When Three Core Disciples Met a “Senior” Who Had Nothing
The footsteps stopped.
Not abruptly, but with deliberate restraint—trained cultivators who knew better than to rush blindly into unknown territory.
Shin Yung felt it instantly. That subtle shift in the air. The kind that came when people stopped walking and started observing.
They noticed me.
Every instinct screamed at him to run. Instead, he remained still. Hands clasped behind his back. Spine straight. Expression indifferent. He stared at the forest ahead as if the three approaching cultivators were no more interesting than the drifting clouds above.
Inside, his thoughts were in complete disarray.
Okay. Okay. Breathe. You’ve read this scene a thousand times. Calm senior. Aloof. Unbothered. People die when they bother him.
People also die when they mess up pretending to be him.
A dry swallow slid down his throat.
The first to step into view was a young man in dark blue robes, tall and broad-shouldered, his aura steady and restrained like a sheathed blade. —Wei Jun. His eyes were sharp, observant, missing nothing.
Behind him came another man, thinner, dressed in gray, with slightly furrowed brows and an ever-present look of caution. —Chen Ming.
And between them—
A woman in light azure robes stepped forward, her presence gentle but unmistakably refined. Her long hair was tied simply, her eyes calm and warm, like still water under moonlight. —Su Yan.
The three stopped several paces away.
No one spoke.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Shin Yung could feel them scanning him—not physically, but through something far more unsettling.
Spiritual sense.
Oh. Right. Cultivators do that.
He almost laughed.
They’re about to find absolutely nothing.
Wei Jun was the first to frown.
Not deeply—just enough for Shin Yung to catch it in his peripheral vision.
That’s bad. Or good? No. Probably bad.
Wei Jun’s spiritual sense extended outward, brushing past Shin Yung like a probing hand.
And found—
Nothing. No cultivation aura. No spiritual fluctuation. No trace of qi. It was as if Shin Yung simply… existed. Like a rock. Or empty air. Wei Jun’s grip tightened slightly at his side.
Impossible.
This place sat directly atop a minor spiritual vein. Even wild beasts here absorbed ambient qi over time.
Yet this man—
Nothing.
Unless…
Wei Jun’s pupils contracted imperceptibly. Unless his cultivation was so profound that it had completely returned to simplicity.
Chen Ming felt it too. Or rather, he felt the absence of anything. Which unsettled him far more.
This is wrong.
Even elders leaked pressure unconsciously. Even hidden experts left behind traces. But this man? Chen Ming’s unease deepened. He couldn’t read him. At all. That alone made this encounter dangerous.
Su Yan tilted her head slightly.
She did not extend her spiritual sense aggressively like the others. Instead, she observed. The man before them looked young—too young, perhaps—but his posture was composed, his breathing steady, his gaze distant.
Not arrogance.
Not fear.
Just… detachment.
As if he were somewhere else entirely.
She felt a faint, inexplicable chill.
Not pressure.
Not killing intent.
But the instinctive feeling one had when standing before something that did not belong to the same scale.
She clasped her hands gently.
“Senior,” Su Yan said softly, her voice calm and respectful, “forgive our intrusion. We did not intend to disturb your cultivation.”
Shin Yung nearly choked.
Senior.
She called me senior.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
Outwardly, he merely turned his gaze slightly toward her.
Slow.
Measured.
Just enough.
“…It is of no consequence,” he said in a low voice.
He had no idea if that was the right phrase.
He just prayed it sounded profound.
Wei Jun’s heart skipped.
The tone. The restraint. The complete lack of emotion.
Definitely a hidden expert.
He clasped his fists and bowed slightly.
“This junior Wei Jun greets Senior. We are disciples of Azure River Sect, passing through on a sect mission. If our presence has offended—”
“It has not,” Shin Yung interrupted calmly.
Inside: Stop talking. Stop before you say something weird. Please.
Wei Jun straightened. The man had interrupted him. Not rudely. But naturally. As if it were expected. Wei Jun’s respect deepened another layer.
Chen Ming hesitated, then spoke carefully.
“Senior… may I ask, were you meditating here earlier? We sensed a fluctuation, but could not determine its source.”
Shin Yung’s mind went blank.
Fluctuation?
He hadn’t done anything.
At all.
Unless—
Oh.
That was probably the system binding.
His face remained expressionless.
“…The Dao stirs where it will,” he replied.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Chen Ming’s scalp tingled.
Wei Jun’s eyes widened slightly.
Su Yan’s lips parted, then closed again.
The Dao stirs where it will.
Such a simple sentence.
Such a terrifying implication.
It meant: I did nothing. The world moved on its own.
Su Yan lowered her gaze slightly, her respect becoming genuine.
“So Senior is… observing the natural flow?”
Shin Yung nodded once.
Inside: Yes. Yes. Observing. Observing everything. Including how close I am to dying.
A light breeze passed through the clearing.
The atmosphere subtly shifted.
Wei Jun felt it.
Chen Ming felt it.
Even Su Yan felt it.
Nothing had changed—
Yet everything had.
It was as if the man before them was not interacting with the world…
But allowing the world to interact with him.
Wei Jun made a quick decision.
“Senior,” he said, voice firm but respectful, “may we know your name? If we encounter danger ahead, we wish to avoid offending—”
“Names,” Shin Yung said, turning his gaze back toward the forest, “are temporary.”
Please don’t push it. Please don’t ask again.
“…You may call me Shin.”
