The bell rang once.
Not loud.
Not ceremonial.
Just a single, dull vibration that spread across the stone courtyard of Azure Fang Martial Academy like a ripple across still water.
Kael stood at the back of the crowd, hands clasped behind him, posture straight but relaxed. He wore the same plain academy uniform as everyone else—dark gray robe, silver trim—but unlike the others, he wasn't sweating, whispering, or clenching his fists in anticipation.
He was thinking.
If the examiner recalculated the final array, he thought calmly, the third rune would destabilize the fifth. They'll either ignore it… or mark it as brilliance.
Around him, hundreds of young cultivators waited for the announcement of the entrance examination results. Some were heirs of clans. Others were disciples sponsored by sects. A few—very few—were unaffiliated talents like Kael.
Most had struggled just to pass.
The elder examiner stepped forward, unfurled a scroll, and cleared his throat.
"Candidates," he said, his voice amplified by qi, "the results of the entrance examination will now be announced."
The courtyard fell silent.
Names were read. Scores followed. Cheers erupted. Some groans. Some quiet tears.
Kael didn't move.
Then—
"…Rank One," the examiner continued, hesitating for the first time. His brows knit together. "Candidate… Kael."
A pause.
"Score… one hundred."
The silence shattered.
"That's impossible."
"No one gets a full score!"
"The mental array alone—!"
The examiner raised his hand, silencing the crowd. His gaze locked onto Kael, sharp and probing.
"This score," the elder said slowly, "has been verified three times."
Murmurs turned into outright noise.
Kael stepped forward, heart steady, mind clear. He bowed—not too deeply, not arrogantly shallow.
The examiner studied him for a long moment.
"You solved the combat formations," the elder said. "You surpassed the qi trial. And the mental disruption test…"
His eyes narrowed.
"You did not resist it. You redirected it."
Kael lifted his head. "The attack assumed emotional instability," he replied evenly. "So I introduced controlled contradiction."
A ripple of disbelief passed through the elders observing from above.
Mental disruption was Kael's innate ability—unusual, subtle, and often misunderstood. He didn't dominate minds. He disturbed patterns. Bent expectations. Made certainty wobble.
It had saved his life more than once.
The examiner exhaled slowly.
"Welcome to Azure Fang Martial Academy."
FOUR MONTHS LATER
The academy gates opened to royal banners.
Gold and azure silk fluttered in the wind, each embroidered with the sigil of the Blue Star Empire—a crowned star encircled by seven blades.
Kael stood among his fellow disciples, now clad in official academy colors. Four months of brutal training had carved definition into their movements and clarity into their qi.
Ahead of them waited a convoy of imperial carriages.
"The Royal Palace Invitational," an instructor announced. "All elite academies and martial schools will participate. Honor your banners. Shame will not be tolerated."
The journey took two days.
When the capital finally emerged on the horizon, even Kael felt a flicker of awe.
The palace was not merely large—it was intentional. Towers aligned with ley lines. Walls etched with formations older than recorded history. Every stone whispered authority.
As they entered the palace grounds, Kael felt it.
A faint pressure.
Like a finger pressing gently against his thoughts.
Mental screening array, he realized. Layered. Non-invasive.
He kept his expression neutral.
The first trials were expected.
Combat exhibitions. Formation solving. Resource refinement. Team strategy.
Kael performed well—but not excessively so.
He had learned early that standing out too much invited attention.
Everything went smoothly.
Until the final trial.
They were led into a circular hall beneath the palace, its ceiling painted with a star map that subtly shifted as time passed.
An overseer in black robes addressed them.
"This trial is not martial," the man said. "It is mental."
A ripple of tension moved through the students.
"You will be given records," the overseer continued. "Fragments of palace history. Your task is to identify inconsistencies—betrayal, espionage, hidden motives."
Servants distributed jade slips.
Kael activated his.
At first, it was simple. Dates that didn't align. Witness accounts that contradicted official reports.
But then—
Something else.
A pattern beneath the pattern.
The inconsistencies weren't random.
They were curated.
Kael's pulse quickened—not with fear, but recognition.
This isn't a test of intelligence, he thought. It's a test of obedience.
He traced the threads deeper. Names repeated across centuries. Witnesses who vanished. Reports altered by the same invisible hand.
And then he saw it.
A hidden cipher embedded in the palace chronicle itself.
A reference to Otherworld Entities.
Kael's fingers stilled.
Why would this be here?
He hesitated.
Then went further.
By the time the bell rang to submit results, Kael's jade slip contained more than answers.
It contained accusations.
The overseer's eyes widened as he reviewed Kael's submission.
"This…" the man murmured. "Wait here."
He left.
Minutes passed.
Then guards arrived.
"By order of His Imperial Majesty," one said, "you are summoned."
Kael straightened, confidence steady. I solved it, he told himself. That's all.
He entered the throne room with several other top participants.
The Emperor sat upon a throne of star-forged metal, his presence vast, oppressive, and perfectly controlled.
Kael bowed.
The sound of steel rang out.
Spears and swords crossed around him.
"What—?" Kael began.
The Emperor stood.
"This boy," the Emperor said calmly, "is a spy."
The words struck like a blade.
"An agent of the Otherworld," the Emperor continued, voice echoing. "Sent to destabilize our empire."
Kael's mind raced. "Your Majesty, I don't understand—"
Accusations fell like rain.
Forged evidence. Twisted logic. Witnesses Kael had never met.
At first, he countered them—cleanly, logically.
And for a moment—
The room wavered.
Then the Emperor stepped closer.
He leaned down, his voice a whisper meant only for Kael.
"Being smart is good," the Emperor said softly. "It can save your life."
A pause.
"But if you dig into what you were never meant to know… your intelligence becomes your executioner."
Steel slid free from a sheath.
Kael looked up—past the blade—toward his professor.
The man wouldn't meet his eyes.
Then—
Threads snapped through the air.
A figure moved.
"RUN!"
Kael was yanked backward as the throne room exploded into chaos.
And the hunt began.