I Become Sect master In Another World

The afternoon sun hung high above the temporary military encampment, its warm light spilling across countless white tents, supply wagons, and rows of fluttering crimson banners. The cheers that had shaken the cooking arena only moments earlier gradually faded into the familiar rhythm of military life as soldiers dispersed toward their assigned duties.

The competition had ended.

The wager had been honored.

The military kitchens had opened their doors.

And Elder Muo had won.

The members of the disguised Sanatan Flame Sect walked quietly through the bustling camp beneath the identities of ordinary logistics personnel.

No one paid them much attention anymore.

Some soldiers even greeted them with friendly nods.

Several cooks passing nearby respectfully cupped their fists toward Auntie Muo before continuing on their way.

"Congratulations, Elder."

"You’ve humbled our kitchens."

Auntie Muo returned every greeting with the same gentle smile.

"It was only a friendly exchange."

One of the younger cooks scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"I... I spoke rather arrogantly previously."

"I remember."

His face immediately reddened.

"I apologize."

She laughed softly.

"If everyone who lost a cooking competition needed to apologize..."

"...the world would become a very quiet place."

The young chef blinked.

Then laughed together with her.

"I hope you’ll teach us that colorful rice someday."

"If time allows."

"It will."

The young man grinned.

"I’ll reserve the biggest wok."

Several nearby cooks burst into laughter before disappearing back toward the kitchens.

Lu Fang waited until they were well beyond the competition grounds. Once the voices behind them faded into the distance, he glanced at Auntie Muo with a grin.

"I don’t think they even remember they challenged you anymore."

Auntie Muo laughed softly and shook her head.

"They challenged my cooking, not me."

Lee Bie snorted.

"Your cooking nearly didn’t survive."

She turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"The judges were eating faster than they were judging."

Lu Fang nodded immediately.

"I swear, when they brought out the last plate, I thought, ’If they keep going, there won’t be anything left to declare the winner.’"

Even Elder Hua smiled.

"That young physician was the worst."

She imitated him, clearing her throat dramatically.

"One more bite... just to make absolutely certain."

Auntie Muo covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"I should’ve started charging him."

Shaurya smiled.

"Forget charging by the bowl."

He looked at her seriously for a moment before the corner of his mouth curled upward.

"Charge by the spoonful. You’d probably earn more."

Another burst of laughter echoed along the road.

For the first time since entering the Black Iron camp, everyone felt the tightness in their chests loosen. They continued walking beneath the fading evening light, their pace unhurried. No one brought up Liu Tong. No one mentioned the Head Chef. They didn’t need to. The memory lingered silently between them, but so did another thought.

The plan had worked.

Exactly as intended.

Before long, the temporary residence assigned to the Celestial Sword Sect came into view. The two guards outside immediately straightened and cupped their fists.

"Elder Xu."

Shaurya returned the greeting with a nod and lifted the heavy canvas curtain. One after another, everyone stepped inside. The flap dropped behind them, cutting off the sounds of the bustling camp, and the conversation faded on its own as every pair of eyes turned toward Shaurya, waiting for the next step in the plan.

For several precious moments, the weight of the mission seemed to disappear. Nobody spoke about Liu Tong. Nobody mentioned disguises, or the army surrounding them. Beneath the ordinary canvas roof, they were no longer infiltrators standing inside the heart of enemy territory. They were simply sect family enjoying a hard-earned victory together.

The laughter inside the tent slowly subsided.

Lu Fang finally wiped the corner of his eyes before dropping into a nearby chair.

"I still say it wasn’t my fault."

Lee Bie folded his arms.

"You boiled an empty pot."

"I was preparing it."

"You prepared smoke."

Another wave of quiet laughter spread through the tent.

Shaurya leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth lifting as his gaze wandered across the tent. Lu Fang was still passionately insisting that the pan hadn’t burned because of him, while Lee Bie kept trying—and failing—to hide his laughter. Auntie Muo smiled helplessly at their argument, Cheng Fang quietly enjoyed the spectacle beside her, and even Elder Hua, whose composed expression rarely changed, finally shook her head with a soft laugh.

