Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

Begin.

Lin Xuan moved before the referee’s hand finished its arc.

Cloud Step Intermediate ate three percent of his dantian in the same heartbeat the technique unfolded under his feet. The air on the platform compressed with a soft pop around his shoulders, and where Lin Xuan had been standing a second ago there was only displaced dust. He crossed half the platform in the time Lin Kai needed to register that the platform had stopped being a stage and become a corridor with him at the wrong end of it.

The Plain Steel sang out of its motion as Awakening Dragon opened, a thin pale line of Qi running the length of the blade, dragon-shaped, alive, the form’s signature trace flickering once before the cut came down on the right shoulder.

Lin Kai did not block. He stepped back.

Half a pace.

The first half pace of his life inside a duel.

Lin Xuan did not stop. He let the arc carry into Coiling Dragon, and the pale Qi on the blade twisted with it. The dragon-trace did what the form was named for: it coiled. Three small spirals of light wrapped around the Plain Steel at chest height, moving in continuous tight loops as the sword described the redirecting circles of Form Two. Each loop caught Lin Kai’s blade as it tried to plant somewhere, anywhere, and slid it sideways, and every time Lin Kai’s steel angled toward a counter, Lin Xuan’s hilt was already turning the conversation somewhere else.

Another step back.

Another.

A murmur ran through the right gallery. Somebody, very quietly, said the word Coiling. Somebody else said the word Dragon. A third voice, even quieter, said the word restricted.

"What the —" Lin Kai’s voice came out flat with the effort of speaking and retreating at the same time. "What are you —"

"Concentrate, Lin Kai. You are walking backwards."

Lin Kai’s jaw locked. On the fourth retreat he found the floor under his feet and shoved everything he had into a single horizontal cut, the kind of full-weight strike that broke the rhythm of inferior opponents in his sleep. The cut had a Stage Seven’s Qi behind it. It would have folded a Stage Two cultivator in half.

Lin Xuan was not where the cut went.

Cloud Step took him a half pace lateral. The displacement left a thin trail of refracted air, the kind of distortion the eye reads half a second after the body has already left, and Lin Kai’s blade traveled through that trail expecting torso and finding nothing but heat-shimmer, arriving at the end of its arc with empty air under the edge.

[ He’s leaning. He’s open. Now. ]

’I see him.’

The body knew before the mind finished the sentence.

Lin Xuan’s spine flowed into the opening posture of Piercing Dragon. Form Three. The straight thrust, the technique that ended exchanges at this realm. The Qi on the blade compressed forward to a single bright point at the tip, condensing the way a held breath condenses in cold air, the dragon-trace gathering itself into a narrow concentrated lance of light aimed at the center of Lin Kai’s chest.

Lin Kai’s eyes locked on the point of the Plain Steel.

He pulled his own blade in to defend, every reflex of five years dragging the steel toward the line of the incoming thrust, weight committing into the parry that any sane swordsman had to make against a Piercing Dragon at center mass.

Lin Xuan did not finish the thrust.

The Qi at the tip went out the way a candle goes out, and the bright point that had been the entire focus of Lin Kai’s defense was no longer there.

The last quarter second, Cloud Step. He was no longer in front of Lin Kai’s defense. He was at his shoulder, half a step inside the line of the blade, and Lin Kai was parrying empty air with his weight already too far forward.

Lin Xuan dropped the sword angle, planted his shoulder against the side of Lin Kai’s chest, and pushed.

Qi traveled up through his back leg, through his hip, through the shoulder, and struck the side of Lin Kai’s body with the sum of every percent of Sword Absolute his body had been allowed to wake. A single visible pulse of pale gold light moved through Lin Xuan’s robe at the impact point, exited his shoulder, and carried Lin Kai with it.

Lin Kai went sideways.

He was already off-balance. The push sent him stumbling, and the stumble took two long strides to absorb, and the two strides ran out of platform on the second one.

His right foot pressed wood but his left foot pressed air.

He fell.

The hall received him with a sound Lin Xuan would remember for a long time. The dull soft thump of a body hitting the floor of the hall, two meters down, on its side, alive, untouched, and very firmly outside the platform.

The hall held its breath.

Lin Kai pushed himself up to a half-knee with his sword still in his hand, face the color of a man who had just realized in front of three hundred people that he had been moved through a play he had not read.

"BASTARD. You think — now I’m going to —"

The referee’s hand came down.

"The bout is concluded. Lin Kai has left the platform. By the rules of the Lin family duel, victory is awarded to Lin Xuan."

Lin Kai’s mouth was still half open on a sentence he no longer got to finish. He froze in the half-rise. His eyes flicked from the referee to the platform to his mother in the right gallery, to his brother above him, to the referee again.

"That was not a sword duel. That was not — he pushed me, he —"

The old referee did not raise his voice.

