Dead Last

The annual assessment of the Tai Chu Immortal Sect was not an exam for Yun Zhaowei; it was an autumn execution.

Just after the Chen hour, the training grounds were already crowded with people. The golden-red sun pierced through the thin mist, baking a dry, earthy smell from the bluestone-paved ground.

Outer disciples lined up in batches, their gray-blue uniforms rustling in the morning breeze, looking from afar like a vast expanse of neatly arranged reeds. Only Yun Zhaowei stood a bit out of order. She shrank into the coolest corner at the end of the line, drawing her shoulders inward, wishing she could curl herself into an inconspicuous pebble, hoping that the chief examiner's gaze would automatically skip over this area when sweeping across.

Unfortunately, her luck in this life had probably been used up when she was born into a cultivation family.

"Today's outer sect annual exam consists of three items."

The outer sect examiner in charge, surnamed Wang, had a perpetually gloomy face. He stood on the high platform, his voice infused with spiritual power, buzzing over the training grounds: "Spirit measurement, Qi circulation, and combat. Those who rank last in all three will, according to sect rules, have their residences reclaimed, contribution points revoked, and shall not remain on the mountain using resources."

"Especially—those who have ranked last for three consecutive years."

Examiner Wang deliberately emphasized the words "three years," his eyes sweeping across the crowd like a hawk, finally pausing subtly at Yun Zhaowei's corner, letting out a not-so-subtle cold laugh.

This cold laugh was like a drop of water in boiling oil, and immediately, suppressed whispers erupted around.

"It's over; someone is going to lose even their bedding today."

"Who else but Yun Zhaowei, who can't even channel Qi properly?"

"Shh, keep your voice down; she's still nominally a Tai Chu disciple."

"Nominally? After today, she'll be worse off than a farmer down the mountain. With that waste spiritual root, going back to the mortal world to copy family letters is the best she can hope for."

The mocking whispers were low but precisely drilled into Yun Zhaowei's ears like fine needles. Yun Zhaowei kept her eyes on her nose, nose on her heart, hands clasped in her sleeves, expressionlessly counting the gaps in the bluestone slabs on the ground.

One of her best skills was to pretend she was deaf when others made her a laughingstock.

After all, compared to saving face, staying alive was more important.

"First item: Spirit measurement!" Examiner Wang waved his hand grandly.

The disciple at the front of the line stepped forward proudly. The spirit measurement stone stood in the center of the field, pitch black like dark iron, half a person tall. That disciple placed his palm on it; the stone surface trembled slightly, then lit up from bottom to top with three bright red light stripes.

"Inner sect preparatory, upper-class资质!" Examiner Wang nodded approvingly.

A burst of exclamations and envy erupted from the crowd. That disciple stepped back amid cheers, his chin held even higher.

Then came the second, the third...

Some lights reached the waist, others only to the ankles. But in Yun Zhaowei's eyes, those lights all represented a "pass" she yearned for but could not obtain. If it lit up, she could stay another year; if not, her life hung in the balance.

"Next, Yun Zhaowei."

As her name was called, Yun Zhaowei felt the air around her seem to cool by half. Those watching eyes felt like needles on her back.

She took a deep breath, stepped out from the shadows, and walked toward the dark stone with her head lowered.

She was extremely beautiful; even in this rough, washed-out disciple uniform, she couldn't hide her ethereal quality. Her nose was delicate, the corners of her eyes slightly upturned. If she were in a wealthy mortal family, she would have been a cherished young lady. But in the Tai Chu Immortal Sect, this face brought her no kindness; instead, it became an excuse for others to attack her as "illiterate and only good for flirting."

Approaching the spirit measurement stone, the cold air peculiar to dark iron rushed at her.

Yun Zhaowei reached out her hand, her fingertips trembling from excessive tension. She closed her eyes and prayed in her heart: Move, even just a little, even if it lights up the size of a fingernail.

She pressed her palm firmly against the stone surface.

One second, two seconds, five seconds...

The spirit measurement stone stood quietly, like a cold tombstone. Not only no red light stripes, but not even a faint ripple was stirred.

