The days following Eric's confrontation with Liu Chen were tense. Students whispered when he passed, their conversations dying mid-sentence. Some looked at him with curiosity, others with fear, a few with the calculating expressions of those wondering if he could be useful or if he was simply a problem waiting to happen.
Liu Chen himself avoided Eric entirely, though rumors circulated that he'd been asking questions—trying to understand how an Eighth Stage Body Refinement disciple had struck with such impossible force. So far, Eric's story that it had been an unexpected qi surge seemed to hold, but the scrutiny was uncomfortable.
**"Keep your head down,"** the dragon advised. **"The attention will fade if you give them nothing else to focus on. Return to being unremarkable."**
Eric tried. He attended classes, trained during off-hours, and spoke to no one unless necessary. But being unremarkable didn't solve his fundamental problem: he was approaching the three-month evaluation, and his cultivation had stagnated at Eighth Stage Body Refinement.
After his display with Liu Chen, he'd practiced controlling his emotions obsessively, learning to recognize when anger was beginning to draw on the dragon's power. The control was improving, but it meant he couldn't access that strength deliberately—not without risking another azure flare that would draw even more dangerous attention.
Which meant he needed to progress the normal way: through resources, training, and time.
And time was running out.
Winter deepened, and with it came Eric's growing desperation. The cold itself had become manageable—he'd learned to circulate his qi efficiently to maintain warmth. But the sect's resource allocation remained brutal. The basic stipend of ten contribution points per month covered survival, but nothing more. To break through to Ninth Stage, he needed pills, chamber access, or advanced techniques—all of which cost more than he could afford.
The mission board called to him like a siren song.
Eric stood before it one frozen morning, studying the available assignments while other students milled around, most gravitating toward the safe, low-paying missions at the top.
The dangerous missions—marked with red seals—still occupied the bottom of the board, but after Liu Chen, Eric was wary of drawing more attention with spectacular success. He needed something that would earn contribution points without being so remarkable that people asked questions.
One mission caught his eye:
*Mission: Clear Ironwood Grove of spirit beasts. Requirements: Body Refinement Seventh Stage minimum. Reward: 8 contribution points. Warning: Area contains F-rank and occasional E-rank beasts. Hunting experience recommended.*
Eight contribution points. Not the fortune some missions offered, but enough to buy two Meridian Cleansing Pills or rent a basic cultivation chamber for several sessions. Enough to make a difference.
And the beasts were listed as F-rank with occasional E-ranks—exactly the type Eric had hunted for months in Greenbrook's forests.
"Thinking of taking it?"
Eric turned to find Finn standing beside him, his expression thoughtful. The quiet farm boy had become something of a friend, one of the few people Eric could talk to without constant guard.
"Maybe," Eric admitted. "I need contribution points, and I have experience with beast hunting."
"The scale is different here," Finn warned. "F-rank beasts near the sect are culled regularly, so the ones that survive are the strongest, most cunning ones. And E-ranks here..." He shook his head. "They're not like village E-ranks. They've competed with stronger beasts, learned to survive in a more dangerous environment. Don't underestimate them."
"I won't." Eric pulled the mission slip from the board. "But I don't have much choice. The evaluation is in ten days."
Finn studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Be careful. And if you run into anything you can't handle, retreat. No amount of contribution points is worth your life."
"I know."
But as Eric took the mission slip to the administrative desk, he wondered if that was true. What was his life worth if he washed out of the sect, returned to Greenbrook in failure, went back to being the weakest? Sometimes survival required risking death.
The dragon had taught him that lesson months ago.
---
Ironwood Grove was located two hours northeast of the sect, accessible by a winding forest path that gradually descended from the cultivated sect grounds into wilder territory. The trees here were ancient, their trunks thick as houses, their canopies blocking most sunlight and creating a perpetual twilight beneath.
Eric moved carefully through the undergrowth, his senses extended, feeling for the distinctive qi signatures of spirit beasts. The dragon's training had sharpened his awareness—he could now detect creatures from dozens of paces away, identify their approximate strength, and plan his approach accordingly.
The first beast he encountered was an F-rank Thornback Boar—similar to ones he'd fought before, but as Finn had warned, noticeably stronger. It was foraging near a stream, its bristled hide gleaming with a faint qi sheen that hadn't been present in village beasts.
