In big sects like this, bootlickers are everywhere.

But even among bootlickers, there's a pecking order.

Some just suck up for their own gain—dumb, but at least harmless.

Some bark at bystanders while they lick—annoying, but still just deluded.

Then there are the worst ones—the kind that not only worship blindly but demand you do the same. These are the real demons in human skin—the elite of bottom-dwellers.

They're rare. Once in a hundred years, if you're unlucky.

Rebecca Fisher? Real lucky. First thing she saw after waking up was a whole pack of them.

“Rebecca, what’s your silence supposed to mean? Still refusing to apologize?”

At the middle of Windspire Sect's recruitment competition, Melville Myers, the top disciple, stared her down coldly in front of new recruits and elders alike.

And to think the little junior sister had been so kind to her. She couldn’t even be bothered to coax her a little.

Mavis Clarke's eyes were red, voice trembling with hurt. “It’s okay if she doesn’t want to. I just… thought we were like sisters.”

Manuel Hale shook his head, incredulous. “No way… Mavis has always treated Rebecca so well. And honestly, without Mavis giving her a clear shot, how could she have even landed a single hit?”

“Rebecca’s talent isn’t great, sure, but even then, doesn’t she have any self-awareness?”

Watching this circus, Rebecca really wanted to curse them out.

A moment ago she was just a burned-out worker bee in the modern world, submitting her 28th revision of some soul-sucking project.

Next thing she knew, she was inside some Xianxia novel called "The Coddled Junior Sister Gets All the Love" as a second-rate knockoff with the same name as the heroine.

In the story, the original Rebecca had grown up with the female lead in the same beggar’s den, but their lives couldn’t have turned out more different.

Mavis Clarke was every person’s dream—talented, beautiful, gentle. Before recruitment even began, Windspire Sect had already brought her in as their precious little sister. During the trial, she stunned everyone—soon, people were calling her a prodigy.

The original Rebecca? Silent. Weak as hell. Even though she came in early with Mavis, she just stood in the background. Barely accepted into the sect as an inner-sect laborer.

With her trash-grade spiritual root, she didn’t even have what it took to be in the outer sect. But Mavis, being the soft-hearted angel everyone thought she was, had begged Milward Carson to let her in.

That one beg led to a tsunami. From then, Mavis dragged Rebecca everywhere—every trial, every meeting, every mission.

Which meant she was always being compared. And always found lacking.

The sect saw her as nothing more than Mavis’ charity case. A gate-crasher. So they shut her out.

The original Rebecca took all this in silence. Grateful, even. Served Mavis like a loyal dog.

In the end? Thrown under the bus.

Died a worthless death to save her “sister.”

Tool. Comparison. Cannon fodder.

Now? Rebecca Fisher was stuck playing her part.

Bad news: she was this loser.

Good news: she hadn’t been used up yet.

She looked up slowly, eyes meeting the pack of rabid bootlickers, voice calm but sharp, “What if I said I won’t apologize?”

Melville and Manuel froze, staring like she’d gone insane.

“What did you just say?”

“Rebecca, are you insane? We already agreed to let you stay on as an inner-sect laborer. What more do you want? If not for Mavis pleading for you, would you even be allowed up here? And you dare actually fight her in the ring? Don’t tell me you really think you can beat her with that trash spiritual root of yours?”

“I thought maybe you’d seen reason. Turns out you’re just jealous! You’re weak, deal with it. Don’t go around hurting Mavis just to satisfy your twisted little heart!”

The crowd of disciples started muttering, words like “ungrateful,” “vicious snake” floating out from all directions.

Rebecca’s mouth twitched. One sentence, and they'd already gone rabid. If she’d followed up with “I feel like punching Mavis again,” they’d probably try to crucify her on the spot.According to the original plot, the original host got eliminated at the first stage of the Spirit Root test. But Mavis Clarke suddenly went hysterical, begging the sect to give the original host another chance to prove herself, even insisting on fighting her personally.

Then, during the match, Mavis, already at the seventh level of Qi Refining, got smacked to the ground by Rebecca Fisher, who was only at the second level.

And right after that, Mavis started bawling, claiming she never expected Rebecca would actually hit her.

What a mess.

Rebecca sneered, “So just because she’s the little junior sister and has talent, I’m supposed to plant myself face-first on the ground during a match? I’m not allowed to fight back? Then why even bother with a match? Just hand her the win.”

Either she’s gone mad, or this whole world has.

Manuel Hale was trembling with rage, clearly pissed she wasn't playing along.

“What nonsense are you spouting? It’s just an apology! What’s wrong with giving her a bit of love and support?”

“Oh, I get it now,” he scoffed. “You’re jealous of the little sister’s talent and popularity, aren’t you? That disciple you like—yeah, he likes her instead. What can she do? You’re throwing a fit for nothing.”

He’d already heard Mavis cry about this in secret. Apparently, a disciple kept chasing after her, and that disciple just happened to be Rebecca’s crush.

Mavis was so scared of upsetting Rebecca, she barely dared to leave her quarters.

Honestly, he couldn't think of any other reason for Rebecca to make things difficult for Mavis.

Seeing he was completely beyond reason, Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Oh right. If you’re not kissing little junior sister’s boots in Windcrest Sect, then you’re guilty of heresy and your life’s wasted.”

Manuel gawked at her in disbelief.

Had she gone crazy?

They just wanted her to apologize, admit she was wrong. The little junior sister was obviously the victim here. And besides, hadn’t things always been like this?

Finally, the sect leader, Milward Carson, couldn't take it anymore.

He said coldly, “Mavis agreed to fight you when she didn’t have to. She’s a genius with perfect spirit roots—she gave you face by stepping into the arena. You ought to be grateful. Everything you have now came from her. If you can’t even show gratitude, then don’t expect to enjoy her kindness. Since you're refusing to apologize, there's no need for you to continue in the enrollment competition. We won’t accept disciples like you—stubborn and ungrateful.”

“…?”

Was that even human language?

She couldn’t quite parse it.

By now, Rebecca had to admit—her logic just didn’t run on the same track as these lunatics.

Windcrest Sect was… special. A whole sect full of lunatics. She just wasn't sycophantic enough to fit in.

So—

“The sect leader speaks truth. I clearly don't deserve little junior sister’s kindness. I’d best leave now and return to my life as a beggar. Farewell!”

Before anyone could say a word, she turned and sprinted off like a ghost was after her.

Free at last, away from the sect and away from the heroine. Rebecca felt light as a feather, humming a tune as she skipped down the mountain.

Near the foot of the mountain, she ran into two men on their way up. Their robes were clearly from a different sect.

“Fellow cultivator, are you from Windcrest Sect?” one of them asked.

Before Rebecca could open her mouth, the other one gave her a look of disdain. “Why bother asking her? Only second level of Qi Refining—probably not even qualified to see the little sister, and she’s not even wearing a sect robe. Most likely just some errand runner.”

“Oh, true. Let’s go ask someone else. The little sister is gonna be so happy when she hears we came to see her…”

Rebecca: “…”

And just like that, her good mood vanished at the speed of light.

Shaking her fist at their backs, she turned away, scowling and muttering as she stormed off.

She had a terrible feeling this whole place was cursed just for her.