Eh, what number am I up to now?
When Wen Zhihao woke up, he found that his breathing was still even, qi flowing in and out like the waves on the beach.
Knock knock knock! “Disciple, get up!”
Wen Zhihao startled, his heart rate beating faster with an ingrained reaction to listen to commands.
...Wait, why did he have to listen anyway?
Wen Zhihao got up, placed everything in his spatial storage, and sedately opened the door.
Zhang Wu was an early stage golden core cultivator, dressed in the golden inner disciple robes. His face was dark with annoyance, eyes flicking with distaste over Wen Zhihao’s rumpled appearance. “It’s time for morning sword practice. Don’t delay it for everyone else!”
The thought of swinging a sword and doing exercise made Wen Zhihao feel tired. “What if I want to become a talisman cultivator instead?”
The original owner’s memory vaguely had mention of talisman cultivators, and Wen Zhihao had also read a number of talisman cultivator novels. He could totally do that instead because all he needed to do was sit down and draw! There was a lot less sweat involved, a lot more suited to a programmer like Wen Zhihao.
Zhang Wu’s face went from annoyance to anger. “Stop making excuses! Shidi, get out this minute! Are you looking down on the Sect??”
The qi around Zhang Wu fluctuated like sharp pinpricks.
Wen Zhihao grimaced a little. “Okay, okay, stop yelling.” I’ll indulge you, he thought to himself. While Zhang Wu looked like he was Wen Zhihao’s age, maybe the ancient times made people angrier and more juvenile?
“Good!” Zhang Wu said, even angrier. He turned on his foot and walked quickly. Stomped, really. Wen Zhihao followed him, mildly wondering if Zhang Wu would go into that infamous qi deviation due to his anger. Or maybe it was simply Zhang Wu’s nature, rather than a heart demon.
The outer sect disciples’ sword-practicing field was near the outer parts of the Golden Sun Sect, relatively near the outer tournament arena. The field itself was a large paved square, flanked on the sides with buildings. Dull-yellow robed disciples stood in neat lines, swords in their hands, and many of them looked with unfavourable expressions at Wen Zhihao, which really did not make Wen Zhihao more inclined to all this.
“Get into line!” Zhang Wu said.
Ah, crap. “Eh, Shixiong, I forgot my sword,” Wen Zhihao realised. He forgot to pick it up when he lost that fight during the Intra-Sect competition.
Zhang Wu’s eyes went red with anger. “You forgot your sword? What kind of cultivator are you???”
“...I left it at the arena, I’ll return quickly.”
Zhang Wu’s eye twitched. “Hurry up!”
Respectful of Zhang Wu’s inner peace, Wen Zhihao walked quickly to the arena. There was an inner disciple in charge of things, and when she heard about Wen Zhihao’s forgotten sword, her face took on a distasteful expression.
“Yes, I know exactly where your sword is. You, out of the hundreds of outer sect disciples, was the only one to forget their sword.”
Wen Zhihao gave a sheepish smile. “This junior disciple has bothered you.”
The cultivator passed him back his sword, and he quickly headed back to the training field.
Zhang Wu had already started everyone on the basic forms. With a glare across the field, Wen Zhihao got the message and stood at the back and got into position.
Wen Zhihao: Kids (Zhang Wu) these days are so strung up. Better not stress them out, it'll be bad for their development ╮( ˘_˘ )╭