The ten days before evaluation passed in a blur of cultivation and discipline.
Eric rose before dawn each morning, practiced the Iron Body Refinement Method until his muscles burned, then meditated for hours while consuming the Meridian Cleansing Pills he'd purchased. The pills were bitter, their effects immediate and uncomfortable—each one felt like liquid fire coursing through his meridians, burning away impurities and widening the pathways for qi circulation.
**"Endure it,"** the dragon instructed during one particularly painful session. **"Your body is being refined, tempered like iron in a forge. The pain is temporary. The benefits are permanent."**
Eric gritted his teeth and maintained his meditation, feeling the pill's energy integrate with his own qi. His cultivation was progressing—he could feel himself approaching the threshold of Ninth Stage—but it was agonizingly slow. Each incremental improvement required hours of focused effort.
The other Outer Court disciples were also preparing, though with varying levels of success. Some, like Aria Blackwood, had already advanced to Inner Court and were exempt from this evaluation. Others, like Finn, were pushing themselves to their limits, taking extra missions, training until exhaustion.
Thorren had grown increasingly withdrawn. After his repeated humiliations, he'd stopped attending optional training sessions, stopped socializing, stopped doing anything beyond the bare minimum to avoid expulsion. Eric saw him sometimes, moving through the halls like a ghost, and wondered if the boy who'd boasted about his family's wealth even recognized himself anymore.
Lira and Kira trained together with obsessive focus, their twin synchronization giving them an edge in combat evaluations. They'd formed a small study group with three other students, sharing resources and techniques, trying to improve their collective chances of advancement.
And Eric trained alone, as always, pushing himself toward a breakthrough that remained frustratingly just out of reach.
On the eighth day, he rented a cultivation chamber—one of the basic ones in the Outer Court, barely better than meditating in his room, but the enhanced ambient qi might make the difference. He spent four hours there, cycling through his meridians, compressing and refining his qi according to the dragon's guidance.
On the ninth day, he felt it—the first sign that breakthrough was imminent. His qi pool, which had been straining against the limits of Eighth Stage, began to compress, becoming denser, more refined. The process was uncomfortable, like trying to force water through a narrowing pipe, but he maintained focus.
**"Almost there,"** the dragon encouraged. **"Your foundation is solid. Your meridians are clear. You just need one final push to break through the barrier. Tomorrow, before the evaluation, we will make the attempt."**
"What if I fail?"
**"Then you face the evaluation at Eighth Stage and hope your technique and combat ability are enough to offset your cultivation level. But you won't fail. I have guided you this far—I will not let you fall short now."**
That night, Eric barely slept. His body was ready, his mind was ready, but the pressure of everything riding on tomorrow's breakthrough kept him restless. Around him, he could hear other students tossing and turning—he wasn't the only one anxious about the evaluation.
---
Eric woke two hours before dawn on the tenth day. The evaluation wouldn't begin until midmorning, which gave him time for one final cultivation session—the attempt at breakthrough.
He sat cross-legged on his thin mattress, closed his eyes, and began the process. His qi circulated through the familiar pathways, faster and faster, building pressure against the barrier between Eighth and Ninth Stage. The Iron Body Refinement Method had prepared him for this—showed him exactly where to focus, how to compress his energy, what meridians to widen to accommodate the increased power.
The barrier resisted. Eric pushed harder, his entire being focused on this single task. Sweat poured down his face. His muscles trembled with the effort of maintaining perfect stillness while his internal battle raged.
**"More,"** the dragon commanded. **"You have the strength. Use it. PUSH!"**
Eric drew on every reserve of will he'd developed over months of brutal training. He remembered dying in that cave, remembered being the weakest, remembered his mother's tears and his sister's hope. All of it fueled his determination.
The barrier cracked.
Then shattered.
Power flooded through Eric's body as his cultivation broke through to Ninth Stage Body Refinement. His meridians widened, his qi pool expanded, and for a glorious moment, he felt invincible. Energy coursed through every cell, refining and strengthening, preparing him for the eventual leap to Qi Condensation.
