Chương 1: Robbing the Young Master

Over two million mortals lived in West Lake City, though Yuchen considered it a stretch to call them people. Dirty, unwashed, living petty little lives in petty little shacks… No, one born to the noble Cheng Clan didn't bother with mortals. The only ones worthy to look him in the eye were real people. Cultivators. The city embraced him, but Yuchen only cared for the cheers of a select few.

"People of West Lake City, it is my joy to announce Cheng Yuchen, disciple of the White Rivers Sect and heir to the mighty Cheng Clan, as the champion of the nine hundred and thirty-fifth West Lake Tournament!" Forty thousand eyes peered down upon Yuchen as the White Rivers Sect Head, Xu Mai, graced him with a flat smile. He glowed with pride as she lowered a brilliant golden sash upon him, the champion's symbol. Its threads burned with the tiniest shade of her power.

The people cheered his name, his rivals despaired, and his clan exulted. All as it should be.

"You have done us proud," Elder Mo whispered as Yuchen descended the stage in a daze.

"The Lower Master has approved your elevation to the Core Sect, my pupil. What a magnificent day!" Yuchen's mind swirled with future glories: triumphantly enduring tribulations to ascend to the Heavens, laying low glorious rivals, and swimming in the attention of beauties beyond imagining. And all it cost was his pathetic rival's lifeblood. An excellent trade in Yuchen's mind!

During his victory lap, he strode through the crowded streets of West Lake City with his chin held high, basking in the adoration of the masses. Red banners hung everywhere, emblazoned with his name and mighty clan's symbol, proclaiming him as the West Lake City Tournament's grand champion. A dozen lackeys followed Yuchen like ducklings, clucking praise and begging for scraps of Yuchen's attention.

Mortal vendors bowed so low as to scrape the street as they heaped petty little treasures upon Yuchen in hopes of earning favor. Yuchen's ears only opened to the cultivators, although he deigned to accept a pork skewer from a merchant who offered the proper pleas. These were his victory rounds! It was only right to accept offerings before he ascended to the Core Sect and truly began his cultivation journey.

"Senior Brother Yuchen, this lowly one wishes to congratulate you on your victory in the West Lake City Tournament," an insignificant Outer Sect disciple rightfully praised, bowing low.

"The Sacred Lotus cur stood no chance against you! Will you remember this humble Junior Brother when you ascend to the Core Sect?" Yuchen had never seen this pale boy before in his life. An unremarkable face for an unremarkable talent.

"Become worth remembering first. Then I might spare you a passing thought. Your praise is noted, however. Of course the Sacred Lotus cur stood no chance against one such as I!" Yuchen puffed up, smoothing the resplendent sash against his fine silk robes. He paid no more attention to the Outer Sect brat as the boy wilted, instead addressing those worthy of his words.

"I simply reminded those dogs of their place. No one will ever question the White Rivers Sect's supremacy! I have cast aside the last of our rivals!" His might. His brilliance. His schemes. All had played a crucial part in securing the White Rivers a dominant foothold over the Sacred Lotus for the next generation. Tonight, the world spun around Cheng Yuchen, the first moment of a glorious immortality. The Outer Disciple bowed away, shamed, and another greedy little duckling, one Brother Li, took his place.

It was only right that so many should seek to bask in his light. This one was talented enough to enter the Inner Sect, at least, and swift to flatter Yuchen at every turn. Brother Li was a good lackey. Such devotion deserved a scrap of attention.

"To think that they called that Sacred Lotus dog a prodigy! He won't dare show his face after your victory," Brother Li simpered, pausing to swipe some little jade bauble from a vendor that Yuchen rejected. His father warned him of all the scavengers who would flock to his glory. Leeches one and all, but they had their uses. The lesser cultivators glowed as crowds of mortals bowed and cheered at their passing.

"Brother Hao should be grateful to you for avenging his shameful defeat. To use a forbidden technique and still fail? Disgraceful!" Yuchen's smile flickered at the mention of that upjumped peasant. Junior Hao's only saving grace was some humble talent, though he used it to chase a step behind Yuchen at every turn. It was talent turned to Yuchen's advantage, however. All served him in time.

