"Cores?" the deacon asked, sounding bored again.

Ji’an placed her bag on the table.

"Zero."

The deacon blinked. "Zero?"

"I was the logistics support," Ji’an pointed at Wangchen. "He did the killing. I did the cooking and the cheering. It was a very vital role."

The crowd laughed. Some sneered. "That guy is like a leech."

"Useless Young Master."

"Riding his servant’s coattails."

Wangchen, standing on the high dais, stepped forward, his hand going to his sword. He was ready to jump down and slaughter anyone laughing.

Ji’an shot him a glare. ’Stay. Put.’

"Zero cores," the deacon sneered. "Touching the Orb is a formality, but go ahead. Don’t expect much."

Ji’an walked up to the cracked Orb.

"Hey, buddy," she whispered to the crystal. "Let’s keep this low profile, okay? Just give me a passing grade. Wood, Fire, Water... something generic."

She touched it.

The Yin-Yang Void Locket in her chest hummed. It sensed the probe from the Orb. The artifact’s primary function was to mask and deceive.

Ping!

The Orb glowed with a soft, muddy, chaotic light. Brown, Green, Red, Blue, Gold... all colors mixed in a swirling mess.

"Five Element Chaotic Root," the deacon announced, shaking his head. "The worst aptitude. Jack of all trades, master of none. Your cultivation speed will be slower than a turtle."

The crowd lost interest immediately. A trash root with zero cores.

"However," the deacon frowned. "The purity... is oddly high. It’s a... Perfect Chaotic Root?"

He had never seen such a clean version of a trash root.

"Whatever. Outer Sect. Kitchen Duty," the deacon stamped her paper. "Next!"

Ji’an pumped her fist. "Yes! Kitchen Duty! Access to the pantry!"

She grabbed her stamped paper and turned to leave, looking happier about being a servant than Wangchen did about being a genius.

From the high dais, Qin Changxu watched her. His charmingly beautiful eyes narrowed.

"A Perfect Chaotic Root?" he murmured to himself. "That boy... is not simple."

He glanced at his new disciple, Wangchen, who was staring at the "trash" Lin Ji’an with eyes full of adoration.

"Ah," Qin Changxu sighed. "So that is the tether. My new disciple is in love with a variable."

The ceremony ended soon after that.

The Direct Disciples were to be led to the Inner Peaks. The Outer Disciples were to be herded to the barracks.

Wangchen stood at the edge of the dais, panic rising in his chest. He was being separated.

"Master," Wangchen turned to Qin Changxu. "I cannot go. My Young Master..."

"Your Young Master is going to peel potatoes for the next six months," Elder Qin said dryly. "And you are going to the Eternal Ice Cave to stabilize your foundation."

"No," Wangchen said, turning to jump off the platform.

Qin Changxu flicked his finger. An invisible wall of air froze Wangchen in place.

"If you go to him now, you will just put a target on his back," Qin Changxu whispered, his voice projected only to Wangchen’s ears. "Look at those other disciples. They are already curious about him. If the ’Ice Genius’ clings to a ’Trash Disciple,’ do you think they will let him live peacefully?"

Wangchen stopped struggling.

"If you want to protect him," Elder Qin said, "get strong enough to make the rules. Right now? You are just a talented ant. Go to the cave and train hard, don’t slack off. In three months, the Sect Tournament begins. You can claim him to the inner sect then, with special permissions."

Wangchen looked down into the crowd.

Ji’an was waving at him. She was mouthing: ’Go, Go! Eat well and train well! Don’t freeze to death!’

She didn’t look sad, but she looked relieved.

Wangchen clenched his fists until blood drew.

"Young Master, just wait for me for three months," Wangchen swore. "I will master the ice in three months. And then... no one will separate us again."

He turned and followed his Master, leaving his heart behind in the Outer Sect kitchens.

The massive, iron-bound doors of the Outer Sect’s "Hall of Sustenance" slammed shut behind Lin Ji’an, sealing her fate, or so the deacon who dropped her off thought.

"Kitchen duty," the deacon had sneered, handing her a token made of cheap, splintered wood. "The sect provides Fasting Pills to all disciples.

The kitchen is only for the lowest laborers and those too untalented to digest Qi. Don’t cause trouble. Don’t expect resources. And for heaven’s sake, don’t burn the mountain down."

Ji’an stood alone in the hallway, holding the token.

"Separate from the Villain?" she mused, tapping the token against her chin. "In a normal story, this is where the misunderstanding arc begins. He gets lonely, he gets bullied, he assumes I abandoned him, and boom, Blackening Value hits 200%, and he freezes the world."

She shook her head. "Not on my watch. Distance is just a physical concept. Emotional manipulation... ah, emotional support... transcends geography."

She knew Wangchen. If she went silent for three months, he wouldn’t just train; he would ruminate.

He would convince himself she was disgusted by his confession or that she had found a new "pet."

"I have to maintain presence," she decided. "I need to infiltrate the supply lines. I need to make sure that even in the Eternal Ice Cave, he’s eating my food. But first..."

She turned to face the double doors leading into the kitchen proper.

"...I need to conquer my new kingdom."

Ji’an pushed the doors open.

Originally, since it was a renowned sect, she expected a grandiose kitchen. Insteas, what she found seemed to be more like a crime scene.

The "Hall of Sustenance" was massive, boasting high ceilings and rows of giant stone woks that looked like they hadn’t been fired up since the founding of the sect.

The air was thick, heavy, and smelled distinctly of rancid oil, wet dog, and despair.

Dust motes danced in the few shafts of light piercing the grime-crusted windows. A fly, the size of a thumb, buzzed lazily past her ear.