The three-day journey to the capital passed in a rhythm of conversation and silence.
Lira and Kira maintained a near-constant dialogue in their peculiar twin-speak—half-finished sentences that the other would complete, references to shared memories that needed no explanation, arguments that resolved themselves without either sister apparently conceding. They discussed cultivation techniques, speculated about what the sect would be like, and occasionally tried to include the others in their conversation with mixed success.
Thorren Locke dominated much of the remaining conversation, seeming unable to tolerate extended silence.
"My family's merchant fleet controls half the trade routes between Greenbrook and the capital," he announced on the first day, unprompted. "Once I've advanced to Qi Condensation—no, Foundation Establishment—we'll relocate permanently to the capital. Father says there's no point maintaining ties to a backwater village once I've made something of myself."
"That's nice," Lira said neutrally, not looking up from the cultivation manual she was reading.
"The Locke family has been accumulating resources for three generations," Thorren continued, either not noticing or not caring about her disinterest. "By the time I reach Core Formation, we'll be one of the premier cultivation families in the eastern provinces. The sect elders will probably want to arrange a marriage alliance with one of the major clans."
Kira caught Eric's eye and made a subtle gesture that clearly meant "can you believe this guy?" Eric suppressed a smile.
Aria Blackwood spent most of the journey in meditation, her eyes closed, her breathing so controlled it was almost imperceptible. As someone who'd already reached Qi Condensation, she was operating on a different level than the rest of them, and she seemed to know better than to waste time on idle chatter.
Finn Ashford sat quietly in his corner, occasionally gazing out the window but mostly keeping to himself. When someone did address him directly, he'd respond politely but minimally, as if conserving words for some future need.
And Eric... Eric meditated when he could, circulated his qi according to the Iron Body Refinement Method, and spent the rest of the time watching the landscape transform outside his window.
**"Observe everything,"** the dragon instructed. **"The ambient qi grows denser the closer we get to the capital. Can you feel it? This is what it means to cultivate in a place of power versus a remote village. The very air here aids cultivation."**
Eric could feel it. Each breath seemed to draw more energy into his meridians. His qi pool, which had felt comfortably full in Greenbrook, now felt like it had room to expand, to grow, to become more.
"Hey, Chen," Thorren said on the second day, apparently having exhausted other topics. "I heard you were stuck at Third Stage for years. What changed? You finally convince your family to invest in proper resources?"
Eric opened his eyes slowly. "I trained harder."
"Trained harder." Thorren laughed. "Right. Because that's all it takes. Not pills, not techniques, not proper instructors—just trying really hard."
"It worked for me," Eric said simply, closing his eyes again.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Thorren muttered, but he left Eric alone after that.
On the third day, as dawn broke across the horizon, Aria suddenly spoke. "We're close. Look."
Everyone crowded to the windows.
The capital rose before them like something from a fever dream.
Eric had thought Greenbrook was the world. A village of perhaps three thousand souls, with its small market, modest dojo, and houses that leaned slightly as if tired from decades of standing. It had seemed like enough, like the whole of civilization contained in those familiar streets.
He'd been so, so wrong.
The capital sprawled across the landscape like a living thing, vast beyond comprehension. The outer walls alone dwarfed any structure Eric had ever seen—fifty feet high if they were an inch, constructed from white stone that gleamed in the morning light and inscribed with massive formation arrays that pulsed with visible qi. Guard towers rose at regular intervals, each one taller than the tallest building in Greenbrook.
But the walls were just the beginning.
Beyond them, the city stretched to the horizon. Buildings rose in layers—wooden structures giving way to stone, stone to marble, marble to materials Eric couldn't even identify that seemed to shimmer with internal light. Pagodas reached toward the sky like the fingers of giants, their roofs adorned with golden tiles that caught the sun. Bridges arched over canals so wide they looked like rivers, and Eric could see boats moving along them even from this distance.
The streets were packed with people—more people than Eric had ever imagined could exist in one place. Thousands, tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. They moved like ants through an impossibly complex colony, each apparently knowing exactly where they were going despite the chaos.
