Dawn broke over the Pale Cloud Sect, but today it carried a different energy. Not the usual quiet diligence of early morning cultivation, but a palpable thrum of nervous excitement, ambition, and underlying fear. The Outer Sect Ranking Competition had arrived.
Mo Liangye rose from his meditation mat before the first true light touched the peaks. He felt the difference within himself immediately – the denser, more potent Qi of the Late Stage circulated smoothly through his meridians, a quiet river compared to the previous trickle. His body, subtly reinforced by the Sprouted God Seed, felt light yet solid, brimming with a contained energy.
He moved through his morning routine with practiced calm. Dressed in his cleanest, though still worn, grey robes, he checked the hidden dagger strapped to his calf – a forbidden comfort, a last resort he hoped not to need. He ate a small portion of dry rations, conserving energy.
His mind, however, was anything but calm. It was a razor's edge, honed and ready. "Late Stage Qi Refining. Sprouted Seed's resilience. It's a foundation, better than before, but likely not the best here." He thought of Wang Hu's brute strength, Li Mei's speed, Zhao Feng's likely artifacts. "Underestimation is suicide. The goal: Top Five. Method: Efficiency, strategy, ruthlessness. Hide the Seed's true strength, use it only to augment, to surprise. Conserve Qi. Eliminate targets. Claim the resources."
He stepped out of his shabby room into the cool morning air. Already, groups of disciples were heading towards the main training ground, their voices a low murmur of speculation and nervous bravado. Mo Liangye joined the flow, just another face in the crowd, his expression impassive, his eyes missing nothing.
The main training ground was unrecognizable. Five sturdy wooden platforms, each about waist-high and ten meters square, had been erected across the packed earth surface. A perimeter had been cleared, creating space for the hundreds of outer disciples already gathered – some participants fidgeting nervously, others spectators jostling for a better view.
Further back, on slightly elevated ground, stood a smaller group of Inner Disciples, their finer robes and composed demeanors setting them apart. They watched with varying degrees of interest, some placing casual bets amongst themselves.
Dominating the scene was a high platform draped in the sect's pale cloud banner. Several figures sat there, their presence radiating authority – the Sect Elders. Mo Liangye recognized Elder Chen, head of outer disciple affairs, his face stern. Beside him sat the pragmatic, narrow-eyed elder whose gaze seemed to pierce through pretenses.
Mo Liangye found an unobtrusive spot near the edge of the participant area, leaning against a wooden fence post. His eyes scanned the crowd, cataloging the key players. Zhao Feng was holding court near one of the platforms, laughing boisterously with his lackeys, radiating smug confidence. Wang Hu stood alone, arms crossed, a pillar of stoic power. Li Mei was a flicker at the edge of his vision, blending into the shadows as always.
A hush fell over the crowd as Elder Chen stood up on the main platform. His voice, amplified by Qi, echoed across the grounds. "Disciples of the Pale Cloud Sect! Today marks the beginning of the Outer Sect Ranking Competition!"
He spoke of diligence, opportunity, sect glory, and the chance to represent the sect at the upcoming Alliance Meet – standard fare, but delivered with enough force to stir the blood of the assembled youths.
Then came the rules, read out by another elder. "Format: Single elimination duels! Opponents determined by random lot draw! Combat restricted to the platforms! Standard sect-issue wooden swords only! Use of personal weapons, lethal poisons, or deliberate killing intent is strictly forbidden! Victory by forcing opponent off-platform, opponent yielding, or opponent unable to continue! Fight hard, fight fair, bring glory to yourselves and the sect! Let the drawing commence!"
Deacons brought forth large wooden boxes filled with numbered tokens. Disciples lined up, anticipation and anxiety warring on their faces. Mo Liangye joined the queue, his expression unchanging. When his turn came, he reached in and drew a smooth wooden token. Number 73.
He moved towards the large announcement board where pairings were being posted. His eyes found his number. Paired with: Number 112 – Gao Fan. Mo Liangye accessed his mental file. Gao Fan. Two years in the outer sect, known for solid defense, the 'Stone Turtle Technique'. Average speed, average attack.
"A decent first draw," Mo Liangye assessed internally. "Not weak enough to make victory meaningless, but not strong enough to force my hand early. A good test of efficiency."
He glanced around. Zhao Feng was guffawing, apparently having drawn one of the newest, weakest disciples. Wang Hu's expression remained unchanged, but his opponent looked pale. The stage was set.
The first matches began simultaneously across the five platforms. The air filled with the sharp clack of wooden swords, shouts of exertion, and the roar of the crowd. Mo Liangye remained by the fence, a silent observer.
On Platform One, Wang Hu faced his opponent. The fight was short and brutal. Wang Hu didn't bother with fancy footwork. He simply advanced, his wooden sword swinging like a club, each blow carrying terrifying force. His opponent tried to block, but his sword splintered after the third exchange. Wang Hu followed with a powerful shoulder barge that sent the disciple flying off the platform. Dominance through raw power. "Avoid direct clashes," Mo Liangye noted.
