Renegade Immortal Chapters 19-21: Deception, Discovery, and Disdain in Heng Yue Sect
The air in Sun Dazhu’s courtyard was thick with a potent mixture of disappointment and simmering rage. The elder stared at the ordinary-looking gourd in his hand, the very object that had fueled a month of futile hope. He had hollowed it out, filled it with spring water, and watched as even the last lingering traces of spiritual energy within it dissipated into nothingness. To his fellow disciples who spotted him, he had become a figure of ridicule, obsessing over a common vegetable. All this effort, all this anticipation, centered on a dull-witted boy who seemed to stumble upon fortune by sheer, dumb luck.
Wang Lin, for his part, maintained the carefully constructed facade of a simpleton. Standing before his fuming teacher, he wore an expression of blank innocence. “I don’t know what spiritual energy is,” he said, his voice laced with believable confusion. “I just heard you say that you’ll give me a spirit stone if I bring you a gourd. How about you explain to me what spiritual energy is?”
Sun Dazhu felt a wave of dizziness, a physical manifestation of his crashing hopes. He studied Wang Lin’s face for a long, silent moment. The boy’s logic was infuriatingly sound. Only a cultivator who had reached the first layer of Qi Condensation could sense ambient spiritual energy. This idiot, his talent already abysmal and further poisoned by the Qi-shattering herb Sun Dazhu himself had slipped into his food, would likely need decades to reach that threshold. With a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire body, Sun Dazhu reluctantly fished out a low-quality spirit stone and tossed it to Wang Lin. “This is the promised stone. Take it and cultivate. Try to reach the first layer quickly.” The words tasted like ash. This was a test, a final investment to see if the boy was hiding something. If not… Sun Dazhu’s eyes darkened as he considered the forbidden Soul Search technique. The risks were severe—shattered souls, permanent idiocy for the target, and backlash for the user unless they were at the mighty Core Formation stage. It was a desperate, dangerous card he was not yet ready to play.
Wang Lin accepted the stone with feigned gratitude and hurried back to his room. Alone, he examined the spirit stone. It felt unremarkable to the touch, yet holding it brought a peculiar clarity to his mind. He spent the night in cross-legged meditation, but as dawn broke, he sighed. No familiar sensation of ants crawling under his skin, no sign of condensed spiritual energy. The bitter smile on his face was genuine this time.
His door swung open without warning. Sun Dazhu entered, his expression stormy, carrying a bowl of foul-smelling black liquid. “Drink this!” he commanded.
Wang Lin flinched, eyeing the concoction with well-acted caution. “Teacher, what is this?”
“Do you really think I would harm you?” Sun Dazhu snapped, his patience worn to a thread. “If it wasn’t to help you reach the first layer, do you think I’d waste my night and precious herbs on this?” Seeing the unyielding glare, Wang Lin hesitantly took the bowl and gulped the drug down. A fire ignited in his stomach, spreading through his limbs, a burning thirst consuming him. His vision swam, and the bowl clattered to the floor as darkness threatened to pull him under.
“Cultivate! I’ll help you absorb it!” Sun Dazhu’s voice cut through the haze. A cool hand pressed against Wang Lin’s chest, and a stream of energy cleared his mind. He focused, falling into the cultivation rhythm. Around him, Sun Dazhu placed several more low-quality spirit stones, his heart aching at the expenditure. Boy, you better repay me for all this, he thought grimly.
For a moment, hope flickered. Sun Dazhu felt the spiritual energy from the drug begin to coalesce within Wang Lin’s body. Then, a vile, familiar foul Qi erupted from within Wang Lin’s meridians—the legacy of the Qi-shattering grass—and obliterated the forming energy. Sun Dazhu’s face crumpled. He watched until the last of the drug’s energy was spent, leaving Wang Lin’s body as empty as before. Without a word, the elder stood and left the room, a portrait of utter defeat.
Wang Lin opened his eyes, his body feeling strangely light and refreshed. The thanks died on his lips when he saw the empty room and felt the weight of Sun Dazhu’s despair. He called out, “Teacher, I’ll go to the spring and see how my luck is today!” The garden gate swung open silently. As he walked, he knew Sun Dazhu’s watchful, hopeless gaze followed him.
This pattern became their wretched routine for a full month. Every day, Wang Lin went to the spring. Every day, Sun Dazhu followed, his hope decaying into resentment with each passing, fruitless hour. He forced expensive drugs on Wang Lin, each attempt ending in the same catastrophic failure as the foul Qi within the boy systematically destroyed any progress. Sun Dazhu’s temper grew shorter, his eyes colder.
The final straw was the gourd. The spiritual energy it once held was gone, leaving it an utterly mundane object. Sun Dazhu’s analysis led him to a bitter conclusion: it was a normal gourd that had, by some fluke, been infused with energy. Wang Lin’s discovery was a one-in-a-million accident. The entire month—the spying, the costly drugs, the wasted effort—had been for nothing. The rage that had been simmering finally boiled over.