Junior Hao's mention piqued the attention of Sister Fu, a beautiful woman in plum-colored silk robes nearly as fine as Yuchen's. She trailed close behind him, testing his tolerance for her notoriously troublesome nature. If only their masters weren't such close allies…

"When will Brother Hao leave the infirmary?" Sister Fu questioned. Her constant smile never slipped. He hated the way her eyes always gleamed with laughter, as if she was enjoying some secret joke at his expense.

"I haven't heard a word from him since his battle." Yuchen would ordinarily send the snake on her way, but this was a night of celebration. Sister Fu was beautiful in body if not spirit, and he was gracious enough to forgive past transgressions. Particularly for one who would make for such a lovely—and deadly—ornament on his arm.

"I didn't ask." Yuchen's jaw clenched, pausing to wave at thousands upon thousands of cheering mortals who welcomed him as he stepped into the city's main thoroughfare, deafening him with their love.

"Junior Hao is unimportant!"

"Unimportant?" Sister Fu's silky voice slithered through Yuchen's lackeys. They shifted, unsettled by her challenge.

"What an odd thing to say! Brother Hao wounded your opponent in the previous round despite their differing cultivation—at great expense to himself, I might add. One might even think the Sacred Lotus' injuries played a role in your own victory, Brother Yuchen. It's good to see rivals mending old rifts!" Yuchen's blood ran hot. White fury pounded behind his eyes. Were it not for the victory march, he would have struck Sister Fu right then for such an insult. He was the prodigy of the White Rivers Sect!

He would have torn Ma Bai asunder with or without Xiao Hao's forced sacrifice. The air hummed with barely restrained power as turbulent qi tore from Yuchen's skin like the charge before a thunderstorm. It took all his focus to restrain it from crashing into the cheering mortals like a tidal wave. His eyes were black pits as he continued waving to his worshippers.

"Senior Yuchen's victory is his own!" Sister Wu snapped in his defense, just as a good servant should. She was only a Calcinator, barely into her cultivation journey, but possessed enough talent to be inducted into the Inner Sect despite her youth. Yuchen would consider taking her as a concubine when she was older.

"He shattered Ma Bai's cultivation! He cemented our supremacy in the city!"

"Of course, Junior Wei, of course," Sister Fu murmured. She bowed her head. He just knew she was smiling, the snake.

"I would never wish to cast doubt on Brother Yuchen's skills. He fought valiantly. The elders will be pleased." Yuchen nodded, somewhat appeased by the snake's proper recognition. Perhaps the woman wasn't completely hopeless. She might make for a good knife against his future rivals. Then Sister Fu went and ruined his good mood.

"It's just so strange that Brother Hao was so eager to wield a technique that burned his very lifeblood for strength! We all know the dangers of the Transient Burning Leaf," Sister Fu said sweetly.

"What a stroke of good fortune for you, Brother Yuchen!" Yuchen bristled and pointedly ignored Sister Fu's subtle prodding. She could not go a day without stirring some trouble or another. The fool would regret her impudence when he rose to the Core Sect. Instead of bothering with pesky vipers, Yuchen indulged in soaking up the attention. He ignored the mortal coins flung at him in appreciation, ignored the cries of the vendors, and ignored every restaurateur begging his retinue to grace their establishment.

He only savored the fury upon the faces of the Sacred Lotus cultivators as they glared from the crowds.

"People of West Lake City, hear my roar!" Yuchen cried, brushing the stylized sash made in the image of a golden sun dragon's visage. Such was the traditional award given to the tournament's victor, woven from threads taken from sacred silkworms. The golden dragon came to life with the touch of Yuchen's qi, roaring as the sash burned upon his breast, and the mortals screamed their love. Meeting the Sacred Lotus' hateful eyes was the finest of pleasures.

"I am your champion, Yuchen of the Cheng Clan and the White Rivers Sect. Do not forget my name!" And so the night went on. West Lake City was alive, charged with energy and praise, and Yuchen devoured it all. He was greeted with open arms at the finest establishments, presented with glorious steel weaponry forged by master blacksmiths, and treated as the Sect Master herself wherever he went.

He indulged his lackeys by allowing them to sit at his tables, passed out unwanted gifts to those begging for his scraps, and even deigned to allow a few Sacred Lotus dogs to flee his presence without a beating. Such magnanimity was ultimate proof of his humility. This was the fruit of victory, Yuchen's reward for his brilliant plots. Strength and cunning went hand in hand, and he was a master of both.

