Revenant's Slaughter: The Reaper System

Banquet

The grand hall of the Bloodhound Sect was a sight to behold. Enormous crimson banners adorned with golden dragons hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, fiery glow upon the gathered disciples. Elaborate tapestries depicting legendary battles and celestial landscapes adorned the walls, adding to the aura of majesty.

Atticus, dressed in his finest Sect robes, entered the hall with a mix of excitement and apprehension. He could see his fellow outer sect disciples already assembled, their haughty expressions and condescending glances cutting through the festive atmosphere. Atticus had always been an outsider among them, and his recent injuries had only given them more reason to belittle him.

The banquet was also a chance for disciples to flaunt their achievements, and Atticus had none to speak of. He had a weak cultivation base, no favor from any of the elders, and certainly no notable contributions to the Sect. He was an anomaly, a stain on the reputation of the outer sect, and they reveled in making him feel it.

As Atticus made his way further into the hall, he couldn't help but overhear the hushed whispers of his fellow disciples.

"Look who's here. Atticus, I wonder how he can still walk from all the beatings."

"Also wonder how a trash like him could be a Bloodhound."

The words were meant to sting, but Atticus wasn't the same person they knew. He saw these youngsters as kids who thought too highly of themselves, getting a rush out of oppressing others. Atticus found a vacant seat at a corner table, trying to blend into the shadows of the hall.

The banquet was a lavish affair, with tables laden with exquisite dishes and wine. Atticus watched as disciples made toasts to themselves, their laughter filling the air. He couldn't help but feel a bit of annoyance. In his previous life, he had been a formidable cultivator, and now he was reduced to this.

Atticus's thoughts drifted to the meridian vein he had purchased earlier. It was the object of change that would set his path in this world, the start of his journey, and a chance to regain his lost strength and seek vengeance. But he needed time, and tonight, he had to endure the supposed mockery and disdain of his peers.

As the banquet continued, the atmosphere grew more tense. Atticus knew that sooner or later, someone would challenge him, seeking to humiliate him in front of the entire Sect. He had to be prepared, for he knew they wouldn't let him off easily, even if he was already bruised and beaten.

Just as he was lost in his thoughts, a tall, burly disciple named Zhuo Feng approached his table, a sinister grin on his face. Atticus had clashed with Zhuo Feng before, and the grudge between them was deep, courtesy of his bruised body.

"Well, well, if it isn't Atticus," Zhuo Feng sneered. "Back for more punishment, I see."

Atticus remained calm, his eyes meeting Zhuo Feng's with an expressionless face. "I'm here to enjoy the banquet, just like everyone else."

The disciples around them began to gather, sensing the impending confrontation. Atticus knew he had to tread carefully. He couldn't afford to provoke a fight in his current state, and the banquet wasn't the place for it.

Zhuo Feng leaned in closer, his voice dripping with mockery. "How does it feel, Atticus? To be the weakest among us? To know that you'll never amount to anything in this Sect?"

Atticus took a deep breath, finding Zhuo Feng's questions tiresome and uninspiring. He stared at Zhou Feng with a bored expression. While he couldn't match Zhuo Feng's current cultivation level which was the middle realm of Foundation establishment, he hadn't forgotten his skills and comprehension from his past life. He had a few tricks up his sleeve if things took a turn for the worse.

Before Zhuo Feng could continue his taunts, a voice rang out from the crowd. It was Lei Meihua, one of the three sisters he had seen earlier when he woke up.

"Enough, Zhuo Feng," she said, her voice commanding attention. "We're here to celebrate our Sect's increase in strength, not to engage in childish games. So quit fooling around!"

Zhuo Feng grumbled but backed away, clearly unwilling to challenge Lei Meihua. Atticus felt a twinge of gratitude towards her. She had once again come to his aid, just as she usually did. Atticus appreciated not getting into unnecessary fights until he was healed and on his proper path to strength.

The banquet continued, with the tension gradually dissipating. Atticus couldn't help but wonder how he was going to gather reaper points. It seemed like an insurmountable task, especially when he couldn't afford to antagonize his fellow disciples.

As the night wore on, Atticus realized that the banquet was far from over. In fact, it was just the beginning.

"A moment of your attention!" The voice of the Patriarch suddenly resounded through the grand hall.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the good tidings that have graced our Sect, and also the addition of one more Elder to the Inner Court, Elder Zhou Mei!" Cedric Bloodhound raised his wine up to Elder Zhou Mei.

"To the cultivation path, where strength flows like fine wine, may we reach new heights with each sip, and may our destinies be as boundless as the heavens!"

"Cheers!" The entire gathering replied with their cups raised for the toast.

"To liven the atmosphere, how about the juniors have a spar? Let's see how far you have all come. What are your thoughts on this, my lord?" Zhou Mei asked, looking at the Patriarch with a smile that hinted at dark intentions.

Cedric Bloodhound's weak point had always been his son, and if he hated Zhou Mei for anything, it was the way he constantly tried to find ways to make his son bully Atticus just to get to him. But he was already used to all this, even though Zhou Mei's intentions were clear to everyone, as always.

"It's a splendid idea," the Patriarch agreed with a tight smile, masking his annoyance. "I would love to see a spar. A reward will be given for each winner that manages to defeat their peer."

Atticus listened to the announcement, realizing that this was the moment of reckoning. He knew he had to participate and prove himself, but he also knew the risks involved. It was a test of his determination and a chance to earn some recognition, but it also meant exposing himself to potential humiliation.

The banquet hall buzzed with excitement as the disciples eagerly discussed the upcoming sparring matches. Atticus couldn't afford to back down, not when he needed to make a name for himself in this new life. With a deep breath, he rose from his seat and joined the group of juniors who were being called to the center of the hall.

The Patriarch's eyes settled on Atticus as he joined the lineup, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. Atticus was always the weakest of all his siblings, an outsider with trash talent. But today he seemed...different, the air around gave an aura that almost felt like someone with experience this slight change made the Patriarch wonder what he would bring to the table.