I Become Sect master In Another World

Lu Fang stood beside the shattered table, his chest rising and falling with restrained breaths. Splintered wood lay scattered across the floor around his boots, silent evidence of the anger he had barely managed to contain.

Lee Bie’s fists remained tightly clenched.

The veins along the back of his hands stood out clearly beneath his skin. His eyes stayed fixed on the entrance flap through which Liu Tong’s escorts had departed moments earlier. Every instinct urged him to chase after them.

Auntie Muo slowly closed her eyes.

She inhaled once.

Then exhaled just as slowly.

When she opened them again, the warmth that usually rested there had disappeared completely. For the first time since joining the sect, even her gentle smile had vanished.

Elder Hua quietly adjusted his sleeves.

The old elder’s expression remained calm, yet the slight whitening of his knuckles around the jade ledger betrayed emotions far different from the composure on his face.

Shaurya looked at each of them without speaking.

He neither hurried them nor interrupted the silence.

He simply waited.

Eventually, Lu Fang lowered his head.

The fist that had remained tightly clenched finally relaxed.

"So..."

His voice no longer carried the same explosive anger.

Only frustration.

"...what now?"

Shaurya’s gaze swept across everyone gathered inside the tent.

"What changes?"

No one answered.

He asked again.

"What has changed since we entered this camp?"

The disciples looked at one another.

Lee Bie slowly shook his head.

"Our objective."

Shaurya nodded.

"It remains the same."

His eyes settled on the broken table lying across the floor.

"Liu Tong wanted exactly this."

Several heads lifted.

"He wanted to measure us."

"He wanted to see whether pride controls our judgment."

Shaurya walked toward the shattered table and crouched beside it. Picking up one of the broken wooden pieces, he turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before placing it back on the ground.

"If we lose control because of a few words..."

He looked toward Lu Fang.

"...then we were never qualified to enter this camp."

The former prince lowered his eyes.

His jaw tightened.

"You allowed him to humiliate you."

"I allowed Elder Xu Ren to be humiliated."

Shaurya corrected him gently.

"The Sect Master of the Sanatan Flame Sect wasn’t standing on that deck."

"The man standing there was an old logistics elder."

He smiled faintly.

"And that old logistics elder reacted exactly as everyone expected."

Silence returned.

This time...

It felt different.

The anger still remained.

But it had stopped burning wildly.

Instead, it settled into something colder.

Something sharper.

Elder Hua finally nodded to himself.

"I understand."

"The humiliation belongs to the disguise."

"It does not belong to you."

Shaurya smiled.

"Exactly."

Auntie Muo folded her arms.

"So we endure."

"We endure."

"And when the time comes..."

Shaurya’s eyes became calm once more.

"...we finish what we came here to do."

No grand declaration followed.

None was necessary.

Every person inside the tent understood.

They hadn’t crossed hundreds of kilometers to protect their pride.

They had come to prevent a war.

Slowly, Lu Fang bent down and began gathering the broken pieces of the table.

"This one was expensive."

Lee Bie crouched beside him without another word.

"I’ll help."

Elder Hua rolled up the scattered maps that had fallen during Lu Fang’s outburst.

Auntie Muo quietly straightened an overturned chair before placing the teacups back onto the table that still remained intact.

Without anyone giving instructions...

The tent gradually returned to order.

Shaurya watched them for a moment before speaking again.

"The camp won’t reveal its secrets on its own."

Everyone looked toward him.

"I want warehouse locations."

His gaze shifted toward Elder Hua.

"Supply routes."

Then toward Lee Bie.

"Guard rotations."

Lu Fang nodded before Shaurya even looked at him.

"I’ll map the patrol patterns."

Shaurya turned toward Auntie Muo.

"The kitchens."

A faint smile finally returned to her face.

"I was hoping you’d say that."

"And if possible..."

Shaurya’s own smile became almost invisible.

"...try not to declare war before lunchtime."

She placed a hand over her heart with exaggerated innocence.

"I make no promises."

The Sect members couldn’t suppress quiet laughter.

The tension that had gripped the tent finally loosened.

