“This… this…” Faced with Nian Zhaoxi’s sharp interrogation, Elder Chen cast a panicked glance at Sect Master Guan Xuelan. He quickly looked back at the floor, stammering and unable to find his voice.

“What is the meaning of this?” Guan Xuelan frowned, her voice sharpening with disbelief. “Why are you looking at me? Even if Gu Xiu is a cripple, he remains a personal disciple. Such a pittance of a stipend… did you embezzle the rest?”

Elder Chen was instantly terrified. He collapsed to his knees, his forehead hitting the floor with a loud thud. “This subordinate would never! Even if I had the heart of a thief, I would never dare! Please, Sect Master, judge me fairly!”

“Then explain it,” Guan Xuelan pressed. “Why is his stipend so meager?”

“It… it was set by… by you, Sect Master…” Elder Chen stammered.

The words made Guan Xuelan shudder. Beside her, Nian Zhaoxi’s brow furrowed into a deep V.

“Nonsense! When did I ever—” Guan Xuelan began to roar in denial. But as the words left her mouth, she suddenly faltered. As a Mahayana cultivator, her memory was flawless. She hadn’t bothered to recall such trivia before, but with the Elder’s reminder, the fog cleared. She remembered a fragment of a decision—and the argument died in her throat.

Elder Chen, desperate to prove his innocence, continued, “Two years ago, Uncle-Master Gu had his stipend halved by your own order, Sect Master, as punishment for damaging spirit stones…”

“Even if it were halved, how could it possibly be a mere ten stones?” Nian Zhaoxi demanded, her voice trembling with cold anger.

“This…” Elder Chen glanced at Guan Xuelan again. “Three years ago, when Uncle-Master Gu first returned, the stewards didn’t recognize him. They saw him sweeping the halls daily without a shred of cultivation… so he was classified as a menial disciple. Menials receive twenty stones a month. Halved, that makes exactly ten.”

“And no one questioned this?” Nian Zhaoxi hissed.

“We… we did ask…” Elder Chen’s voice was barely audible. “At the time, this subordinate inquired with the Sect Master. Seventh Uncle-Master Lu Qingyao was also there. She said that Gu Xiu was just a menial now. At that time… the Sect Master did not refute her, so… so…”

Nian Zhaoxi was incandescent with rage. After a scathing look at Guan Xuelan, she turned back to the Elder. “And since then? In three years, did you never bother to correct his status?”

“We knew, of course. But once a stipend is set, it requires a direct order from the Sect Master to change. And the Sect Master… the Sect Master…”

“Go on!” Nian Zhaoxi urged.

“The Sect Master said that Senior Brother Gu was just a cripple; there was no point in wasting stones on him. She said ‘just about right’ would suffice; there was no need to change anything.”

Nian Zhaoxi went rigid. The look she directed at her master was no longer one of respect, but a piercing, icy stare.

“I…” Guan Xuelan’s eyes shifted, avoiding her disciple’s gaze. “I thought he was being given the stipend of an ordinary inner disciple. How was I to know they treated him like a common servant?” She paused, then added defensively, “Besides, Gu Xiu is a cripple. His food and shelter are provided. What use does a mortal have for spirit stones?”

“He is your personal disciple!” Nian Zhaoxi’s voice rang through the hall like a funeral bell. “A dignified personal disciple! Even without his cultivation, his stipend was less than that of a servant! Yes, the sect provides the basics, but only the basics! If he needed anything else—medicine for his pain, a book, a small comfort—he would have to barter like a beggar! Do you deny this, Master?”

Nian Zhaoxi’s heart felt as though it had been submerged in glacial water. She had always known Gu Xiu was neglected, but she never imagined he had been reduced to this. A hero of the sect, living worse than a menial.

“And why did you say it could become even less?” Nian Zhaoxi remembered Elder Chen’s earlier slip.

“No need to ask. That was my doing,” Guan Xuelan admitted, her voice stiffening. “Gu Xiu was reckless and made frequent mistakes. I often punished him by halving his stipend further.”

“He is the disciple you raised from childhood!” Nian Zhaoxi cried out.

“I am busy! How could I keep such trivialities in mind?” Guan Xuelan snapped, appearing increasingly uncomfortable. “Besides, he’s a mortal. Unless he’s seeking worldly pleasures, what does he need money for? He already consumed a vast fortune in resources when he first returned!”

Elder Chen lowered his head further. “Actually… the resources used for Uncle-Master Gu’s initial treatment amounted to… at most, one thousand stones…”

“What?” Nian Zhaoxi was stunned into silence.

Guan Xuelan’s face darkened. “Nonsense! That’s impossible! At that time, I—”

“Sect Master, you treated him personally at first,” Elder Chen interrupted softly. “But after seeing there was no hope for his cultivation, you handed him over to the stewards. You did tell him to recuperate with medicinal stones. But… at that time, Junior Uncle-Master Jiang Xun was at a critical breakthrough. His needs overlapped with Gu Xiu’s. Third Uncle-Master Xu Wanqing spoke to Gu Xiu about it. We don’t know what was said, but from that day on, Gu Xiu never requested another medicinal stone. In truth… even the one-thousand-stone figure is an overestimation.”

A piercing chill climbed up Nian Zhaoxi’s spine, followed by a white-hot rage.

“Master! Gu Xiu is your disciple! He is a hero! How could you treat him like this? Aren’t you afraid of breaking the hearts of every disciple in this sect?”

Guan Xuelan, stung by the rebuke, replied coldly, “He is a cripple. His injuries are irreversible. Not wasting the sect’s strength on him shows he at least had some self-awareness. The sect sheltered him; that is more than he deserved.”

“And his sacrifice?” Nian Zhaoxi gritted her teeth. “Five hundred years in the forbidden land for our fortune?”

“Fortune? Can you prove this ‘fortune’ even exists?” Guan Xuelan countered. “I believe our success is due to our own merit, not some ethereal luck.”

“Master!” Nian Zhaoxi was aghast. “Do you not even believe in your own path anymore?”

“Zhaoxi,” Guan Xuelan said firmly, “I believe in your talent, but ‘Fortune’ is a myth used by the weak. We are cultivators; we defy heaven. We rely on our own determination.”

Nian Zhaoxi realized further argument was futile. She bowed stiffly. “Your disciple takes her leave.”

As she walked out, she looked at the sky. The sect’s fortune was hemorrhaging away. At this rate, five hundred years of accumulated destiny would vanish within weeks.

“Senior Sister! How are you?” “I heard you argued with Master over that detestable Gu Xiu.” “He’s finally gone, and yet he still causes trouble. Why hasn’t he suffered divine retribution yet?”

Her junior sisters swarmed her, their voices filled with venom for a man who had once protected them. Nian Zhaoxi felt a profound loneliness. Their prejudice was a mountain she could not move.

Far away, in the deepest reaches of the Tianqi Mountain Range, a tiny ripple of spiritual power flickered and vanished. Inside his cave, Gu Xiu opened his eyes.

Breakthrough!

It had taken a full month, but he had successfully reached the third level of Qi Refinement. While the speed seemed average on paper, it was a deceptive statistic. Because his Dantian and Qi Sea were as vast as an ocean, his third level held the spiritual mass of a cultivator at the seventh level—the late stages of Qi Refinement.

But he didn’t dwell on his power. He reached for the item resting beside him. The Green Bamboo Pole. It was time to see what this divine tool could truly catch.