I Level Up By Making Enemies

The medical hall released Lin Feng by evening with a list of instructions he had no intention of obeying completely.No intense circulation for three days. No combat and no stupid experiments with qi routes while the meridians were still inflamed.

Lin Feng sat on his cot, back against the wall, outer robe left open over the bound ribs. The pain had settled into a deep, steady pulse. Manageable, if he did not insult it.

During the He Yuan match, he had only noticed the waste at the end. Now, in the quiet of the dormitory, it was impossible to ignore. Every time he reinforced a limb out of habit, a portion of qi scattered. Every time he rushed the circulation to chase strength, the route grew hotter and less efficient.

Lu Cang poured warm water into a cup and held it out with both hands.

”Drink slowly. If you spill it on the bandage, the medical hall will blame me.”

Lin Feng took the cup. ”You’re very committed for a roommate.”

Lu Cang just grunted in reply. For a while there was only the sound of water, distant footsteps in the corridor, and the occasional shout from disciples still arguing about rankings somewhere outside. The assessment had ended, but the outer sect had not finished digesting it.

Lin Feng circulated a thin thread of qi through his right arm, carefully this time. Not to strengthen it. Just to map where it resisted. The inflamed meridians answered with dull protest.

”I used it badly,” he said.

Lu Cang blinked. ”Used what?”

”Qi. In the matches. I pushed whenever I felt pressure. Forced reinforcement through damaged routes. Spent more than the action needed.” He turned his wrist slightly and watched the faint internal current adjust. ”It works when the opponent collapses early. Against someone steady, it becomes self injury with extra steps.”

Lu Cang stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

”Should I call the medical hall back?”

Lin Feng rested the cup against his knee. ”There’s a difference between extracting value and setting fire to the inventory.”

Lu Cang sat down on his own bed, hands tucked between his knees. For once, he did not immediately fill the silence with panic. The dim oil lamp made his face look younger and more worn at the same time.

”Most outer disciples never think about efficiency,” he said after a moment. ”They just push harder and hope the body keeps up. The ones with good teachers learn routing early. The rest of us learn it when something tears.”

”Which group are you?” Lin Feng asked.

”The group that hopes nothing tears.”

Lin Feng huffed a short breath that almost became a laugh, then stopped when his ribs objected. He studied Lu Cang over the rim of the cup.

In the middle of all the assessment noise, it was easy to treat Lu Cang as permanent background, the trembling roommate, the walking caution sign, the boy who packed his bag every time the wind changed. But he was still here. Still in the Flowing Wind Sect. Still holding a token and sleeping in Block C like everyone else who had clawed through the entry threshold.

”Why are you even here?” Lin Feng asked.

Lu Cang looked up, startled. ”In this room?”

”In the sect.”

The question landed more heavily than Lin Feng had expected. Lu Cang’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again with less readiness than usual.

”That’s sudden.”

”I’ve watched you try to leave half a dozen times,” Lin Feng said. ”You hate conflict. You hate attention. You nearly ascend from fear every time someone shouts in the corridor. So why enter a place built out of all three?”

Lu Cang’s fingers tightened in the blanket.

For a moment, Lin Feng thought he would dodge with a joke. Instead, Lu Cang’s shoulders lowered by a fraction, as if a hidden brace had been removed.

”My family sent me.”

Lin Feng waited.

”They’re not cultivators,” Lu Cang continued, eyes fixed on the floorboards. ”Not really. My father manages accounts for a merchant house in the lower city. They’re ordinary people who got one chance to push a child through the sect’s outer selection when a visiting deacon tested roots in our district.”

”And your root was enough.”

”Barely.” Lu Cang’s mouth twisted. ”Low grade. Stable enough to enter, not special enough to matter. But to them, it was already a miracle. One recommendation letter, one escort fee, one set of robes, and suddenly the family had a cultivator son in the Flowing Wind Sect.”

He picked at a loose thread on the blanket.

”They borrowed to send me. Not from one place. From three. The kind of debts that sound polite in the first month and less polite after the first year. Every letter from home asks if I’ve been chosen for better tasks, if I’ve been noticed by a teacher, if I’m close to becoming an inner disciple. They don’t understand rankings or observation status. They understand status and repayment.”

Lin Feng’s gaze lowered slightly. So that was the shape under the fear. Lu Cang was not trembling only because the outer sect was dangerous. He was trembling because failure here was not private. It traveled downhill to people who had already paid more than they could afford for the hope of him.

”That’s why you pack your bag,” Lin Feng said. ”Not because you can actually leave.”

Lu Cang let out a weak, humorless sound. ”Where would I go? Home, with no progress and the debts still waiting? Or stay here and keep surviving one day longer than expected? Both options are bad.”

The oil lamp cracked softly as the wick shifted.

Lin Feng leaned his head back against the wall and let that information settle beside the earlier thoughts about qi routes and wasted force. Different kinds of inefficiency. Different kinds of pressure. In the sect, some people fought for face. Some fought for resources. Some, like Lu Cang, endured simply because a family below the mountain needed the story of endurance to remain intact.

”You’re still a terrible roommate,” Lin Feng said.

Lu Cang looked personally betrayed. ”That’s your response?”

”But less mysterious.” Lin Feng closed his eyes briefly. ”Family debt explains the constant readiness to faint.”

”I hate that this somehow makes sense to you.”

”It does. Pressure is pressure.” Lin Feng opened his eyes again and redirected a thinner stream of qi through the sore meridians, slower than before. ”The mistake is spending everything at once because the debt feels loud.”

Lu Cang watched the faint concentration on his face. ”You’re really taking cultivation seriously now?”

”Maybe” Lin Feng said.

Before Lu Cang could reply hard series of knocks struck their door. Lu Cang sprang up so fast he nearly kicked the water jug.

”If that’s Enforcement, I was never here.”

”You live here,” Lin Feng said, rising more carefully. Pain flared, then settled into its assigned place. He crossed the room and opened the door.

An outer sect runner stood outside with a rolled notice board slip and the blank expression of repeated deliveries. He looked at the room number, then at Lin Feng.

”Lin Feng, Block C. Official notice from the Assessment Board. Recommendation list for Inner Sect review has been posted. Names in range are required to attend tomorrow’s morning assembly at the Outer Reception Hall.”

He handed over the slip and left without waiting for gratitude. L in Feng unrolled it under the lamp.

The paper was plain, the calligraphy severe. Several names filled the recommendation list in ordered lines. Gao Ren’s was there near the top. A few strong assessment survivors followed. Further down, close enough to count and far enough to remain controversial, was his own.

Lin Feng — pending Inner Sect review.

Lin Feng rolled the slip closed with one hand.

He returned to the cot, sat down, and felt the bound ribs shift with a hard, instructive ache.

Lin Feng glanced once at his roommate, family debts on his back, too scared to be a cultivator, still stubbornly present then at the notice slip on the blanket.

He lay back against the wall and guided another slow current of qi through damaged routes, patient enough this time to feel where it leaked.

If the Inner Sect wanted to review him, they could.He would recover.Then he would find out how much denser the pride became on the other side of the gate.