THE LATE AWAKENER: NEVER MEANT TO RISE

Chapter 1: Ten Years of Trash

The elder’s voice rang out across the outer sect square like a judge delivering a death sentence“Alexander Kane. Ten full years in the Azure Cloud Sect, and you’re still stuck at Qi Refining First Layer. No breakthroughs. No contributions worth mentioning. The sect has no place for dead weight like you.”Alexander Kane remained on his knees, the rough stone of the platform digging painfully into his skin through his patched gray robe. Small spirit stones flew from the laughing crowd, bouncing off his shoulders, chest, and forehead. One particularly sharp stone struck just above his eye, drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down his face. He made no move to wipe it away. He had learned long ago that showing any reaction only made the mockery louder.

Victor Lang pushed his way through the front row, his bright embroidered robes catching the afternoon light and making him stand out like a peacock among crows. The Fourth Layer disciple flashed a wide, cruel grin as he pointed directly at Alexander.

“Ten years!” Victor shouted, his voice carrying easily to every outer disciple packed into the square. “Ten years of grinding away like a dog and you’re still weaker than the kids who joined last month. Tell me, Alexander, how does it feel knowing you’ll never amount to anything? Some people simply aren’t built for cultivation. Trash like you just drags the rest of us down.”

Laughter erupted across the square. Several disciples shouted in agreement, their voices overlapping in a cruel chorus.

“Yeah, get rid of him already!”

“Finally cleaning out the garbage!”

“Ten years and he’s still at First Layer? Pathetic!”

Victor stepped even closer, his voice dripping with mock sympathy that fooled no one. “Remember that spirit herb patch you found in the outer valley three years ago? The one where you nearly got yourself killed fighting those beasts all alone? I still laugh when I think about how those contribution points and rewards ended up on my record instead. Thanks for the boost, by the way. Without that herb, I might not have reached the Fourth Layer so quickly. You really were useful for something after all.”

The elder gave a bored wave of his hand, clearly tired of the spectacle. “Enough talk. Guards, remove him. No belongings. No last words. Take him straight to the gates and be done with it.”

Two burly guards stepped forward immediately and hauled Alexander roughly to his feet, their strong grips digging into his arms like iron vices.

“Come on, trash,” one guard muttered loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Time to go meet your fate outside the barrier.”

As they dragged him across the square, Victor Lang walked right beside them, keeping perfect pace with an easy, arrogant stride.

“Let me help speed things up,” Victor called out to the cheering crowd with a theatrical wink. “Wouldn’t want our dear Alexander getting lost on his way to die in the wilds. After all, a weakling like him won’t last a single night outside the sect’s protective array. The monsters will finish what we started here.”

The guards pulled him toward the boundary marker near the steep cliff edge that overlooked the forbidden abyss. Wind whipped up from the dark drop below, carrying a damp, bone-chilling bite that made even the guards shiver slightly.

Victor suddenly clapped a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, pretending to steady him like an old friend. Then, without warning, he leaned in and slammed his full weight forward in a rough, deliberate shove.

Alexander’s foot slipped on the loose gravel right at the edge. The ground beneath him began to crumble. For one long, terrifying heartbeat, the entire outer sect square went completely silent as he teetered on the brink, arms swinging wildly for any balance that simply wasn’t there.

Victor leaned in close, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper that only Alexander could hear.

“A hole this deep suits trash best.”

The edge gave way completely.

Alexander dropped into the void.

Wind roared past his ears like a raging storm as the square, the laughter, and Victor Lang’s grinning face shrank rapidly to a tiny, distant circle of light far above him. The abyss’s ancient suppressing formation slammed into his meridians like a set of iron clamps, squeezing and tearing at every single channel in his body. Pain flared hot and vicious through him, threatening to rip him apart from the inside.

He twisted desperately in mid-air, eyes scanning for any ledge, any handhold, any miracle that might save him. Nothing. Only endless, suffocating darkness rushed up to meet him.

The last clear thought that crossed his mind before impact was short, bitter, and filled with quiet defiance.

One more day. That’s all I needed.

Then the black swallowed him whole.