Cool mountain air bit at Xiao Tian's skin. A new day, a new, unwelcome challenge. He stood among a dozen eager-faced disciples in the Cloudborne Sect's training courtyard, a sprawling space paved with smooth, grey stone. Around them, ancient pines clawed at the sky, their needles whispering secrets to the wind. This was the 'assessment' Elder Lin had mentioned. Yesterday's accidental herb cultivation still gnawed at him. Such a simple task, meant to blend in, had only drawn more scrutiny. His past life’s betrayals echoed. He had been too trusting, too open, too… strong. Never again. He would be forgettable. Mundane. He would be nothing. Elder Lin, a tall man with an air of quiet authority, cleared his throat. His gaze swept over the assembled youths, lingering for a fraction too long on Xiao Tian. "Today," he began, his voice calm, "we observe your foundational understanding. Basic stances, energy circulation, a simple palm strike. No need for flashy displays. Precision and control are what we seek." Perfect. Precision and control. Xiao Tian internally smirked. He could dial back his power, feign clumsiness, make it look like he struggled with the simplest movements. He’d practiced this form of 'underperformance' extensively in his past life, when he wished to avoid unwanted attention from jealous rivals or manipulative elders. It was an art in itself. First up, the Horse Stance. A fundamental position for stability and generating power. Disciples shifted, some wobbling, others straining to hold form. Xiao Tian observed, planning his minor imperfections. A slight sway, a hint of imbalance, just enough to be unremarkable. He dropped into the stance. His feet rooted instantly, muscles tensing, then relaxing into a state of optimal tension. His back straightened, spine perfectly aligned. His knees bent at precisely the correct angle, thighs burning with controlled energy, not struggle. He felt the subtle hum of the earth beneath his feet, the natural flow of energy through his core. Damn it. He hadn't even meant to do that. Instinct. Years of muscle memory, honed through countless battles and grueling training regimens, simply took over. He tried to introduce a tremor, a slight leaning to one side. But his body, accustomed to absolute perfection, corrected itself almost immediately, a subtle, unconscious micro-adjustment that only made the stance look even more rock-solid. Elder Lin’s eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in intense concentration. A few of the older disciples exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from bored indifference to mild curiosity. Xiao Tian gritted his teeth. This was not going to plan. Next, the ‘Minor Circulation’ technique. This involved guiding a wisp of spiritual energy through specific meridians, a crucial step for any cultivator. Students closed their eyes, some furrowing their brows in concentration, a few fidgeting. Xiao Tian pretended to struggle, letting his breath hitch, his shoulders tense. He focused. He would make his energy sluggish, hesitant, perhaps even allow it to dissipate slightly at a tricky junction. This was easy. He’d navigated entire cosmic storms of raw energy, guided nascent stars to form into cultivation resources. A simple wisp? Child's play. Opening his spiritual senses, he located the small, nascent qi within him. He nudged it, guiding it along the designated path. But his control was too refined. The qi flowed not as a hesitant trickle, but as a perfectly smooth, almost invisible current. It didn't waver. It didn't stumble. It moved with such effortless grace that it seemed to vanish and reappear at the meridian points instantaneously, rather than traverse them. Elder Lin straightened, a low murmur escaping his lips. "Remarkable," he breathed, his voice barely audible. Another elder, a stern-faced woman with a topknot, frowned. "His qi flow is… impossibly clean for a novice." Her voice carried a hint of skepticism, yet also a touch of awe. Xiao Tian internally groaned. *Clean?* He was trying to make it look like he was fumbling! He forced a slight grimace onto his face, pretending to strain. His 'struggle' only seemed to enhance the effect, making it appear as if he was achieving such flawless control through sheer, unimaginable willpower. Finally, the 'Azure Cloud Palm' – a basic offensive technique. Disciples would step forward, gather a small amount of qi, and strike a target dummy. Xiao Tian watched, analyzing the various displays. Some were too weak, others too wild. He needed to be precisely in the middle. Not bad, not great. He stepped up. His stance was naturally balanced. His breath deepened, not in effort, but in preparation. He drew in a sliver of ambient qi, just a whisper. He intended to release it with minimal force, perhaps a slight tremor in his hand, a hint of instability in his qi flow. His palm struck the dummy. There was no explosion of power, no resounding boom. Just a soft *thwack*. The dummy swayed slightly, then settled. It was a perfectly executed strike, minimal force, maximum efficiency. The qi released was precisely enough to disrupt the dummy’s internal structure without tearing it apart. It was the strike of someone who understood impact points, structural weaknesses, and energy transfer at a fundamental level. Elder Lin's jaw dropped. The stern-faced elder gasped. Even the young disciples, initially focused on their own clumsy attempts, now stared with wide, bewildered eyes. The strike had been utterly devoid of flash, yet it possessed a terrifying, understated perfection. It was like watching a master artisan carve wood with effortless precision, where every stroke, no matter how gentle, was absolute. "He… he didn't even use much qi," one disciple stammered. "But the dummy… it looks fine, but it moved like it was hit by something massive." Elder Lin walked over to the dummy, his expression a mixture of profound wonder and barely contained excitement. He ran a hand over its surface, then tapped it. The dummy, seemingly undamaged, suddenly