The Shadow Organization, Dragon Sect!

Fan Qiuming was not unfamiliar with the term “martial artist.” In his world, some people were born unable to cultivate and enter the immortal path, so they chose the way of martial arts instead.

Martial artists could not manipulate spiritual energy, but with herbs, elixirs, unwavering will, and rigorous training, masters of martial arts could stand undefeated against cultivators below the Nascent Soul stage—though victory was not assured. However, after the Nascent Soul stage, cultivators underwent a qualitative transformation; no matter how strong a martial artist was, they could hardly ever win, unless the cultivator was ignorant and unskilled.

“I’ve heard a little, but not much…” Fan Qiuming recalled that, in today’s world lacking spiritual energy, the rise of martial arts seemed inevitable.

“That’s enough, I won’t explain further. I’ve come here today to recruit you. I officially invite you to join the Dragon Sect, under my title ‘Black Dragon’!”

He stood and handed Fan Qiuming a document. The folder was marked “state secret,” suggesting that this “Dragon Sect” was no ordinary organization.

Fan Qiuming took the file. The first few pages introduced basic information and regulations of the Dragon Sect.

Those who joined the Dragon Sect would gain a second identity, carrying out covert missions nationwide and even worldwide under state orders, unknown to ordinary people.

Members could not use their real names; instead, they would adopt a code name beginning with “Dragon.”

…

Besides, every month there was a fixed salary—fifty thousand yuan, with higher ranks earning more. Surviving a mission meant additional bonuses.

The reason for “surviving” was that most Dragon Sect missions were dangerous; annual fatality rates were high. If someone died, not only would no one know, but they’d be buried in the Dragon Tomb with their code name sealed, awaiting possible reactivation.

If the deceased had living direct relatives, the Dragon Sect would secretly send them monthly stipends. If those relatives joined, the code name could be inherited and reactivated.

Still, Dragon Sect members lived ordinary lives when not on missions—just like everyone else. But when duty called, they had to run to the front lines.

Their identity could never be revealed to outsiders. For the first five years after joining, withdrawal was impossible; after that, it was up to personal choice.

Fan Qiuming finished reading, his gaze resting on the final signature page.

Money—he needed it now. High school tuition was free, but soon both he and his sister would enter university, where expenses would not be insignificant.

Black Dragon saw Fan Qiuming’s hesitation and knew he had a chance. In recent years, fewer people had joined the Dragon Sect—not only due to mission deaths, but also retirement by age.

“Can I have a day to consider?” Fan Qiuming didn’t answer immediately, handing the file back to Black Dragon and glancing at the wall clock.

“It’s already five o’clock. I have to go—I can’t let Qiulin worry.” He spoke and pulled out the needle from the back of his hand.

Unconsciously, Qiulin had become an inseparable part of his heart, occupying a significant place within him.

Though he’d only been with her for two days, if anyone bullied her, Fan Qiuming would make them pay.

“Where are you going?” Black Dragon saw him get out of bed and tried to stop him.

“Don’t block me, or I’ll never join the Dragon Sect.”

Fan Qiuming stared coldly, his eyes seeming to pierce Black Dragon through. The man shuddered under his gaze.

“At one o’clock tomorrow morning, by the willow tree next to the lake in the park—I’ll give you my answer.”

With that, he pressed his hand to his chest and strode out of the hospital room.

“Hiding in darkness, hunting in light, is it?” Fan Qiuming thought silently. He soon returned home; the blood outside had been washed away by rain, and inside, Qiulin was still asleep.

“Good—she’s not awake, I can smooth this over.”

Quickly changing clothes, Fan Qiuming lay at the foot of the bed. As soon as he lay down, a wave of pain swept through him.

Just two days in this world, he’d already been beaten twice, each time worse than the last. He’d never felt so suffocated in his previous life.

He’d barely lain down before Qiulin suddenly woke and called, “Brother, are you okay?”

Seeing him beside her, she paused in confusion.

“That’s impossible! It was so real—it couldn’t have been a dream!”

She was incredulous, and Fan Qiuming pretended to wake.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” he asked, concerned.

“Brother, you didn’t go out?”

“Go out where?” Fan Qiuming feigned ignorance. “I’ve been in bed the whole time—where could I go?”

“But I saw you lying outside, with blood all over your mouth, just like…”

“Maybe it was just a nightmare! And here you curse me to die in your dream… Such a sister shouldn’t stay around for long!” He teased, shaking his head and lying down, intending to sleep again.

She was bewildered—the experience felt so real, yet now it was as if nothing had happened.

“Could it really have been a dream?”

Fan Qiuming would never tell the truth, not today. There were still two subjects left in the college entrance exam; he couldn’t say anything to affect her.

“Then… Brother, could you hold me? I’m afraid I’ll have another nightmare—I can only sleep peacefully with you hugging me…”

Her voice grew softer as she spoke, her cheeks turning red.