Not completely.

But enough.

One by one, they adjusted their robes, concealed their emotions behind calm expressions, and stepped out through the tent entrance, disappearing into different parts of the sprawling military encampment.

The entrance flap settled back into place as the last disciple stepped outside.

Silence descended over the tent.

Not the comfortable silence of rest.

The suffocating silence left behind after everyone had forced themselves to swallow emotions that refused to disappear.

Morning light filtered through the thick canvas walls, painting pale streaks across the wooden floor. Outside, the military camp had already awakened completely. Boots struck packed earth in steady rhythm. Supply wagons rumbled along the nearby roads. Officers barked orders somewhere beyond the logistics district while blacksmiths resumed hammering steel beside blazing furnaces.

Inside...

Only Shaurya remained.

For several long moments, he didn’t move.

The smile Elder Xu Ren had worn since entering the camp slowly disappeared.

His shoulders straightened.

The slight stoop of an elderly logistics elder vanished almost imperceptibly, replaced by the posture of someone accustomed to standing above countless experts.

His fingers tightened around the weathered walking stick.

The old wood groaned.

Another heartbeat passed.

A sharp crack echoed quietly through the tent.

Thin fractures spread beneath his hand before the upper half of the walking stick splintered apart.

Wooden fragments fell silently onto the floor.

Shaurya looked down at the broken pieces.

His expression remained calm.

Far too calm.

Golden spiritual energy flickered beneath his skin for the briefest instant before disappearing again.

The air inside the tent suddenly grew heavier.

Nearby cups trembled.

A stack of jade slips slid half an inch across the table without anyone touching them.

Before another pulse of spiritual energy could escape—

A familiar golden panel appeared before his eyes.

[Warning.]

[Host’s emotional fluctuations have exceeded recommended limits.]

Another line appeared immediately beneath it.

[Woah... Host.]

[Calm down.]

Shaurya stared silently at the floating screen.

The panel continued without the slightest concern.

[This respected System respectfully reminds the unrespected Host that exploding the entire command district would negatively impact the current mission.]

His jaw tightened.

"...I’m aware."

The panel shimmered again.

[Excellent.]

[Because your spiritual pressure was approximately three seconds away from announcing your real cultivation to half the camp.]

Shaurya slowly released the broken walking stick.

The remaining fragments dropped onto the floor with a dull sound.

He closed his eyes.

A slow breath entered his lungs.

Then another.

When he finally spoke, his voice remained quiet.

"I wanted to kill him."

There wasn’t the slightest hesitation.

No attempt to hide it.

No attempt to deny it.

"I wanted to snap his neck the moment he placed his hand on me."

The System remained silent.

Shaurya opened his eyes again.

"They watched."

His gaze settled upon the entrance of the tent.

"Lu Fang."

"Lee Bie."

"Elder Hua."

"Auntie Muo."

"They all watched."

A bitter smile touched his lips.

"And they couldn’t move."

The golden panel flickered softly.

[Because they trusted you.]

Shaurya laughed once.

A short, humorless sound.

"They obeyed."

His fingers slowly curled into fists.

"They obeyed while someone humiliated their Sect Master."

Outside, another wagon rolled past.

The ordinary sounds of camp life continued as though nothing had happened.

Inside...

The silence grew heavier.

After a long pause, Shaurya quietly spoke again.

"If avoiding this war wasn’t my responsibility..."

His eyes gradually hardened.

"...Liu Tong would already be dead."

No arrogance accompanied those words.

Only certainty.

The System waited several moments before responding.

[Assessment: Correct.]

[Estimated survival probability of Commander Liu Tong against an unrestricted Host... extremely poor.]

A second line appeared.

[Estimated civilian casualties following such an action... catastrophic.]

Shaurya slowly lowered his head.

"I know."

His voice softened.

"That’s why he’s still alive."

The System displayed another message.

[The Host has changed.]

That statement caused Shaurya to look up.

"...Changed?"

[Previous behavioral models indicate the Host would have chosen immediate retaliation.]

[Current behavioral model prioritizes mission success and civilian safety despite personal humiliation.]

