29. The Mediocre Sect Leader’s Guide to Faking It ‘Til You Make It

I spend the next week observing the sect’s animals with a scrutiny that borders on paranoia. Especially the chickens.

The Gaze endures this with diminishing patience.

The chickens are, disappointingly, just chickens. The goats are goats. The fish are fish. No dormant constitutions. No hidden spirit roots. No future Core Formation guardians hiding in the coop. I finally accept that the chicken was a fluke. A once-in-a-lifetime anomaly. And I ate it. The Gaze offers no comfort.

With the goods distributed and the sect settling into its new prosperity, I sit in my quarters and plan. The candle flickers low, casting dancing shadows across my notes. Outside, the mountain is quiet; the familiar silence of a sleeping sect. But inside my mind, a thousand possibilities swirl.

I set down my brush and stare at the list. Ambitious. Perhaps too ambitious. But with Ling’er, with the tomb’s wealth, with the Gaze, maybe possible.

Maybe.

Night falls. She comes to my quarters as always, slipping through the darkness like a shadow. Her concealment is so perfect now that even I have to focus to sense her. It’s eerie. She doesn’t just hide her cultivation; she hides her existence. Even when she’s not trying, she can grasp the gaps between my senses, slipping through them like water through cracks.

“Master.” She closes the door silently. “I’m ready.”

We train for three hours. She cycles the Five Phases method first, absorbing qi from the environment at a rate that would stagger other cultivators. Even those at my level. The air around her shimmers with elemental colors, all five harmonizing perfectly. Her dantian, already three times larger than normal, expands further with each cycle. Then she practices techniques. Each one refined further than before, new optimizations discovered through the Sacred Cosmic Bone’s endless analysis. The Spiraling Water Saw spins faster. The Flame Sphere’s spikes shoot more precisely. The Dragon Flame Projection lingers longer, almost intelligent. Then we spar. She pushes me harder each time. Not defeating me, not yet, but forcing me to use everything I have. The Frost Manual techniques flow through me, cold and precise. I land hits occasionally. She lands more. The gap between us shrinks with every session. By midnight, she’s exhausted but satisfied. Her eyes are brown again, soft with fatigue. She bows formally.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Thank you, Ling’er. Now rest.”

She slips out into the darkness.

I watch her walk back to the disciples’ quarters, small and strong and full of impossible potential. The days settle into a rhythm; training by sunlight, secrets by moonlight, growth in every moment.

Morning breaks clear and cold, frost glittering on the training yard like scattered diamonds. The disciples gather for practice, their breath misting in the air. They move through their forms with new energy: the cloaks and robes and better food have done wonders for morale. I watch them from my usual spot, and my eyes find Ling’er. She’s performing exactly as I asked; carefully controlled improvement. Not the explosive growth of her secret training, but steady, believable progress. Her forms are slightly better than yesterday. Her stances slightly more precise. Her speed slightly increased.

Fast enough to impress. Not fast enough to arouse suspicion. Mei Lin watches her with approval, nodding at her progress. Wei Chen, usually oblivious, actually pauses to watch her complete a particularly difficult sequence. The younger disciples glance at her with something like admiration.

Good. Just as I planned.

To hide from the greater world is one thing, but the sect should be a place where she can cultivate freely. Where she doesn’t have to pretend to be weak. Where her growth is celebrated, not feared. Soon, perhaps we can ease them into the truth. Not all of it, but enough that they understand she’s special. Enough that her advancement doesn’t shock them. Or at the very least, enough that the disciples don’t get so discouraged that they quit cultivation. A girl reaching Foundation Establishment in months while they’ve struggled for years… that could break them. I need to manage it carefully.

After practice, I gather them.

“We have work to do today. The sect is getting new defenses. Formation flags to protect our perimeter. Everyone will help install them.”

The disciples gather around as I produce the first formation flag from my storage ring; a foot-long stake of pale spirit wood, carved with intricate characters that seem to shift in the light. Twelve in total, each one a small fortune for a minor sect. We walk the boundary of our land, planting them at key points. The main path first, where any visitor would approach. Then the mine entrance, to protect our new source of wealth. The ridge overlooking the valley, watching for approaches from above. The stream that borders our territory, where someone might try to slip in unnoticed.

At each spot, I demonstrate how to plant the flag; firmly in the ground, aligned with the cardinal directions, activated by a slow trickle of qi. The disciples take turns helping, their faces serious with the importance of the task.

Mei Lin works beside me for the final flag. The flag hums, glows briefly, and settles into place. When the last one lights, I feel it. A subtle shift in the air, a sense of watching that wasn’t there before. The entire mountain is now covered, a web of spiritual awareness centered on my quarters.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Anyone who approaches now, we’ll know.” I turn to face the disciples, who are gathered behind me. “Not a wall—we can’t stop determined attackers with this alone. But warning. Sometimes warning is enough.”