“That… I can’t comply. It’s improper for men and women to be so close. Letting you come over was already a big concession—don’t push your luck!” Fan Qiuming refused firmly. The real reason was that his whole body hurt too much; holding her would be torture, even lying down was agony.

Her request showed she’d almost forgotten how Fan Qiuming used to treat her—a classic case of forgetting pain when the wound heals. Such a disposition could get her bullied by scoundrels in the future!

“Then I’ll hug you!” she declared, and wrapped her arms around him. “This works too…”

“Hiss…” Fan Qiuming sucked in a cold breath.

The pain was excruciating…

“Brother? What’s wrong?” Qiulin asked, puzzled.

“N-nothing…”

He couldn’t possibly tell her he was covered in wounds—that last night was real, not a dream.

The pain was unbearable…

Fan Qiuming could only wipe away tears in secret…

When morning came, he finally sent Qiulin off to her exam and headed to the city’s edge for some cultivation time.

“Inhale the world’s spiritual energy, exhale one’s own filth, forge the supreme Dao body, cultivate a divine soul against the heavens.”

Fan Qiuming was practicing breath control—adjusting his body, laying a solid foundation to improve his cultivation faster.

Tempering the body was the most crucial step, the first button in the immortal path. The previous time he’d exploded his body was due to an internal ailment he hadn’t noticed.

This time, he would ensure every step was precise—no mistakes allowed.

His injuries slowly healed under the influence of spiritual power. Though not fully recovered, the pain eased.

Yesterday’s ordeal would have been fatal for any ordinary person.

Regarding Black Dragon’s invitation to join the Dragon Sect, Fan Qiuming considered carefully. He needed money, but if he joined and was away on missions, what if Qiulin faced danger?

“Phew…” Fan Qiuming let out a long breath and stood up, feeling much lighter and less pain.

It was afternoon now. He’d given Qiulin money for lunch, telling her to manage on her own.

She was suspicious but couldn’t refuse—he’d given her five hundred yuan, which was a small fortune to her.

He checked his phone; the final exam was nearly over. The grueling college entrance exam was almost finished.

As the bell rang, the two-day ordeal finally ended. Fan Qiuming waited early at the school gate.

When the gates opened, Qiulin came out in her wheelchair—English was her strong suit, so she’d finished early, leading the crowd.

“Congratulations, Qiulin—you’ve finally finished the college entrance exam.”

Fan Qiuming stepped forward and pushed her away from the exam hall, while Qiulin’s face was full of excitement.

“Brother, which university do you think I should go to? Tsinghua, Peking, or MIT?”

“Thump…” Fan Qiuming knocked her on the head.

“Ouch… That hurts…”

Qiulin held her head.

“Grades aren’t even out yet—don’t dream so much!” Fan Qiuming sighed. “Shenghua isn’t bad, is it? Flourishing China, the name is meaningful!”

“You think everyone’s a freak like you? Shenghua is even harder than Tsinghua. Last year’s top provincial scholar?”

Qiulin put her hands on her hips, puffing with indignation. (How much can a person’s personality change in two days?)

“I didn’t even know I was so amazing!” Qiulin looked at him, her nose almost in the air.

As they passed the cat market in the park, Qiulin glanced around, her eyes settling on a tabby cat.

Fan Qiuming noticed and asked, “Do you like it? If you do, we can buy one to take home.”

But Qiulin shook her head, “No, it’s too much trouble.”

There was a hint of regret in her eyes.

Saying she didn’t like it was impossible; words can lie, but eyes cannot.

“Let’s go then—time for dinner at home.”

Upon hearing this, Fan Qiuming didn’t linger, quickly taking Qiulin home.

Just as they left the park, Fan Qiuming’s face became troubled.

“Um… Sister, I suddenly need to use the restroom. Can you wait here for a moment?”

“Oh, you’re so troublesome. Hurry up, hurry up…”

She waved her hand impatiently, urging him on.

Fan Qiuming turned and ran back into the park, leaving her alone at the entrance.

Time passed, many people walked by, but Qiulin never saw him return.

She began to wonder if he’d fallen in…

“Meow~”

A kitten’s cry sounded behind her. She turned, and Fan Qiuming stood there, holding the kitten’s paws.

“Ta-da… Do you like it?”

He smiled, presenting the kitten.

“Wow! A little cat…”

Instantly, Qiulin’s eyes filled with delight. She took the kitten, hugging it tightly.

“I love it… Thank you, brother!”

She was like a child with a new toy, cradling the kitten, unable to let go.

“As long as you like it…”

Fan Qiuming looked at her, and she gazed at the kitten.

“You’re skinny, small, soft and fluffy—let’s call you Cotton Kitty! Nickname: Little Cotton.”

Qiulin stroked the tabby’s head. Fan Qiuming pushed her along, the scene coming together in a tableau of gentle happiness.

…