[Conclusion: Growth confirmed.]

Shaurya remained quiet.

His gaze drifted toward the sunlight creeping beneath the edge of the tent.

After several moments, he sighed.

"I don’t know whether that’s maturity..."

"...or frustration."

[Both are acceptable.]

A faint smile finally appeared.

Small.

Genuine.

"So much for comforting me."

[The System specializes in accuracy, not comfort.]

Shaurya couldn’t help shaking his head.

"You’re becoming sarcastic."

[The Host has proven unusually receptive to sarcasm.]

He dismissed the panel with a wave of his hand.

The golden light dissolved into countless tiny particles before disappearing completely.

Another slow breath.

His heartbeat steadied.

The pressure filling the tent gradually vanished.

The cracked tea cups became still once more.

The jade slips stopped trembling.

Only then did Shaurya bend down and collect the broken pieces of the walking stick.

He studied them briefly before placing them neatly beside the table.

"The disguise comes first."

His voice had returned to its usual calm.

"The mission comes first."

Everything else...

Could wait.

Outside, the logistics district bustled with activity.

Lu Fang wandered through the warehouse district carrying a bundle of inventory scrolls borrowed from one of the quartermasters. Every few steps he casually stopped to exchange a few words with workers transporting grain between storage buildings.

"What warehouse is that?"

"The eastern reserve."

"What about those?"

"Medical supplies."

"Formation materials?"

"South district."

The quartermaster answered without suspicion.

Nobody questioned a logistics disciple asking logistics questions.

Elsewhere, Lee Bie helped several workers unload spirit crystal containers from a transport wagon.

While carrying the heavy crates, he quietly memorized every defensive formation surrounding the supply depot.

Number of guards.

Rotation timing.

Blind corners.

Emergency exits.

Nothing escaped his notice.

Several streets away, Elder Hua stood beside a military clerk comparing transportation schedules.

His questions appeared entirely professional.

"The northern road remains open?"

"Until noon."

"The western bridge?"

"Repairs tomorrow."

"I see."

He nodded thoughtfully while committing every answer to memory.

Not far away, Auntie Muo followed the delicious aroma drifting through the camp.

The scent of fresh bread.

Boiling broth.

Roasted spirit vegetables.

Her eyes brightened.

"Kitchen..."

She quietly changed direction.

The military kitchens occupied nearly an entire section of the logistics district.

Massive iron cauldrons rested above roaring spirit flames while dozens of cooks worked together with practiced coordination. Some prepared vegetables. Others stirred enormous pots capable of feeding hundreds of cultivators at once. Fresh dough rested beneath white cloth while stacks of prepared ingredients lined long wooden tables.

The entire area moved like a well-rehearsed formation.

Auntie Muo watched with obvious admiration.

"What beautiful organization."

She stepped toward the entrance.

Before she reached it, a broad-shouldered chef wearing a dark apron extended one arm across the doorway.

"Stop there."

Auntie Muo smiled politely.

"Good morning."

The chef looked her up and down.

"You don’t work here."

"I don’t."

"Then visitors aren’t allowed inside."

Another cook glanced over from a nearby preparation table.

His eyes lingered on Auntie Muo for a moment before a faint grin appeared.

"What brings an elder sister to our kitchens?"

"I wanted to have a look."

The younger chefs exchanged amused glances.

"Have a look?"

One laughed while stirring a large pot.

"This isn’t a restaurant."

Another wiped his hands on his apron before folding his arms.

"These kitchens feed three hundred thousand soldiers."

The broad-shouldered chef nodded proudly.

"We don’t have time for sightseeing."

Auntie Muo remained perfectly pleasant.

"I understand."

Her eyes wandered across the rows of ingredients arranged upon the preparation tables.

"Still..."

She smiled warmly.

"You’ve wasted quite a lot of ginger."

The nearest chef frowned.

"What?"

Auntie Muo pointed gently toward one of the cutting boards.

"Those slices are too thick."

Another chef snorted.

"We’ve been cooking for armies longer than you’ve been standing in kitchens."

Several cooks laughed.

