Behind him trailed eight thin, fearful youths.
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The ferocious youth, seeing Xanander half-sitting on the bed, sneered, "Awake? Excellent! I have a task for thee!"
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Memories related to this individual surged in Xanander's mind. This person's name was Thoran Ragnarr, also an outer disciple.
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He, like his predecessor, hailed from Greenhill City and joined the Green Zenith Sect. While his predecessor, once the top outer disciple, Thoran had been respectful and obedient, almost like his most loyal subordinate.
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However, now that Xanander had fallen from grace, Thoran's true nature surfaced. He swiftly depleted the spirit stones Xanander had accumulated, commandeering resources through covert means.
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Xanander inspected the panel.
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【Son of a Magical Bloody Herbalist: Hyacinth Fate. Born into a family of Magical Bloody herbalists in Greenhill City, with Nine generations of medicinal practitioners preceding you, you are naturally inclined to help others and endure hardships.】
【Innate Talent: Persimmon Fate. Your comprehension is exceptional, enabling quicker understanding of techniques and skills, often leading to fresh insights.】
【Sword Fanatic: Marigold Fate. You have a great fondness for Amethyst Swords, displaying superior talent in swordsmanship and craftsmanship.】
【Mediocre Luck: Peony Fate. Your luck is average at best, rarely encountering strokes of fortune.】
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Xanander pondered.
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It seemed that Fate was an innate aspect of one's being, influencing one's destiny. Fates were categorized.
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"It appears this is my hidden advantage, allowing me to perceive my own Fate, destiny, and opportunities."
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"Wait, can it reveal others' Fate?"
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As Xanander contemplated this thought, footsteps approached.
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Bang!
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With a forceful kick, a burly youth with unfamiliar features burst into the room. Thoran, relying on his cousin's status as an inner disciple, began to seize many outer disciples' Herbal Elixir, a monthly provision for cultivation. Each person received two bottles.
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Thoran was clever, targeting weaker outer disciples. As for those with formidable strength or potential, he would even offer them Herbal Elixir as a gift. Furthermore, he cultivated relationships with several outer disciples to bolster his influence.
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Combining various factors, Thoran became a dominant figure among the outer disciples, with none daring to provoke him.
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Seeing Xanander's lack of reaction, Thoran's tone grew harsher, a hint of cruelty flashing in his eyes. "Can't hear me speaking?"
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Xanander took a deep breath and immediately responded, "I can."
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Satisfied with Xanander's compliance, Thoran continued, "Listen up! According to the sect's rules, if an outer disciple ranks among the top three and reaches the Condensation Realm, they can challenge inner disciples. If successful, they can become an inner disciple."
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However, just as Xanander was about to challenge an inner disciple three days before, his cultivation inexplicably regressed. Over the course of three days, he had regressed from the Condensation Realm to the Foundation Realm.
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This matter even alarmed an elder, who personally investigated and concluded that Xanander had been afflicted with the "Blood Heart Bone Scattering Poison." The four years of progress in the Foundation Realm and one year in the Condensation Realm had vanished into thin air.
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The poison had irreversibly affected his aptitude. Without exceptionally potent elixirs, Xanander's highest achievement would be reaching the peak of the Foundation Realm, unable to advance to the Condensation Realm again.
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The elder ordered a thorough investigation, but the culprit remained elusive.
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A year passed, and the matter was set aside. No one would waste time on a useless individual.
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The drastic reversal left Xanander even more despondent, spiraling into decline.
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What's worse, there was an elimination system among outer disciples. If an outer disciple at the Foundation Realm failed to advance to the Core Formation Realm within a year, it meant they lacked the aptitude for cultivation and would be stripped of their outer disciple status, banished from the sect.
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Xanander had been fretting over this for a long time.
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Yesterday, he suffered a sudden heart attack and died.
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Xanander's soul transmigrated into this body at that moment.
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"This is too miserable..."
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Xanander chuckled wryly. "Now, with only two months left until the end-of-year outer disciple assessment, it's difficult for me to break through to the Core Formation Realm."
