Introduction: 'The Illusory Snake Seeks Shelter'.

The stone path bit painfully at his bare feet. He looked truly pitiful: his disheveled raven-black hair was strewn across his poor hanfu, covered in dirt and road dust, and the sack on his back held only enough food for a day. His youthful face was dull with fatigue, shadows lingering under his eyes, their sharp gaze tinged with relentless mischief. He glanced upward - it seemed as if the staircase, rising sternly into the sky, would never end. Oh well. Fortunately, he was far more resilient than mortals - a staircase couldn't truly frighten him. Although it could still get on his nerves.

Perhaps his aimless wanderings had finally come to an end, and he would finally settle down in a comfortable place where he could recuperate and resume his mischief. This wasn't his first sect. Not even the second or third. Huan She stopped counting - he simply enjoyed it, like a spectator and actor in his own play. He derived immense pleasure from watching communities crumble, watching the dangerous seed of discord, nurtured by his skillful hands, being sown. A gradual buildup, like poison coursing through the veins - and then a brilliant splash. The sect crumbled like a theatrical set, turning to dust. Huan She emerged unscathed, hiding in the grass, and waiting for the right moment to strike and bite again.

At least it was fun - who cares how many lives had to be sacrificed for this play? He was sure no one even remembered the names of these poor wretches. Besides, it wasn't entirely his fault. Some people just need a little help to get their filth out, and then they did everything themselves. Huan She remembered only little Gu Yue, and only because he had been alive only recently. A timid but easily offended youth. Even without Huan She's help, he believed the world wished him only harm. Huan She merely helped him learn a few forbidden practices and cleaned up his tracks - to no avail, because soon, without receiving any punishment, Gu Yue himself decided to leave this world. Well, let his soul rest where it belongs.

Finally, when the sun was already high, he reached the end of the stairs and approached a tall gate of white stone. A pair of disciples, their faces pompous, serious, and empty, stood there, apparently on guard. One of them glanced at the intruder, and just a hint of surprise flickered in its depths.

'Brother,' Huan She addressed one of them, bowing his head respectfully. 'Could you please call the leader? Please forgive me for such impudence, and don't be so hasty in sending me away... Despite my humble appearance, I only wish to join you on your path of cultivation.'

The young man raised an indifferent eyebrow and, without a word, nodded to his companion before departing.

He returned with a man of exalted appearance. Apparently, this was the leader. He truly looked exactly as one would expect the leader of such a sect to look. Huan She whistled inwardly before falling to his knees.

'Please, generous master, take me as your disciple!' he pleaded pitifully. 'Don't look at my ragged appearance. I have nothing with me, but I can repay you with honest labor and tireless training. I have nowhere else to go, and I even came all this way here to find shelter...'

His face was lowered to the ground, not allowing him to see the expression on the leader's face. Then, finally, after a moment of silence, a dry voice was heard:

'What is your name, wanderer?'

'Li Wei,' Huan She responded without a second's hesitation or raising his head. 'The son of Li Huan, a merchant... he died quite recently, leaving me almost nothing but a failed business...'

And so Huan She ended up in the Lichen Zong sect as a (not very exemplary) disciple.

** Chapter 1: 'A Snake Sheds Its Skin in Winter'.

It turned out that feigning busyness in such a place was quite a challenge. People there weren't just trying to make you a good fighter and strengthen your spirit; they were trying to get under your skin and personally shape your thoughts. Huan She, of course, wasn't happy with this, though he was adept at avoiding sensitive topics, dodging like an eel in a frying pan.

The meditation hall was so quiet that the beating of one's own heart seemed as loud as an alarm. The air smelled of dust, incense, and fresh plum blossoms. Two dozen disciples, motionless in the lotus position and seemingly unable to breathe, sat facing the leader, who was seated primly in front. Huan She maintained a mask of cool indifference, as befitted him, but beneath his lids, his eyes, like those of a predator, were already stalking their prey and anticipating discord. Instead of clearing his mind, he filled it with images of impending mischief, pondering how to pull it off smoothly.

At the front sat 'Brother Zhang Yi' - a stern, unyielding youth who fiercely clings to the rules and fanatically follows them; his shixiong, with his proud posture and neat topknot. It was to him that Huan She turned when the shizun ordered them all to disperse and receive instructions from their mentors.

'Shixiong,' came his soft voice from behind. 'Stay a while.'

And again that look, full of condescending disdain. Huan She ignored it.

'Have you heard that Master Xuan's office contains some scrolls of the 'Sutras of Unclouded Consciousness'? The senior disciples told me. I thought you, who toil day and night, might be interested to know.'

'So what?' came the reply, but Huan She sensed a hint of interest hidden in the shixiong's studied indifference, so he continued.

'So only those who achieve the most remarkable achievements are allowed to see these scrolls. I, for one, would never be able to glimpse it, even a glimpse... It's a shame, I was curious. What's so important about it?' he asked innocently, when Zhang Yi merely narrowed his eyes skeptically.

'And who told you about this?'

'...Okay, I admit, Brother Zhang, I lied a little. I overheard this conversation. I didn't see the faces of these disciples, but I heard them excitedly discussing the contents of the scrolls. They say that with their help, one can master certain practices twice as fast.'

As expected, Zhang Yi gritted his teeth. He hated being surpassed when he himself had put in so much effort, and he especially hated being shortchanged.

And a few days later, as expected, he was caught stealing and breaking into his master's office. It was a very small, insignificant prank... but not a bad start, Huan She thought.

A couple of weeks later, fights among the disciples became more frequent. In one instance, in a fit of jealousy, one of them even stabbed another in the eye with a chopstick. It was quite easy to bring suppressed feelings to the surface when they were so zealously hidden. Huan She amused himself by the chaos he had sown and the destruction he brought on his tail, like an evil spirit. And in part, he was. The leader hadn't sheltered a vagabond - he had sheltered a veritable viper.

He wasn't afraid of being caught - he had learned to lie skillfully many years ago, when he was still a young boy, just learning that the world would want to crush him like a small fly. Only one person worried him.

The leader.

The son of the sect's founder. A mysterious man, skillfully guiding this horde of fledglings, with a face as if carved from jade with perfectionist zeal. He always saw more than the other masters.

His house always smelled of medicinal herbs, fresh flowers, and ink, something warm and soft. Huan She often fell asleep on the mat there, listening to the master's even breathing as he meditated. He often came to ask for an extra bun after dinner, and sometimes for something more brazen. More than once he asked to conduct a training session for him personally... and to his surprise, the leader agreed. However, this time the leader didn't seem so kind.

Huan She lazily raised his head from the table where he had been basking, turning his face to the spring sunshine. 'Shizun... the weather is so nice,' he drawled lazily, smiling softly. His gaze slid searchingly over the leader's face, as if carved from ivory, and his neat, seemingly wrinkle-free robe. Something was wrong.

'Are you mad?' he tilted his head. A stupid question. The head of such a sect couldn't be mad - it harmed the spirit more than anything else, more than any deadly poison could corrode the body. 'Forgive me for stopping by again without knocking... Or is that not the point?'

A silent challenge flickered briefly in his eyes. Go ahead, accuse me of my crimes. Tell me the truth about my essence. Drive me into a corner... and we'll see who breaks first.