The week after evaluation brought a small but significant change: surviving Outer Court disciples were granted limited library access.
"Three hours per week," the librarian announced dryly, a wizened man named Scholar Yuan who guarded the library's entrance like a dragon protecting his hoard. "First floor only. No books or scrolls may leave the premises. Damage any text, and you'll be expelled immediately. Any questions?"
No one dared ask any.
The first floor of the library was... disappointing. Eric had imagined towering shelves filled with ancient wisdom, secret techniques that could transform cultivation overnight. The reality was far more mundane—basic cultivation theory he'd already learned from Master Tobias, elementary formation diagrams, beast compendiums listing creatures he'd already fought.
Most Outer Court disciples browsed for an hour, found nothing useful, and left frustrated.
But Eric had an advantage they didn't.
**"Look for these specifically,"** the dragon instructed, providing names and descriptions. **"The library organizes texts poorly—valuable techniques are often misfiled or overlooked because they lack impressive titles. I can sense what you need even if the librarians have forgotten what they own."**
Following the dragon's guidance, Eric found his first target tucked between two volumes on basic meditation: "The Flowing River Method—A Foundation Technique for Meridian Flexibility."
The title was uninspiring, but the dragon's approval was immediate. **"This. Study it carefully."**
Eric spent an hour absorbing the technique's principles. It wasn't flashy—no devastating strikes or overwhelming power. Instead, it focused on making qi circulation smoother, more adaptable, allowing cultivators to adjust their energy flow mid-technique. The kind of fundamental skill that made everything else work better.
His second find was even more obscure: "Seventeen Observations on Combat Adaptation" by an author with an unpronounceable name, filed incorrectly in the herbalism section.
**"This one is treasure disguised as trash,"** the dragon said with satisfaction. **"Most cultivators dismiss it because it contains no specific techniques. But it teaches something far more valuable—how to read opponents, how to adapt tactics in real-time, how to turn any situation to your advantage. Perfect for someone who fights beasts regularly."**
Eric studied both texts for his full three hours, committing as much as possible to memory. The library rules forbade taking books out, but they couldn't prevent him from remembering what he read—and with the dragon's perfect recall supplementing his own, he could review the texts later during meditation.
He returned each week, following the dragon's guidance to other overlooked techniques. A breathing method that improved stamina. A visualization exercise that enhanced spatial awareness. A footwork pattern that optimized energy efficiency.
None were powerful techniques that clan heirs would covet. But each one improved his foundation, refined his abilities, made him more effective overall.
**"This is how smart cultivators advance,"** the dragon explained. **"The flashy techniques attract attention and require massive resources. These foundational improvements cost nothing but time and intelligence. Compound them over months, and you'll surpass disciples who relied solely on expensive pills and family techniques."**
Eric practiced the techniques whenever he had time—integrating the Flowing River Method into his meditation, drilling the combat observations during solo training, perfecting the footwork pattern until it became instinctive.
But time was the resource he had least of. Collaboration among village disciples helped—Finn shared mission information, the twins provided insights about certain beast weaknesses, others contributed what knowledge they could—but survival still required constant effort.
Eric took more missions, pushing himself harder. The evaluation cycle was relentless: three months to show progress or be expelled. He needed contribution points for resources, combat experience to maintain his skills, and time to cultivate—three demands that constantly competed for his limited hours.
---
The mission that changed everything happened five weeks after evaluation.
Eric was tracking a pair of F-rank Razor Foxes through the Whispering Woods—a forested area east of the sect known for agile predators. The mission paid six contribution points and should have been straightforward.
Then he heard the scream.
Eric ran toward the sound, his combat instincts overriding caution. He burst into a clearing and immediately assessed the situation: a girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen, backed against a tree. An E-rank Shadow Bear—far more dangerous than the foxes Eric had been hunting—preparing to strike. Blood soaking the girl's robes, her face pale with terror and pain.
And beyond her, three bodies. Or what remained of them. The bear had been efficient.
Eric didn't hesitate. He launched himself at the beast, his dagger already drawn. His strike caught it across the shoulder—not deep enough to cripple, but enough to get its attention.
The bear roared and turned on him, abandoning the easier prey for the one who'd dared attack it. Good. Eric had fought enough beasts to know wounded prey was often ignored in favor of addressing immediate threats.
The fight was brutal and short. The bear was powerful but straightforward in its tactics. Eric used the Flowing River Method to stay mobile, the combat observations to read its attack patterns, and the footwork technique to position himself advantagely. When he finally drove his dagger into the base of its skull, both he and the beast were exhausted.
He immediately went to the girl. She was conscious but in shock, her wounds serious but not immediately fatal. Three deep cuts across her left arm, a nasty gash on her leg, various bruises and scrapes.
"Can you walk?" Eric asked.