He summoned Wang Lin and unleashed a torrent of reprimands, his voice lashing like a whip. With a final, furious wave of his sleeve, a powerful gust of wind lifted Wang Lin and threw him bodily out of the courtyard gate. “Out of my sight!” Sun Dazhu roared. The gate slammed shut, leaving Wang Lin in the dust. The elder vowed to put the useless boy from his mind. Even with the month of medication, he calculated it would take Wang Lin eight to ten years to reach the first layer of Qi Condensation. He was a lost cause.
A Secret Reclaimed and a World Understood
Sprawled in the dirt, Wang Lin did not feel despair. He felt a surge of liberation. The month under Sun Dazhu’s oppressive scrutiny had been an education. He had learned the hierarchy of cultivation: Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul, and the legendary Spirit Forming stage. He learned that the mighty Heng Yue Sect was built on the shoulders of just two reclusive Core Formation experts, with only ten Foundation Establishment elders below them. Sun Dazhu himself was only at the fifth layer of Qi Condensation. The path was steep, demanding not just talent but vast amounts of time, luck, and profound insight.
Most importantly, he understood the supreme value of spiritual energy. His mind raced to the stone bead, hidden away in the mountain. That was the true source of the miraculous water. If spring water left in a gourd with the bead could contain such energy, what of the three gourds he had filled with morning dew and left sealed? They must be reservoirs of pure spiritual power. Drinking them would surely surpass the effects of Sun Dazhu’s bitter drugs. His expulsion was not a setback; it was the opportunity he needed to reclaim his treasure.
As an inner disciple, albeit a disgraced one, he was assigned a small, remote house near the east gate. He learned that on the tenth of each month, disciples could collect a fragment of a spirit stone and a Qi Gathering Pill. Ten fragments could be exchanged for a whole stone. Wang Lin cleaned his new quarters but resisted the urge to immediately retrieve the bead. Patience was his armor. He continued his charade, visiting the spring by day and cultivating in his room at night, sensing Sun Dazhu’s lingering spiritual probe for another ten days before it finally, blessedly, vanished.
A full month after his expulsion, under the cover of a moonless night, Wang Lin moved like a shadow through the mountain paths. His heart pounded as he retrieved the stone bead and the three gourds from their hiding place, returning to his room without incident. After several days of nervous vigilance confirmed he was no longer watched, he allowed himself to exhale.
Sitting on his humble bed, he held the stone bead up to the light. His breath caught. The delicate, cloud-like markings on its surface had multiplied. Where there were once seven, there were now nine swirling patterns, covering almost the entire surface. Only a space the size of a fingernail remained blank. The humid mountain air had fed it well. Then, with trembling hands, he uncorked the three gourds. The air grew thick with a sweet, ozonic fragrance. The dew inside had condensed into a viscous, sticky liquid, and in the gourd that held the purest morning dew, it had congealed into a soft, jelly-like substance. Spiritual energy seemed to radiate from them.
A thrilling, dangerous idea took root. If the bead produced miraculous water, what would happen if it was exposed to this already-enhanced liquid? Would it trigger the appearance of the tenth and final cloud? The mystery called to him, but the practicalities of the day intervened. The light outside was fading—it was the day to collect his monthly allowance from the pill house.
Confrontation at the Pill House
Storing his treasures securely in his bag of holding, Wang Lin made his way to the main courtyard. As he approached the pill house, a familiar, oily voice reached his ears.
“Apprentice-sister Zhou, master allowed me to go into closed-door training for three months to charge for the first layer, but I kept thinking of you! I rushed my breakthrough just to see you. I fought a huge serpent in the mountains to pick this flower for you—look, it even injured my elbow!”
Wang Lin’s steps slowed. Wang Zhuo. He sneered inwardly and was about to walk past when a crisp, skeptical female voice replied.
“Apprentice-brother Wang, my family are doctors. This is a common Asuka flower. I see them everywhere. I’ve never heard of a snake guarding one. If that were true, our sect would be overrun with snakes. Apprentice-sister Zhou, don’t believe him.”
Wang Lin entered the courtyard. Four figures in red inner disciple robes turned to look. Wang Zhuo stood there, handsome and well-groomed, his face flushed with embarrassment. His expression morphed into sheer disbelief when he saw Wang Lin. “Wang Lin! You… Why are you here? You should be at home doing carpenter work with your father!”
A girl with a shiny black ponytail, thick eyebrows, and large, mocking eyes chimed in. “Wang Lin? Ah, so you’re the one who became an honorary disciple by trying to commit suicide, then became an inner disciple by sucking up to Elder Sun!” This was the same girl who had mocked Wang Zhuo during the disciple selection.
The other two disciples stared, shocked. One was a young man with a long, horse-like face who looked at Wang Lin with open disdain. The other was a girl with large, child-like eyes framed by beautiful lashes—Apprentice-sister Zhou, the apparent object of Wang Zhuo’s affections. Her gaze held not malice, but a spark of curiosity.
The horse-faced youth snorted. “Apprentice-brother Wang, you’ve been in seclusion, so you don’t know. This Wang Lin is the biggest joke in the sect. Just as Apprentice-sister Xu said, he used those methods to get in.”
