raised wooden dais, his polyester pajamas sticking to his back in the humid, mountain-chilled air.His eyes were bloodshot from a night spent staring at the ceiling, contemplating his inevitable demise at the hands of bureaucratic scrutiny.In his hand, he held a tattered scroll that had arrived via a carrier pigeon with a very judgmental gaze.The document was an official notification from the Regional Martial Alliance, etched in calligraphy so sharp it looked like it could draw blood."Inspector Lu," Dimas muttered, the name leaving a metallic tang of dread on his tongue."He’s coming in three days to verify our 'sect authenticity and martial competency.'"The word 'competency' seemed to vibrate on the page, mocking him with its sheer impossibility.Below him, the disciples of the Cloud-Step Sect were currently engaged in

The gates creaked open with a groan that sounded suspiciously like a dying animal, protesting the intrusion of the morning’s grim visitors.Inspector Lu stepped across the threshold first, his presence filling the courtyard like a sudden drop in barometric pressure.He was a man constructed entirely of right angles and harsh expectations, his mustache groomed into two thin, dark lines of perpetual disapproval.His robes were a stark, ink-black silk, and a heavy medallion of authority hung from his neck, clinking rhythmically against his chest.Behind him, two attendants followed in stony silence, carrying heavy ledgers and brushes that looked far too sharp for administrative work.Dimas stood at the front of the receiving line, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic bird trapped in a cage.He desperately wanted to reach into his pockets, but he knew any movement would be scrutinized by the cold, calculating eyes of the Inspector."I am Inspector Lu of the Regional Martial

The air in the courtyard had turned remarkably thin, as if the very atmosphere were holding its breath, waiting for a response that would either save the Cloud-Step Sect or consign it to the annals of forgotten, failed history.Inspector Lu stared, his sharp mustache twitching ever so slightly as he tapped his foot against the mossy stones.Dimas stood before the rows of trembling disciples, his mind racing through a frantic inventory of potential survival strategies.He looked over at Mei Lin, who stood stiffly, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly her knuckles had turned an ivory white."Unity," Dimas repeated, tasting the word and finding it sour, like a lemon peel left too long in the sun.He could feel the cold, holographic glow of the Customer Support screen dancing at the edge of his vision, offering suggestions that ranged from the useless to the downright suicidal.Suddenly, a muffled, sharp yelp echoed from the third row.A disciple named Chen, a boy who had sp