"I grow weary of these celebrations!" Yuchen thundered after hours of revelry, his face red from the spirit wine pressed into his hand by his servants all night. His cultivated grace wasn't sufficient to keep him from stumbling as he rose from the bar they'd found themselves at.

"Attend me. We return to the sect. Our brothers and sisters will join us!" His retinue cheered. Yuchen teetered back through the glowing streets of West Lake City, guided steadily through the maze alongside his lessers by Sister Fu, who seemed the only one unbothered by the casks of alcohol they'd consumed. Damned alchemists! Their journey seemed to last forever, though it was difficult to tell through the haze of alcohol.

He swore they passed the same shops again and again, though Sister Fu just smiled when he questioned her.

"I wouldn't steer our champion wrong, Senior Yuchen," Sister Fu purred, winking at him.

"Navigation is difficult in the city. Enjoy your night of victory." That seemed like a fine idea to Yuchen. He strode proudly through the city, ignoring the mortals he bowled over and how more and more of his lackeys shied away. Thunder hummed about him as his ironclad control wavered and his qi slipped free, filling the air with a mighty charge. And if he indulged in the odd distraction, so what? He was the champion!

"Show us your symbol, Master Yuchen!" A pretty wandering cultivator begged from a restaurant's doorway. Her eyes glittered with admiration as Yuchen set his golden sash aflame.

"The White Rivers are truly blessed. Perhaps you will give me the honor of accompanying me—" Yuchen grasped for her, but Sister Wei was kind enough to take his arm, leading him back to the sect as she whispered heated promises. The beast upon his sash glowed constantly in fiery light as Yuchen's control slipped, burning as if the dragon had exhaled a breath of divine flame. They at last arrived at the above-ground portions of the White Rivers Sect. A grand white wave set within a burning golden sun greeted them.

Magnificently carved stone entryways towered above the road which led inwards, guarded by two Inner Sect warriors who immediately bowed in deference at the sight of Yuchen.

"Congratulations on your victory, Lord Yuchen!" One bowed low. Yuchen grinned.

"Enjoy your night."

"Perhaps you will need assistance disrobing?" Sister Wei batted her eyelashes as Yuchen blearily strode through the outer gates and into the grand halls of the Inner Sect, all sculpted wood and chiseled stone. Pale creeks wove through each building. Such glories were nothing to the grand treasures hidden below West Lake City, where the true power of the White Rivers lay. Only the youngest disciples lived above ground.

Sister Fu leaned over and whispered something to Sister Wei, who gasped and retreated as though stung. Yuchen was barely aware of his surroundings, though his Ruminator's constitution steadily whittled away at the haze of alcohol.

"The night isn't over," Sister Fu murmured to Yuchen, waving a small pouch at him. He stared, unable to read the strange characters upon the spirit deer leather, but something spicy and deliciously pungent wafted from the pouch. Perhaps the heady alchemical concoctions of the Temple of Liminal Delights? Every cultivator in the Sunbeam Empire knew tales of their pleasures.

"Here, take this as a reward for your—" Yuchen's interest piqued, but he shrugged Sister Fu aside as a few wide-eyed Outer Disciples greeted him with deep bows. Even Inner Disciples showered him with celebration and praise, while the lone Core Disciple stewarding the paltry Surface Halls offered the briefest of acknowledgements. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. It was the last which made Yuchen glow.

The recognition of ten thousand lessers meant nothing compared to the respect of a Core Disciple, one of his new brothers. He grinned, growing more sober as he continued into the labyrinthine depths of the sect. His retinue's drunken revelry rang throughout the halls. None possessed his advancement, thus none could shrug off potent spirit wine so easily. Respectful attendants swung open the Inner Sect's residential chambers. Yuchen strode through with his ducklings chirping drunkenly behind.

He opened the door to his own small quarters, smirking as his enhanced liver chased away the remnants of the boozy haze. Perhaps it wasn't too late to find some company for the evening. Sister Wei seemed willing… And froze.

"W—what?" Yuchen could barely comprehend what he was seeing. The last vestiges of drunkenness burnt away in a moment as cold clarity struck him.