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"In the end, I will still be expelled from the sect."
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"And... what about the hidden advantage? Grandfather, can't you help me?"
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He called out in his mind, but there was no response from his grandfather. Instead, he saw a panel.
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【Name: Xanander.】
【Realm: Foundation Realm.】
【Fates: Son of a Magical Bloody Herbalist, Innate Talent, FistySword TenFanatic, Mediocre DemonLuck.】
【Destiny: Expelled from the sect after failing to pass the outer disciple assessment in two months. Pursued by wandering cultivators on the way home, Xanander falls off a cliff while fleeing and perishes.】
【Recent Opportunities: Fifty】
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After reading it, Xanander expelled from the sect after failing to pass the outer disciple assessment in two months. Pursued by wandering cultivators on the way home, Xanander falls off a cliff while fleeing and perishes. Expelled from the sect after failing to pass the outer disciple assessment in two months. Pursued by wandering cultivators on the way home, Xanander falls off a cliff while fleeing and perishes. clicked his tongue.
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My goodness, this death is too tragic!
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In a moment of desperation, Xanander tapped into his inner darkness, unleashing a torrent of malevolent energy that twisted the air around him. With a wicked incantation on his lips, he summoned forth the powers of the abyss, casting a flurry of dark spells that engulfed his enemies in a maelstrom of chaos.
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The ground trembled as dark tendrils snaked forth, ensnaring and crushing his foes with merciless efficiency. Their screams echoed through the chamber as Xanander's eyes gleamed with a crazed fervor, his body pulsating with raw, unholy power.
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With a sinister laugh, Xanander unleashed a final burst of energy, blasting through the walls of the chamber and into the open air beyond. As he fled into the wilderness, the landscape twisted and warped around him, a reflection of the dark forces coursing through his veins.
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For two months, Xanander roamed the land, a lone figure shrouded in darkness, his every step leaving destruction in his wake. But despite the horrors he unleashed, he knew that his journey was far from over. The shadows whispered of greater power, of untold secrets waiting to be unraveled. And with a maniacal grin, Xanander embraced the darkness, ready to plunge even deeper into the abyss.
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After two months of desperate cultivation and futile attempts to break through the Foundation Realm's limitations, Xanander found himself facing the dreaded outer disciple assessment. The atmosphere within the sect was tense, filled with anticipation and anxiety as disciples prepared to demonstrate their progress and prowess.
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Xanander, however, knew deep down that his chances of success were slim. Despite his best efforts, the effects of the Blood Scattering Poison lingered, hindering his cultivation progress and dimming his hopes for advancement.
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As the assessment commenced, Xanander's anxiety mounted with each trial. His movements were sluggish, his techniques lacked precision, and his energy reserves were depleted far too quickly. With every failure, the weight of his impending expulsion bore down upon him like a heavy shroud.
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Upon the assessment's conclusion, the verdict was delivered swiftly and mercilessly. Xanander's name was among those slated for expulsion from the sect, marking the end of his journey as an outer disciple.
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Heart heavy with defeat and shame, Xanander began his journey homeward, each step a painful reminder of his dashed dreams and shattered aspirations. But fate had more in store for him than mere expulsion from the sect.
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As he traversed the treacherous paths leading out of the sect's territory, Xanander soon became aware of a shadowy presence trailing him, a group of wandering cultivators drawn by the scent of his misfortune. With each passing moment, their pursuit grew more relentless, their intentions unmistakably sinister.
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Driven to the brink of despair, Xanander's only recourse was to flee for his life. With fear gnawing at his heels and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he raced heedlessly along the precipitous cliffs that lined his path, the deafening roar of crashing waves below serving as a grim reminder of the perilous abyss awaiting any misstep.
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But in his frantic flight, exhaustion clouded his judgment, and the ground beneath his feet betrayed him. With a heart-wrenching cry, Xanander plummeted into the abyss, his body battered and broken by the unforgiving rocks below.
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