"Pfft—" someone finally couldn't hold back laughter from the crowd. "Look, her sea of consciousness is calmer than footbath water."

"Yun Zhaowei, spirit measurement: last rank." Examiner Wang expressionlessly made a mark on his jade slip, his voice full of impatience. "Next item: Qi circulation."

Spirit measurement wasn't everything; Qi circulation was the foundation of actual combat. If one's meridians were resilient enough and comprehension high enough, even with an average spiritual root, one could compensate with diligence.

An outer sect instructor had once comforted Yun Zhaowei like that. But that was three years ago.

Yun Zhaowei stood still, her face beginning to pale. She knew what her meridians were like. They weren't just narrow; they were half-sealed by some invisible force, spiritual power moving through them like walking against the current in a narrow alley filled with mud.

"Circulate Qi through the heavenly cycle; I'll observe the spiritual pressure." Examiner Wang urged.

Biting her lower lip, Yun Zhaowei closed her eyes again. She desperately mobilized the faint trace of spiritual energy within her, trying to guide it to impact those desolate acupoints.

"Uh!"

The spiritual energy rushed recklessly in her meridians but could never coalesce. A dull pain surged in her chest, a sign of spiritual energy backlash.

Beads of sweat formed on Yun Zhaowei's forehead, her cheeks flushed red, and her body trembled involuntarily.

"Enough, step down." Examiner Wang coldly cut her off before she could finish. "Spiritual energy scattered, Qi circulation... last rank."

Two last ranks.

The final item was combat. Or rather, one-sided beating.

Her sparring partner was a junior brother who had joined the sect only a year ago. He looked a bit embarrassed, holding his wooden sword downward, and said softly, "Senior Sister Yun, forgive my offense."

Yun Zhaowei assumed a standard starting posture. Although the pose was extremely graceful, in the eyes of cultivators, it was just a decorative pillow.

"Please."

The junior brother kicked off the ground, his form like an arrow from the string, the wooden sword stirring a gust of wind.

Yun Zhaowei's eyes sharpened. She saw his trajectory, and dozens of counterattack plans flashed through her mind in an instant. She was smart; in terms of understanding techniques, she even surpassed many inner sect elites.

But her body couldn't keep up with her mind.

When she tried to raise her sword to block, her spiritual power once again "failed" at the critical moment, a cramp in her meridians causing her movement to be half a beat slow.

"Slap!"

The junior brother's wooden sword precisely knocked her weapon out of her hand.

The wooden sword flew into the air, spinning several times in the sunlight, and fell with a clatter at the edge of the training ground, raising a cloud of dust.

Yun Zhaowei staggered a few steps from the residual force and plopped down on the ground.

The training ground erupted into the loudest laughter of the day.

"Three consecutive last ranks! A grand slam!"

"Haha, Senior Sister Yun's title as 'Last Rank Warrior' is indeed well-deserved."

Yun Zhaowei sat on the cold stone slab, looking down at her palm, scraped by the wooden sword, a red thread seeping out. She didn't get up immediately; she just felt the laughter in her ears grow more distant, as if listening to stories from another world.

Actually, she couldn't figure it out either.

For three years, she rose earlier than the roosters and slept later than the dogs. While others rested, she copied scriptures; while others slept, she meditated. She had flipped through that "Introduction to Qi Attraction" until the page corners were worn, every word engraved in her mind.

But why did this world still not want her?

"Yun Zhaowei." Examiner Wang walked down the high platform, stood before her, looking down from above, his gaze like looking at a pile of obstructive clutter.

"The sect is not a charity; it does not support idlers. You have ranked last for three consecutive years. According to the rules..." He paused, seemingly enjoying the pleasure of holding someone's fate. "Within three days, pack up your bedding. Descend the mountain."

Descend the mountain.

Those two words struck like a heavy hammer, hitting Yun Zhaowei's heart squarely.

She was stunned for a moment, then slowly stood up from the ground. She patted the dust off her skirt, her movements somewhat mechanical.

"Yun Zhaowei, do you hear clearly?" Examiner Wang raised his voice.

"Disciple... understands." She lowered her head, her voice very soft but steady.

