Cris felt his ribs crack before he saw the boot coming.The third kick lifted him off the ground. He landed face-first in the mud, tasting blood and dirt. Around him, outer disciples laughed. Some watched from the training yard. None moved to help.Zhao Kun crouched beside him. The inner-sect genius was seventeen, handsome, and cruel in the way only the talented could afford to be."You broke my cousin's arm last month," Zhao Kun said. "Did you think I'd forget?"Cris spat blood. "He tried to steal my ration.""Your ration." Zhao Kun laughed. "A cripple with a shattered spiritual root doesn't deserve rations. You deserve a grave."He grabbed Cris by the collar and dragged him toward the cliff's edge. Beyond it, the Beast Pit yawned—a dark scar in the mountain where the sect dumped its failures. Disciples who entered rarely came out.Cris struggled. His meridians were useless. Three years ago, they had shattered during a sect assessment. No elder could explain why. No healer could fix

Elder Han grabbed Sun's wrist before the punch landed."That's enough," the old man said.Sun froze. Elder Han was thin, gray-haired, and walked with a limp. But his eyes were sharp. He was one of the few elders who still patrolled the outer sect. The rest had given up years ago."Elder Han," Sun said, forcing a smile. "We were just—""Leaving." Elder Han pointed at the door. "All of you."Sun hesitated. His eyes flicked to Cris. "Zhao Kun won't like this.""Zhao Kun can complain to me personally. Now go."The disciples filed out. Sun shot Cris a look that promised trouble later. Cris didn't react.When the door closed, Elder Han turned to Cris. The old man studied him for a long moment. His gaze lingered on the ring."You climbed out of the Beast Pit," he said. Not a question."I did.""No one climbs out of the Beast Pit."Cris said nothing.Elder Han pulled up a stool and sat. His limp was worse than usual. Old war wound, rumor said. From a battle no one remembered."Three years ago

Zhao Lei returned from his mission at noon.He found his brother in the infirmary. Zhao Kun lay on a cot, eyes open, staring at nothing. His meridians were ash. His cultivation was gone. He would never cultivate again.Zhao Lei stood over him for a long time. He didn't speak. He didn't weep. He simply turned and walked out.He found Cris in the outer sect training yard."Your name," Zhao Lei said.Cris stopped. The training yard went silent. Disciples scattered. Zhao Lei was Foundation Establishment. Seventh Layer. His presence pressed down on the air like a physical weight."Cris.""You broke my brother.""He broke me first."Zhao Lei nodded slowly. "I don't care."He drew his sword. A silver blade, spirit-forged. Qi coiled around it like smoke."Kneel," he said. "I'll make it quick."Cris didn't kneel. He looked at the sword, then at Zhao Lei's face. The man was calm. Not angry. That was worse. Angry men made mistakes. Calm men didn't."You cannot win," the system said. "Run."Cris

The tournament grounds were packed by dawn.Every outer sect disciple had gathered. Hundreds of gray robes. Thousands of whispered bets. The annual Outer Sect Tournament was the only chance for trash to become something. Win, and you entered the Inner Sect. Lose, and you stayed forgotten.Cris stood at the edge of the crowd. The jade token hung from his neck. Elder Shen's mark. Disciples avoided his gaze. They had heard what happened to Zhao Kun. They had heard about the assassins.No one wanted to fight him."First match," an elder announced. "Cris of the Outer Sect versus Fen of the Outer Sect."Fen stepped forward. He was large. Qi Gathering Fourth Layer. His arms were thick with muscle and scar tissue. He had won this tournament two years ago. Lost in the finals last year."You're the cripple everyone's talking about," Fen said. "You don't look like much."Cris said nothing.Fen cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to break you in half."The elder raised his hand. "Begin."Fen charged

Master Qin was dying.Cris found him pinned beneath a fallen tree, blood seeping through his robes. The old alchemist's breathing was shallow. His qi flickered like a dying candle."Help," Qin rasped. "Please."Joe grabbed Cris's arm. "Leave him. He's from the Verdant Pill Sect. They're neutral. Not our problem."Cris pulled free. "He's an alchemist.""So?""So alchemists make pills. Pills make cultivators stronger."He knelt beside Qin and lifted the tree. The old man screamed as his ribs shifted. Cris didn't stop. He dragged Qin free and laid him flat."He's badly wounded," the system said. "Internal bleeding. Multiple fractures.""Can I devour the wounds?""No. Devouring only takes. It cannot heal."Cris reached into his robe. Esther's healing pills. He had three. He used one.Qin's breathing steadied. His qi stabilized. He looked up at Cris with watery eyes."You saved me.""I need something in return."Qin laughed weakly. "Of course. Nothing is free.""I need pills. Cultivation p