The scorched earth of the canyon was still weeping black smoke.
Above the crater, the air tore apart. Fang Tianyou descended from the sky, his golden robes snapping like war banners in the harsh wind. He moved with the effortless grace of a deity, the very space around him warping under the sheer pressure of his cultivation. Behind him, a dozen Azure Cloud Enforcers materialized, their swords drawn, their eyes scanning the devastated landscape.
"Spread out," Fang Tianyou commanded, his voice cold and melodious. "The heavenly tribulation struck here. Someone dared to forge a Perfect Foundation within my domain."
Less than ten paces away, Lu Chen stood completely still.
He wasn't invisible. He was simply absent.
Having just devoured the Heavenly Annihilation Lightning to solidify the nine pillars of his Perfect Foundation, Lu Chen had channeled his Void Sword Intent entirely inward. Through the Luck-Binding Mirror resting against his chest, he had severed every thread of his own providence, becoming a ghost in the tapestry of reality. To the naked eye, he was a smudge of shadow against the crater wall. To divine sense, he was empty air.
Fang Tianyou's divine sense swept over the canyon like a scythe. It passed right through Lu Chen.
Yet, as Fang Tianyou hovered mere yards away, Lu Chen felt a sickening, familiar throb in his chest. It was an echo—a phantom pain of the Innate Spirit Root that had been brutally carved from his Dantian. He could see it now, pulsating with blinding golden light inside Fang Tianyou's core. The thief was parading his stolen talent as a gift from the heavens.
Lu Chen's grip tightened on the hilt of his rusted iron sword. The urge to draw it, to unleash the full, terrifying might of his Perfect Foundation and sever Fang Tianyou's head right here, roared in his blood.
Not yet, Lu Chen told himself, forcing the murderous intent down into the cold void of his Dantian. He has the entire sect's providence shielding him. If I strike now, the Will of Heaven will protect him. I need to strip his luck bare first.
With a slow, measured exhalation, Lu Chen stepped backward into the deepest shadows of the canyon. He slipped between the searching Enforcers, leaving no footprints, making no sound. He was a phantom walking out of his own grave.
***
Three days later. The Eastern Province.
Cloud Edge City was drowning in a sea of humanity. The decennial outer disciple recruitment for the Azure Cloud Sect had drawn tens of thousands of hopefuls from across the Great Azure Realm. The massive white-marble plaza at the foot of the Azure Cloud Mountain Range was packed tight with young cultivators, all desperate to climb the dragon's gate.
Lu Chen stood in the middle of the throng, his features shifted into the unremarkable, rugged face of 'Chen Lu'. He wore coarse hemp robes, blending perfectly with the destitute rogue cultivators.
Through the invisible lens of the Luck-Binding Mirror in his mind, the plaza was a chaotic canvas of colors. Above the heads of the crowd floated clouds of Qi Yun—their inherent providence. Most were dull gray or sickly white, representing mediocre talent and short lives. A few flickered with pale red, indicating minor lucky chances.
It was a buffet, but Lu Chen kept his appetite in check. Plundering random, low-level luck now would only draw the Imperial Bureau of Heaven's gaze. He was here for something much larger. He was here to rot the Azure Cloud Sect from the inside out.
"Next batch! Step up to the Heaven-Measuring Monolith!" bellowed an outer sect Elder, his voice amplified by World Essence.
Lu Chen shuffled forward with nine other youths. Towering before them was a slab of black jade, etched with intricate spirit gathering runes.
"Place your hand on the monolith and channel your Qi," the Elder droned, clearly bored. "If it glows below the third mark, pack your bags and go back to farming."
A nervous boy beside Lu Chen went first. He pressed his palm against the cold stone. A pathetic, flickering white light crawled up to the first mark and died.
"Trash. Next."
Lu Chen stepped up. He needed to enter the sect, but he couldn't afford to show his true capabilities. The Void Root in his Dantian was a terrifying, bottomless abyss. If he unleashed it, the monolith would likely shatter. Instead, he carefully gathered the thinnest, most pathetic sliver of World Essence he could muster and pushed it into the stone.
Slowly, sluggishly, a dull yellow light climbed the monolith. It passed the first mark. The second. It barely grazed the bottom edge of the third mark before Lu Chen forcefully choked off the supply.
"Third-grade Mortal Root," the Elder sighed, not even bothering to look at Lu Chen's face. "Barely passed. You have the minimum qualifications to be an outer disciple and sweep the courtyards. Take your token and stand over there."
