One month remained until departure.
Wei Chen's shadow manipulation had reached seventy-eight percent mastery — not quite the eighty percent Grandmaster threshold Elder Shen had targeted, but close enough to be impressive. His combat techniques were sharp. Survival skills functional. Mentally, he felt as prepared as anyone could be for an exam designed to break candidates.
The town felt different now. Smaller. Like a jacket Wei Chen had outgrown but hadn't quite taken off yet.
He walked through the market on a rare afternoon without training obligations, observing the familiar chaos with new perspective. The merchants hawking goods. The customers haggling prices. The children running between stalls. All of it felt distant somehow, like he was already halfway gone.
"You're doing it again," Lian Xiu said, appearing at his elbow.
Wei Chen turned. "Doing what?"
"That thing where you look at everything like you're memorizing it. Like you're already leaving." She gestured at the market. "You've been doing it for weeks."
"I am leaving. In a month."
"I know. But you're leaving now. Mentally. You're here but not here." Lian Xiu's sharp eyes studied him. "It's weird. Also kind of sad."
Wei Chen didn't have a good response to that. She was right — part of him had already moved on, already started thinking about the capital, Shadow Sanctuary, the life waiting beyond this small town.
"Come with me," Lian Xiu said suddenly. "I want to show you something."
She led him through the market's back alleys to a small workshop Wei Chen had never noticed before. The sign above the door read "Chen's Metalwork" — no relation to Wei Chen's family, just a common surname.
Inside, an old craftsman worked at a forge, hammer striking heated metal with rhythmic precision. Lian Xiu approached him, spoke quietly, then gestured for Wei Chen to wait.
The craftsman disappeared into a back room and returned with a leather-wrapped bundle. He handed it to Lian Xiu, nodded once, and returned to his work without a word.
Lian Xiu led Wei Chen back outside, into a quiet alley away from the market noise. She held out the bundle.
"This is for you. For the journey."
Wei Chen took it, surprised by the weight. He unwrapped the leather carefully.
Inside was a knife.
Not a practice blade. Not a decorative piece. A real combat knife — ten inches long, single-edged, perfectly balanced. The steel was dark, almost black, with subtle patterns in the metal that suggested quality folding. The handle was wrapped in leather, worn smooth in a way that spoke of use and care.
"This was my father's," Lian Xiu said quietly. "His favorite blade. He carried it for twenty years — farming, hunting, protection. It's saved his life at least twice that I know of."
Wei Chen stared at the knife, then at Lian Xiu. "I can't take this."
"You can. You will." Her voice was firm. "My father died three years ago. This knife has been sitting in a box ever since because I didn't know what to do with it. Couldn't use it myself. Couldn't sell it. Couldn't throw it away."
She gestured at Wei Chen. "But you? You're going somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you'll need every advantage. My father would've wanted his blade to protect someone who mattered to him. Since he's not here to decide, I'm deciding for him."
"Lian Xiu—"
"Don't argue. Don't say you're not worthy or you can't accept it or whatever noble bullshit you're thinking." Lian Xiu's eyes were bright but her voice stayed steady. "You're my best friend. My only real friend. You've helped me more than anyone except my mother. So take the damn knife and keep yourself alive with it."
Wei Chen wrapped his hand around the handle. The leather was smooth, molded by years of grip. The blade felt right — not too heavy, not too light. Perfectly balanced for throwing or close combat.
"Thank you," Wei Chen said quietly. "I'll take care of it. And I'll come back."
"You better. Someone needs to keep paying me back for all those job tips." Lian Xiu smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Also, I want to hear stories about the capital. About the Sanctuary. About all the crazy shit you're going to do."
"I'll write. Send letters through Merchant Liu's trade network."
"You better do that too." Lian Xiu looked away, toward the market sounds. "One month. Then you're gone for years. Maybe forever if something happens."
"Nothing's going to happen."
"Ten percent mortality rate says otherwise." She looked back at him. "But I think you'll be in the ninety percent. You're too stubborn to die."
That evening, Wei Chen showed the knife to Instructor Feng.
The Fire mage examined it with professional appreciation, testing the balance, checking the edge, studying the metal quality.
"Good steel. Old but well-maintained. Fifty years old at least, maybe older." Feng handed it back. "The folding pattern suggests traditional craftsmanship. Worth maybe ten gold as a weapon, more as an heirloom."
"Lian Xiu's father carried it for twenty years."
"Then it has history. That matters more than monetary value." Feng gestured to Wei Chen's practice dagger. "You've been training with that weighted wooden piece. Time to adjust to real steel. Different balance, different cutting dynamics."
They spent the next hour drilling with the knife. Feng taught Wei Chen how to draw quickly, how to switch grips mid-combat, how to integrate blade work with shadow techniques.
"Shadow Blade layers better over quality steel," Feng explained. "The metal holds the shadow coating more stably than wood. Your technique will improve just by using this."
Wei Chen practiced the coating. The shadows wrapped around the dark blade almost hungrily, like they recognized something compatible. The effect was more stable than anything Wei Chen had achieved with practice weapons.
"Good." Feng watched critically. "Keep that knife close. At Shadow Sanctuary, you'll be expected to provide your own weapons. Most students bring cheap mass-produced blades. You'll have something better — an advantage."
"Will that matter?"
"Everything matters. Quality weapon. Quality armor. Quality preparation. The difference between surviving and dying is often a dozen small advantages, not one large one." Feng clapped Wei Chen's shoulder. "You're collecting advantages. Good. Keep doing that."
Wei Chen showed the knife to Elder Shen during their next private lesson.
The old mage studied it briefly, then nodded. "A gift from your friend Lian Xiu."
"How did you know?"