Watching them, Shaurya felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. None of them shared his blood, yet every one of them had chosen to stand beside him. They had trusted him when he had nothing. Followed him into impossible situations without hesitation. Fought beside him, laughed beside him, and risked their lives for the same dream. Somewhere along the way, without anyone ever saying it aloud, the Sanatan Flame Sect had become more than a sect.

It had become home.

Shaurya closed his eyes for a brief moment and simply listened. The laughter. The teasing. The ordinary conversations. For once, there were no plans to consider, no calculations to make, and no impossible burdens resting on his shoulders. He allowed himself to enjoy the rare peace while it lasted.

Beyond the canvas walls, the distant sounds of nearly eight hundred thousand soldiers preparing for the midday meal drifted through the camp as cooks shouted instructions, carts rattled over packed earth, and countless footsteps echoed across the military grounds.

Auntie Muo shook her head with a helpless smile and reached for the empty teacups scattered across the table. One by one, she stacked them neatly upon a wooden tray while the others continued arguing as though the fate of the cultivation world genuinely depended on cookware.

"You children spend more time arguing than cultivating."

Lu Fang looked up immediately.

"We’re discussing something important."

"Oh?"

He folded his arms with complete seriousness.

"The future of military cuisine."

Auntie Muo nodded thoughtfully, pretending to consider the matter.

"I see."

She picked up another teacup before glancing toward Shaurya.

"In that case, our Sect Master should resign and become the Head Chef."

Shaurya pressed a hand against his chest.

"So this is how it ends."

"The position probably pays better."

He sighed dramatically.

"...I hate how reasonable that sounds."

Even Elder Hua let out a quiet laugh.

The conversation drifted on for another minute. Someone blamed Lu Fang for destroying a cooking pot that had apparently survived three generations of chefs before meeting him. Lu Fang denied every accusation with remarkable confidence despite nobody believing a single word. Lee Bie had already started listing additional crimes that Lu Fang insisted had been committed by "unknown circumstances."

Auntie Muo could only laugh while collecting the last teacup.

Then—

Shaurya lowered his own cup onto the table.

Clack.

The sound wasn’t loud.

Yet inside the tent...

Everyone heard it.

The laughter gradually faded.

Lu Fang was the first to notice.

He looked toward Shaurya, the smile lingering on his face for only a heartbeat before disappearing entirely.

Lee Bie stopped speaking halfway through his next sentence.

Cheng Fang quietly straightened.

Auntie Muo’s hand paused above the wooden tray.

Even Elder Hua lifted her eyes.

Nobody spoke.

Shaurya rose from his chair without hurry.

The wooden legs scraped softly across the floor before settling back into place.

He walked toward the entrance in measured steps, each footfall calm and unhurried.

When Shaurya reached the entrance, he stopped beneath the gently swaying canvas.

For a heartbeat, he simply stood there.

Then his right hand rose.

His fingers folded with practiced precision.

The index and middle fingers aligned.

The ring finger curled inward.

The thumb locked against the little finger.

The first seal formed.

Golden spiritual qi seeped silently from the tips of his fingers, thin as silk threads, weaving through the air instead of dispersing. The strands glided across the inner walls of the tent, tracing elegant arcs over the canvas before splitting apart into countless finer filaments. They crossed one another with perfect accuracy, each intersection giving birth to a glowing rune no larger than a fingernail.

The symbols flickered into existence one after another, circling the entire tent in a seamless pattern before slowly sinking beneath the fabric as though absorbed by it.

Without breaking the flow, Shaurya’s fingers shifted.

The first seal dissolved.

The second took its place.

His wrist rotated gently, and his palm turned downward.

A single drop of golden qi fell from his fingertips.

The moment it touched the wooden floor, concentric ripples spread across the planks like rain striking a still lake. Brilliant lines erupted from the center, racing outward in every direction with astonishing speed. They curved around chairs, slipped beneath the table, circled every support pillar, and linked together with geometric precision.

Wherever two lines met, another radiant symbol emerged, rotating slowly before embedding itself beneath the timber. Within moments, an enormous formation circle had spread beneath everyone’s feet, its countless inscriptions fitting together so perfectly that not a single line appeared out of place before the entire array vanished beneath the floorboards.