Lu Chen accepted the cheap wooden token with a feigned expression of relief. "Thank you, Elder."
He walked over to the small cluster of accepted recruits, melting into the background. It was perfect. He was a nameless, faceless servant. No one would ever suspect the 'Sovereign of the Void' was sweeping their training grounds.
Suddenly, the murmurs of the massive crowd died down. A heavy, fragrant pressure descended upon the plaza, suffocating the chatter.
From the peaks of the Azure Cloud Sect, a luxurious flying carriage descended. It was pulled by four Snow-Winged Cranes, their feathers leaving trails of icy mist in the air. The outer sect Elders immediately straightened their backs, their expressions morphing from arrogant boredom to fawning reverence.
"The Inner Sect Elite..." a boy next to Lu Chen whispered, his eyes wide with awe. "Why are they here at an outer recruitment?"
The carriage doors opened, and a woman stepped out onto a carpet of condensed spiritual clouds.
She was devastatingly beautiful, dressed in flowing azure silks that clung to her perfectly sculpted figure. Her skin was like polished jade, and her eyes held the haughty, untouchable gaze of a goddess looking down at ants. A collective gasp of admiration rippled through the tens of thousands of recruits.
Lu Chen didn't gasp. His heart turned to absolute ice.
Lin Mengyao.
His former fiancée. The woman who had smiled at him over a cup of poisoned tea. The woman who had gently stroked his cheek while Fang Tianyou drove a ceremonial dagger into his Dantian to extract his Innate Spirit Root.
Lu Chen's vision shifted, the Luck-Binding Mirror activating on instinct.
Above Lin Mengyao's head floated a massive, radiant crown of golden Qi Yun. It was blinding. But as Lu Chen focused, the truth of her providence revealed itself. The golden luck didn't originate from her. Beneath the shining exterior, thick, parasitic black threads were rooted deep into her soul, siphoning the residual luck from Fang Tianyou's stolen Spirit Root.
She wasn't a Child of Heaven. She was a leech.
"Look at her," a recruit drooled next to Lu Chen. "Senior Sister Lin... they say her Sword Dao talent awakened overnight three years ago. She's the pride of the Inner Sect."
Three years ago, Lu Chen thought, his inner void churning with violent, suppressed energy. The exact night my Dantian was gutted.
Lin Mengyao descended to the plaza platform, her gaze sweeping over the sea of new recruits. "Elder Zhou," her voice was like chiming silver bells, pleasant but laced with authority. "Sect Master Fang requires fifty of the hardiest outer disciples for a... special mining expedition in the Scorched Valleys. Pick the ones with the most resilient vitality."
The Elder bowed deeply. "At once, Fairy Lin."
As the Elder began barking orders, Lin Mengyao's eyes lazily drifted over the cluster of newly accepted disciples where Lu Chen stood. She was about to look away when she suddenly stopped.
Lu Chen kept his posture slouched, his eyes respectfully cast downward like the rest of the commoners. He had completely masked his aura. To her, he should just be another piece of trash with a Third-grade Mortal Root.
But Lin Mengyao frowned. She took a step forward, her pristine boots tapping against the marble.
She walked directly toward Lu Chen's group. The recruits around him held their breath, their faces flushing red as the beautiful goddess approached them.
Lin Mengyao stopped five feet away. Her beautiful, cold eyes locked onto Lu Chen's disguised face. The parasitic golden luck above her head twitched, violently reacting to the proximity of the true owner of the Spirit Root it was feeding off of.
She slowly raised a slender, jade-like finger and pointed directly at Lu Chen's chest.
"You," she commanded, her voice dropping its pleasant chime, replaced by a sharp, suspicious edge. "The one in the hemp robes. Step forward."
Lu Chen didn't move for a fraction of a second. Then, playing the part of a terrified mortal, he stumbled forward, keeping his head bowed. "S-Senior Sister?"
Lin Mengyao leaned in close, the scent of crushed lotus and cold steel washing over him. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, trying to pierce through his disguise.
"Look at me," she ordered.
Lu Chen slowly raised his head, meeting the gaze of the woman who had murdered him. He kept his eyes dull, terrified, hollow.
Lin Mengyao stared into those eyes for a long, agonizing moment. Her hand drifted to the hilt of the spirit sword at her waist.
"Who are you?" she whispered, loud enough only for him to hear. "Why does your aura feel exactly like a ghost I buried?"