One younger man shook his head.

"Elder Sister..."

His grin widened.

"Military cooking isn’t the same as preparing meals at home."

Auntie Muo’s smile never changed.

"I know."

She looked calmly at every chef gathered near the entrance.

Then spoke with complete sincerity.

"That’s why I think..."

"...we should have a competition."

The laughter stopped.

Every chef stared at her.

For several long moments, nobody answered.

The roaring spirit flames beneath the enormous cauldrons continued crackling while cooks and kitchen assistants stared at the smiling woman standing quietly at the entrance.

Then...

A burst of laughter erupted.

One chef nearly dropped the ladle in his hand.

Another leaned against a preparation table while wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

The broad-shouldered chef who had stopped Auntie Muo folded his thick arms across his chest, the movement stretching the grease-stained fabric over his powerful frame. His eyes swept over her from head to toe before drifting toward the cooks standing behind him. A few exchanged amused glances, and quiet chuckles rippled through the bustling kitchen.

"So..." His gaze settled back on her. "You’re the one who wants to compete against the military kitchens of the Black Iron Mercenary Group?"

Another chef leaned against a nearby worktable, wiping his hands on a cloth as a grin spread across his face.

"Elder Sister, do you have any idea how many people we feed every single day?"

Auntie Muo tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Hundreds?"

One of the chefs shook his head.

"More."

She thought for another moment.

"Thousands?"

The broad-shouldered chef folded his arms across his chest, unable to hide the pride in his voice.

"Three hundred thousand soldiers."

Auntie Muo’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

"That’s certainly an impressive number."

Several chefs grinned.

Then she added with complete sincerity,

"For Someone like you."

The smiles on their faces slowly froze.

For the first time since the conversation began, none of the chefs laughed.

The broad-shouldered chef studied her more carefully than before.

"...you still intend to compete?"

"I do."

His brows slowly knitted together.

"Why?"

Auntie Muo turned her head toward the endless rows of enormous iron cauldrons. Thick steam rolled upward in heavy waves while dozens of cooks stirred giant wooden paddles through soups, porridge, and stews destined for countless soldiers waiting beyond the camp.

She watched them quietly for a moment before speaking.

"A pot can feed ten people."

Her eyes drifted farther across the kitchen.

"It can feed a hundred."

She looked toward the endless lines of cauldrons disappearing into the distance.

"It can even feed hundreds of thousands."

Only then did she turn back to face the gathered chefs.

"But the size of the pot has never decided whether a meal was worth remembering."

Her gaze met theirs one after another.

"That answer only appears after the final bite."

The noisy kitchen gradually settled into silence.

Wooden ladles slowed.

Several nearby assistants unconsciously paused their work.

Even the constant clanging of utensils seemed quieter than before.

A young chef finally broke the silence with a dismissive click of his tongue.

"Pretty words."

His lips curled into a smirk.

"They won’t help you win."

Auntie Muo’s eyes narrowed slightly as a warm laugh escaped her lips.

"I never expected them to."

She lifted a hand and lightly tapped the basket of fresh vegetables resting beside her.

"The food will."

The broad-shouldered chef held her gaze without speaking.

The confidence in her expression never wavered.

There was no challenge in her eyes.

No arrogance.

Only quiet faith.

After several long breaths, the corners of his mouth slowly rose into a broad grin.

A deep laugh burst from his chest as he brought his palms together with a loud clap that echoed through the entire kitchen.

"Good!"

The sound immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Cooks looked up from their stations.

Assistants stopped carrying ingredients.

Even soldiers passing outside the entrance instinctively glanced inside.

His booming voice rang through the hall.

"Then we’ll compete."

Excited murmurs erupted almost instantly.

"A cooking competition?"

"Someone challenged the military kitchens?"

"Who has that kind of courage?"

"This is going to be interesting."

The broad-shouldered chef lifted one hand.

The excited voices gradually faded until every eye returned to him.

"If someone wishes to challenge the kitchens of the Black Iron Mercenary Group..." His gaze shifted toward Auntie Muo before sweeping across the hall. "...then every cook beneath this banner deserves to witness it."