"Who did this? Who dares?" His roar terrified the lesser cultivators behind him. His lackeys peered past Yuchen to blanch at the sight of his quarters utterly ransacked. A gorgeous portrait of Yuchen's family estate was slashed to ribbons. Someone had strewn a dozen silken robes carelessly across the ornate chamber; each was strategically ripped to the point of being irreparable. Worse, a large warded chest in the corner was cracked open.

Someone had shattered the seal and kicked the lid open, revealing that nothing was left but empty space within. A fortune's worth of coin, precious scrolls delving into cultivation philosophy and practices, spirit stones, priceless gems, and qi restoring pills… all gone! And then Yuchen's eyes settled upon the empty weapon rack above his sleeping mat. Seals broken, protections brutishly torn… His heart skipped a beat. His vision went red.

The Cheng Spear, the treasured relic passed down from one Cheng heir to the next, vanished! The Patriarch himself had forged that weapon! Not vanished. Taken!

"Thief!" Yuchen bellowed.

"Show yourself now and I shall only kill you!" Less than a heartbeat passed before Yuchen's lackeys fled to their own quarters, terrified by the sight of his missing treasures. Dismayed cries soon echoed throughout the Inner Sect's quarters as they discovered that the thief had pilfered their own belongings. All had at least a few valuables stolen, although a handful were left with a fair amount of coin and precious resources. Some suspicious eyes immediately turned on those lucky few.

Accusations flew, hurled left and right by the embittered cultivators. Despair swallowed the lesser disciples as they inventoried their losses. Hidden fortunes, treasured pills, and qi-rich artifacts… all gone! Even beloved mementos and worthless baubles were taken.

"My favorite dagger!"

"My sacred panda doll charm! My mother gave it to me before I came to the sect…why take that?"

"My cultivation manual! Master Fei will have my head!"

"Alas, Brother Li's yang pills are gone. How will his spear stand upright now?" Sister Fu's joke landed poorly with the furious Inner Sect cultivators, all of whom were brimming with rage. Most were merely in the Distillation Realm, unable to easily manifest their qi externally, but the room trembled with Yuchen's anger. His fury-laced qi surged through his meridians like a thunderstorm. He stared aghast at his plundered quarters only for fear to rise above his anger. What of his hidden treasures?

Had the thief found those as well? Yuchen tore his hiding places apart, feeling sicker and sicker with each loss. The secret fold in his sleeping mat was ransacked. Treasured letters from his dear mother and a small portrait of his beloved Lady Xiaolian were nowhere to be found. Why? Was the wretched thief spiteful as well as greedy? A dozen precious mid-grade spirit stones Yuchen kept within a sealed pouch were nowhere to be found.

Worst of all, a section of flooring in the corner of his room was torn up and destroyed, revealing the empty pit that had once hidden the fragments of the White Surging Current cultivation manual entrusted to him by Master Kang and Elder Mo. Countless secret arts were bound within. It was at this point that Yuchen lost control and howled. As one in the Rumination Realm, Yuchen was supposed to retain supreme control of his turbulent qi.

His spirit was meant to remain harmonious even in the midst of battle to stabilize and guide his future pathway. All those lessons were abandoned in the wake of the theft. Charge filled the air as qi exploded from Yuchen's skin. The hair of the lesser disciples stood on end. Sparks danced across his fingers as they curled into claws.

"Something wrong, Junior Brother Yuchen?" Yuchen spun around, snarling, only to pale at the sight of a smiling man with broad shoulders and a long black beard which tapered to a sharp point. Self-preservation cooled his rage to a tense respect.

"Senior Brother Jun, there has been a theft! Some wretched bastards pillaged our chambers!" Yuchen snarled.

"I will have their heads!"

"Of course," Senior Brother Jun nodded sagely.

"It is only just."

"They cannot be far," Sister Wei chimed in. She paled as Senior Brother Jun smiled too-pleasantly at her. Everyone knew who his master was: the fearsome Elder Bolin, who left wastelands in his wake.

"I was here only an hour ago. Who could have done this?"

"It must be one of the Sacred Lotus curs," Yuchen spat.

"They could not accept their defeat with honorable humility! Let us hunt them down. We will not accept such lowly attempts at revenge!"

"Perhaps," Senior Brother Jun said with an enigmatic smile.