She didn't cry or beg for mercy. Because three years of experience in the outer sect told her that people like Examiner Wang most wanted to see her wailing and pleading, so he could feel that his execution of duty was a great satisfaction to all.

She wouldn't give him that chance.

"Let's go! Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough?"

A crisp voice broke the awkward silence.

Shen Mingtang suddenly rushed out from somewhere, grabbed Yun Zhaowei's wrist. She was wearing an inner sect alchemist's green robe today, with delicate spirit grass patterns embroidered on the cuffs, standing out conspicuously among the gray-blue of the outer sect.

"Examiner Wang, I'm taking her away. You don't need to bother staring." Shen Mingtang snorted, pulling Yun Zhaowei and turning away.

Examiner Wang, rebutted, turned livid but dared not flare up because Shen Mingtang was a valued personal disciple of the Alchemy Hall elder.

The two walked all the way through the corridor until they reached a secluded corner behind the dining hall, where Shen Mingtang let go.

"It hurts like hell." Yun Zhaowei rubbed her wrist, mumbling softly.

"Serves you right! What were you standing there dumbfounded for? Waiting for them to give you a medal?" Shen Mingtang was furious, plopped down on a stone stool, and pulled out a food box wrapped tightly in a cloth from her bosom.

"Here, freshly steamed spirit rice cake. Catch your breath first, then think about whether to cry. Even if you cry, you still have to eat, understand?"

Yun Zhaowei looked at the steaming white rice cake, with a layer of purple-red date paste in the middle.

She picked up a piece and stuffed it into her mouth.

Very sweet. So sweet it turned bitter.

"Mingtang, I'm leaving." She chewed the rice cake, her voice muffled.

"I'm not deaf; I heard Baldy Wang shouting all the way from the herb garden." Shen Mingtang rolled her eyes, but her gaze softened. "Are you really going to resign yourself to returning to the mortal world? Your family... you know, your biased father is just worried about missing the chance to sell you off at a good price to some crippled elder of a small sect for a continued marriage."

Yun Zhaowei's movements froze.

That was exactly why she was determined to stay in the Tai Chu Immortal Sect.

Once out that door, not only would she lose the chance to cultivate immortality, but even her dignity as a human would likely be stripped away by those so-called "kin."

"I'm not resigned to fate." Yun Zhaowei put down the rice cake, gazing at the misty mountain peak in the distance. "I just... want to try one more time."

"How? You have three days left; are you going to reach sudden enlightenment on the spot?"

Yun Zhaowei said nothing, staring directly at the farthest, highest main peak.

Lingxiao Peak.

That was the moon of the Tai Chu Immortal Sect, hanging high in the ninth heaven, cold and solitary. The person living up there was an existence that the entire three realms looked up to.

"Are you crazy?" Shen Mingtang followed her gaze and nearly stumbled in shock. "You're not thinking... of the Qingheng Venerable, are you?"

"Thinking doesn't break any rules."

"That's not breaking rules; that's asking for death! Don't you know that person's temper? Last time, an inner sect senior sister tried to deliver tea on some excuse, and before she even touched the mountain gate of Lingxiao Peak, she was sent flying by a sword aura and bedridden for three months. And you, an outer sect waste..."

"I'm getting kicked out anyway." Yun Zhaowei turned her head, a determination in her eyes that Shen Mingtang had never seen before. "Dying under Lingxiao Peak is better than being sold to some crippled elder for a continued marriage."

Shen Mingtang looked at her, silent for a long time, then finally sighed and took out a bottle of top-grade Qi-returning pills from her pocket, handing them to her.

"Take them. Though your meridians are like a leaky sieve, these pills can at least keep you alive. If you really get beaten down, I can at least hold on until I collect your corpse."

"Thanks."

As the sun set, Yun Zhaowei walked alone on the mountain path back to the disciple quarters.

Passing the Sutra Library, she stopped.

As the only outer sect task that could earn contribution points, she had copied scriptures there for three years. Even this insignificant place now had to be bid farewell.

The library's large doors were half-open, dim lamplight flickering in the dusk.