Auntie Muo inclined her head calmly.

"I have no objections."

"Excellent."

The chef’s eyes landed on one of the youngest kitchen assistants standing near the doorway.

The boy instantly straightened, nearly dropping the basket he had been carrying.

"Go."

The single command sent him scrambling forward.

"Spread the news through every kitchen."

"Inform every supply depot."

"Tell every officer responsible for today’s meals."

The broad-shouldered chef’s grin widened as excitement spread across the faces around him.

"By noon..."

His voice carried across the entire kitchen.

"...the military kitchens of the Black Iron Mercenary Group will defend the reputation they have built with their own hands."

The young assistant spun around and burst through the doorway, his hurried footsteps fading into the distance as the news raced ahead of him.

Within minutes...

The news began spreading through the logistics district.

"A cooking competition?"

"Between who?"

"A woman from the Celestial Sword Sect."

"No."

"I heard she’s with the replacement logistics fleet."

"They challenged the military kitchens."

"They’re serious?"

"Apparently."

The conversation traveled astonishingly fast.

Warehouse workers repeated it while unloading grain.

Formation technicians mentioned it while repairing defensive arrays.

Supply clerks whispered about it while updating ledgers.

Before long...

Even soldiers changing patrol shifts had heard the story.

Curiosity spread through the camp like wildfire.

Meanwhile...

Lu Fang watched two workers discussing the competition while pretending to organize cargo manifests.

A slow grin spread across his face.

"So that’s your plan..."

He quietly disappeared into the crowd.

Only a few streets away, Lee Bie overheard another group of soldiers arguing about who would win.

Without attracting attention, he casually joined the discussion.

"I heard the woman challenged them herself."

One soldier blinked.

"Confident."

Lee Bie nodded thoughtfully.

"Or incredibly skilled."

Within moments...

The rumor became even larger.

Exactly as intended.

Inside the command pavilion, a messenger hurried through the entrance before dropping to one knee.

"Commander."

Liu Tong looked up from the military map spread across the central table.

"What is it?"

"The replacement logistics team."

Liu Tong raised an eyebrow.

"What about them?"

"The elderly woman accompanying Elder Xu..."

The messenger hesitated.

"...has challenged the Black Iron military kitchens."

Several officers immediately looked at one another.

Then...

One of them burst into laughter.

"A cooking competition?"

Another shook his head.

"These Celestial Sword Sect people are surprisingly interesting."

Even Liu Tong smiled.

"So..."

He leaned comfortably against his chair.

"Our chefs accepted?"

"They did."

The commander’s smile widened.

"Excellent."

An officer folded his arms.

"It should be amusing."

Another nodded.

"Our chefs haven’t lost in years."

Liu Tong remained silent for several moments.

The command pavilion settled into an uneasy quiet. Officers exchanged uncertain glances, waiting for their commander to speak, while the messenger continued kneeling with his head lowered.

Instead of answering immediately, Liu Tong leaned back in his chair.

One finger tapped lightly against the carved wooden armrest.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Then, as though a thought had finally amused him, the corner of his mouth slowly lifted.

The smile grew wider.

And wider.

Until it stretched comfortably across his face.

It wasn’t the smile of someone entertained by a harmless joke.

It was the smile of a predator who had just noticed something he wanted.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Not with suspicion.

With interest.

He looked toward the messenger again.

"Make a condition."

The messenger blinked.

"...Commander?"

Liu Tong rested one elbow on the armrest and lazily supported his chin with his hand.

"If the challenger loses..."

His voice remained casual, almost conversational.

"...then she becomes part of my harem."

The words settled over the pavilion like a heavy weight.

Silence followed.

No officer spoke.

No one reacted immediately.

The messenger lowered his head another fraction.

"As... as you command."

Liu Tong chuckled quietly.

His gaze wandered toward the entrance of the pavilion as though he could already picture the woman standing inside the military kitchens.

"A beautiful mature woman..."

He slowly rolled the wine cup between his fingers.

"...isn’t something you encounter every day."

A faint glimmer flickered in his crimson eyes.