She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "My leg..."
Eric followed her gaze to the three bodies. All Outer Court disciples based on their robes. All dead in ways that suggested the bear had been toying with them before finishing them off.
"We were trying to earn contribution points," the girl said, her voice hollow. "The mission said E-rank beast, we thought four of us could handle it. We underestimated..." She gestured weakly at the carnage. "Everything."
Eric said nothing, just carefully lifted her. She was light—too light, suggesting she hadn't been eating well. Another student struggling to survive on the sect's minimal stipend.
The journey back took two hours. Eric moved carefully, his cultivation helping support her weight, but by the time the sect came into view, his arms were trembling and his qi reserves depleted.
He delivered her to the healing hall, reported the three deaths to the administrative office, and collected the contribution points for the Shadow Bear's core. Then he returned to his room and collapsed, exhausted physically and mentally.
Three more Outer Court disciples dead. Not expelled—dead. The cultivation world's casual brutality on full display.
---
The next day, Eric was walking to the training grounds when someone called his name.
"Chen Eric! Wait!"
He turned to find the girl from yesterday approaching, her left arm heavily bandaged but otherwise mobile. She was shorter than he'd realized, with dark hair pulled back in a practical braid and determined eyes that reminded him of his sister Wei.
"I wanted to thank you," she said, bowing formally. "For saving my life. I'm Mei Lin."
"It's nothing," Eric said automatically, though they both knew it wasn't. Without his intervention, she'd be dead alongside her companions.
Mei Lin straightened, and Eric saw something shift in her expression—determination replacing gratitude. "I want you to train me."
Eric blinked. "What?"
"Train me. Teach me to fight like you do. I saw how you handled that bear—you made it look manageable. I've been in this sect for three months, attended all the combat classes, and I still couldn't defend myself against a single E-rank beast." Her hands clenched into fists. "Three people died yesterday because we were all inadequate. I won't be inadequate anymore."
Eric's first instinct was to refuse. He wasn't particularly strong—just Ninth Stage Body Refinement, still struggling to survive himself. Taking on a student would slow him down, cost him time he couldn't afford.
**"Accept her request,"** the dragon said suddenly.
*Why?* Eric thought back. *I barely have time for my own cultivation.*
**"Because teaching is the best way to learn. When you teach someone a technique, you must understand it deeply enough to explain every aspect. This forces you to examine your own knowledge more critically. Additionally, having someone depend on you for guidance creates different pressures than simply pursuing your own advancement. These pressures forge growth in unexpected ways."**
*And if she slows me down?*
**"Then she'll also provide cover. A student gives you legitimate reasons to take safer missions, to spend time in the library 'researching teaching materials,' to practice techniques openly without drawing suspicion. The benefits outweigh the costs—if you're smart about it."**
Eric looked at Mei Lin, seeing the desperation beneath her determination. He'd worn that same expression not long ago—the look of someone who'd seen how far they had to climb and was terrified they'd never make it.
"I'm not that strong," Eric said carefully. "I'm still Outer Court, still struggling to advance. I can't promise to make you powerful."
"I don't need powerful," Mei Lin said. "I need not-dead. Can you teach me that much?"
Eric couldn't help but smile slightly at the phrasing. "Yeah. I can teach you not-dead."
Relief flooded her face. "Thank you. I'll work hard, I promise. I'll—"
"First lesson," Eric interrupted. "Stop promising things. Cultivation isn't about promises. It's about action. Show me you'll work hard through your efforts, not your words."
Mei Lin nodded seriously, and Eric saw potential there—rough and untrained, but present.
"Meet me at the training grounds tomorrow morning, two hours before dawn," Eric said. "Bring whatever weapon you're most comfortable with."
"Two hours before dawn?" Mei Lin's eyes widened. "That's—"
"When people who want to survive train," Eric finished. "If that's too early, then this arrangement won't work."
"No, I'll be there," Mei Lin said quickly. "Two hours before dawn. I promise—I mean, I'll be there."
---
Training Mei Lin proved more challenging than Eric anticipated.
She had a solid foundation—Seventh Stage Body Refinement with stable meridians—but her technique was purely academic. She could execute forms perfectly in a controlled environment but fell apart the moment anything unexpected happened. Her combat instincts were almost nonexistent.
"You're thinking too much," Eric said after watching her fail to block a basic training dummy strike for the third time. "Combat isn't a test where you recall the right answer. It's a conversation where you respond to what your opponent says."
"That doesn't make sense," Mei Lin said, frustrated.
"It does when you stop treating fighting like memorization." Eric demonstrated, moving fluidly around the dummy's automated attacks. "Watch—the dummy telegraphs its strikes through weight shifts and mechanical sounds. I'm not thinking 'block here, dodge there.' I'm reading its language and responding."