Eric circled downwind, studying its patterns. The boar was cautious, lifting its head frequently to scan for threats, moving with the wariness of a creature that had survived by being careful.
**"A survivor,"** the dragon observed. **"The weak ones were killed long ago. This one learned to be paranoid. Good. It will make you a better hunter."**
Eric waited until the boar committed to drinking from the stream—the moment when it would be most vulnerable. Then he struck, moving silently, his dagger already drawn.
The boar sensed him at the last moment and tried to turn, but Eric was faster. His blade found the gap behind its shoulder, sinking deep into vital organs. The creature squealed and thrashed, but Eric had learned from months of practice—he kept his grip, twisted the blade, and ended it quickly.
One F-rank core retrieved. Not worth much individually, but every contribution point mattered.
Over the next several hours, Eric systematically cleared the grove. A Razorback Hare that tried to ambush him from a tree—he caught it mid-leap with a precisely timed counter. Two Spike-tail Rats that attacked in coordination—he separated them and took them down one at a time. A Moss Serpent that nearly caught him with its camouflage—he spotted it only because his expanded awareness detected the unnatural stillness in one section of bark.
Each fight was harder than its equivalent would have been in Greenbrook. The beasts were faster, smarter, more aggressive. They used the terrain better, coordinated their attacks, and didn't make the same mistakes twice. Fighting them required his full concentration, every technique he'd learned, and no small amount of luck.
By the time the sun began its descent, Eric had collected seven F-rank cores and was thoroughly exhausted. His robes were torn in several places, he'd accumulated a collection of minor cuts and bruises, and his qi reserves were running low from constant circulation and combat.
He should have left then. Returned to the sect, reported the mission complete, collected his eight contribution points.
But something nagged at him—a feeling that he'd missed something. The mission brief had mentioned "occasional E-rank beasts," but he hadn't encountered any. Just a grove full of strong F-ranks.
**"Your instincts are correct,"** the dragon said. **"There's an E-rank here. I can sense it deeper in the grove, where the ambient qi is denser. It's likely the alpha predator, the reason the F-ranks stay in the outer areas."**
"Should I engage it?"
**"That depends. Can you afford not to? Eight contribution points will help, but will it be enough? Or do you need to push harder, risk more, to ensure your breakthrough?"**
Eric knew the answer. Eight points would buy two pills. He needed at least four for a solid breakthrough, preferably six to ensure his foundation remained stable. Which meant either taking multiple missions—and risking questions about his sudden success—or ending this mission with something more valuable.
He moved deeper into the grove, following the increasingly dense qi signature. The trees grew even larger here, their roots creating natural barriers and channels that funneled his path. The twilight deepened to near-darkness, and Eric had to rely on his qi sense more than his eyes.
The beast's lair was a hollow in the base of a massive ironwood tree. Eric could feel the creature inside—an E-rank presence that radiated controlled power. Not the overwhelming threat the Frost Wyrm had been in his previous timeline, but still significantly more dangerous than anything he'd faced today.
He positioned himself carefully, checking his escape routes, planning his approach. Then he deliberately kicked a stone into the hollow.
The creature that emerged was a Shadow Panther—sleek, black-furred, with eyes that gleamed with intelligence and muscles that rippled under its pelt. E-rank, as he'd suspected, and probably the strongest thing in this grove by a significant margin.
It saw Eric immediately and settled into a stalking crouch, assessing him the way a predator assessed potential prey. Its tail swished slowly, almost hypnotically.
**"It's trying to decide if you're worth the energy to kill,"** the dragon said. **"Show weakness, and it will attack. Show too much confidence, and it might retreat to preserve itself. You need to convince it you're prey worth taking, but not prey that will escape easily."**
Eric held his ground, his dagger ready, his stance defensive but not terrified. The panther made its decision.
It struck with blinding speed, a black blur that crossed the distance between them in an eyeblink. Eric's months of beast-fighting saved him—he'd already committed to his dodge before consciously registering the attack, rolling sideways as claws carved through the space where he'd stood.
The panther recovered instantly, spinning to face him, and Eric saw the moment it reassessed. He wasn't helpless prey. He was a challenge.
Good. Challenged prey sometimes made mistakes.
They circled each other, the panther looking for openings, Eric maintaining distance and watching for patterns. The creature was fast—faster than anything he'd fought recently—but it wasn't using qi techniques. Just natural speed and predatory instinct.
