The Black Lotus Sect was a den of predators, and trust in or alliance with others was tenuous at best. The first days of Lin Feng's existence as a disciple were mainly spent watching from the shadows while he found his feet gingerly. Strength demanded respect, while cunning elicited the actual reverence. To survive, a little bit of both would be necessary.
---
The structure of the sect gradually emerged: at the top, the Elder Council, headed by individuals such as Elder Shen, seldom intervened in the daily lives of the disciples, yet their presence was overwhelming. Then there were the Inner Disciples, the most gifted cultivators, in control of resources, techniques, and the future of the sect. Finally, the lowest level consisted of the Outer Disciples-like Lin Feng-who fought for what little they could get and recognition.
The System represented a game that one could both play with and win.
---
Among the first perks granted to new disciples were access to the Library of Shadows, an enormous archive containing countless techniques, handbooks, and other works of history about the Sect. Lin Feng entered in early morning; his face wasn't too anxious, yet his brain was buzzing with ideas.
The hall was cavernous, and its walls lined with shelves that seemed to stretch into infinity. Scrolls and jade slips glowed faintly with stored knowledge, humming their energy into the air. A stern-looking librarian-an older disciple with a long scar across his face-greeted Lin Feng with a curt nod.
"You have one hour," said the librarian. "Outer disciples may access only the first level. No exceptions."
Lin Feng inclined his head, his expression polite. "Of course."
He spent the next hour combing through the manuals, memorizing techniques and formations that suited his cultivation style. Most were rudimentary, designed to weed out the weak, but Lin Feng's sharp mind allowed him to identify hidden gems.
As he got near to the end of his allotted time, one of them really caught his eye: Phantom Steps-a movement technique emphasizing speed and unpredictability. Lin Feng pocketed it; knowing mobility would be important to him in combat situations.
That night, Lin Feng was on his way to his quarters when a note slipped into his room under his door. The writing was elegant, but the words were simple and filled with meaning:
> "The strong rise together. Midnight, the Crimson Pavilion."
Lin Feng's expression darkened. The Crimson Pavilion was notorious inside the sect as a gathering point, a place where deals were made and where rivalries usually ended in blood. This invitation was either a great opportunity or a trap.
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He weighed his options for a moment before making a decision to go. Fear did not have any place in his heart.
---
The pavilion stood in the middle of the sect's central courtyard, an extravagant structure. Crimson lanterns cast an eerie shadow, and the smell of incense mixed with the metallic tang of spilled blood.
Lin Feng stepped inside with caution, his senses on high alert. Inside, a few disciples sat around on colorful cushions, looking casual but with their eyes razor-sharp. In the center was Luo Jian, an Inner Disciple, known for his cruelty.
"Lin Feng," Luo Jian said, his lips curving into a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Welcome. Please, sit."
Lin Feng didn't budge. "You know my name, but I don't know yours. Doesn't seem fair."
Luo Jian's smile broadened. "Fairness is a luxury we can't afford here. But if you must know, I am Luo Jian, Senior Brother and humble guide to promising newcomers."
Lin Feng leaned his head slightly. "What do you want?"
"Straight to the point. I like that," Luo Jian said. "I've been watching you. Your performance during the trials was... intriguing. You're clever, resourceful, and clearly ambitious. Traits I admire."
Lin Feng's expression remained neutral, though his mind was already working. Luo Jian was trying to recruit him, but to what end?
"What are you offering?" Lin Feng asked.
"Protection," Luo Jian replied. "The sect can be a very dangerous place; especially for a promising new face such as yourself. Under my wing, you will at least have some access to resources and techniques, not to mention some semblance of safety."
"And what do you get from this?"
"Loyalty," Luo Jian said matter-of-factly. "Your abilities might prove useful for me. Together, we might just stand over the rest."
Lin Feng weighed the offer. Joining Luo Jian's circle could bring short-term benefits, but it would also place him under the man's thumb. For now, he needed to play along.
"I'll consider it," Lin Feng said finally.
Luo Jian smiled, and his smile didn't falter. "Good. Consider quickly. Opportunities like this don't wait forever."
---
The days that followed were a blur of training and skirmishes. Lin Feng soon found out that Luo Jian's invitation had made him a target. Rival factions, eager to undermine Luo Jian's growing influence, began testing Lin Feng's limits.
The most persistent of these challenges came from Zhang Rui, the arrogant Inner Disciple Lin Feng had clashed with earlier. Zhang Rui’s disdain for Lin Feng seemed almost personal, though Lin Feng couldn’t yet discern why.
Their next confrontation happened in the group training session in the sect's Ironwood Arena. The session, led by a bored-looking elder, had the disciples go against each other in order to train in combat. When Zhang Rui stepped into the arena and pointed his blade at Lin Feng, the intent was clear.
"I heard some rumors about you, Lin Feng," Zhang Rui said mockingly. "They say you are smart; now let's see how smart you are when you lie on your back."
Lin Feng jumped onto the arena. He was calm, but his gaze was sharp. "Senior brother, be careful - it is said that before being humiliated, one often shows arrogance."
The fight started.
Zhang Rui’s swordsmanship was impeccable, his strikes precise and unrelenting. He pressed Lin Feng from the outset, forcing him to dodge and parry with minimal movements.
But Lin Feng wasn’t relying on brute strength. His cultivation of the Phantom Steps technique gave him an edge in mobility, allowing him to evade Zhang Rui’s attacks with near-effortless grace.
Lin Feng then danced across the area with flowing motions and movements that were unpredictable. He made Zhang Rui even angrier due to that. His attacks became crazier and more powerful.
Suddenly, Lin Feng saw a hole and grasped the advantage. During the moment when Zhang Rui extended too much, Lin Feng gave a blow at his wrist and dislocated the sword from his hand by using his mass of black qi.
The sword clattered to the ground, and Lin Feng stepped forward, his dagger pressed lightly against Zhang Rui’s throat.
“Yield,” Lin Feng said coldly.
Zhang Rui’s jaw tightened, his pride warring with his survival instinct. After a tense moment, he nodded.
The elder overseeing the match clapped lazily. “Well done. Both of you.”
As Lin Feng stepped off the arena, he felt the eyes of all the other disciples on him. Some looked admiringly, while others warily. The humiliation of Zhang Rui had sealed Lin Feng's reputation.
---
That night, Lin Feng sat alone in his quarters, the events of the day replaying in his mind. The Black Lotus Sect was a battlefield, its every corner rife with danger and opportunity. If he was to rise, he needed more than strength-he needed allies, secrets, and leverage.
His fingers brushed the Soul Devourer Manual, its dark energy pulsating faintly beneath his touch.
"Devour or be devoured," Lin Feng whispered, his spirit taking that phrase as a motto.
It was only just the beginning of the game.