When he finally opened his eyes, the sun was just beginning to rise.
**"Ninth Stage Body Refinement,"** the dragon confirmed with satisfaction. **"Your foundation remains solid, your advancement clean. Well done, young heir. Now you face the evaluation with a real chance of success."**
Eric stood slowly, testing his new strength. Everything felt sharper, more responsive. His movements were more fluid, his senses more acute. The difference between Eighth and Ninth Stage wasn't as dramatic as some breakthroughs, but it was noticeable.
More importantly, it meant he wouldn't be among the weakest going into the evaluation.
---
The Central Plaza was packed with Outer Court disciples by the time Eric arrived. Two hundred students stood in nervous clusters, their faces reflecting various degrees of anxiety, confidence, or resignation. Instructors and sect officials lined the raised platform at one end, their expressions uniformly stern.
Elder Hammond—the same man who'd overseen their entrance examination—stood at the center of the platform. His Foundation Establishment aura radiated authority as he surveyed the assembled students.
"Three months ago, you entered this sect as probationary disciples," he began without preamble. "Today, we determine if you've earned the right to remain. The evaluation consists of three assessments: cultivation advancement, combat ability, and overall contribution to the sect."
He gestured to a formation array that glowed softly on the platform. "First—cultivation assessment. Each of you will step forward and be evaluated by this formation. It will measure your current stage, the quality of your foundation, and your rate of advancement since entering the sect. Those who have not progressed at all will fail automatically."
Murmurs ran through the crowd—anxious whispers about students who'd spent their contribution points poorly, who'd focused on the wrong areas, who'd simply lacked the talent to advance in the sect's competitive environment.
"Second—combat assessment. You will face an opponent at your cultivation level. Your performance will be judged on technique, tactical awareness, and fighting spirit. Adequate performance passes. Exceptional performance may earn recognition. Poor performance fails."
More whispers. Combat was where many students either proved themselves or revealed their inadequacy.
"Third—contribution assessment. We will review your mission completions, class attendance, and overall value to the sect. This is weighted less heavily than the other two assessments, but chronic underperformance can result in failure even if you pass the first two tests."
Elder Hammond's gaze swept across them like a blade. "Approximately thirty percent of you will fail this evaluation. Those who fail will have one week to leave sect grounds. Those who pass will continue as Outer Court disciples for another three months, at which point you'll face another evaluation. Only after one year of successful evaluations will you be considered for promotion to Inner Court."
Thirty percent. Sixty students would be expelled today.
"We begin. When your name is called, approach the platform."
The evaluations started in alphabetical order, which meant Eric would be called relatively early. He watched as the first students underwent their assessments, trying to learn from their successes and failures.
A girl named Chen Mei—no relation—passed her cultivation assessment with adequate ratings, performed well in combat, but was failed for poor contribution record. She'd barely attended classes and completed only three basic missions in three months. The instructors judged her "uncommitted to sect advancement" and dismissed her.
A boy named Feng Wu passed all three assessments easily—he'd advanced from Seventh to Ninth Stage, demonstrated solid combat technique, and maintained perfect attendance while completing numerous missions. He was congratulated and told to continue his exemplary progress.
Finn was called before Eric. The quiet farm boy approached the formation with visible anxiety, but his results were solid: advanced from Sixth to Eighth Stage, adequate foundation quality, competent combat performance, and good mission completion record. He passed and returned to the crowd with visible relief.
Then Eric heard his name.
"Chen Eric. Approach."
He walked to the platform with steady steps, refusing to show the nervousness churning in his gut. He'd done everything he could—advanced his cultivation, maintained his foundation quality, completed dangerous missions. He would pass or fail based on his own merit.
The formation activated as he stepped into it, and Eric felt the familiar sensation of analytical pressure examining every aspect of his cultivation. His qi pathways, his meridian quality, the stability of his advancement—all of it measured and displayed for the officials to see.