He spent weeks teaching her to read opponents, to trust her instincts, to move without overthinking. Progress was slow but evident.
**"She needs a specific technique to build on,"** the dragon advised during one session. **"Something that matches her strengths. Return to the library—second shelf from the entrance, green binding, filed under 'Historical Accounts' but actually contains a technique called the 'Autumn Leaf Method.' It emphasizes evasion and patience, perfect for someone who thinks too much but moves too little."**
Eric found the text exactly where the dragon said, misfiled so thoroughly that no one had touched it in years based on the dust. He spent his library hours that week studying it, then began teaching Mei Lin its principles.
The Autumn Leaf Method focused on evasive movement, teaching practitioners to flow around attacks like leaves dancing on wind, waiting for the perfect moment to counter. It was defensive, patient, and rewarded tactical thinking—everything Mei Lin naturally leaned toward.
She took to it immediately.
"This makes sense," she said after her first week practicing the technique. "I can think while I move. I don't have to just react."
"You still have to react," Eric corrected. "But now you have a framework for those reactions. The technique gives you patterns to work within."
He also began taking her on missions—carefully selected ones where the beasts matched their combined abilities. Eric would identify the target, plan the approach, then let Mei Lin execute under his supervision.
The first few missions were rough. Mei Lin panicked easily, made mistakes, and relied too heavily on Eric to save her. But she learned from each error, incorporated corrections, and gradually improved.
By her fifth mission, she successfully solo-killed an F-rank Thorn Hare while Eric watched from a distance, ready to intervene if needed but not required.
"I did it," she breathed, staring at the beast's corpse. "I actually did it."
"You did," Eric confirmed. "Now harvest the core properly. Remember the technique I showed you—waste nothing useful."
What Eric hadn't expected was how much teaching would improve his own understanding.
Explaining the Flowing River Method to Mei Lin forced him to articulate exactly why certain movements worked, which made him notice inefficiencies in his own execution. Watching her struggle with combat adaptation helped him recognize patterns in his own fighting style that could be refined.
**"I told you,"** the dragon said with satisfaction. **"Teaching reveals gaps in your own knowledge. Now you see techniques not just as things you do, but as systems you understand. This depth of comprehension will serve you well when you attempt Qi Condensation."**
The three months between evaluations flew by. Eric maintained his own training schedule, completed missions to earn contribution points, cultivated toward the peak of Ninth Stage, and somehow found time to guide Mei Lin's progress.
It should have been exhausting. And it was. But it was also... fulfilling in a way Eric hadn't anticipated. Watching Mei Lin grow from someone who froze in combat to someone who could hold her own against basic beasts gave him a sense of accomplishment separate from his own advancement.
Two weeks before the next evaluation, Mei Lin successfully killed her first E-rank beast—a Frost Serpent that had previously terrorized her in nightmares after watching the Shadow Bear slaughter her companions.
She returned to Eric afterward, breathing hard but grinning. "I did it. I faced the thing I feared most and won."
"Good," Eric said simply. "Now you understand something important—fear is just information. It tells you what's dangerous, not what's impossible. Use it, don't let it use you."
Mei Lin nodded seriously, and Eric saw how much she'd changed in three months. She stood straighter, moved with confidence, carried herself like someone who'd earned their place rather than someone desperately clinging to it.
**"She'll pass the evaluation,"** the dragon assessed. **"Not spectacularly, but adequately. And more importantly, she's developed the foundation to continue improving. You've done well, Eric. Both as a cultivator and as a teacher."**
Eric felt pride at that assessment, even as he worried about his own evaluation performance. He'd advanced from early Ninth Stage to peak Ninth Stage—respectable progress, but not exceptional. His combat ability had improved through teaching and practical experience. His contribution record was solid through mission completions.
It should be enough. Probably. Maybe.
The uncertainty gnawed at him as the evaluation date approached. But watching Mei Lin train with focus and determination reminded him of his own journey—how far he'd come from being Greenbrook's weakest disciple.
If he could transform himself, maybe the fact that he'd helped transform someone else would count for something.
The night before evaluation, Eric found Mei Lin practicing forms alone in the training ground, her movements now smooth and confident where they'd once been hesitant and awkward.
"You should be resting," Eric said, approaching quietly.
"So should you." Mei Lin smiled slightly. "But here we are."
They trained together in comfortable silence, teacher and student, both preparing for the trial ahead.
And Eric realized the dragon had been right—teaching had made him better. Not just as a cultivator, but as someone who understood cultivation itself more deeply.
Tomorrow would bring judgment. But tonight, watching his student move with newfound confidence, Eric allowed himself to feel satisfaction.
He'd survived three months. Helped someone else survive. Advanced his cultivation and deepened his understanding.
It might not be spectacular by sect standards.
But it was enough.
It had to be.