Shen Jue's lips curled slightly, his eyes flicking between the wreckage and Meyu's relaxed stance. "And what exactly am I to take from this? That your sect thrives on chaos? Or that I have just invested in madness?"
Meyu chuckled, tapping her chin.
"Depends. Do you prefer a world that follows rigid expectations, or one where only the smart survive?"
Shen Jue's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I prefer a world where I understand what I'm paying for."
Meyu crossed her arms, tilting her head.
"Well then, congratulations. You're getting a front-row seat to what real power looks like."
A murmur spread through the gathered students, especially among the copper-tier and silver-tier recruits. Some nodded in agreement, their skepticism shifting into awe.
"If their warriors are this strong, then this sect must be powerful" one of them whispered.
"Maybe this was worth the coin after all" another added, a glint of newfound respect in their eyes.
Meanwhile, deep within the sect, Atlas stirred.
His mind felt sluggish, his body heavy. For a brief moment, he thought he had died, floating in some void between worlds. Then the dull ache in his limbs reminded him—no, he was still very much alive. He cracked open an eye, expecting some celestial afterlife, only to be greeted by the sight of Wei Lin sitting beside him, arms crossed, and Lin Wuye standing near the doorway, watching him carefully.
Atlas groaned, his voice hoarse.
"Damn. I was hoping for a more graceful resurrection. Maybe with some celestial maidens, soft music, and a feast waiting for me."
He tried to shift, only for a sharp pain to shoot through his ribs.
"Instead, I get pain, two grumpy faces, and what I assume is a very expensive bill."
"For once, you're absolutely right" Layla quipped as she stepped into the room, arms crossed, her usual smirk playing on her lips.
"No celestial maidens, but hey at least you get me."
Bao followed in behind her, arms folded.
"And an explanation, since you seem to have a habit of throwing yourself into near-death experiences. Again."
Atlas winced as he tried to sit up, groaning.
"Ugh, let me guess. Something exploded, I passed out, and now I'm everyone's problem?"
Layla clapped her hands together, nodding with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"Oh, absolutely! Thanks to you, I had to basically play human Qi converter, suck up all that excess energy, and then, in true dramatic fashion, obliterate half the hall."
She gave him a pointed look, hands on her hips. "So, really, I should be sending you the bill."
Atlas sighed, resigning himself to his fate.
"Fine, fine. I'll pay for it... but only if you tell me where Meyu is. And also—why the hell do I hear so much screaming?"
Lin Wuye exchanged a glance with Bao before stepping beside Atlas, offering an arm to help him up.
"You'll see for yourself soon enough."
With slow, pained movements, Atlas rose to his feet, groaning at every shift of his battered body. With Lin Wuye and Bao guiding him, he walked toward the front of the sect, where the echoes of cheers and shouts grew louder.
As they stepped outside, Atlas blinked, eyes widening at the massive explosion site. Smoke still lingered in the air, remnants of shattered stone and debris strewn across the courtyard. But more importantly, his gaze snapped to the crowd gathered in front of Meyu, cheering.
"What... in the ever-loving hell?" Atlas muttered
Among the enthusiastic spectators, however, one figure stood apart. Shen Jue.
Unlike the others, his expression was unreadable—his sharp eyes focused entirely on the commotion. Not amused. Not impressed. Simply calculating.
Atlas exhaled, then made his way toward the noble, rolling his shoulders despite the pain.
"Alright, Mr. Rich Noble. You don't exactly strike me as the type to join in a sect-wide pep rally. So, what's got you standing here looking like someone just handed you a counterfeit gold bar?"
Shen Jue finally turned to face him, voice smooth and deliberate.
"I was merely contemplating the value of my investment. I signed up expecting discipline and technique, not—" he motioned vaguely to the destruction, "—an impromptu war zone."
Atlas smirked, but before he could respond, Shen Jue continued, his tone edged with subtle accusation.
"More importantly, I was told that Silver Lotus was teaching martial arts for the cost of one gold piece."
Atlas narrowed his eyes slightly, his mind whirring.
Creepy.
That was the first word that came to mind when looking at Shen Jue. Not in the way of a villain twirling his mustache, but in the way a perfectly still lake could be concealing something deep and dangerous beneath.
He couldn't tell if Shen Jue was genuinely probing for information or simply feeding him meaningless words to gauge his reaction. His body language was impossibly subtle—so much so that even Master Daokan would have struggled to see past it.
Atlas smirked, deciding to prod back. "Is that so?"
Shen Jue's gaze didn't waver. "Strange, isn't it? For such power to be offered so... cheaply."