When it attacked again, Eric was ready. He'd seen the telltale tensing of muscles, the slight shift of weight. He dodged and countered in one motion, his dagger scoring a line across the panther's flank.
First blood to him.
The panther yowled and changed tactics, becoming more aggressive. It pressed the attack, forcing Eric to defend, to give ground, to focus entirely on not being shredded. Claws raked across his forearm—a shallow cut, but painful. Another strike caught his shoulder, tearing through his robe and drawing blood.
Eric was being driven back, and the panther knew it. Its attacks grew bolder, more committed.
Which was exactly what Eric had been waiting for.
The next time it lunged, Eric didn't dodge aside—he dropped flat. The panther sailed over him, its momentum carrying it forward, and Eric twisted, driving his dagger upward into its exposed belly as it passed.
The blade sank deep. Hot blood poured over his hand as the creature crashed to the ground beyond him, thrashing and yowling. Eric scrambled to his feet, ignoring his own wounds, and finished it with a strike to the base of its skull.
Then he collapsed against the nearest tree, gasping, his body shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion.
**"Well fought,"** the dragon said with approval. **"You're learning to use your opponents' aggression against them. That panther was faster and stronger, but you were smarter. Remember this—in cultivation, intelligence often trumps raw power."**
Eric spent several minutes just breathing before he had the energy to harvest the E-rank core. It was larger than the F-rank cores, pulsing with more concentrated qi, and would fetch a better price.
The journey back to the sect was exhausting. Eric moved slowly, his wounds aching, his qi reserves nearly depleted. By the time the sect came into view, full night had fallen and his legs were barely supporting his weight.
He staggered into the administrative building and dropped his collection of cores on the desk—seven F-rank and one E-rank.
The attendant's eyebrows rose. "You cleared the entire grove? Including the alpha predator?"
"Yes."
"Mission completion confirmed. Eight contribution points transferred to your account." The attendant examined the cores. "The cores themselves... I can give you an additional three contribution points for the lot. The E-rank core is decent quality."
Eleven contribution points total. Enough for four Meridian Cleansing Pills with one point to spare, or a combination of pills and chamber time. Not spectacular, but exactly what Eric needed—incremental improvement that wouldn't draw excessive attention.
"I'll take it," Eric said.
As he left the building, he felt the exhaustion dragging at him, but also satisfaction. He'd cleared a dangerous mission, earned valuable resources, and done it all without revealing anything unusual about his cultivation.
**"Progress without spectacle,"** the dragon approved. **"This is the way forward. Steady advancement, careful resource management, avoiding attention while growing stronger. You're learning the game, Eric."**
Eric made his way back to the Outer Court, ignoring the curious glances from students who noted his torn, bloodied robes. In his room, he collapsed onto his thin mattress and assessed his situation.
Eleven contribution points. Ten days until evaluation. Eighth Stage Body Refinement pushing toward Ninth.
It wasn't ideal, but it was workable. He'd buy four Meridian Cleansing Pills tomorrow, use them over the next week while maintaining his training regimen, and push for breakthrough. The remaining points would cover basic necessities and maybe one chamber session at a critical moment.
It would be close. Very close. But close was better than impossible.
**"Rest tonight,"** the dragon advised. **"Tomorrow, we begin the final push. Ten days to transform yourself from Eighth Stage to Ninth. It's been done before, with proper dedication and resources. We will do it again."**
Eric closed his eyes, feeling his body beginning to heal itself through natural qi circulation. Around him, the Outer Court building creaked and settled, full of two hundred students all facing their own challenges, their own desperate attempts to progress fast enough to survive.
But Eric had something most of them didn't: he'd already died once, already been deemed worthless, already proved impossible odds wrong. This was just one more challenge in a long series.
And like all the others, he would overcome it.
Ten days to breakthrough. Ten days to prove he belonged in the Eastern Jade Sect. Ten days to take another step on the long path of cultivation.
The dragon's heir closed his eyes and began to meditate, drawing in qi despite his exhaustion, refining it through his meridians, preparing his body for the ordeal ahead.
Outside his grimy window, the sect continued its nightly activities—thousands of disciples training, cultivating, competing. Some would succeed. Most would fail. The cultivation world was ruthless that way.
But Eric Chen had learned to be equally ruthless when necessary.
And in ten days, the evaluation would show whether that was enough.
The fight for advancement had begun.
And Eric was all in.