006 The Gathering Storm

  Gu Jie dropped to one knee so suddenly I almost thought she had colpsed. But no—her posture was deliberate, her hands ched into fists, and her eyes burned with determination.

  “Please allow me to bee your follower!” she decred, voice quiveri resolute. “Though I may be unworthy, I am willing to die for you!”

  I frowned.

  Not this shit again.

  NPCs? They were easy to dissuade.

  People? Not so much.

  I looked down at her. “Your life is your own.” My tone was ft but firm. “While you’re free to do whatever you like with it, I have no need for servants.”

  With that, I turned around, ready to leave.

  But then—

  Something tched onto my leg.

  I stopped mid-step and looked down.

  Gu Jie was ging to my leg.

  I slowly raised an eyebrow. She flinched under my gaze, but she still wouldn’t let go.

  What’s your problem, woman?

  If this was some xianxia bullshit again—a forced sario desigo foist a woman onto me—then screw the heavens.

  …That being said, I couldn’t deny that having a sidekick would be useful.

  I was too uninformed. My knowledge of xianxia cultivation was stu vague tropes that I barely remembered. I cked the on sense of this world, and blindly applyih’s on sense would probably get me killed.

  Hmmm…

  Logically, having someone from this wuide me would be beneficial. And morally? My sce would be even if I tried this.

  Rehabilitating a bandit sounded like a just cause I could get behind.

  Might as well give it a try.

  I looked at Gu Jie again. “Fine. If you’re willing to bey follower, I won’t stop you.”

  Her grip on my leg tightened. “I am! I swear it, Senior!”

  I crossed my arms. “There will be a test.”

  Gu Jie blinked. “A… test?”

  I reached under my sleeve arieved a handful of gold s.

  Ba Lost Legends Online, currency did iem Box—it was stored in a separate currency panel. But now? It seemed all my funds had merged into the Item Box.

  Gu Jie stared at the gold in shock.

  I flipped a few s in my palm before tossing them to her. She caught them with trembling hands, her expression shifting from awe to fusion.

  “Your test is simple,” I said. “Exge that gold into the local currend meet me back here at dusk.”

  Gu Jie took one of the gold s and bit down on it.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Cssic move.

  She hummed thoughtfully, turning the over in her fingers, iing every detail with a ptive look.

  "Senior, this is too valuable," she finally said, her voice ced with disbelief. "Judging by the carving, this would have historical value too."

  Without hesitation, she picked out only three gold pieces aurhe rest to me, as if holding any more would be a crime.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? But what if I require you to exge all of the gold I have?"

  Gu Jie immediately tensed. She looked down at the s, then back at me, her brow furrowed ihought.

  "This is definitely a trick question," she muttered under her breath. Then, as if testing something, she eled a small amount of cultivation energy into her jaw and bit down on the again.

  Nothing. The gold didn't bend, didn't crack.

  Her eyes widened. "I tried to use my cultivation to chew on the gold, but it wouldn’t break. This is definitely a special kind of gold! If I tried to sell a bunch of this gold, it could be the death of me! Of course, that would only be merely an invenieo you, Senior."

  Of course, it ecial gold.

  Acc to the game's lore, Lost Legends Online's gold s weren't just regur currency. They were made from a unique golden alloy—a blend of mythril, steel, and bck gold. In-game, this alloy gave the s a near-iructible quality while also ensuring their value remaiable in the ey.

  Gu Jie ched her fist around the s, her eyes shining with newfouermination.

  "I swear I shall aplish this task and pass your test, Senior!"

  Without another word, she spun on her heel and bolted out of the alleyway, disappearing into the bustling streets.

  I blinked.

  Well. That was fast.

  I hadn't even aowledged her as my follower yet, and she was already proving her worth.

  This might turn out to be iing.

  I exhaled and stretched, rolling my shoulders as I took in my surroundings. Now that the matter with Gu Jie was settled—at least for the moment—I had time to kill.

  The streets were alive with festival energy. Colorful nterns hung from wooden stalls, illuminating the marketpce with a warm glow. The air was filled with the st of sizzling skewers, steamed buns, and spiced wine. Performers dahrough the streets, their silk sleeves billowing like waves as they twirled to the rhythm of drums and flutes.

