“Struggling, Junior Brother Xue Dejiu? I can exchange teachings.” The pompous Xue Fan came up to him with the others in tow. “It’s been years since you’ve joined us in training. Have you forgotten your Seniors? We deserve a small greeting, Junior Brother.”

  Dejiu was still seated in the lotus position. He opened his eyes and looked up. If there was one word to describe Xue fan, it was sharp. Eyebrows sharp as swords hovered above slits for eyes. A pointy nose and a sternly proud smile. Truly the model face of his generation.

  Memories from long ago stirred.

  In each of those memories, the other monks looked so big. Tall. Both literally and in his head. But now it didn’t seem that way so much anymore. Then again, no matter how far from reach they seemed even back then, Dejiu never let that stop him from trying to catch up. No, even more than that. He wanted to surpass them. That's the entire reason why he chipped away at the gap for seven years no matter how slow he did so.

  “It’s because you know the fragility of life. Of people. Once your fists have been soaked in the blood of those cultivators—”

  “Enough. I don’t want to hear it.” Dejiu muttered before his face blanched. Oh shit. I said that out loud.

  Xue Fan narrowed his eyes but still showed the same mawkish smile. “Has conquering a Pillarshard turned your head inside out, Junior Brother?

  “Ah! Forgive me, Senior Brother,” Dejiu said, inclining his head just enough to feign humility. “Sorry, it appears so, haha!”

  “Brother Xue Fan, it's only natural for our Junior Brother’s mind to be a little…off after his display. Tsk. Unbecoming of a monk of our temple.” Xue Li said from behind with a pointed nose.

  Damned bootlicker.

  What Xue Li said earned quite a chorus of agreeing hums from fellow bootlickers.

  Infuriating as it was, Dejiu couldn’t really say anything back. He thought it was a regrettable decision, but a past one nonetheless. Nothing he could do about it now.

  “Tell us, Junior Brother,” Xue Fan interjected. “What exactly went through your mind as you stood against the Pillarshard? It’s difficult to figure out why you were there in the first place. Perhaps you lost your head entirely?”

  Dejiu opened his mouth to speak, but Bing Xin beat him to it. Her voice slithered into his thoughts, her tone dripping with disdain. She laughed, low and cruel. “Look at this buffoon, Xue Fan. His position as the strongest in his generation lures everyone else into the temple’s illusions of merit. And yet, what has he truly gained? This is why I cannot understand humans. Why you must bite into such empty promises of glory and honor.”

  “Whether it comes to a clan, family, or sect, all gatherings of people are like this, little monk. The hierarchy is established. The path to promotion is vivid, but the path is almost endless. It plays into your nature to chase for more. Your temple is no exception.”

  Dejiu played meek. “I believe I had my head struck too many times in the Seventh Hell, Senior Brother. I think that's why I can’t get this cultivation method to work for me!” He brought a hand to scratch his bald head awkwardly.

  That earned him some snickers.

  “Ah, but for you to reach the Advanced Stage? What treasures did you stumble upon in Hell?” Xue Fan asked with a curious expression.

  Dejiu couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. I mean, it was a valid question. If Dejiu was Xue Fan or anyone else for that matter, he too would ask that. Actually, he was pretty sure Jiansu wanted to ask something like that the first they reunited again outside the entrance to the Seventh Hell.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Hesitantly, he answered semi-honestly. “I-uh, used some pills and stuff. Hell Shards too. I killed a lot of daimons so—”

  “Really? I thought you swiped them off those corpses after you killed them.” Xue Li said from behind.

  “...” Dejiu’s face twitched. Bing Xin roared with laughter inside him. Hell, even Xue Fan looked a little winded from his bootlicker’s comment.

  “Would you really be beyond that? You unscrupulous monk.” Bing Xin cackled and asked.

  Honestly, he kind of forgot to. It completely crossed his mind to scavenge from their rich scion robes. Maybe if he knew there was something certain to gain or something extraordinary. But killing them all alone had a bad taste. But before he could contemplate his bottom line, Xue Fan spoke.

  “Speak up, Junior Brother. I fear our elders didn’t investigate that enough, well, at least my teacher hadn’t. He was one of the ones who delved below to recover those bodies for the Feng Clan’s emissary. Did you pillage those bodies? Your reluctance to speak is not so befitting the veracity our temple teaches.”

  Dejiu frowned. “Senior Brother, you mustn't speak of things you haven’t understood entirely yoursel—”

  “But it's a fact you killed them, no? You, a monk, killed them in cold blood. Do you not understand how baffling it is that our elders spared you? Not only from severe punishment but also from the reaches of the Feng Clan? To think you spent a mere thirteen or so days inside the Hundred Penance Gaol. Tsk, tsk.” Xue Fan rambled harshly. That same upstanding and lofty tone.

  “I defended myself.” Was all Dejiu replied. “I’ve already served my punishment — no matter how you and the rest of you all think of it. It’s also a fact that the Arhats have settled the matter.”

  Xue Fan’s lips curled into a mocking smirk. “Oh, is that how you justify it, Junior Brother? ‘The Arhats have settled it,’ you say? You sound almost proud — proud of the elders' mercy, not of your own deeds.”

  Dejiu’s fists clenched, but he refused to rise to the bait. “What happened beneath the Pillarshard was survival. I will not apologize for staying alive.”

  “Survival?” Xue Fan’s voice grew louder, his tone theatrical. The air around Dejiu turned cold. “You poisoned them! A monk, stooping to a rogue’s tactics, using treachery to bring down cultivators battling a guardian! And let’s not forget the methodical slaughter that followed. Do you call that survival?”

  How the hell does the story even twist that much!? Is he really saying I ambushed those Feng Clan cultivators while they fought the guardian!?

  More junior monks began glancing toward the commotion. Dejiu’s eyes caught Senior Monk Liang in the distance, calmly instructing another monk, making no move to intervene despite the growing tension on the other end of the hall.

  Dejiu met his gaze, his voice cold. “You weren’t there, Senior Brother. Those cultivators wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me if given the chance.”

  “Perhaps,” Xue Fan jabbed a finger toward him. “But tell me this; when you cut them down, did you hesitate? Did you stop to think that those you were killing had homes, families, aspirations of their own? You call it survival, but I wonder if it wasn’t just ambition cloaked in necessity. Your track record isn’t so helpful. Attempting to steal our temple’s stash of Hell Shards, getting kicked out from this very training hall—”

  “You’re a little too harsh, Senior Brother. Especially for one that hasn’t even descended the mountain, let alone the Hells.” Dejiu muttered.

  “Better than dirtying this temple’s reputation. With people like you, the Shenguo Kingdom beyond these mountains will see us not as ascetics, but as killers. You know, back then you used to be better. Obnoxiously stubborn, but still better. You can’t even see the wrong in your ways. It shames me to be of the same generation as one such as you. It also shames me to not have educated a poor junior in both cultivation and age properly.” Xue Fan chided.

  Xue Fan kept going and going. Dejiu sat there and took it all in. More memories stirred, regardless of whether he wanted them to or not. He’s still immature. The moment Xue Fan’s pompous face came this close he should’ve known his emotions would be agitated. He just couldn’t help it. His prana cycled a smidge faster. It collected densely into his only palm. The load of this guy! Obnoxiously stubborn? Stubborn!? Everyone else is stubborn in holding me back! Fucker, what if I Withering Palm you right no—

  “That would be ill-advised, little monk. He wasn’t lying. You’re still below him in cultivation. It would be ill-advised to turn to violence.” Bing Xin whispered.

  His face twitched. Dejiu exhaled grumpily and dispersed the prana from his left palm.

  Not today it seems. Not today…