The results appeared in glowing characters above his head:
*Previous Stage: Eighth Stage Body Refinement*
*Current Stage: Ninth Stage Body Refinement*
*Foundation Quality: Excellent*
*Meridian Stability: Superior*
*Advancement Rate: Adequate*
Elder Hammond's eyebrows rose slightly—the only sign of surprise he showed. "Advanced one full stage in three months with excellent foundation quality. Unusual for an Outer Court disciple without significant family resources. How did you manage this?"
Eric had prepared for this question. "Disciplined training, honored elder. I maintained strict cultivation schedules, completed missions to earn resources, and focused on quality over speed."
"Commendable." Elder Hammond made a note on his scroll. "Proceed to combat assessment."
The combat opponent materialized from the formation—a construct perfectly matched to Eric's Ninth Stage cultivation. It settled into a fighting stance, its movements economical and precise.
"Begin."
The construct attacked immediately, testing Eric's reflexes. He blocked and countered, settling into the rhythm of combat. This fight was similar to his entrance examination, but his months of actual beast combat had refined his instincts even further.
The construct fought with textbook technique—perfect form, no wasted energy, exactly as one would expect from someone trained in a proper dojo. But Eric had learned to read opponents, to anticipate movements, to exploit the tiny gaps that even perfect technique created.
He didn't try to overpower the construct—that would be pointless. Instead, he demonstrated control, adaptability, tactical thinking. When the construct threw a combination, Eric defended efficiently and countered with precisely calculated strikes. When it shifted tactics, he adjusted seamlessly.
Thirty seconds passed. A minute. The construct increased its aggression, trying to overwhelm Eric with superior technique. But Eric had fought creatures that wanted him dead, that adapted and learned and used terrain and tricks. A formation construct, no matter how skilled, was predictable in ways real opponents weren't.
Eric feinted high, then swept the construct's legs when it committed to blocking. As it fell, he followed up with a strike that would have been lethal if this were a real fight.
The construct dissolved.
"Pass," the examiner declared. "Exceptional technique, particularly the adaptation and tactical awareness. Combat score: Superior."
Elder Hammond nodded approvingly. "Final assessment—contribution record."
An official consulted his records. "Chen Eric. Class attendance: Perfect. Mission completions: One red-seal mission successfully completed, seven standard missions completed, total contribution earnings: forty-one points over three months. Disciplinary record: One incident of combat with an Inner Court disciple, though investigation showed the incident was defensive in nature."
The last part made Eric's stomach clench, but Elder Hammond simply nodded. "Adequate contribution. The defensive combat incident is noted but not held against you—Inner Court disciples should not be harassing Outer Court students regardless."
He made a final notation on his scroll. "Chen Eric, overall assessment: Pass. Cultivation advancement and combat ability are both superior. Continue your current trajectory. Dismissed."
Eric bowed and returned to the crowd, his legs slightly unsteady from relief. He'd passed. Three more months of sect membership secured.
**"Well done,"** the dragon said quietly. **"You've bought yourself time to continue advancing. But remember—the next evaluation will be harder. They'll expect continued progress. Each stage takes longer, requires more resources. You cannot afford to relax."**
Eric knew. This was just one victory in an endless series of challenges. But for today, it was enough.
He watched as the evaluations continued. Thorren was called and approached with visible dread. His results were devastating: no cultivation advancement at all—still Seventh Stage, barely adequate foundation quality, poor combat performance, minimal contribution record. He failed all three assessments and was dismissed from the sect.
Eric felt... nothing. No satisfaction, no pity. Just a vague recognition that Thorren had failed to adapt, had let his broken spirit prevent progress, and had paid the price.
Lira and Kira both passed with solid scores, their twin synchronization impressing the combat examiners. Several students Eric didn't know well failed various assessments and were dismissed. Others passed narrowly, barely meeting minimum standards.
By the time the evaluations ended, sixty-three students had failed—slightly more than the predicted thirty percent. They were given one week to collect their belongings and leave sect grounds. Some accepted their failure stoically. Others protested, pleaded, even begged. None of it mattered. The sect's judgment was final.
The remaining one hundred thirty-seven students—survivors of their first evaluation—were dismissed with instructions to continue training, to push harder, to prove they deserved their places.