Wang Zhuo threw back his head and laughed, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. “You scared me for a second! So that’s your trick. Even if you’re here, you’ll probably never reach the first layer. Why come and tarnish the Wang family name?”
“Apprentice-brother Wang, that’s not entirely fair,” the girl named Zhou said, her voice gentle yet firm. “While talent is important, perseverance is paramount. Cultivation defies the heavens. Without perseverance, talent alone is meaningless.” She took a subtle step closer to Wang Zhuo.
The girl named Xu—the one with the ponytail—quickly countered, “But what Apprentice-brother Wang said isn’t wrong. This Wang Lin looks so dumb. He doesn’t look like a cultivator at all.”
Wang Lin chuckled softly, the dynamics now clear to him. Wang Zhuo pursued Zhou, while Xu, jealous, sought to undermine him. His laughter pricked Wang Zhuo’s pride.
“Wang Lin,” Wang Zhuo said coldly, “I advise you to leave Heng Yue Sect for your own good. If you don’t, you’ll either die or be crippled at the disciple competition at year’s end.” The competition Sun Dazhu had mentioned—a brutal contest where newcomers fought for supremacy and rewards.
“You don’t need to worry,” Wang Lin replied casually. “Why trouble yourself over the life and death of trash like me?”
Wang Zhuo’s eyes flashed with a cold light. “We’re relatives. That’s why I worry. Since you reject my advice, don’t blame me for not holding back in the competition.” The old family resentments surfaced—the stories of Wang Lin’s father scheming for inheritance, the ingrained arrogance that made Wang Zhuo look down on his entire branch of the family.
“You are relatives?” Xu asked, feigning surprise, trying to steer the conversation. Seeing Wang Zhuo’s dark expression, she quickly added, “Brother Wang Zhuo, don’t be angry. He’s too simple to understand your good intentions. You’re a good person. He’ll only realize how kind you were after he’s suffered. My family has such relatives too. Not everyone can be as excellent as you.” Her words, meant to flatter, hung awkwardly in the air, leaving Wang Zhuo unsure if he was being praised or mocked.
Wang Lin couldn’t help but laugh again. “Wang Zhuo, it seems I misunderstood you. You are good to me. I, Wang Lin, will remember this. Thank you.”
Before the tense exchange could continue, the door to the pill house opened. Wang Hao emerged, his face bright but carrying an air of responsibility. He coughed lightly. “The Qi Gathering Pills are still finishing in the furnace. I’ll call you in one by one when they’re ready.”
Wang Zhuo glared but held his tongue. Wang Hao, as the pill helper, held subtle power over their monthly allocations. Wang Hao’s eyes scanned the courtyard and lit up when he saw Wang Lin. He pulled him aside. “Elder Brother Tie Zhu! Congratulations on becoming an inner disciple. I heard everything. I wanted to find you, but this place… well, it’s strict. Don’t listen to the gossip. Once you cultivate some techniques, you can silence all those who look down on you.”
The genuine warmth in Wang Hao’s voice touched Wang Lin. “Wang Hao, thank you.”
Wang Hao sighed, a shadow of guilt crossing his face. “Back at your house… my father gave me a look. He didn’t want me involved. Elder Brother Tie Zhu, please forgive me.”
Wang Lin shook his head. “The past is past. Now, I just want to reach the first layer of Qi Condensation.”
Wang Hao’s eyes darted around. Seizing a moment when the others were distracted, he swiftly pressed something into Wang Lin’s hand and winked. A stern voice called from inside the pill house, “Pill helper! Are you coming back?”
“Coming!” Wang Hao called back and hurried inside.
Wang Lin’s fingers closed around the objects. He glanced discreetly at his palm: three transparent, crystalline pills. Qi Gathering Pills. He secreted them into his bag of holding, a profound gratitude solidifying in his heart. Without a word, he walked away from the gossiping group, found a clean spot on the ground, and sat cross-legged to cultivate, ignoring the disdainful glances from Wang Zhuo and Xu.
Time flowed with the rising moon. Finally, the pill house door opened again. Wang Hao emerged, looking weary, carrying a tray with five low-quality spirit stones and five gleaming Qi Gathering Pills. The disciples collected their portions one by one. Wang Lin was last. He received his stone fragment and his single pill. He met Wang Hao’s eyes and offered a respectful, cupped-fist salute, a silent acknowledgment of the hidden gift. Wang Hao gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Walking back to his remote house under the starlight, Wang Lin clutched his meager monthly allowance. But his mind was not on the spirit stone fragment or the official pill. It was on the treasures waiting for him: the stone bead humming with nine clouds, the gourds filled with congealed spiritual dew, and the three extra Qi Gathering Pills from a true friend. The scorn of Wang Zhuo, the ridicule of the other disciples, even the bitter rejection of Sun Dazhu—they all faded into background noise. He had been chased out, but he was not defeated. He was alone, but he was finally free. Behind his impassive face, a fierce determination burned. The real cultivation, his own secret path forged by the mysterious bead, was just beginning. The quiet house by the east gate would no longer be a place of exile, but the hidden forge where Wang Lin, the renegade, would begin his true ascent.