And above it all, rising from the city's heart like a mountain made manifest, was something that defied description. A palace? A fortress? It stretched upward in impossible spirals and geometric patterns that hurt to look at directly, wreathed in clouds that didn't seem entirely natural, crackling with energy that Eric could feel even from miles away.
"The Imperial Palace," Aria said quietly, seeing where everyone was staring. "Home to the Emperor and the highest cultivation sects. It's said to be a formation so complex that just living there accelerates cultivation by a factor of ten."
"Ten times," Kira breathed. "Can you imagine?"
Eric couldn't. He could barely process what he was seeing.
The carriage passed through the outer gates—massive portals where guards in gleaming armor checked papers and examined travelers with eyes that saw more than the physical. Eric felt one guard's spiritual sense sweep over their carriage, assessing, categorizing, dismissing them as insignificant.
Then they were inside, and Eric's senses were overwhelmed.
The streets were paved with smooth stone that seemed to actively repel dirt. Buildings rose on either side in a bewildering variety of styles—some traditional with curved eaves and paper windows, others bizarrely modern with glass facades and geometric designs, still others that seemed to shift slightly as he watched, as if uncertain of their own architecture.
Signs hung everywhere, advertising goods and services Eric had never heard of. "Meridian Cleansing—Guaranteed Results!" "Spirit Beast Companions—All Ranks Available!" "Formation Arrays for Home Defense—Consult Free!" The sheer variety was dizzying.
And the people. Gods, the people.
Merchants in fine silks negotiated with customers over goods Eric couldn't identify. Cultivators walked past wearing robes that marked their sects or status, their power evident in the way crowds unconsciously parted for them. Street performers demonstrated techniques that would have made them legends in Greenbrook but here drew only passing glances. Children played games that involved actual qi manipulation, casually displaying abilities Eric had struggled months to develop.
A man walked past their carriage floating three feet off the ground, reading a scroll, completely unbothered by defying gravity. No one even looked twice.
"This is insane," Finn whispered, speaking more words at once than Eric had heard from him the entire journey.
"This is the capital," Aria corrected, but even she sounded slightly awed, and she'd been here before. "This is what real cultivation civilization looks like."
The carriage continued deeper into the city, passing through districts that each seemed like their own complete world. A market district where the air shimmered with formation arrays and the smell of exotic spices. A residential quarter where houses floated on platforms of solid qi. An artisan section where Eric glimpsed a blacksmith forging weapons that glowed with internal fire, the heat visible even from the street.
Then the buildings changed again, becoming more uniform, more purposeful. Gardens appeared between structures, perfectly manicured and radiating cultivation-friendly qi. Training yards visible through gates showed disciples practicing forms in synchronized groups of hundreds.
"The sect district," Thorren said, his earlier boastfulness replaced with something approaching reverence. "Where all the major sects maintain their compounds."
The Eastern Jade Sect's compound was... grand was too small a word.
The gates alone were works of art—massive panels of jade set into frames of some golden metal, covered in intricate carvings of dragons and phoenixes locked in eternal dance. The walls surrounding the compound rose thirty feet high, made from seamless white stone that thrummed with barely contained power. Beyond the gates, Eric could see gardens that put the village leader's personal plot to shame, buildings that made Greenbrook's dojo look like a child's playhouse, and in the distance, a mountain that rose impossibly from the city's heart—the sect's core territory, where the real training happened.
The carriages passed through the gates, and Eric felt a wash of qi so dense it was almost visible. This wasn't just a place where cultivation was practiced. This was a place built for it, designed from the foundations up to enhance and accelerate the path to power.
Senior Disciple Ashford led them from the carriages into a courtyard where other groups of new recruits were gathering. Eric recognized some faces from other villages in the region, saw students wearing different styles of clothing, heard accents and dialects he'd never encountered.
They were just one small group among hundreds.
Existing disciples moved through the courtyard on various errands, and Eric felt their gazes sweep over the new arrivals. There was no curiosity in those looks. No welcome. Just assessment and, in most cases, dismissal. These weren't fellow students—they were established members of the hierarchy, and the new recruits were beneath their notice.