Wei Jun’s heart thumped.
Just Shin.
No title.
No lineage.
No sect.
Hidden experts always did this.
Chen Ming felt sweat gather at his back. A man with no detectable cultivation. Standing atop a spiritual vein. Calmly accepting three core disciples without concern.
If he isn’t a supreme expert… then the world is lying.
Su Yan watched Shin Yung quietly. Not with suspicion. Not with doubt. But with the kind of respectful attentiveness one reserved for elders whose moods could shift the winds.
His hands rested calmly behind his back. Steady. Unmoving. Not even a tremor.
To Su Yan, this was not strange—it was refined.
Cultivators who had walked far on the Dao often shed unnecessary habits. They no longer fidgeted. They no longer displayed excess motion. Everything became intentional.
Or so she believed.
And so, she drew the only conclusion that made sense.
He has long surpassed the stage of conscious control.
Her expression softened slightly, her posture unconsciously becoming more respectful.
“We will not disturb Senior further,” Su Yan said gently. “If you require assistance while within Azure River territory, please do not hesitate to call upon us.”
Shin Yung turned toward her.
Just once.
Slowly.
Their gazes met.
Her breath caught—not in fear, but in instinctive reverence.
The eyes that looked back at her were calm. Too calm.
Not the calm of ignorance.
But the calm of someone who had seen countless things and no longer felt the need to react.
“…Then I will ask,” Shin Yung said.
His voice was even. Unhurried.
As though asking for help was not a favor—but a formality.
Su Yan nodded immediately.
“Of course.”
Wei Jun’s heart skipped a beat. That single nod—from Su Yan, no less—carried weight. If she acknowledged him without hesitation, then there was nothing left to question. Wei Jun clasped his fists and bowed deeper.
“This junior apologizes again for intruding upon Senior’s quiet cultivation.”
Chen Ming followed suit, though his movements were slower, more deliberate.
Not because of doubt— But because he was trying to engrave this encounter into memory.
Someone we must never offend.
As the three turned to leave, Shin Yung remained standing, his posture unchanged. Only when their footsteps began to fade did he release a silent breath—internally.
They’re leaving. They’re leaving. Thank every god that exists in this world.
Several steps away, Wei Jun spoke in a low voice.
“…We should report this.”
Chen Ming nodded.
“There was nothing we could sense.”
Wei Jun’s gaze hardened.
“Exactly.”
Su Yan did not speak immediately.
After a brief pause, she said softly—
“If a senior like that remains within our territory without notice… the sect should be aware.”
The implication was clear.
This was not suspicion.
It was responsibility.
Behind them, Shin Yung waited until the forest fell silent once more.
Only then did his legs finally weaken.
He leaned back slightly against a tree, forcing himself not to collapse.
“…System,” he whispered internally.
- Yes.
“I lived.”
- Confirmed.
“…They believed everything.”
- Assessment: Complete acceptance achieved.
Shin Yung stared up at the sky.
A dry laugh escaped his lips.
“Incredible,” he muttered. “I didn’t even do anything.”
- Correct.
“And yet…”
- In this world, perception precedes power.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then—
Footsteps again.
His heart nearly stopped.
No. No. You’ve got to be kidding me.
He straightened instantly, regaining his earlier posture just as the three cultivators reappeared at the edge of the clearing.
Wei Jun stepped forward.
“Senior,” he said respectfully, “please forgive our presumption.”
Shin Yung turned.
“…Speak.”
Wei Jun inhaled.
“This place lies within the outer territory of Azure River Sect. Given Senior’s… status, allowing you to remain here without proper hospitality would be discourteous.”
Hospitality?
Shin Yung’s mind raced.
They want me gone. Or worse—they want to keep an eye on me.
Wei Jun continued, unaware of the storm in Shin Yung’s head.
“Our Sect Master values harmony with hidden experts. If Senior is willing, we humbly invite you to stay temporarily at Azure River Sect as an honored guest.”
Su Yan added softly, “It would ease unnecessary misunderstandings.”
Shin Yung nearly laughed.
You’re right. It would.
Outwardly, he remained silent.
Long enough.
Too long.
Wei Jun felt his pulse quicken.
Did we offend him?
Chen Ming held his breath.
Su Yan waited calmly.
Finally, Shin Yung spoke.
“…I do not enjoy crowded places.”
Wei Jun immediately bowed.
“Of course. We would arrange a secluded residence.”
“…Nor idle chatter.”
“We will instruct the disciples accordingly.”
“…And I will leave when I wish.”
Wei Jun’s eyes lit up.
“Naturally.”
Shin Yung paused.
Inside, he was screaming.
This is bad. This is very bad. I’m walking straight into a lion’s den.
But refusing now—
Refusing after everything—
Would look strange.
Suspicious.
Unacceptable.
“…Very well,” he said at last.
The reaction was immediate.
Wei Jun’s posture straightened, relief flashing across his face.
Chen Ming exhaled silently.
Su Yan smiled—gently, sincerely.
“Thank you, Senior.”
Shin Yung turned away once more.
“…Lead the way.”
As they began walking together, Shin Yung felt the weight of the moment settle upon him.
He had not planned this.
He had not wanted this.
Yet somehow—
Without cultivation.
Without power.
Without intention.
He had just agreed to enter a major cultivation sect.
Not as a disciple.
Not as a guest.
But as something far more dangerous.
A myth.
And myths, he knew—
Had a terrible habit of demanding proof.