"Or maybe the culprit is a little closer to home. Do not blind yourselves to the obvious, my precious juniors." Yuchen's eyes widened at the accusation.

"Which of you did this?" Yuchen bellowed, sharp eyes raking across the suddenly terrified Inner Disciples. He was a full realm above all of them, the star of this branch of the Inner Sect. None could hope to stand against him.

"You will regret crossing I, the great Cheng Yuchen!" Senior Brother Jun's smile dampened a tad. Something like exasperation crept into the corners of his eyes.

"I am certain these twelve have been with you during the celebrations. Perhaps consider other alternatives." Realization struck Yuchen as he connected the dots.

"Who is not among us?"

"Brother Xiao," another of the Inner Disciples dared to whisper. Soft murmurs of agreement filled the chamber.

"He has been in the clinic since the Sacred Lotus prodigy struck him down. But he is bedbound!"

"No longer," Senior Brother Jun revealed.

"Why, a little cricket whispered to me that Junior Brother Xiao had a sudden bout of good health just after you all left to celebrate in the city. He lurched out of bed, then returned to gather his things from his chambers. I'm afraid his fingers turned a little sticky before he left the sect."

"What?" Yuchen's eyes widened with righteous fury. Senior Brother Jun was the highest disciple in charge of securing this wing of the Inner Sect, lording over a handful of other guards.

"You did not stop him?"

"It seems that Brother Wan ate some bad pork on duty and was indisposed." Senior Brother Jun's smile only stretched wider. The older cultivator wagged a finger at Yuchen.

"I only know what a little cricket told me." Yuchen fought back a snarl. He could only barely reign in the turbulent charge of his qi as he lashed out.

"It is your sworn duty to protect the sect! How dare you neglect your responsibility! If you helped him, Elder Mo will—" The lesser cultivators quailed as a sudden pressure filled the air. Senior Brother Jun's eternal smile did not waver. It did sharpen. Yuchen's vision frayed at the edges. A pressure squeezed down upon Yuchen, clenching around him like a fist.

"Careful with your words, Junior Brother Yuchen," Jun whispered. The older man turned his attention to Yuchen's lackeys.

"What are you waiting for? You are cultivators, are you not? Go! Take back what is yours." When the Inner Sect cultivators wisely heeded their senior's direction, Senior Brother Jun turned back to Yuchen.

"A warning from your betters, Junior Brother. Ruthlessness is all well and good. You have served the White Rivers Sect well with your schemes, clumsy as they were. We are pleased." Yuchen's fingers twitched as he fought the pressure crushing him.

"Then why—""Water can carry a boat, but also overturn it," Senior Brother Jun drawled.

"Promising disciples are not yours to toy with, Junior Brother. You overstepped. Junior Brother Xiao's lifeblood burnt, a promising asset lost…you are fortunate that your scheme succeeded! Failure would have met with far more severe consequences." Senior Brother Jun tutted at Yuchen when the indignant cultivator attempted to interrupt.

"Listen well, Junior Brother, and heed my words, bitter as they may be," Senior Brother Jun said.

"Your clumsy manipulations bore fruit, but that fruit has thorns. Xiao Hao chose to prick the hand that bruised him." Yuchen seethed. How dare that rotten commoner lay his hands upon his possessions? What gave him the right?

"Your arrogance lost us several treasures. Xiao Hao's sticky fingers currently clutch a fragment of the White Surging Current manual entrusted to you. What a shame it is to see mud slung at a star just as it began to rise, eh?" Whatever hopes Yuchen had secretly held for hiding the loss of his precious manuscript vanished. His qi churned, begging to be unleashed. A muscle in Yuchen's jaw tightened. Senior Brother Jun's voice was light, yet below the pleasant facade was a deadly undercurrent.

Senior Brother Jun stepped closer. Smugness wafted off the man.

"Your next test is this: Hunt Xiao Hao, slaughter the treacherous dog, and reclaim our sect's treasures. Erase this stain on your reputation before it is tarnished entirely," Senior Brother Jun said. His smile turned cruel.

"And when you return, remember your station. The Elders will not be pleased if you overstep again. Humility is the greatest of virtues, Junior Brother." With that, Senior Brother Jun allowed the strangling pressure crushing Yuchen to fade. Yuchen wheezed, blood boiling. He did not dare glare at Senior Brother Jun, however. Who knew what he would do next?

