The courtyard was silent.
This occasion was sacred. The disciples were gathered to pay respects to the ancestors of the sect — those who had died in battle, and the founding masters who had built the sect from nothing.
At the center, raised atop polished jade steps, the Sect Master stood with his hands behind his back.
His expression was solemn and respectful, without a hint of ego or arrogance.
His robes shimmered faintly with spiritual light. His beard was long enough to braid into a rope.
Although he held great power as Sect Master, he knew better than to display pride during such a ceremony.
This day was not about him — it was about tradition.
The disciples stood in dozens of rows.
Hundreds of them, motionless.
Their breaths still.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
The Sect Master's voice echoed across the mountain.
"Kneel."
Like clockwork, the disciples dropped to their knees.
Cloaks rustled against stone.
Qi settled like fog rolling into a valley.
Stillness returned.
Then—
A soft noise.
Barely audible.
But enough to ruin the silence.
"Hm?"
The air froze.
Not a whisper. Not a breath.
Then his voice echoed again.
"Who… is still standing?"
A few disciples shifted.
Some glanced sideways.
A couple squinted toward the rear rows.
Near the back — half-obscured by a pillar — stood one figure.
Upright.
Still.
Unmoving.
A young man in simple outer sect robes.
Arms relaxed at his sides.
Chin slightly lowered.
Eyes… closed.
Not meditating.
Not resisting.
Just standing.
Doing nothing at all.
An elder in dark robes stepped forward, his expression sharp.
"You! Disciple! Why do you not kneel before the Sect Master?"
No response.
The elder's lip curled.
A low hum of pressure rolled out from him — faint spiritual force, just enough to shake a lesser disciple to attention.
"How dare you—"
The young man moved.
Slowly.
Calmly.
He reached into his sleeve.
The elder blinked.
What's he pulling out?
A scroll? A talisman? A concealed blade?
No.
A pillow.
A small, perfectly fluffed, embroidered silk pillow.
The disciple adjusted it slightly.
Turned.
Kneeled.
And without a word… laid face-first onto the ceremonial stone.
Pomf.
He was asleep.
The elder stood frozen.
Someone in the crowd stifled a laugh.
Another disciple whispered, "Did he just…?"
The Sect Master's eyelid twitched.
And then—
Ding!
[Quest Complete: Commit Blasphemous Nap During Ceremony]
[Reward: +1 Sleep Qi]
[Dao Registered: Dao of Laziness]
[Warning: Cultivation Path Detected… Invalid? System Proceeding Anyway.]