The Ye Family's martial field buzzed with tension. Banners flapped in the early wind, and hundreds of disciples lined the stone courtyard, their uniforms crisp, their faces filled with expectation and rivalry.
Once a month, the Ye Family held its Clan Disciples' Test—a chance to rank strength, earn resources, and win the elders' favor.
In previous years, Ye Chen never even qualified. The "hound keeper" was a joke whispered behind sleeves.
But this time, he walked to the testing ground in silence, eyes calm, a faint current of qi hidden beneath his skin.
---
"Is that really him?"
"The useless beast boy? I heard he tamed the Ironback Wolf yesterday!"
"Impossible. Probably luck."
The murmurs followed him like shadows. Ye Chen ignored them. Inside his mind, the Book Realm shimmered quietly, books flickering like stars. One in particular glowed with golden script:
> "Scholar's Qi Art: Balance of Thought and Motion"
He had spent the previous night understanding its every verse—how intention shaped qi, how stillness guided movement. He needed no manual now; he knew.
---
At the far end of the courtyard stood the Patriarch, Ye Zhong, flanked by elders and guests from allied families. One of them—a representative from the Black Tiger Clan—watched with thinly veiled disdain.
> "So this is the Ye Family's beast tamer," the man said coldly.
"Let's see if your cubs are worth feeding."
The Patriarch's gaze hardened. "Begin the test!"
---
The first trial was Stone Striking—measuring pure internal power.
A slab of reinforced granite stood ready. Disciples lined up, striking one after another.
"Ye Ling—forty marks!"
"Ye Tao—sixty marks!"
"Ye Liang's son—eighty-five marks!"
Each mark reflected depth of qi. Only those above sixty could qualify as core disciples.
When Ye Chen stepped forward, laughter rippled through the crowd.
> "Maybe he'll break his hand again!" "Did he bring a leash for the stone?"
Ye Chen exhaled softly, placing his palm against the stone. His qi flowed—not with brute force, but with perfect harmony.
> Calm as water, steady as mountain.
He whispered a verse beneath his breath:
> "When will's flow aligns with heaven's tune,
Even stone must yield to truth."
He struck.
A clear crack echoed across the field. The stone split cleanly in two, a fine golden line running through its center.
Silence. Then gasps.
> "A hundred marks! Full resonance!"
Even the Patriarch's eyes flickered with surprise. Ye Liang clenched his fists, face pale.
---
The second trial: Combat Sparring.
Opponents were chosen by draw. Fate—or perhaps irony—paired Ye Chen against Ye Liang's son, Ye Qin, a proud inner disciple known for his fierce Cloud Tiger Fist.
Ye Qin smirked. "Let's see if your reading can save you, bookworm."
He lunged, qi flaring, fists roaring like tigers. Dust burst beneath each step.
Ye Chen moved as if gliding on air, every motion graceful yet precise. His eyes tracked rhythm, not force—the intention behind each strike.
Within his mind, he recalled lines from the Way of Balance:
> "To move with thought is to waste;
To move without thought is to flow."
He sidestepped, redirected, and finally struck—
A single open palm to Ye Qin's chest, gentle as a breeze.
Yet the impact sent Ye Qin sprawling backward ten meters, coughing blood.
---
Whispers exploded.
> "He defeated Ye Qin in one move!"
"Impossible—Ye Qin's at the fourth stage!"
The Patriarch's brows furrowed, half in disbelief, half in awe.
The Black Tiger Clan envoy stared with sudden interest.
Ye Chen clasped his hands together in courtesy. "Concede."
Ye Qin trembled, unable to stand.
The Patriarch finally spoke. "Winner: Ye Chen!"
---
When the tests ended, the sun was high. Ye Chen stood at the center of the courtyard, robes unwrinkled, aura serene.
> "From this day forth," the Patriarch declared, "Ye Chen shall be recognized as an inner disciple of the family and candidate for the Clan Martial Arts Conference."
Applause erupted—mixed with envy and fear.
Ye Chen bowed slightly, though his gaze lingered on the horizon.
Inside his mind, the Book Realm shifted. New books appeared, their titles faintly luminous:
> "The Language of Qi"
"Art of Resonant Combat"
He smiled faintly. Each battle is another page to read.
---
That night, beneath the stars, Ye Chen whispered softly to the wind:
> "In the world where strength reigns, wisdom shall be my sword."
"Let them chase power; I will chase understanding."
The moon rose high, and in the silence of the night, his qi pulsed in harmony with the heavens—
marking the true beginning of Ye Chen's path.