One disciple, a young man perhaps seventeen or eighteen with Qi Condensation realm cultivation, actually laughed as he walked past. "More village fodder. Wonder how many of these will wash out in the first month."
His companion, a girl of similar age, shrugged. "Does it matter? The sect needs servants and errand runners. At least they'll be useful for something."
The casual contempt stung worse than any of Rorick's bullying had. At least Rorick had considered Eric worth tormenting. These disciples didn't even see them as rivals—just potential failures waiting to happen.
"This way," Senior Disciple Ashford said, her voice cutting through the murmurs. She led them through the compound, past buildings of increasing grandeur. Eric glimpsed training halls larger than Greenbrook's entire market square, libraries that rose five stories high, residences that looked like palaces.
Then they turned a corner, and the grandeur ended.
The building they approached was set apart from the main compound, tucked against the outer wall as if someone had forgotten it existed. Where the other structures gleamed with fresh paint and maintenance, this one was... dingy. There was no other word for it. The wood was weathered, the roof tiles cracked, the windows small and grimy. It looked less like a residential hall and more like storage that had been hastily converted.
"Your residence for the probationary period," Ashford announced, stopping before the entrance. "The Outer Court dormitory."
Thorren Locke stepped forward, his face flushing red. "There must be some mistake. My family paid significant fees to ensure proper accommodation. I was told I'd be housed in the Inner Court, with access to—"
"Your family's payments ensure you were allowed to test for the sect," Ashford interrupted, her voice cold. "Nothing more. Here, Thorren Locke, your family name means nothing. Your wealth means nothing. Strength is the only currency that matters, and right now, you have none that we recognize."
"But—"
"Tomorrow, you will take the entrance examination. Based on your performance, you will be assigned to either the Outer Court, Inner Court, or in exceptionally rare cases, the Core Court. Your current accommodation reflects your current status—unproven. If you wish to change that, demonstrate your worth." She swept her gaze across all of them. "This applies to all of you. You are not sect disciples yet. You are probationary students. Prove yourselves, or go home."
A younger disciple, barely older than them but carrying himself with the authority of someone who'd earned his place, stepped forward. "I'm Marcus Reed, Outer Court disciple in charge of new recruit orientation. Follow me."
He led them into the building, and Eric's heart sank further with each step.
The interior matched the exterior. The floorboards creaked ominously. The walls showed water stains from old leaks. The air smelled of mildew and decades of neglect. They passed a common area with furniture that looked ready to collapse, a kitchen with a stove that didn't appear to work, and washrooms that Eric suspected had plumbing issues.
"Male quarters to the left, female to the right," Marcus announced. "Each room contains one bed, one small desk, one storage chest. Meals are served in the outer mess hall at dawn, noon, and dusk. Miss them, and you don't eat. Curfew is two hours after dusk. Break it, and you face disciplinary action. The entrance exam begins tomorrow at dawn in the Central Testing Grounds. Be late, and you'll be sent home immediately. Any questions?"
"This is unacceptable," Thorren started. "I demand—"
"You demand nothing," Marcus said, his voice flat. "You're in the Eastern Jade Sect now, not whatever backwater village spawned you. Here, you are the lowest of the low. You rank below servants, below errand runners, below the people who clean the latrines. You are nothing until you prove otherwise. If that bothers you, the gates are that way." He pointed. "No one will stop you from leaving."
Thorren's face cycled through several shades of red, but he said nothing more.
"Room assignments." Marcus pulled out a list. "Locke, room seven. Storm twins, rooms twelve and thirteen. Blackwood, room three. Ashford, room nine. Chen, room sixteen." He continued down the list, assigning each student their space. "Get settled. Get sleep. Tomorrow determines whether you stay or go home in disgrace."
With that, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
The group stood in silence for a moment, the reality of their situation settling over them like a wet blanket.
"This is..." Lira began.
"...not what we expected," Kira finished.