  It was… a lot.

  I wasn’t used to crowds. In Lost Legends Online, I had avoided major city hubs when possible. Too many people meant too muoise, too much attention, and too many opportuo get dragged into some questline I wanted no part of.

  But here?

  I didn’t have the luxury of a minimap, an au house menu, or a ve fast travel system. If I wao survive in this world, I had to live in it, not just treat it like aname.

  And the more time I spent in this world, the more I adjusted to its quirks—some more bizarre than others.

  One of the stra was the nguage system.

  I shouldn’t have been able to uand or speak this world’s nguage, yet it came naturally. The words flowed from my toh ease, the grammar aligned with my thoughts, and the scripts on signs, scrolls, and banners all made perfect sense.

  At first, I thought it was some kind of automatic transtion—a perk of transmigration, perhaps. But after paying closer attention, I realized something odd. While I uood everything, I still had to sciously think about certain idioms and phrases that locals used. It was like my brain had absorbed the linguistic structure, but the cultural nuances required active learning.

  I suspected my Sub-css: Linguist had something to do with it.

  Sub-csses in Lost Legends Online were primarily trade professions. They weren’t about direbat or fshy abilities but instead provided long-term bes that supplemented a pyer’s main css. A Bcksmith could craft ons, a Tailor could weave ented garments, and a Chef could prepare food with buffs. These were practical, utility-driven choices designed for pyers who wao i in the game's ey or provide unique advao their parties.

  My sub-css, Linguist, was categorized under historian-type professions, but that didn’t mean I was a Loremaster or an actual historian. People teo assume that because my game character had a deep uanding of nguages, I must also be some kind of schor or a well-read sage who could recall the names of fotten emperors and the dates of a battles. That wasn’t how it worked.

  Linguists had an innate grasp of nguages—spoken, written, and even lost ones from fotten civilizations. I could read history, but I wasn’t automatically an expert on it. I could transte old texts, but that didn’t mean I uood the cultural text behind them unless I studied. At best, I was like a high-speed transtion device with a slight buff to articution.

  I hadn’t thought much about it before, but sidering how quickly I ting to this world’s nguage, it made sense.

  I wasn’t sure if this was due to Linguist alone or if my intelligeat pyed a role. While it was one of my lowest attributes, it was still leagues above what a normal human should have. A superhuman memory meant I ig up the finer details of this nguage faster than an ordinary person would.

  Still, being able to fluently speak a nguage I had udied my entire life was... disorienting.

  I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. Dwelling on it wouldn’t ge anything. The important part was that I could unicate effortlessly. Whether it was a blessing from transmigration or a hidden effey Sub-css, I’d take full advantage of it.

  As I walked, the festival’s noise and warmth gradually gave way to something else—an undercurrent of tension. The ughter and merriment still filled the air, but there was a shift imosphere. A buzz of specution. A hushed excitement.

  I followed the murmurs and curious gazes toward a familiar path, my feet carryioward the abandoned park where I had experimented with my stats the night before.

  Only—it wasn’t abandoned anymore.

  The open field was now a gathering point, a nding zone for the powerful.

  The city was abuzz with excitement as more cultivators began to arrive.

  They came in waves, desding from the skies on flying swords, golden chariots, floating leaves, and drifting clouds. Some rode upon giant es or spirit beasts, their figures ed in flowing robes embroidered with sesignias.

  Crowds gathered around the perimeter, keeping a respectful distahe people of Yellon City uood that this was a momentous occasion. Whenever powerful cultivators arrived, it was best not to get in their way.

  Yellon soldiers formed a defensive perimeter, their armleaming uhe m light. They stood tall, spears at the ready, their presensuring that no reckless onlookers disturbed the arrivals.

  At the ter of the weling party was Enforcer Liang Na.

  Dressed in her official uniform, she greeted the ini members with a posed demeanor. U night, where she had been desding toward me, she now spoke with measured respect. After all, these weren’t just ordinary travelers.

  These were the big three sects of the region.