---
That evening, the Outer Court felt simultaneously more spacious and more oppressive. Sixty-three empty rooms, sixty-three fewer students competing for resources, sixty-three reminders that failure was always one evaluation away.
Eric sat in his room, processing the day. He'd succeeded, proven himself worthy of continued membership. But the dragon's warning echoed in his mind: the next evaluation would be harder. They'd expect advancement to Qi Condensation, or at least peak Ninth Stage with a clear path to breakthrough.
Which meant more missions, more resources, more risks.
The cultivation world's treadmill never stopped moving. You either kept climbing or fell off.
A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. Eric opened it to find Finn standing there, looking relieved and exhausted in equal measure.
"We made it," Finn said simply.
"We did."
"I saw Thorren being escorted out earlier. He looked... empty. Like someone had scooped out everything that made him who he was."
"The sect does that," Eric said quietly. "It takes people who think they're important and shows them they're not. Some adapt. Some break."
"Which are we?"
Eric considered the question. "We're the ones who were already broken before we got here. The sect can't break what's already been shattered and rebuilt."
Finn smiled slightly at that. "Dark, but probably true." He handed Eric a small package. "The twins and I are pooling contribution points to buy decent rations. Figured you might want to join. Better food, better cultivation. Plus, it's nice to not eat alone sometimes."
Eric accepted the package—dried meat and actual vegetables, a significant upgrade from the thin stew served in the mess hall. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. We village disciples need to stick together. The clan heirs and family students have their networks. We should have ours."
After Finn left, Eric sat on his bed and ate actual food for the first time in weeks. Around him, the Outer Court settled into its evening routine—students training, meditating, strategizing about the next three months.
Somewhere in the Inner Court, more advanced disciples pursued their own cultivation, probably not even aware that sixty-three Outer Court students had been expelled today. To them, it was just natural selection—the weak being culled, the strong advancing.
And in the Core Court, geniuses like Bai Xue probably viewed the entire Outer Court as beneath notice, focused on breakthroughs and achievements that Eric could barely imagine.
**"You're progressing well,"** the dragon said as Eric began his evening meditation. **"Ninth Stage Body Refinement at your age, with a solid foundation and real combat experience. In a village, you'd be considered exceptional. Here, you're merely adequate. But adequate is enough—for now."**
"How long until I can attempt Qi Condensation?"
**"Months, at minimum. Possibly a year if you want to ensure a perfect foundation. Qi Condensation is not like the stages of Body Refinement—it's a fundamental transformation, the first real step on the path of cultivation. Rush it, and you'll cripple your future progress. Take too long, and the sect will question your potential."**
"Another impossible balance to maintain."
**"Welcome to the cultivation world. Impossibility is the baseline. Everything gets harder from here."**
Eric smiled despite himself. "Comforting."
**"I don't deal in comfort. I deal in truth. And the truth is this—you've survived your first evaluation, advanced your cultivation, and maintained your secret. That's no small accomplishment. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we begin planning for the next three months."**
Eric lay back on his thin mattress, feeling the aches in his body from constant training, the lingering effects of his breakthrough, the weight of knowing he'd have to do all this again in three months.
But underneath the exhaustion and anxiety, he felt something else: satisfaction. He'd proven himself again, overcome another impossible challenge, taken another step forward.
The path of cultivation was long, treacherous, and unforgiving. But Eric Chen, once the weakest disciple of Greenbrook, now Ninth Stage Body Refinement cultivator of the Eastern Jade Sect, was still walking it.
Still climbing.
Still refusing to quit.
Outside his window, the sect continued its eternal rhythm—thousands of disciples pursuing power, chasing transcendence, fighting against their own limitations.
And Eric was one of them, indistinguishable from the crowd, hiding in plain sight, growing stronger one careful step at a time.
The dragon's heir closed his eyes and began to meditate, drawing in the qi of the sect's enhanced environment, refining it through his superior meridians, preparing for whatever challenges the next three months would bring.
The game of survival continued.
And Eric was learning to play it well.