On Platform Four, Li Mei was a grey blur. Her opponent, a disciple known for decent swordsmanship, couldn't even seem to track her movements. A flicker of motion, a swift strike to an exposed wrist forcing him to drop his sword, another tap to the throat, and he yielded, gasping. Speed was her domain. "Containment is key. Limit her space."
Zhao Feng's match was less impressive but equally effective in its own way. He swaggered onto the platform, facing a trembling junior disciple. Zhao Feng didn't rush. He used basic 'Flowing Cloud' strikes, but each carried a weight of Qi slightly beyond a normal Mid-stage disciple, likely boosted by pills. He toyed with his opponent for a moment before landing a heavy palm strike that sent the junior sprawling. Zhao Feng laughed, basking in the scattered applause from his lackeys. "Resource-fueled power, sloppy technique. Arrogance is his weakness."
More fights unfolded. Some were clumsy slugfests, others tense tactical battles. Mo Liangye watched them all, absorbing information, analyzing styles, noting how Qi was expended, how victories were achieved.
"Match 15! Platform Three! Disciple Number 73, Mo Liangye, versus Disciple Number 112, Gao Fan!"
His name was called. Mo Liangye pushed off from the fence, his movements calm and deliberate as he walked towards Platform Three. He ignored the few curious glances cast his way. He picked up a standard wooden sword from the rack beside the platform; it felt awkward and light compared to his dagger.
Gao Fan was already on the platform, his round face set in concentration. He gave Mo Liangye a short, formal bow. "Disciple Gao Fan."
Mo Liangye returned the gesture silently.
"Begin!" shouted the supervising deacon.
Gao Fan immediately sank into a low, wide stance, sword held defensively across his chest, a layer of thick Qi enveloping him like a shell. The Stone Turtle Technique. He clearly intended to outlast Mo Liangye.
Mo Liangye didn't charge. He circled Gao Fan slowly, using light 'Cloud Step' footwork, his wooden sword held loosely. He probed with a few quick, standard slashes towards Gao Fan's shoulder and flank. Clack. Clack. Gao Fan deflected them easily, his stance unmoving, a faint smirk appearing on his face.
"Solid defense, minimal openings," Mo Liangye analyzed. "Trying to bait me into wasting Qi against his shell. Predictable." He needed to break that defense quickly, efficiently.
He feinted a swift attack to Gao Fan's left side. As Gao Fan shifted his weight and Qi slightly to block, Mo Liangye exploded. Not with a sword strike, but with movement. Using the full speed of his Late Stage Qi Refining, he pivoted sharply, appearing almost instantly on Gao Fan's right side, where his defense was momentarily weaker due to the shift.
Gao Fan's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden burst of speed. He tried to adjust his stance, but it was too late. Mo Liangye dropped his wooden sword – a completely unexpected move – and drove his right palm forward in a basic 'Cloud Pushing Palm'.
It looked like a standard technique, but Mo Liangye channeled his Late Stage Qi with pinpoint precision into the strike, focusing it not on raw power, but on disruptive force. Crucially, he anchored himself using the enhanced stability granted by the Sprouted God Seed, putting unexpected solidity behind the seemingly ordinary palm strike aimed directly at Gao Fan's center of balance near the waist.
Thud!
The palm connected. Gao Fan felt a jarring force, far stronger and more focused than he anticipated from a simple palm strike, throwing his Qi circulation into momentary chaos. His solid stance buckled instantly. He stumbled backward, his Stone Turtle defense shattering like glass.
Mo Liangye gave him no chance to recover. As Gao Fan staggered, Mo Liangye flowed smoothly into a low, powerful sweep kick – another standard technique, executed with perfect timing and precision – catching Gao Fan's unstable ankle.
Whoosh! Thump!
Gao Fan lost his footing completely, tumbling off the edge of the platform and landing heavily on the packed earth below with a surprised grunt.
Silence. The fight was over in less than ten seconds.
The crowd around Platform Three murmured. It wasn't a flashy victory, but it was incredibly swift and decisive against a known defensive specialist. How had Mo Liangye moved so fast? How did that simple palm strike break Gao Fan's stance so easily?
Mo Liangye calmly picked up his dropped wooden sword. He gave a slight bow towards the stunned Gao Fan on the ground, then another towards the supervising deacon, his face revealing nothing. He walked off the platform as calmly as he had walked on.
He found his spot by the fence again, ignoring the increased number of curious or speculative glances. He watched Zhao Feng's lackey – the one who had confronted him – win his own match through sheer aggression against a weaker opponent. The lackey caught Mo Liangye's eye across the field and gave him a smug, threatening smirk.
Mo Liangye met the smirk with his usual cold indifference, but inside, his mind was already calculating. "First round clear. Minimal Qi expended. Secret maintained. Good." He watched Wang Hu demolish another opponent. He saw Li Mei win again with speed that seemed almost supernatural. "The next rounds will be harder. That lackey… perhaps he'll be next. A fitting way to start collecting debts."
The first round of the competition drew to a close under the midday sun. Mo Liangye stood unnoticed in the crowd, one victory secured, his gaze already fixed on the battles yet to come. The hunt had begun.