  I stood among the spectators, blending into the crowd as best as I could. Around me, oners, free warriors, and indepe cultivators whispered in hushed toheir voices brimming with curiosity and specution.

  “That’s the ist Sect’s crest! I hought I’d see them in person!”

  “Look at their robes! So pristine, so elegant… they must be carrying artifacts worth a fortune.”

  Huh? I thought they were already here.. like yesterday if the rumors were to be believed?

  The ist Sect was known for their profound mastery of illusion and mist teiques. Their members moved gracefully, their steps barely making a sound as they disembarked from a silver cloud. Their leader, an elderly man with a long white beard, exged a few words with Liang Na before being escorted further into the city.

  Nearby, a pair of free warriors watched with crossed arms, analyzing the arrivals with sharp eyes.

  “Hmph. I’d reize that sword anywhere. That’s from the Sword opy Sect.”

  “So they sent their elites this time. Those aren’t outer disciples—they must be inner sect members at the very least.”

  The Sword opy Sect was famous for their sword formations and unparalleled swordpy. Their cultivators carried themselves with unyielding discipliheir swords humming faintly with restrained power. They rode in on floating bdes, their postures firm, their expressions sharp. Uhe ist Sect, they didn’t bother with pleasantries.

  Finally, the st group his time, even the onlookers took a step back.

  “Isotion Path Sect… damn. I hought they’d show up here.”

  “Don’t make eye tact. They’re ruthless.”

  The Isotion Path Sect. Uhe other two, who had an air of dignity or refi, these cultivators exuded an eerie, uling aura. Their robes were a deep midnight bck, embroidered with sigils that seemed to shift unnaturally. They arrived on dark clouds, their presence chilling the air around them.

  Where the ist Sect moved like schors and the Sword opy Sect like warriors, the Isotion Path Sect members moved like shadows. Silent. Cold. Unreadable.

  One of their disciples turned his head slightly in my dire, and for a brief sed, I could feel something probe at my presence. A spiritual sense?

  I immediately masked my energy—or rather, let my “ck” of qi make me seem utterly insignifit.

  The disciple narrowed his eyes before turning away.

  That was close.

  While the sects atention, they weren’t the only ones making arance.

  A stir rippled through the crowd as another wave of arrivals desded—not on flying artifacts, but atop grand carriages pulled by rare spirit beasts. These were members.

  They were the heirs of the Seven Grand s.

  The air grew tense as these youes stepped onto the se, eae radiating fidend noble bearing. Unlike sect disciples, who dedicated themselves to cultivation above all else, heirs were raised to lead. They were not just warriors but future rulers, strategists, and political pyers.

  The first to nd was a tall young man with sharp features, dark blue robes embroidered with a road stretg into the horizon.

  A hushed whisper spread through the crowd.

  "That’s Young Master Lu Gao of the Lu !”

  The Lu was famed for their philosophy:"The road is endless, and so is our ambition."

  They were merts, diplomats, and warriors alike, expanding their influence across the ti with both wealth and martial prowess. To many, they were a of querors—always moving forward, never looking back.

  Or at least that was what the stories said.

  Lu Gao himself carried that presence. He moved like a man who had never once hesitated in his life. His steps were firm, his eyes calg, sing the crowd as if already deg orth his time.

  A few oners lowered their heads, as if afraid to draw his gaze.

  He did not travel alone.

  Behind him, members of the Lu followed—eae a cultivator, eae a warrior dressed in shades of deep blue and gold. They walked in unison, their discipline resembling a trained army rather than aended family.

  “They say the Lu ever settles. They build roads wherever they go, and through those roads, they cim the nd itself.”

  “A that expands without stopping... terrifying.”

  As I observed Lu Gao, I frowned slightly.

  He wasn’t just strong—he was dangerous. Not because of his cultivation level, but because of how he carried himself.

  The fidehe ck of hesitation, the air of someone who was used to winning.

  I had met people like him before—people who never lost. And the thing about those kinds of people?

  They never sidered the possibility of losing.

  That was the most dangerous kind of person to go up against.

  Especially in a xianxia setting, because if you beat them too badly, they might call their fathers, grandfathers, aually their aors just to get a rise of the person who beat them up.

  Annoying.