I Become Sect master In Another World-Chapter 171: When the World Knocked Back

Morning came gently.

Not with drums.

Not with omens.

Just sunlight sliding over tiled rooftops, lanterns dimming one by one as dawn stretched its pale fingers into the streets.

The inn woke slowly.

Wooden stairs creaked under descending footsteps. Bowls clinked. Low voices murmured. The city resumed its rhythm—as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

As if history hadn’t paused here last night.

Shaurya stepped out first.

Hands tucked into his pockets.

Crimson robes loose around his frame.

Hair slightly messy, like he hadn’t bothered winning against sleep.

He yawned.

Then—

Stopped.

So did everyone behind him.

The street in front of the inn was filled.

No—

Packed.

People stood shoulder to shoulder, flooding the road and spilling into side alleys. Some stood on tiptoe. Others craned their necks. Parents held children close, fingers gripping small shoulders as if afraid opportunity might slip away.

Young cultivators stood straight-backed, eyes burning with restrained hunger.

When Shaurya appeared—

Some bowed instantly, foreheads lowered in instinctive respect.

Others froze mid-step, unsure whether to kneel... or speak.

Near the front, a man held a lacquered box in both hands. His arms trembled—not from weight alone, but from nerves. Sweat ran down his temple despite the cool morning air.

"My lord—" he began.

His voice was swallowed.

"My son—please—" another voice overlapped, urgent, desperate.

A woman pushed forward half a step, eyes red, words tumbling out too fast.

"We’ll donate spirit stones—just let her test—just one chance—"

Children argued openly now, the tension snapping restraint.

"I was here first!"

"You promised you’d take me!"

"Move! You’re blocking him!"

The noise rose in layers.

Requests piled on requests.

Offers pressed against offers.

Hope collided with ambition.

Fear threaded through everything.

No one moved closer.

No one moved away.

All eyes fixed on one man standing at the threshold of the inn—

As if the future itself had decided to wait there.

Shaurya blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"...Huh?"

Behind him, Xiao Rui leaned out the door, took one look—

—and immediately stepped back inside.

"NOPE."

Shaurya remained standing there.

Surrounded by a crowd that looked at him like a door to the future.

He scratched his cheek.

"...Did we miss something?"

No one laughed.

The pressure in the air thickened—not from hostility, but from expectation. Too many hopes pointed in one direction.

Shaurya exhaled slowly.

Then—

He smiled.

Not sharp.

Not arrogant.

A deep, easy smile—like someone who had already decided how this would go.

He reached into his storage ring.

Black sunglasses slid into his hand.

Lin Shu felt it before he moved.

The air changed.

Not violently.

Not explosively.

Like a lake settling after a stone sinks to the bottom.

Invisible pressure spread outward—steady, controlled, absolute. It didn’t crush. It didn’t threaten.

It commanded.

Shaurya slipped the sunglasses on.

Click.

He took one step forward.

And spoke.

Not loudly.

Not angrily.

Just... final.

"Everyone."

A pause.

"Silent."

The word fell.

The street didn’t quiet gradually.

It stopped.

Mid-breath voices cut off.

Hands froze half-raised.

Arguments died in throats that suddenly remembered fear.

Parents pulled children closer without knowing why.

Cultivators stiffened, instincts screaming restraint.

Even the wind seemed to hesitate.

Not because Shaurya forced them.

Because every soul present understood—

this was not a request.

Lin Shu swallowed.

She leaned closer, voice barely a whisper.

"...You have become stronger than before.."

Shaurya didn’t answer immediately.

He turned his head slightly.

Two fingers lifted the sunglasses just enough for his eyes to show.

He blinked.

Once.

Calm. Clear. Effortless.

Then he slid the glasses back into place.

Click.

"Yeah," he said lightly.

"Had a breakthrough."

And just like that—

The pressure eased.

Not gone.

Contained.

The street remained silent.

Because now—

No one dared to speak first.

Shaurya tilted his head, scanning the crowd.

"First thing," he said calmly.

"You don’t need to give me anything."

A murmur rippled.

"I’m not running an auction," he continued. "And I don’t buy disciples."

He took a step forward.

Hands still in his pockets.

"If you want to join the Sanatan Flame Sect," he said, "you’re welcome."

A beat.

"All of you."

Shock.

Then disbelief.

Then—

Chaos restrained only by discipline.

Before it could erupt—

Shaurya stepped aside.

Xiao Rui and Lee Bie were already there.

Dragging a table.

A chair.

Then another.

They set them down with practiced efficiency and stood side by side, arms crossed, smiling.

Shaurya glanced at them.

For a heartbeat—

There was mutual understanding.

Then Shaurya’s smile faded.

Just a little.

"...What are you waiting for?" he asked.

Xiao Rui blinked.

Lee Bie blinked.

Shaurya tilted his head.

"Do you want a written invitation?" 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

They exchanged a glance.

Slowly.

Shaurya pulled out a thick bundle of glowing forms and dropped them on the table.

Thud.

"Register the disciples," he said.

"When you’re done, tell me."

Their smiles vanished.

Instantly.

Expressions went blank.

Behind them—

Wang Tian burst out laughing.

Luo Chen clutched his stomach.

"That’s cruel," Wang Tian wheezed. "Absolutely cruel."

Lu Fang walked over, placed another chair beside them, patted it gently.

"Work hard," he said sympathetically.

Xiao Rui clenched his fists.

Lee Bie closed his eyes.

They sighed.

And sat down.

The crowd surged into orderly lines.

Sheng Lu and Zong Bu moved immediately, standing to the side, arms folded, eyes sharp.

"Single file."

"No pushing."

"Name. Age. Background."

Their laughter came easy.

The world organized itself.

