He pushed open the door of the mess hall. A familiar face scowled at him. The younger child from the sheet, Chang Bolin, and the prodigy of their group of entrants, he'd held a grudge against Hui almost since they'd arrived. At the peak of Foundation Establishment despite being the youngest of their group, he was a favorite to progress to the inner sect, acknowledged as a genius by all his fellow disciples. He’d already turned down several long-term positions as a servant in the inner sect, hoping to hold out and jump straight to true inner sect disciple.

Elder sister Mei said the selection was today, right? If he’s here… then doesn’t that mean he didn’t get picked again? Hui grimaced. Damn, that’s brutal.

Oh, well, can’t help it. Luck is part of karma, after all.

Chang Bolin’s face twisted with distaste as Hui stepped inside. “Oh, look who it is! The only inner sect disciple who likes to pretend he’s an outer sect disciple, the utter waste, Weiheng Hui! Flapping about in those stupid blue robes. He thinks he’s so much better than us, but he can’t even sense qi.”

A few chuckles sounded from around the hall, other jealous students joining in.

Used to it, Hui ignored them all, heading to the serving line. An older outer sect disciple slopped a ladle of rice into a bowl for him. His lip twitched, but then he suppressed it. The slop they serve outer sect disciples can’t compare to elder sister Mei’s cooking. Ah, oh well. I’m not about to waste food. Even low-grade spiritual rice is still spiritual rice! He took his rice and started for a table.

A foot caught against his shins. Hui tumbled and fell against a wall, rice held high. Catching his balance, he whipped toward his rice, then breathed a sigh of relief. I saved it!

Chang Bolin stood over him, eyes narrowed. “Look, the only thing he cares about is rice! Maybe he should cultivate a field, since he can’t cultivate himself.”

Hui shook his head. “Show some respect for food, alright? The farmers worked hard for this. There’s no need to waste their efforts.” Try living off cup ramen for twenty years and see how that makes you feel about good food! In my last life, I couldn’t afford to let any food go to waste, and I’m not about to get in the habit now!

“Oh? Then why don’t you show some respect for your betters?” Lazily, Chang Bolin slapped the bowl out of his hand.

Hui dove for it and caught it before it hit the ground. Cradling the bowl in his hands, he checked over the mound of rice. Still stable—no! A single grain tumbled down the side and struck the floor. Hui grimaced. “You made me waste food!”

“Who cares? You’re a waste of sect resources anyways.” Drawing his leg back, Chang Bolin kicked with all his might. Lifted by the force of the kick, Hui flew across the room and slammed back-first into the wall. Wood cracked under the force of the blow. He bucked back, head hitting the wall with a thud.

“How come you get to be an inner sect disciple? Weiheng Wu’s inheriting disciple, and you can’t even cultivate. How is that fair?” Chang Bolin shook his head as loomed over Hui, arms crossed.

Half-conscious, back and head aching fiercely, Hui struggled to his hands and knees. He stared at his empty hands. My rice, where’d my rice go?

A few feet away, the earthenware bowl rested against the wall, somehow still unbroken. Rice spilled off the top, but the majority still rested in the bowl. Hui smiled slightly. I’m used to being beaten by people stronger than me. I can take this, but my poor rice can’t.

Chang Bolin put his foot on his back and pressed down. Despite his much smaller frame, he easily pinned Hui to the floor. “If I kill you, do you think Weiheng Wu will acknowledge me?”

Ignoring his idle chatter, Hui reached out his hand. Chang Bolin followed his reach, then scoffed. He lifted his foot off Hui and stomped Hui’s rice bowl into pieces. “A rice bowl is more important than me? Is that what you’re saying?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Unable to follow Chang Bolin’s thoughts, his mind fuzzy, Hui blinked up at the boy. What do you have against rice?

A boot hurtled at his face. He flinched back and lessened the blow, but the kick still snapped his head against the wall. Blood ran down the back of his head and gushed from his nose. Pain followed a second later, along with the taste of iron. He covered his face and bit back a shout. He’s really trying to kill me, isn’t he?

“Dammit! Why didn’t I get chosen? Die, die, you stupid waste!” Chang Bolin drew back his foot and kicked again and again.

Hui curled up under the assault. His body went limp, and his vision blurred. Is this the end?