Atlas leaned forward slightly, studying him. "And who might you be?"
Shen Jue tilted his head just enough to be deliberate.
"Jian Ren" he lied smoothly, his eyes flicking over Atlas' bandaged body.
"Though I must say, for someone teaching power, you don't exactly look the part either. Quite the mystery, aren't you?"
From a short distance away, Layla watched the exchange carefully. She had seen countless negotiations, countless men playing their games of deception and wit. Shen Jue was no ordinary noble—his words were deliberate, his body too still, his expressions too measured. She could tell something was off, but unlike Atlas, she lacked the ability to read him on an instinctual level. Instead, she relied on experience.
Meanwhile, Meyu, though occupied with managing agreements and handling the new signees, caught sight of Atlas from the corner of her eye. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the paperwork, the crowd, the noise—everything faded. He's alive. Her vision blurred slightly as tears welled up, but she quickly blinked them away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her composure. She wanted to run to him, to demand why he always had to be so reckless, but now wasn't the time.
As the formalities concluded, Jiang took charge, gathering the assembled disciples in the courtyard.
"Listen up!" His voice carried authority, snapping the attention of the gathered students.
"We begin training immediately. Copper-tier disciples, you're under Bao. Silver-tier, with me. No slacking. If you're here, you're here to learn, not to waste my time and yours."
The training commenced swiftly. Bao led the copper-tier students, focusing on foundational stances and refining their footwork. Though most were eager, a few struggled, their movements sloppy, but Bao remained patient, correcting them with sharp yet encouraging words.
Among the copper-tier students was a farmer named Han Zhu, a man who had spent years working the fields but had never lifted a weapon in his life. The first day of training was gruelling—his muscles burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his stance wobbled under the unfamiliar strain. Yet, for the first time in years, he felt something stir within him, purpose.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at the other students. Some were faring better, others worse, but none were giving up.
"This… this is different" he muttered to himself.
Back home, strength came from endurance, from surviving another harsh season. But here, strength was something built, sharpened, and refined.
Maybe this is what I need. Maybe this is how I change my fate.
On the other side, Jiang drilled the silver-tier disciples with relentless intensity, pushing their endurance with a series of rapid strikes and counters. His style was strict, efficient—designed to weed out hesitation and force discipline.
Among them was a former city guard named Ren Shi, a man accustomed to the weight of armor and the discipline of patrol duty. Yet, as Jiang's strikes came at him with brutal precision, he felt something entirely new—fear. Not the kind bred from cowardice, but the realization that his past training had left blind spots. Jiang was fast, too fast, and every blocked strike sent tremors up Ren Shi's arms.
Panting, he adjusted his stance, gritting his teeth. This isn't like standing watch. This is survival.
Jiang didn't slow down, didn't ease up. "You're stiff. Too predictable. Drop the habits of a man who only expects trouble when it comes to him" he snapped, his next strike nearly knocking Ren Shi off his feet.
"Anticipate. Move. You don't wait for a fight—you take control of it."
Ren Shi, aching but determined, exhaled sharply.
Then I'll learn. If I don't, I'll always be a step behind.
The hours passed, and soon, the courtyard had emptied, leaving only one person still standing—Shen Jue. He had barely broken a sweat.
Standing off to the side, observing intently, were Layla, Lin Wuye, Yuxe Wuye, Meyu, and Atlas. Their gazes locked onto the lone noble, curiosity and wariness in their eyes.
Shen Jue dusted off his robes, his expression unreadable. Then, he turned toward them, his voice calm but pointed.
"So tell me, is this what Silver Lotus truly offers? Or is there more to it that you're keeping from the rest of us?"
Layla thought to herself
Shen Jue wasn't just here to learn. He was observing, weighing, and holding something back. The question was—what?
Meyu, arms crossed, finally broke the silence.
"You'll have to be vetted before learning under Lin Wuye."
Shen Jue raised a brow, his expression cool.
"Vetted? Curious. Why him and not his daughter, since she is the new leader?"
Layla, who had been quietly watching, felt something click.
That information isn't common knowledge. Her gaze sharpened.
Shen Jue wasn't just an observant noble—he had access to something or someone feeding him information.
Feigning a lazy grin, Atlas clapped his hands together.
"Well, well. That's quite the insight for someone who just got here. Tell you what—why don't I be the one to vet you instead? A fair trade, don't you think?"
Layla, Lin Wuye, Yuxe Wuye, and Meyu all turned their attention to Atlas, intrigued by his sudden offer. Shen Jue's expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes.
And so, the game began—Shen Jue, the mysterious noble versus Atlas, the wounded businessman.