Shaurya had already turned away.

Across the street, a restaurant’s doors stood open, warm aromas drifting out.

"Food?" Shaurya asked.

Lin Shu nodded immediately.

Elder Wan followed.

Elder Liya adjusted her sleeves and joined them.

Elder Yaochen paused—looked back once at the crowd—

Then followed too.

Inside, the restaurant was quiet.

They took a corner table.

Shaurya didn’t even glance at the menu.

"Vegetarian," he said, pushing it aside. "Whatever you serve best."

The waiter blinked once, nodded quickly, and retreated.

Across the table, Elder Yaochen paused mid-motion.

His fingers tightened slightly around his cup.

He set it down carefully, then rose just enough to incline his head—half bow, half hesitation.

"Master," he said respectfully, voice measured,

"if you are ordering vegetarian food because of me... you don’t need to be so formal."

The table stilled.

Not awkward.

Attentive.

Yaochen’s palms pressed lightly together as he spoke, the habit of years showing through. He did not look offended—only cautious, as if afraid of imposing his past discipline onto someone else’s path.

Shaurya stared at him.

Then burst out laughing.

"What?" he said, incredulous. "No—no."

He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table.

"Who told you I’m ordering because of you?"

Yaochen blinked.

"...Then?"

Shaurya shrugged easily.

"This is just how our sect eats."

Silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Processing.

Elder Yaochen’s eyes widened—not dramatically, but enough to show genuine surprise.

"...Your sect," he said carefully, "follows monk rules?"

Shaurya shook his head immediately.

"Nope."

He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head, chair creaking softly.

"I don’t follow monk rules," he said casually.

"I follow Sanatan rules."

Brows rose around the table.

Elder Liya tilted her head, curiosity plain on her face.

"Sanatan?" she repeated. "I’ve never heard of it."

Shaurya smiled.

Not mysterious.

Not dramatic.

Patient.

"I can’t explain it fully," he said. "Not in one sitting."

He glanced around the table—at Elder Wan, at Elder Liya, at Lin Shu, at Yaochen.

"But you can think of Sanatan as truth," he continued.

"Eternal. Unchanging. All-encompassing."

A pause.

Then, looking directly at Yaochen, he added calmly—

"Buddha is one of its roots."

Yaochen’s breath slowed.

His posture straightened—not in discipline, but recognition.

He did not interrupt.

Did not argue.

He listened.

When Shaurya finished, Yaochen lowered his gaze for a moment.

Then nodded.

Slowly.

"...I wish to walk this path," he said quietly.

Shaurya waved it off with a grin.

"Relax," he said. "No rush."

"You’ve got time."

At that moment, the food arrived.

Plates were set down gently. Steam rose, carrying warm, earthy scents. Simple dishes—clean, nourishing, unadorned.

Conversation loosened.

Tension dissolved.

Laughter returns.

After a while—

The door creaked open.

Xiao Rui stumbled in first.

Then Lee Bie.

They didn’t walk so much as drag themselves across the threshold, arms piled high with papers that threatened to spill at every step. Scrolls slipped. Forms bent. Ink-smudged corners fluttered like wounded birds.

Their faces were pale.

Eyes sunken.

Souls visibly absent.

They looked like men who had just fought a hundred battles—

And lost every single one.

Shaurya glanced up from his seat, chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.

He took one look at them.

"Oh."

Just that.

No concern.

No pity.

He lifted one hand lazily and flicked his wrist.

The mountain of paperwork vanished mid-air—no flash, no sound—simply gone, as if reality itself had decided it didn’t want to deal with that mess anymore.

Xiao Rui froze.

Lee Bie’s arms stayed raised for half a second longer before he realized—

"...Huh?"

They both blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Shaurya swallowed his food and wiped his fingers calmly.

"So," he asked, leaning back in his chair, tone light,

"how many did we end up with?"

Xiao Rui snapped back to attention out of pure habit.

"Report," he said reflexively—then caught himself and coughed.

"...One hundred and thirty."

Lee Bie nodded beside him, voice hoarse.

"From multiple kingdoms. Some locals. Some who came just to watch the competition."

Shaurya’s lips curved upward.

Not surprised.

Satisfied.

"Nice."

He stood, stretching his arms overhead, joints popping faintly.

"We leave at dusk," he said casually. "Tell them this—"

He raised one finger.

"Anyone from this kingdom goes home first. Say goodbye properly. Then they come with us."

A second finger.

"The ones from other kingdoms—visit your families, settle your affairs, then make your way to the Sanatan Flame Sect."

He dropped his hand.

"No rush," he added. "I don’t want anyone joining with regrets."

Xiao Rui and Lee Bie exchanged a look.

Exhausted.

But... relieved.

They nodded together.

"Yes, Master."

And just like that, they turned around and trudged back out—shoulders slumped, footsteps heavy, already bracing themselves for round two.

Shaurya watched them go.

Then stretched again, rolling his shoulders lazily.

"Well," he said, glancing at the elders,

"we’ve got time till dusk."

Elder Wan inclined his head.

Elder Liya smiled faintly.

Elder Yaochen closed his eyes briefly, breathing in the quiet—then opened them again, calmer than he had ever been.

Outside—

The city moved on.

Lanterns swayed.

Voices rose and fell.

Life continued.

Inside—

Something subtle shifted.

A current.

Unseen.

Unnamed.

High above the rooftops, where lantern light failed to reach—

A shadow paused.

Not hurried.

Not hidden.

It stood where roof tiles met night sky, gaze fixed on the inn below.

On Shaurya.

The shadow’s lips curved.

Not into a grin.

Into interest.

Then—

It stepped back.

And the rooftop was empty once more.

As if no one had ever been there at all.

To Be Continued...