The Immortal Coward: Path of the Aegis Cauldron

Chapter 4: Spiritual Energy Theft

"Three!"

CRASH!

The wooden door of the shack flew off its hinges, hitting the inner wall with a loud thud. Grog stepped inside, his face beet red with veins bulging in his neck. Behind him, three other Outer Disciples pushed their way in, holding spiritual suppression chains that glowed a pale blue.

Zarox, who had been standing tense just a second ago, immediately dropped to the floor with a very unnatural movement. He folded his legs, pulled his own hair, and began to wail in a truly pitiful tone.

"Mercy! Don't kill me! I'm just a poor, miserable servant, my stomach hurts from eating rotten rice, and suddenly a stranger broke in through the window and started beating me!" Zarox screamed while excessively banging his head against the dirt floor. Of course, he controlled his strength so his head wouldn't actually crack.

Grog was stunned. The other disciples who were ready to attack lowered their weapons, staring at Zarox with an expression of disgust mixed with confusion.

"What on earth is this?" muttered one of the disciples, a man named Timur. "He looks like a worm being salted."

Grog stepped forward, kicking a pile of wood scraps near Zarox. "Stop acting, Zarox! We know you stole the potions from the Medicine Pavilion. And that senior disciple you thrashed is being treated in the main hall with a dislocated jaw!"

Zarox looked up, his eyes wet with fake tears as he gazed at Grog with a look of manufactured innocence. "Senior? I didn't even know he was a senior! He broke into my shack, tried to choke me, look at this, look at the red marks on my neck!" Zarox skillfully pulled his collar to show a faint bruise he had made himself by pinching his neck as hard as he could before the door was kicked in. "I was only defending myself! I'm the victim! Should I die just for trying to protect my own life from a cultivator's brutal attack?"

Grog scratched his bald head. He didn't know how to respond. Logic told him that Zarox was a lowly servant who couldn't possibly have the strength to harm a senior disciple, yet the evidence in the kitchen didn't lie. The spiritual food supply was mysteriously dwindling, and Zarox was the only person there every day.

"The energy in this room..." another disciple, a woman named Aiman, sniffed the air. "It feels very dense."

"It is as if there are remnants of high-quality pills that were just consumed."

Zarox felt a cold sweat trickling down his back. He had to divert their attention. In a panicked motion, he crawled toward Grog and clung to the fat man's legs. "I did eat! I ate the leftover spoiled rice you threw out, Grog! I was so hungry, my body was weak, I just wanted to gain a little energy so I could keep serving all of you! Is that a crime? Is it a servant's crime to want to survive starvation in this magnificent sect?"

That dramatic display made the disciples trade glances. In a cultivation sect, there was an unwritten rule that low-level servants often suffered from chronic malnutrition.

"He really is pathetic," whispered one disciple.

"Look, he can't even stand up straight," another added.

Grog snorted, trying to pull his leg away from Zarox's iron-tight grip. "Enough! Let go of me, you troublemaker! We don't care about your hunger, but we do care about the sect's missing inventory!"

Grog looked Zarox up and down. "You're far too fat for a starving servant, Zarox. Look at that gut of yours; it's starting to bulge like a wild boar's. You must have swallowed too much spiritual energy illegally!"

Zarox released his hold and hurriedly hid his stomach behind the folds of his loose robes. "This isn't fat! It's... it's swelling from the toxic effects of the spoiled food! I'm sick, Grog! I need rest, or at the very least, I need an exam so I can become an official disciple and get a proper food ration honestly!"

Zarox's statement caused a momentary silence to fall over the room."An exam? You?" Timur burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. "You, who can't even walk upright, want to register for the promotion exam? That exam is no place for cowards like you!"

Zarox stood up with great effort, pretending to stagger. "I know I'm weak. But my fear of death is far greater than my fear of failing an exam! If I'm to die here from starvation or false accusations, at least let me die on the arena floor, not on the wooden boards of this rotten shack!"

His incredibly pitiful appearance, combined with his talent for acting like the world's most suffering victim, began to make the disciples hesitate. They didn't want to deal with the sect's administrative red tape just for beating a servant to death.

"Just let him register," Aiman muttered. "He'll lose in the first second of the physical exam. It'll be enough entertainment for this boring day."

Grog spat on the floor of Zarox's shack. "Fine. Registration for the promotion exam opens tomorrow. If you fail, which you certainly will, you'll be expelled from the sect. And remember, Zarox, don't expect to hide your thievery forever."

"Thank you, Grog! You truly are a wise and generous leader!" Zarox bowed deeply, hiding a faint smirk on his face.

Once Grog's group left, Zarox immediately locked the door again. He slumped to the floor, gasping for air. He had just escaped death, yet he had also just dug a deeper hole for himself.

"The promotion exam..." Zarox murmured while staring at the hands that had earlier crushed a stone axe. He knew that in the arena, he would be forced to reveal his strength. If he actually exerted himself, people would realize he wasn't just an ordinary servant. If he faked weakness, he would be beaten senseless by the other contestants.

He picked up the Aegis Cauldron and gazed at his reflection in the shiny surface of the pot. "Zarox, you're absolutely insane. You're afraid of dying, yet you go and sign up for a place where people kill each other for prestige."

He had no choice. He had to become stronger, much stronger, before the sun rose tomorrow. Zarox began to stir the remaining ingredients he had forcibly gathered inside the cauldron. He needed protection. He needed something that could withstand a blow, something that could make him look physically 'weak' yet tactically 'invulnerable'.

Suddenly, from the distance, the boom of a great gong echoed throughout the Sky Peak Sect. It was the signal that registration for the promotion exam had officially opened.

Zarox froze. His mind drifted to the five layers of armor he had seen in the sect's scrap warehouse the other day. Perhaps that was the key to his safety. If he couldn't avoid a hit, then he had to ensure that the hit would never penetrate his skin.

He took a long, deep breath. Tomorrow, he would appear before thousands of people. Tomorrow, he would be the center of attention, something he hated most. And tomorrow, he had to make sure that not a single person realized this fat kitchen servant was actually the greatest threat to the entire hierarchy of disciples.

As he tried to close his eyes for some rest, a soft tapping sounded at his window. Zarox winced, his hair standing on end from panic. He peeked through a small crack, and there, perched a spiritual crow with glowing red eyes, carrying a small letter in its beak.

Zarox opened the window cautiously. The crow dropped the letter and flew away before Zarox could react.

He opened the envelope with trembling hands. Inside was just a single line written in blood ink: "Don't think you can deceive us with your cheap drama. We know the secret behind that cauldron."

Zarox's face turned pale right down to his lips. The total security he craved had just crumbled into pieces. Someone in this sect knew about the Aegis Cauldron, and they hadn't come to ask for a rice ration. They were coming for his life.