The guardian was an old man over a hundred years old, who often lay on a creaking rattan chair at the entrance, holding a worn-out gourd of wine.

Yun Zhaowei approached, bowed respectfully: "Senior, I've come to return the unfinished scriptures. From tomorrow... I'm afraid I won't be able to come."

The old man glanced at her sideways, in his tipsy haze, a hint of clarity seemed to flash in his murky eyes.

"Oh? The little girl whose spirit measurement stone never lit up for three years?" He took a sip of wine, speaking slowly. "Someone about to leave, why bother flipping through these old books?"

"I have to settle accounts.""Clear out..." The old man chuckled, his withered finger pointing to the most secluded corner. "Since you're leaving, tidy up those fragments over there. Some things, left too long, get moldy. What a pity."

Yun Zhaowei had no suspicion, taking it as a final favor.

The library was so quiet that only her own breathing could be heard. She deftly navigated to the corner piled high with discarded remnants, where a musty scent of ink assailed her.

Amidst a mess of scattered formation diagrams and dull historical records, she suddenly spotted a peculiar little booklet.

Its cover was neither paper nor silk, feeling supple like skin to the touch, even faintly warm. Dust covered the front, but the large characters still exuded a wild, unrestrained aura, even in the dim light.

Yun Zhaowei brushed off the dust and, by the moonlight streaming through the lattice window, made out four words:

"How to Successfully Seduce Your Master."

Yun Zhaowei: "..."

Her hand shook, nearly making her toss this improper thing away.

This was the Taichu Immortal Sect!

The foremost of the righteous path, the benchmark of the three realms!

How could such a brazen, shameless, corrupting storybook appear in a solemn place like the library—something that should be publicly burned by the disciplinary hall?

She instinctively looked back toward the entrance.

The old gatekeeper was still rocking in his wicker chair, his gaze fixed on the waning moon in the sky, as if completely unaware of the commotion inside.

But Yun Zhaowei felt that the old man's eyes were piercing through the rows of shelves, landing on her back with a hint of amusement.

Driven by a strange impulse, she picked up the booklet again.

Her heart raced, as if it might leap out of her throat.

Was this fate?

At her most desperate moment, was it handing her such a... heretical hope?

She opened the first page.

There were no superfluous words, no dense manual of techniques.

On the entire sheet of snow-white beast hide paper, there was only a single line of bold, sharp characters, each stroke penetrating the page with a disdainful arrogance. Just looking at them felt like an invisible pressure.

[In business, let your master do the work; out of business, do your master.]

Yun Zhaowei stared at the line, stunned for a full three breaths.

Her first thought: she was seeing things.

Second thought: an evil spirit had entered the library.

Third thought: the author of this book was either a prodigy or a madman.

"Do..." her tongue stumbled.

In the vernacular of the cultivation world, this character had many meanings.

The first half meant to seek help, to rely on, to have someone fight for you.

The second half...

Yun Zhaowei's face flushed crimson, so red it could bleed. The absurdity and shame she had never touched clashed wildly in her mind.

But then, Shen Mingtang's words—"sell you off to marry a crippled elder as a concubine"—echoed in her ears.

She clutched the beast hide booklet tightly, her fingertips white from the pressure.

Why be ashamed?

Others needed talent, fortune, and spiritual bone to cultivate immortality.

She had none.

She had only this worthless life and a barely presentable face.

"Since I'm getting kicked out anyway, going crazy once won't hurt."

She murmured softly, as if to herself, or as if signing a pact with this ridiculous manual.

She quickly stuffed the booklet into her sleeve and walked out of the library.

At the entrance, the old gatekeeper's snoring suddenly grew louder.

Yun Zhaowei didn't dare look back; her steps quickened.

She had made up her mind.

Tomorrow morning, she would go to block Venerable Qingheng.

No matter the outcome, she would beseech him for this first 'work.'

The night was deep; Lingxiao Peak stood like a cold sword piercing the sky under the moonlight.

And in the dilapidated disciple's quarters at the foot of the mountain, Yun Zhaowei, by the flickering lamplight, drew a heavy circle on the first page of that ridiculous manual.