sagged. A hairline crack appeared, spiderwebbing across its chest from the point of impact. It hadn't been hit hard; it had been hit *perfectly*. Xiao Tian's heart sank. This was worse than he imagined. He had tried to be average, and instead, he had demonstrated a level of mastery that made everyone else look like clumsy infants. His perfection in basics was being interpreted as a sign of incredible, latent talent, or even worse, profound insight into the very essence of cultivation. He tried to look sheepish. He tried to look confused. He even managed a nervous chuckle, hoping to convey that he himself didn't understand what had just happened. But his movements were too fluid, his composure too deep-seated. Even his 'nervousness' came across as a charming, humble genius trying to downplay his own astounding ability. "Xiao Tian," Elder Lin said, his voice laced with a tremor of emotion. He turned, his eyes burning with an intensity that made Xiao Tian profoundly uncomfortable. "Your… your understanding of foundational techniques is… unprecedented. It’s as if you grasp the very soul of cultivation itself, without needing brute force or flashy displays." *Soul of cultivation?* Xiao Tian wanted to scream. He just wanted to be forgotten! He wanted to fade into the background, mend his past wounds, and prepare for a future where betrayal wouldn’t be an option. This kind of attention was exactly what he tried to avoid. He bowed his head, attempting to convey humility, but probably only solidifying Elder Lin's impression of a naturally gifted, modest prodigy. He mumbled, "I… I just tried my best, Elder. Perhaps… perhaps it was just a fluke." "A fluke?" The stern elder scoffed, but it was not a scoff of disbelief, but of admiration. "Boy, you performed the Azure Cloud Palm with the economy of motion and internal qi distribution of a Grandmaster! This is no fluke. This is innate genius, honed to a terrifying degree. Where did you learn such things?" Xiao Tian blinked. *Grandmaster?* He had just used a basic technique. A technique he’d learned in his first week of cultivation, millennia ago. He’d held back 99.9% of his actual power. This was a nightmare. He couldn't admit he was an ancient, reborn cultivator. He couldn't explain the 'Jack of all Trades' system that had perfected every skill he touched. He had to deflect. "From… from watching the clouds, Elder," he lied, trying for a whimsical, innocent tone. "And… and the way the wind moves the leaves. I just… copied what felt natural." Silence descended upon the courtyard. The disciples stared, some in open-mouthed awe, others in thinly veiled envy. *Watching the clouds? Copying the wind?* This was not merely talent; this was poetic, almost mystical insight. It was the stuff of legends, the kind of origin story whispered about ancient sages. Elder Lin’s gaze softened, a profound sense of destiny seeming to settle over him. He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound. "Indeed. The Dao is found in nature. To see it so clearly, to embody it so effortlessly… Xiao Tian, you have a gift beyond measure. We would be honored if you formally joined the Cloudborne Sect as a core disciple." *Core disciple!* Xiao Tian’s blood ran cold. This was precisely the outcome he had feared. Core disciples received more resources, yes, but they also attracted more scrutiny, more expectations, more potential for political maneuvering and, ultimately, betrayal. He wanted to be a background character, not a central figure in some sect drama. "Elder," he started, trying to inject a desperate note into his voice. "I am… I am truly grateful, but I don't think I am suited for such a position. My cultivation is still… rudimentary. I fear I would only disappoint you." His words, meant to convey self-doubt, were again misinterpreted. Elder Lin waved a dismissive hand. "Modesty, a rare and commendable quality in one so gifted. Do not worry about disappointing us. Your potential is boundless. We will nurture it. We will guide you to reach heights few have ever seen." Xiao Tian felt a vein throb at his temple. He was trapped. His attempts at being mediocre had only elevated him to prodigy status. He had tried to be a pebble in a stream, and they saw him as a nascent mountain. He tried to think of an excuse, any excuse, to escape this gilded cage of unwanted greatness. He wanted to refuse outright, but that would be suspicious. A direct rejection of such an honor would raise more questions than it answered. He needed to buy time, to plan his next move. Perhaps if he accepted, he could subtly undermine their expectations, prove himself utterly useless in practical tasks, or find a way to slip away unnoticed. "I… I understand, Elder," he finally said, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. "I would be… honored to accept your kind offer." Elder Lin beamed, his face alight with triumph. The other disciples murmured, some respectfully, others with barely concealed jealousy. Xiao Tian felt a crushing weight settle upon his shoulders. He was back in the spotlight, and he hated it. This 'backwater' planet was proving to be far more complicated than he'd anticipated. He watched the sun begin to dip towards the horizon, painting the distant mountains in hues of fiery orange and deep violet. He needed a strategy. A way to escape the inevitable rise to power, the attention, the danger it brought. He needed to find a way to truly hide his strength, to be truly unremarkable. He had to be smarter. He had to be craftier. Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet vibrated. A low, guttural rumble echoed from the distant mountain range, growing in intensity. The air crackled with a raw, untamed energy, raising the hairs on his arms. It wasn't just a tremor. It was a surge of profound, ancient power. A massive, ancient energy surge, far beyond anything Xiao Tian expected on this 'backwater' planet, suddenly erupts from the distant mountains, causing the very air to vibrate with an ominous hum.

Chapter 3: Unwanted Brilliance