Outside the tent, the military camp remained as busy as ever.

Armor clinked.

Wheels rolled over packed earth.

Warhorses snorted impatiently.

Cooks shouted orders across the camp.

None of it reached Shaurya’s ears.

His fingers moved once more.

This time, both hands rose together.

The seals flowed one after another so quickly that his fingers blurred, each movement connecting naturally into the next without the slightest pause. Every completed seal released another pulse of golden qi that shot toward a different corner of the tent. Four streams struck the supporting poles simultaneously before climbing upward like living vines.

The runes hidden inside the canvas awakened in response, each symbol lighting up in sequence until the entire network glowed for a single brilliant instant.

Then—

Shaurya pressed his palms together.

A deep, resonant hum spread through the air.

The countless runes hidden within the walls, the floor, and the support pillars answered at once. Golden light surged through every inscription before converging into a transparent dome that expanded outward from the center of the tent. The barrier passed soundlessly through the canvas, extending several meters beyond it before becoming completely invisible.

Outside, soldiers continued marching.

Inside...

The noise vanished.

Not faded.

Vanished.

The rattling of armor disappeared first.

Then the rumble of wagon wheels.

The distant voices.

The restless horses.

Even the wind brushing against the canvas ceased to exist.

The silence that followed wasn’t natural.

It was absolute.

A faint shimmer rippled across the entrance for only an instant before dissolving into empty air. Anyone looking from outside would see nothing unusual, yet the entire tent had already been sealed away. No sound could escape. No spiritual perception could enter. Every conversation within these walls now belonged only to those standing inside.

Only after the last ripple disappeared did Shaurya slowly lower his hands. The golden glow faded from his fingertips, leaving behind nothing except an ordinary military tent that no longer felt ordinary at all.

For several seconds, he remained facing the entrance.

Then...

He slowly turned around.

No smile remained.

The warmth that had filled his eyes only moments ago had disappeared without leaving even a trace.

The easygoing young man who had been laughing with his companions was gone.

Standing before them now...

Was the Sect Master of the Sanatan Flame Sect.

No one said a word.

No one needed to.

Standing before them now...

Was the man who had planned this infiltration from the very beginning.

No one spoke.

A faint golden glow flickered across Shaurya’s storage ring. Spatial ripples shimmered briefly before a tiny jade bottle silently materialized upon his open palm. Barely longer than two fingers, its unassuming appearance made it seem almost disappointingly ordinary.

Its surface was smooth, polished to a mirror-like sheen, yet completely devoid of ornamentation. No inscriptions. No ancient runes. No jeweled decorations worthy of an Emperor Grade treasure.

It looked like the sort of jade bottle one could find in any ordinary apothecary, plain enough that no passerby would have spared it a second glance. Shaurya leaned forward and set it gently at the center of the table. The faint click of jade against wood seemed strangely loud inside the sealed tent, drawing every gaze toward it. Nobody spoke.

Lu Fang narrowed his eyes, waiting for poisonous mist to seep from the bottle or for some terrifying aura to roll across the room, yet nothing happened. The black jade remained perfectly still beneath the afternoon light, its smooth surface reflecting a dull sheen.

Even when Lee Bie instinctively extended a thread of spiritual sense toward it, he found nothing unusual. No fluctuations answered him. No trace of poison revealed itself. Resting quietly on the tabletop, the tiny bottle looked so ordinary that it almost felt deceptive, as though its greatest disguise was the complete absence of anything remarkable.

Shaurya kept one hand beside it, his fingertips lightly touching the edge of the table before his calm voice finally broke the silence.

"This..."

His gaze swept across everyone seated around him.

"...is the real reason we came here."

No one interrupted.

Not even Lee Bie.

Shaurya let those words settle before continuing.

"The disguises, the forged identities, the cooking competition, the wager with Liu Tong, and our entry into the military kitchens..." His fingers brushed lightly across the smooth surface of the jade bottle. "...none of those were the objective."

He paused for only a heartbeat.

"They were merely the road that led us here."