"Because it's clearly an heirloom, well-maintained but aged, and she's the only person in town who would give you something so personally valuable." Elder Shen returned the knife. "Friendship is an advantage people underestimate. Lian Xiu has no magic, no wealth, no status. But she's loyal, perceptive, and willing to sacrifice for you. That's rare."
"I know."
"Do you? Because many mages forget their non-magical friends once they achieve power. They surround themselves with other mages, people who can match their strength or offer political advantages. They forget the people who helped them before power mattered." Elder Shen's gaze was serious. "Don't make that mistake. Lian Xiu's [Sharp Mind] skill is valuable. Her loyalty is more valuable. Maintain that relationship even after you leave."
"I will."
"Good. Now, let's discuss what happens when you arrive at Shadow Sanctuary."
Elder Shen pulled out a detailed letter, written in shadow-infused ink. "I've drafted a recommendation. It explains your training history, magical capabilities, and potential. Master Zhao — the Sanctuary's admissions master — will read this before your entrance exam."
"Will it help?"
"Marginally. Sanctuary admissions are meritocratic — they don't care about connections or recommendations as much as demonstrated ability. But it establishes that you're not a complete unknown. That you've received legitimate training." Elder Shen handed Wei Chen the sealed letter. "Don't open it. Present it sealed when you arrive. Breaking the seal voids the recommendation."
Wei Chen tucked the letter carefully into his travel pack. Another advantage. Small, but potentially meaningful.
"One month remains," Elder Shen continued. "We'll focus these final weeks on mental preparation. The physical and magical training is sufficient. But the psychological component — the ability to endure pain, fear, and uncertainty — that's harder to prepare for."
"How do we prepare for it?"
"By understanding what you're willing to sacrifice. What you'll refuse to sacrifice. Where your limits truly are." Elder Shen gestured for Wei Chen to sit. "Tell me, Wei Chen. If Shadow Sanctuary demanded you kill an innocent person to prove your ruthlessness, would you do it?"
Wei Chen thought carefully. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because that's not ruthlessness. That's just cruelty. Ruthlessness is doing what's necessary. Killing innocents is never necessary."
"Good answer. But what if they framed it differently? What if refusing meant expulsion, and expulsion meant your parents' sacrifices were wasted? Your years of training meaningless?"
Wei Chen sat with that question. The weight of it.
"I still wouldn't," he said finally. "Because becoming the kind of person who kills innocents means I've already failed. The point of power isn't just having it. It's what you do with it."
Elder Shen smiled slightly — a rare expression. "Excellent. You have a moral line. That's important. Many Darkness mages lose their moral lines in pursuit of power. They become what society fears rather than what society needs."
"What does society need?"
"Pragmatic operators who understand that morality and efficiency aren't mutually exclusive. That deception doesn't require betrayal. That darkness can serve without consuming." Elder Shen stood. "Remember that at Shadow Sanctuary. They will test your limits. They will offer you easy paths that corrupt. Choose the harder path that preserves who you are."
Three weeks until departure.
Wei Chen's preparations entered the final phase. He packed his travel bag methodically — clothing, survival supplies, the knife from Lian Xiu, the recommendation letter from Elder Shen, his shadow quartz from Merchant Liu.
Everything he owned that mattered fit into one bag. It was sobering how little that actually was.
His mother made him new clothes for the journey — sturdy traveling gear, reinforced at stress points, dyed dark gray to match his element. His father crafted a ceramic water flask, perfectly balanced for carrying, with a subtle enchantment that kept water cool.
"Not much," Chen Bo said, handing over the flask. "But it's what I can make."
"It's perfect," Wei Chen said honestly.
His parents were trying to be strong, but Wei Chen saw the cracks. His mother's hands shook slightly while sewing. His father worked longer hours at the pottery wheel, losing himself in familiar rhythms.
They were terrified. And trying desperately not to show it.
One evening, Wei Chen found his mother crying quietly in the kitchen. She tried to hide it when she heard him approach, but the evidence was obvious.
"I'm going to be fine," Wei Chen said.
"You don't know that." Her voice was thick. "Ten percent die. You keep saying ninety percent survive like it's guaranteed. But one in ten doesn't come home."
"I'll be careful."
"Careful isn't enough! You're eight years old, Wei Chen. Eight. You should be playing with other children, learning your father's trade, growing up slowly. Instead you're going to some death school to learn how to kill people."
Wei Chen sat beside her. "I have to do this."
"Why? Why do you have to?" His mother turned to face him, tears streaming. "Is being powerful really worth dying for? Is proving yourself to strangers more important than staying alive?"
"It's not about proving myself. It's about becoming who I'm meant to be." Wei Chen took her hand. "I was born with Darkness magic in a Water territory. That's already made me different. Already made me feared. I can spend my life apologizing for what I am, or I can embrace it and become exceptional."
"I'd rather have you alive and ordinary than dead and exceptional."
"I know. But I'd rather be dead and exceptional than alive and ordinary." Wei Chen squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry. I know that's not what you want to hear. But it's true."
His mother was quiet for a long moment. Then she pulled Wei Chen into a hug, holding him tight.
"Come back," she whispered. "I don't care if you're first place or last place or if you wash out completely. Just come back alive."
"I will. I promise."
It was a promise Wei Chen intended to keep. But standing there in his mother's arms, smelling the familiar scent of her cooking and feeling her tears soak into his shirt, he understood the weight of what he was risking.
Not just his life. But the lives his parents would have to live if he didn't come back.
That was heavier than any combat training. Scarier than any entrance exam.
And it made him more determined than ever to survive.
Because living wasn't just about him anymore. It was about everyone who'd invested in his future.
He couldn't let them down.
He wouldn't.