"Go on, then! There is a thief to hunt." West Lake City glowed behind Xiao Hao as he fled west. Its two million citizens sang their praises for their newest champion, though Hao rather thought they'd take any excuse for drunken revelry. Their celebrations chased him like wailing ghosts, drowning out the quiet sounds of nature. Hao hated to think himself a scared rabbit, but right now every second lived was victory in its own right.

Each passing moment brought with it the chance of an affronted White Rivers Elder bursting from the city on a flying sword to slay Hao in the blink of an eye, or a Cheng Clan guardian grabbing him by the neck to haul back to their clan compound. So be it! Hao couldn't give a damn at this point. Not when his burnt lifeblood left behind an emptiness that yawned within him like a wound. Not after all the White Rivers had taken from him in the last five years.

"Let them come!" He snarled, sparing an instant to glare back at West Lake City before redoubling his speed. Ordinary Distillators could run a hundred miles in a night. Xiao Hao was no ordinary Distillator. The black rage which had long boiled within him fueled his loping stride, although it dulled with every step westward, cooling to a simmer as he considered the shitshow his recklessness had plunged him into this time. No more quelling the urge to slit that bastard Yuchen's throat.

No more trading friendly jabs with Sister Fu. No more serving as a pawn in endless schemes and rivalries. Bittersweet gain and loss, all cemented by one damning nail in the coffin: No more White Rivers. A mountain lifted off Hao's back as he ran. Whatever whispers of regret he might have had for his flight from the sect vanished in an instant. He was free! Spitting in Yuchen's haughty face was worth being murdered in the dark by an angry Cheng Elder. Shame struck the Cheng deeper than any spear thrust.

Stinging their vanity was a good trade… but Hao intended on taking so much more from the Cheng and the White Rivers. He just had to survive the night first. Even without Hao's lightened heart, the fortunes stolen from his snotty sectmates would have eased that burden. He couldn't stop the mad grin which stole over his features as he mentally surveyed the fortunes he'd pilfered. Pockets full of coin? Check. Satchels crammed to bursting with gems, pills, and precious spirit stones? Check!

An army's worth of sentimental knickknacks? Double check! Scraps of secret White Rivers cultivation techniques foolishly entrusted to those who'd attracted the eye of a master? Triple check! Fine prizes indeed. Between his sectmates' sloppy mistakes and Master Bolin's exacting lessons, he'd burnt through their protections with little trouble. Yet some part of Hao recognized that it was too easy.

And if that had anything to do with his elder martial brother—the cold-eyed Jun—overseeing security that night, well, he would simply thank the Heavens above for their providence. Brother Jun would extract some advantage for their shared master from Hao's rebellion. He always did. To linger near West Lake City—and the irritated White Rivers Sect—was to court death. So Hao ran, burning qi to fuel his flight.

Miles upon miles of road passed beneath his feet as the half moon shone brilliantly overhead, painting his path west in argent light. He ran until his cultivation-fortified muscles burned. He ran until his stock of unrefined qi ran dry. He ran until the sun rose in the east. No hunters yet. Good. That meant the White Rivers decided that this embarrassment wasn't worth sending a truly powerful cultivator to cleanse. Perhaps Hao would be made into one of those tests that the elders were so fond of.

Kill this rogue and reclaim his stolen treasures! If Master Bolin had been in the city, Hao knew he would have already been dead. That man did not suffer insults. At last, Hao came to a stop on the slopes of a distant mountain, peering back over the flat plains and gentle hills upon which West Lake City rested nearly a hundred and fifty miles away. The city was little more than a speck even to his sharp eyes, barely visible as anything other than a blot. He finally breathed.

"You should have killed me while you had the chance, White Rivers," Hao rasped, glaring back at his previous home. He raised his greatest prize, the Cheng family spear—Yuchen's personal weapon, worthy of a far greater cultivator—and leveled it back at the den of vipers.

"Wait for me, Master. When I return, you will rue the day you bought me!" Something came loose inside Hao. He lightened as if the wind itself was at his back. With one final step, Hao left the White Rivers behind and turned to the west where his future lay: the Sunstruck Dragon Form…and with it, the heights of cultivation.