Lu Fang’s playful expression disappeared.

Lee Bie unconsciously straightened his back.

Auntie Muo lowered her eyes toward the bottle, her fingers tightening slightly around the sleeve of her robe.

Even Elder Hua’s smile had long since faded.

Shaurya gently lifted the bottle between two fingers, turning it slowly as sunlight slid across its black surface.

"This is Soul Dissolution Poison."

The name alone caused Elder Hua’s brows to knit together.

Shaurya noticed.

"It’s an Emperor Grade poison."

Nobody reacted immediately.

They didn’t need to.

The title itself carried enough weight.

Emperor Grade.

A level of existence capable of threatening the strongest cultivators on the continent.

Holding the bottle against the light, Shaurya rotated it slowly.

"You won’t find a color."

His fingers turned the bottle again.

"You won’t detect a smell."

Another slow rotation.

"You won’t notice a taste."

The bottle came to rest between his fingers.

"It leaves no residue after dissolving and releases no poisonous aura. Ordinary spiritual perception passes over it as though nothing exists."

Lu Fang couldn’t take his eyes off the bottle.

"...Not even Spirit Sense?"

Shaurya gave a small nod.

"Not even a single trace..."

He lowered the bottle back onto the table.

"...they’ll never realize it entered the food."

Lee Bie’s throat moved slightly.

"...Is there an antidote?"

Shaurya looked at him.

For a brief moment, nobody inside the tent breathed.

Then he slowly shook his head.

"No."

The answer was quiet.

Yet it landed inside the tent with the weight of a mountain.

Shaurya rested his fingertips beside the bottle once more.

"After entering the body, it doesn’t attack immediately. It blends into the bloodstream, moves naturally through the meridians, and reaches the soul without disturbing spiritual energy."

His eyes gradually lost their warmth.

"It waits."

Everyone remained silent.

"Approximately twenty minutes later..."

His fingers lightly tapped the black jade bottle.

"...it awakens."

Not a single sound followed. The tent remained so still that everyone could hear their own breathing as their eyes stayed fixed on the tiny black bottle lying at the center of the table. It looked harmless.

That was the most terrifying part.

Shaurya’s voice never rose.

Yet every word felt heavier than the last.

"When activation begins..."

"...the victim’s soul starts dissolving."

"Not the body."

"The soul."

He looked toward every member gathered inside the tent.

"Spiritual energy cannot expel it."

"Body refinement cannot endure it."

"Ordinary medicinal pills become meaningless."

"The stronger the cultivation..."

"...the more violently the soul struggles."

"The more violently it struggles..."

"...the faster it dissolves."

Even Lu Fang, who rarely showed fear, felt an involuntary chill run down his spine. Beside him, Auntie Muo lowered her gaze to the tiny jade bottle resting at the center of the table. It looked so ordinary. So harmless. Yet she now knew that within that unremarkable container lay the deaths of hundreds of thousands of soldiers.

Shaurya reached forward and gently placed the bottle back onto the table. A soft click echoed through the silent tent before he slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers. For several moments, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The question had already been asked.

"You understand what will happen once this enters the food."

Auntie Muo remained silent for a few breaths. Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table before she finally met his gaze and gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

"I do."

Shaurya held her eyes for another moment, making sure there wasn’t the slightest trace of hesitation before speaking again.

"There won’t be a second chance. Once the first bowl is served, nothing can be undone. There is no antidote, no way to reverse it, and no opportunity to change our minds."

His words faded into silence.

Beyond the tent, although muted by the isolation formation, the distant sounds of the military camp still drifted faintly through the canvas. Soldiers laughed.

Cooks shouted instructions. Pots clanged against iron stoves as nearly eight hundred thousand men unknowingly prepared for their midday meal.

Inside the tent, however, nobody spoke. Every pair of eyes rested on the small black jade bottle lying quietly at the center of the table, because everyone understood the same thing.

Shaurya slowly pushed the black jade bottle across the table.

It came to rest before Auntie Muo.

She looked at it for a long moment...

...then quietly reached out and picked it up.

What happened next would decide the fate of them all.

To Be Continued...