At least I got to enjoy myself before I died, this time…

On the verge of unconsciousness, a light sparked in the back of his mind, a light that spread and filled the world around him. Heat boiled in his gut, a heat he’d felt before. The spiritual rice? No, qi! Excited, he reached out to it and stoked it higher, urging it through his body. The light around him danced and flowed into him, as easy as breathing. The energy from his gut met it, and he circulated both into his dantian almost instinctively. After ten years’ of fruitless practice and lessons, he knew the exact steps so well that it felt as though he’d been gathering qi for years.

It was this easy? All along, it was right there, so close I couldn’t feel it.

A second later, he halted. Wait. I’ve only just entered Qi Gathering now. Chang Bolin is almost two realms ahead of me. He could kick me to death even if I fought him with all my strength.

Rather than stoke my qi… why don’t I give him what he wants?

Hui gave up. He went limp, no longer guarding against Chang Bolin’s blows. Reaching out to the tiny spark of light deep inside him, he mentally cut it down, killing it to an ember, a spark. His body went cold. The strength left his limbs. Heavy as lead, they laid loosely on the floor. He no longer had to force himself to go limp, because he couldn’t move if he wanted to.

Still Chang Bolin kicked him, over and over, pummeling his cold, unmoving body. Hui no longer felt the pain, nor the blows, only cold, growing slowly stronger. Killing his qi harder, down to less than a glimmer, he lost the ability to move even his eyes. His vision faded. His breathing slowed, chest barely shifting.

An impact, but with a different sound. An impact that didn’t strengthen the stench of blood in his nose. “Chang! What the hell? You killed him!”

“So what? Weiheng Wu should thank me!”

“Are you nuts? No one knows why he picked that waste, but what if he actually does favor him?”

“Favor him? Do you think his ‘inheriting’ disciple would be down here studying with the outer sect if Weiheng Wu favored him?”

No, you’ve got a good point, Hui thought, his thoughts slowing. But somehow, I don’t think that’s why Master abandoned me.

His henchman huffed, angry. “So what? How are we supposed to guess the thoughts of such lofty cultivators? Do you really want to risk the wrath of the number-one genius in the sect? He could kill you with a blink!”

“Who cares? I might as well be dead already! If I never make it to the inner sect—” Chang Bolin spat.

“You think killing an inheriting disciple is the way to get to the inner sect?”

Chang Bolin chuckled darkly. “Opens up a slot for me.”

A fly landed on Hui’s eyeball. He watched it scurry around, unable to blink to disturb it.

Chang Bolin’s henchman sucked in a breath. “Look, it’s not too late. Weiheng Wu is still in seclusion. He might be powerful, but he’s not all-knowing. Chang, you get out of here. I’ll bury the body.”

There was a pause. Chang Bolin snarled, “If any of you tell what happened today, I’ll kill you, understand? Can any of you stand up to a late Foundation Establishment disciple?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought. You saw nothing.”

Stomping. Chang Bolin’s footsteps retreated outside.

A burly pair of arms scooped Hui up. The fly buzzed away, startled. Chang Bolin’s henchman carried him outside. His body jolted with every step. Hui waited, counting his slow breaths.

Ten… fifteen… twenty… That should be long enough. Hui let go of his hold on his qi. It burned back to life more fiercely than it had before he killed it. Warmth rushed back into his body. He gasped a breath and shuddered. All at once, he sat up, wrapping his hands around his head. “Ow! Ow, ow, ow!”

Startled, Chang Bolin’s henchman dropped him. “What—how?”

“Ow,” Hui replied, rubbing his backside as well. Slowly, he stood, mindful of all his aching, bleeding limbs. I don’t think anything’s broken, but it hurts like hell.

He looked around. He stood in the woods behind the mess hall, deep in a bamboo thicket. Ahead, one of the mountain’s many cliffs loomed. Hui chuckled, guessing the henchman’s plan. Toss me over the cliff, huh? I faked that the first time, but I’ve got no desire to try it out for real.

The henchman backed away, hands up. “I—I didn’t do anything! I just—it was all Chang Bolin, okay, ghoul, ghost, whatever you are, please, just leave me alone! If you’re holding a grudge, seek him out!”

“Oh?” Hui asked. He stepped close to the henchman and grabbed him by the collar. The henchman stood taller than him, so Hui yanked him down to his level. “It was all Chang Bolin, was it?”

“Please don’t curse me,” the henchman said, cowering.

An evil grin crawled over Hui’s face. “I won’t curse you.”

“No?” the henchman asked. His voice squeaked with fear.

“No.” The evil grin deepened. “As long as you obey my commands…”