"I’ve seen countless women."

He smiled to himself.

"Timid ones."

"Proud ones."

"Ambitious ones."

His thumb traced the rim of the cup.

"But one bold enough to walk into my camp..."

"...look my chefs in the eye..."

"...and challenge them..."

His smile deepened.

"...that is far more interesting."

He rose from his chair in a single smooth motion.

His robes settled around him as he adjusted the cuffs with unhurried movements.

"Confidence like that deserves..." He paused, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. "...an appropriate reward."

Nobody inside the pavilion misunderstood what the Commander meant.

Several officers exchanged knowing smiles.

One veteran captain even chuckled.

"Commander certainly has excellent taste."

Another officer laughed.

"That woman truly is exceptional."

"She carries herself differently from ordinary cultivators."

Liu Tong accepted the compliments with an amused smile but said nothing.

Near the tactical table, Elder Hang calmly rolled up the military map he had been studying.

His expression remained unchanged.

Only after the pavilion quieted again did he speak.

"Commander."

Liu Tong looked toward him.

"What is it?"

Elder Hang’s voice remained as steady as ever.

"If you attach such a condition..."

"...the Celestial Sword Sect’s people may refuse the competition altogether."

Liu Tong’s laughter echoed through the pavilion.

"Refuse?"

He stood and walked toward Elder Hang with unhurried steps.

"Then they refuse."

He spread both hands casually.

"No one is forcing them."

"If they lack confidence..."

"...they can simply admit defeat before the competition even begins."

Several officers laughed.

One nodded approvingly.

"That would save everyone time."

Liu Tong stopped beside Elder Hang.

His crimson eyes held amusement rather than annoyance.

"You’ve spent too much time around logistics."

"You’re thinking about consequences."

He smiled.

"I’m thinking about entertainment."

Another wave of laughter spread through the pavilion.

Liu Tong turned toward the entrance.

"Besides..."

A slow grin appeared once more.

"A woman bold enough to challenge my military kitchens in front of three hundred thousand soldiers..."

"...doesn’t strike me as someone who retreats."

He adjusted the sleeve of his crimson robe.

"If she wins..."

"I’ll reward her."

"If she loses..."

His smile widened.

"...she becomes mine."

The officers nodded without the slightest surprise.

To them...

Their commander taking a woman into his harem after defeating her was neither unusual nor shocking.

It was simply another privilege enjoyed by the strongest.

Elder Hang offered no further comment.

Whether the woman accepted or refused had nothing to do with Cloud Peak Sect.

His responsibility was the military campaign.

Everything else belonged to Commander Liu’s authority.

Liu Tong laughed once more before striding toward the pavilion entrance.

"Come."

"I don’t intend to miss this spectacle."

The officers immediately followed, their footsteps echoing across the wooden floor as they headed toward the military kitchens.

Questioning him publicly would accomplish nothing.

Liu Tong clapped his hands once.

"Come."

His crimson robes swayed as he strode toward the entrance.

"I suddenly have an appetite."

Several officers immediately followed.

Elder Hang watched the departing commander for a brief moment before quietly falling into step behind him.

Near the eastern logistics district...

More and more soldiers gathered outside the military kitchens.

Kitchen assistants dragged heavy preparation tables into the open square.

Fresh ingredients were carried from nearby warehouses.

Large iron cauldrons were positioned side by side.

The military chefs stood confidently together.

Opposite them...

Auntie Muo calmly rolled up the sleeves of her robe.

There wasn’t the slightest trace of nervousness upon her face.

At that same moment...

Shaurya emerged from another supply building after completing his inspection of the surrounding warehouses.

Lu Fang hurried toward him.

"Master."

Shaurya looked up.

"What happened?"

"The competition."

"It has spread across the entire camp."

A faint smile slowly appeared on Shaurya’s face.

"Auntie Muo..."

He looked toward the growing crowd gathering beyond the warehouses.

"...you’ve escalated things beautifully."

In the distance...

Crimson robes appeared among the approaching crowd.

Liu Tong had arrived.

The stage...

Had finally been set.

To Be Continued...

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