Limitless Cultivation System: From Trash to Immortal

Fifteen thousand voices crashed into a single sound that had been building since the seventh star planted itself in the air. Lin Xuan let it travel through him without reacting. He bowed, the formal full bow to the rings that the protocol of a champion required, and held it for the count of three.

When he straightened, the world had divided itself into four corners of attention.

In the western tribune, the man in the white robe with the red trim was gone. The cushion he had stood up from was empty. Two cushions over, the young woman with long green hair folded her paper wrap of melon, dabbed the corner of her mouth with the edge of a sleeve, and rose without ceremony.

She slipped down the aisle stair and vanished into the corridor behind the second ring with the unhurried motion of a person who had come for what she had come for and received it. Neither departure registered with Lin Xuan. Neither registered with Mira’s panel.

In the patriarchal tribune to the south, Lin Zhen stood for the first time since the morning. The patriarch of Skyedge held his hands clasped at the waist and his head inclined a fraction toward the floor of the Arena, the small unreadable expression a Lin family man wore in front of fifteen thousand witnesses. The elders around him had no such discipline. The chair of the Sword Affairs Council had risen to clap him on the shoulder. The third elder of Frostmoon Ridge, crossed over from Su Han’s tribune as a courtesy, was already inclining the bow of one patriarch to another. A regional official from the office of imperial protocol had traveled two tribunes to deliver his formal congratulation in person.

"A diamond, Patriarch Lin. You have a diamond in your sect."

"A diamond cut from his own stone, Master Yu. I take little of the credit."

"Modesty becomes you. The boy turned a tournament the eastern sects had already filed away. The capital will hear of it before the week is out."

Lin Zhen inclined his head a fraction lower. The line of his mouth softened by the smallest possible amount, the relief of a father who had carried a son through a bedridden curse and had just watched that son stand at the center of a polished stone with the title of Regional Champion folded around his shoulders.

Three cushions to the right of where Lin Zhen now stood receiving congratulations, the first wife of Skyedge had not joined the applause.

She kept her seat. Her hands rested on her knees the way the hands of a woman raised in court rested when she did not trust them in front of others. Her face wore the polite frozen mask of a patriarchal first wife at a public event, but the muscle along the line of her jaw had tightened into a ridge that her hairline could no longer hide. The cup of tea at her elbow had not been touched.

She rose.

She had not applauded. She did not bow toward the floor where her stepson stood. She ignored the elders crossing to congratulate her husband, and walked toward the back stair of the tribune with the controlled pace of a woman who had used the last of her composure to keep herself from running. She vanished through the doorway before any of the elders had finished their congratulations.

In the corridor below, Lin Kai watched her go.

He had not climbed back to the patriarchal tribune after his return from the Arena floor. He had taken a standing position in the side passage that connected the lower ring to the patriarchal stair, the place from which a brother could watch a brother without anyone in the rings noticing. His arms folded at his chest. The chip in the heirloom blade across his back had been polished out, the edge re-honed in the night.

He muttered to nobody as Madam Mei swept past him without breaking stride.

"He kept his word."

Then, lower, the way a man muttered when he did not want even the wall to hear him correctly:

"You always pull further away. Ever since they brought you into this house, you have walked in front of me."

He did not follow his mother. He stayed where he was, arms folded, and watched the man on the polished stone receive the bow of the referee elder.

Down on the floor, Mira’s panel finally bloomed.

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[ QUEST COMPLETED ] 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

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[ ▸ Crown of Yuncheng ]

[ Type: Tournament Quest ]

[ Objective: Win the Six Sects Regional Tournament principal bracket ]

[ Status: SUCCESS ]

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[ Rewards granted: ]

[ ▸ +15,000 Origin Points ]

[ ▸ Title earned: Regional Champion ]

[ ▸ Shop Tier 2 access: UNLOCKED PERMANENTLY ]

[ ▸ Bonus Hidden Reward: SEALED, pending private inspection ]

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[ Origin Points balance: 0 → 15,000 ]

[ Karma Celestial: 74 / 500, unchanged ]

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[ Congratulations, Champion. ヾ(＾-＾)ノ ]

’Save it later, Mira. We have a victory walk to handle.’

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep the smile inside the formal range it needed to be in. The referee elder gestured for the contestants to leave the floor. Plain Steel returned to its place at his hip. The eastern stair waited for him.

He walked it at the pace a champion walked.

At the bottom of the stair, Lian was already waiting with both hands clasped at her mouth, the disbelieving joy of a maid whose Young Master had carved a Pavilion of Stillness out of a polished stone two minutes ago.

"You did it. You actually did it. Lin Xuan. Look at me, look at me, you actually did it."

"Lian."

"Do not ’Lian’ me, I have been chewing on the inside of my mouth for the last half hour and I have rights now. Are you hurt? Where? Is anything bleeding that should not be bleeding? Where is the cloth, where is the cloth, where am I, where am I."

"Lian. Nothing is bleeding. He never touched me."

"He never. Touched. You. Wei. Did you hear that. He never touched him."

Wei Tianming had appeared at the foot of the stair half a beat behind her, his eyes wider than they had been at any combat of the tournament. He bowed the formal disciple’s bow to Lin Xuan. He did not speak. The bow held for a count of five.

Lin Xuan returned it at the angle a Young Master returned a disciple’s full salute.

"Get up, Wei. We are going home."

Lin Zhen arrived a moment after them. The patriarch did not embrace his son in front of the rings, because the protocol of a patriarchal tribune did not permit such a thing, but he placed his right hand on Lin Xuan’s left shoulder and left it there for the duration of a long breath.

"My son."

"Father."

That was the full conversation. Lin Zhen turned the line of his attention back to the corridor and the door beyond it, and the four of them, Lin Xuan, Lin Zhen, Lian, Wei, walked the back passage out of the Arena together.

Behind them, the rings of fifteen thousand voices kept the sound going for a long time.

In the patriarchal tribune, the cushion of the first wife stayed empty.