Eric found room sixteen at the end of the hall. It was barely larger than a closet. A narrow bed with a thin mattress sat against one wall. A rickety desk occupied most of the remaining floor space. A small wooden chest at the foot of the bed completed the furnishings. One grimy window looked out over... nothing. Just the outer wall, close enough to touch.
He set down his pack and sat on the bed. It creaked alarmingly but held.
This was it. This was the great Eastern Jade Sect, one of the major cultivation powers in the eastern provinces. This was the opportunity he'd fought so hard for, nearly died for, transformed his entire life for.
A dingy room in a forgotten building, treated like refuse by disciples barely older than himself, facing an exam that could send him home in failure.
**"This is the cultivation world,"** the dragon said quietly. **"Not the stories of glory and honor. Not the tales of respected masters and grateful disciples. This is the reality—harsh, unforgiving, brutally hierarchical. The strong are revered. The weak are discarded. And right now, you are weak by their standards."**
"I know," Eric whispered.
**"Do you? Truly?"** The dragon's presence expanded in his consciousness, filling his awareness. **"In Greenbrook, you were impressive. In this sect, you are nothing. Those disciples who mocked you as they passed? They could kill you without effort. The 'weak' instructors who will teach you tomorrow? They could annihilate your entire village if they wished. The resources you killed D-rank beasts to afford? Here, children of wealthy families waste them on casual cultivation like you might waste water."**
Eric clenched his fists. "Then what do I do?"
**"What you have always done,"** the dragon said firmly. **"Survive. Adapt. Grow stronger. Tomorrow's exam will sort you into the Outer, Inner, or Core Courts. Your goal is simple—perform well enough to stay. After that, we climb. One stage, one realm, one impossible challenge at a time. You have walked through fire before, Eric Chen. This is just a different flame."**
Down the hall, Eric could hear Thorren still complaining to anyone who would listen. The twins were conversing quietly in their room. Finn's door opened and closed as he explored their new surroundings. Somewhere, Aria was probably already in meditation, wasting no time on things she couldn't change.
Eric lay back on his thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling, and thought about his mother and Wei back in Greenbrook. They would be wondering how he was doing, imagining him in some grand hall with respected masters and awed disciples.
The truth was so much harsher.
But Eric had learned long ago that the truth didn't care about his comfort. The world didn't reshape itself to match his expectations. He could either accept reality and work within it, or be crushed by it.
**"Rest now,"** the dragon advised. **"Tomorrow determines your path forward. You must be ready—not just physically, but mentally. The entrance exam will test more than your cultivation. It will test your will, your adaptability, your refusal to break under pressure."**
"I won't break," Eric said quietly. "I didn't break when everyone called me the village weakling. I didn't break when a beast killed me in that cave. I didn't break during months of brutal training. I won't break now."
**"Good. Then sleep, young heir. Tomorrow, we show this sect what it means to underestimate a dragon's chosen."**
Eric closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow, feeling his qi circulate through the familiar pathways of the Iron Body Refinement Method. Outside his grimy window, the Eastern Jade Sect continued its evening activities—thousands of disciples training, cultivating, pursuing power in their own ways.
Somewhere in this vast complex were resources he couldn't imagine, techniques that would make Master Tobias's scroll look like a child's primer, opportunities that could launch him to heights Greenbrook couldn't dream of.
But first, he had to survive tomorrow.
First, he had to prove he deserved to be here.
The dragon's heir lay in his dingy room in the forgotten corner of the sect, gathering his strength for the trial ahead.
And far away, in a place beyond mortal perception, something ancient stirred. Powers that had slept for millennia sensed a familiar presence awakening in the world. The dragon's heir had entered the cultivation world proper.
Things were about to become very interesting.
But Eric Chen, exhausted from three days of travel and the shock of reality crashing against expectation, knew nothing of this. He simply slept, dreaming of azure scales and ancient voices, preparing himself for whatever tomorrow would bring.
The entrance exam awaited.
And with it, the first real test of whether the weakest disciple of Greenbrook could survive in a world built for the strong.