"The rules of the Lin family selection duel are first serious cut, surrender, or platform departure. Young Master Lin Xuan won inside the rules. Do you wish to file a formal objection on the record, Young Master Lin Kai?"

Lin Kai looked at Madam Mei.

Madam Mei’s face had the elegant blank it had worn when Lin Xuan had walked through the door of the hall, except now the corners of her mouth had set in a way that had not been there an hour ago. She did not move. Lin Xuan knew that inside, she was fuming.

Lin Kai closed his mouth, slid the heirloom blade back into its scabbard with a sound that would have been louder if anyone in the room had been breathing, and stood up the rest of the way without anyone’s help.

In the right gallery, three elders had their heads close together.

"Awakening Dragon. Coiling Dragon. The feint was a Piercing Dragon, but never finished. He chained three forms of the Seven Dragon Sword Art."

"At his age?"

"He has been bedridden for two years. Two. Years."

"How does someone who hasn’t held a sword since seventeen run a clean Coiling Dragon."

"How does someone who hasn’t held a sword since seventeen run any of them."

The voices stayed low, but they did not stop. The murmur ran down the right gallery and crossed the aisle to the left one, where two of the visiting elders had stopped pretending not to listen.

Elder Ren in the back row had not moved a muscle. The corner of his mouth had not changed position since the first Cloud Step.

The capital elders on the visiting bench were leaning into each other and speaking low and fast. Lin Xuan caught two of them glancing toward the patriarch, then back to him, then back to the patriarch.

Lin Xuan stepped to the edge of the platform.

He looked down at Lin Kai, who had recovered his stance and was working very hard to look like a young master with full dignity and not like a boy who had been planted on his side in front of the entire sect.

He extended his hand.

"Brother. Up. It does not look good for the family."

Lin Kai’s jaw worked. He hated it. Lin Xuan watched him hate it. He watched the calculation pass behind the eyes, the same calculation a younger Lin Kai had made every time the old Lin Xuan had been forced to bow to him in a corridor for two years, and the calculation arrived at the only conclusion that did not break protocol any further.

He reached up.

Lin Xuan caught the wrist instead of the palm and pulled.

Hard. Not a help-up, a yank. Lin Kai came up onto his feet in a single off-balance lurch that brought his shoulder against Lin Xuan’s chest, and before he could find his footing or pull away Lin Xuan had the side of his brother’s head an inch from his own mouth.

He spoke quietly. Just for the two of them.

"Be careful from now on, brother. Two years ago you walked past my pavilion every week without coming inside. I remember every one of those weeks. I am going to remember everything else you do from this morning forward, too. Watch your steps."

Lin Kai went rigid against him.

Lin Xuan let go.

Lin Kai stumbled back half a pace, recovered, and the look on his face was not the same look that had come up off the floor of the hall a moment ago. It was the look of a man who had just understood, far too late, that the brother he had spent two years stepping over was no longer underneath him.

Lin Xuan extended his hand again.

"Sorry. Once more. Come on. Let me help you up properly."

A muffled sound came out of the back of the inner disciple gallery, a laugh somebody bit in half before it could escape.

Lin Kai’s face did several things in sequence. His hand came up and smacked Lin Xuan’s palm aside in a hard sharp slap that rang against the platform wood, and the smile on Lin Xuan’s face arrived without him deciding to put it there.

"As you prefer, brother."

The patriarch’s voice filled the hall without effort.

"The principal representative of the Lin family at the Six Sects Regional Tournament will be my son Lin Xuan. Let the record show it."

The council secretary at the side bowed and wrote.

"And Xuan’er."

"Father."

"Tonight. You and I."

"I will be there, Father."

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[ HIDDEN QUEST — COMPLETED ]

[ "First Face-Slap" ]

[ ▸ +2,000 Origin Points ]

[ ▸ Hidden Reward: pending ]

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[ Good boy, Xuan. (◠‿◠) ]

[ Your reward is waiting. Want to claim it? ]

’My reward, Mira. Is it maybe a date with you? Since you said earlier that I was pretty...’

The panel went still.

The edge bloomed pink.

[ ...(/ω＼) ]

’Knew it.’

[ IT WAS NOT A DATE. ]

’It was.’

[ IT. WAS. NOT. A. DATE. ]

He stepped down from the platform.

Lian was at the foot of the stairs with a small folded towel in her hands, eyes bright in a way she had not let them be in two years, mouth carefully arranged into the calm of a maid attending her young master.

"Young Master."

"Thank you, Lian."

She handed him the towel. He took it.

Behind him, the hall kept murmuring. The elders kept talking. Lin Kai kept looking at the floor.

In front of him, Lian walked with him down the central aisle, and the morning sun came through the open doors of the hall, and for the first time in two years it touched his face on its way out.