The Royal Academy rose from the valley floor like something out of a fever dream designed by cultivators with too much money and not enough sense of architectural restraint.
Ryker stood at the edge of the crowd gathering before the main gates, his neck craned back to take in the full scope of the place, and his brain struggled to process what his eyes were reporting.
The main building alone was easily twenty stories tall, constructed from white stone that seemed to glow faintly with embedded spiritual energy, with towers and spires reaching toward the sky like they were personally offended by the concept of reasonable building heights.
Golden trim ran along every edge, catching the morning sunlight and throwing it back in patterns that probably spelled out "we're rich and we want everyone to know it" in some ancient cultivation language.
The grounds stretched for what had to be miles in every direction—training courtyards visible in the distance, forests, a massive arena that could probably seat thousands, gardens that looked more expensive than his family's entire estate, and what appeared to be an actual mountain range in the background that someone had apparently decided would make good property value.
"This is excessive," Ryker muttered.
"This is the Royal Academy," Zyx corrected from his collar, shell pulsing with what might have been appreciation or possibly greed. "The most prestigious cultivation institution in the entire kingdom. They accept maybe two hundred students per year out of tens of thousands of applicants. The fact that you're standing here is already an achievement. Ah i feel nostalgic, its been years"
"Nostalgic?" he snorted " you old fossil, have you been here?" it was a joke, a simple joke
"Ah yes, two of my students actually created this place while 1 other was a significant figure here" Ryker had no words, no he had many questions but had to control himself from shouting out loud, cool cool, so the founders were his student,
Weren't they the all powerful people who stabilised some great crisis? Here was the question now, why couldn't xyz teach him just a fraction of their techniques? question s questions, ofcourse the answer would be some remark like, your not suited for that or my way is the high way.
The crowd around him had swelled to truly absurd proportions—easily ten thousand candidates packed into the massive courtyard before the gates, all of them radiating auras of varying strengths that made the air feel thick and electric. Qi Condensation cultivators formed the majority, but Ryker could spot Foundation Establishment auras scattered throughout like dangerous islands in a sea of lesser power.
He'd deliberately arrived early, before the crowd got too dense, which meant he'd secured a position with decent visibility near the middle of the assembly. His father had offered to escort him, but Ryker had declined—showing up with Baron Ashford would've drawn exactly the kind of attention he desperately wanted to avoid. Better to blend into the crowd and hope his reputation hadn't spread too far beyond the immediate city.
That hope died approximately thirty seconds after he'd entered the courtyard.
"—that's him—"
"—the Ashford heir, the one who—"
"—Foundation Crumbling Technique, I heard—"
"—defeated the young lord of the Hua without even drawing his sword—"
The whispers had started immediately, spreading through the crowd like wildfire through dry grass, and Ryker had spent the last ten minutes pretending he couldn't hear them while maintaining his neutral face and dying internally.
"You're famous," Zyx said, sounding entirely too pleased about this development.
"I'm infamous. There's a difference."
"The crowd doesn't seem to think so. Half of them look intimidated, the other half looks curious. Both are useful."
Ryker kept his expression carefully neutral and his eyes fixed on the Academy gates, trying very hard to project an aura of "mysterious cultivator who is above petty concerns"
"Ryker!"
The shout cut through the general murmur of the crowd, bright like sunshine and completely undermining whatever intimidating presence Ryker had been attempting to cultivate. He turned to see Lian pushing through the press of bodies, his silver hair catching the light, green eyes sparkling with happiness, looking unfairly pretty even in the standard examination robes everyone had been required to wear.
Several heads turned to track Lian's progress, and Ryker heard the whispers intensify.
Lian reached him slightly out of breath, grinning wide enough to show teeth. "I was worried I wouldn't find you in this crowd! There are so many people!" He glanced around, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Are you nervous? I'm nervous. I think I'm going to vomit from nerves, actually. How are you so calm?"
"I'm not calm," Ryker said honestly. "I'm just very good at pretending."
"Well, it's working. You look very calm and intimidating right now." Lian's smile turned slightly teasing. "Several people near me were wondering if you were going to challenge someone before the test even started."
"Why would I do that?"
"I have no idea, but apparently you have a reputation for unexpected tactical decisions now.... So cool"
Ryker wanted to put his face in his hands and scream, but that would've broken character, so he settled for a long-suffering internal sigh. "The tactical decision right now is to survive the trial of knowledge without embarrassing myself. That's the entire plan."
"You'll do fine," Lian said with so much ease, his heart skipped a beat, was he having a stroke? "You're smart, you know cultivation theory better than half the instructors probably, and you've been training really hard. Plus you have me for moral support!"
"Thanks," Ryker said quietly, meaning it.
"Anytime." Lian's grin softened into something gentler. "We're going to survive this together, right? No matter what happens."
"Together," Ryker agreed, and tried to ignore the way his meridians hummed slightly at the contact when Lian squeezed his shoulder briefly.
"Well isn't this touching?"
The new voice cut through their moment like a blade through silk, dripping with enough venom to kill a small sect. Ryker didn't need to turn around to know who it was, but he did anyway.
Wei Jian stood three meters away, surrounded by a cluster of what were probably his faction members or family retainers, all of them radiating Foundation Establishment auras and hostile intent. The young master himself looked exactly like he had at their last encounter—sharp features, expensive robes that screamed "my family has money," and an expression that suggested he'd been personally offended by Ryker's continued existence.
"Wei Jian," Ryker said neutrally, keeping his face carefully blank.
"Ashford." Wei Jian's eyes raked over him. "I'm surprised you actually showed up. I thought after your... creative performance in the marketplace, you might've decided to avoid real testing."
"The marketplace was hardly creative," Ryker countered, "Sunshi Hua challenged me. I responded. That's all."
"Is that what you're calling it?" Wei Jian's smile was sharp enough to cut. "My sources say he collapsed without you even touching him. Some kind of technique that targets one's foundation. Very mysterious. Very convenient."
"If you have questions about my methods, you're welcome to ask after we both pass the trials," Ryker said, and was quietly proud when his voice came out level and calm "Assuming you pass, of course." the nearby students shivered.
Wei Jian's expression went cold. "Careful, Ashford. Your little reputation might intimidate minor clan heirs, but the Academy trials will expose anyone who's built their name on luck and deception. I'm looking forward to watching you fail."
"Then you'll be disappointed," Lian interjected suddenly, his normally gentle voice taking on an edge that Ryker had never heard before. "Ryker's going to do fine. Better than fine, actually. So maybe focus on your own performance instead of obsessing over someone else's?"
Several of Wei Jian's companions shifted, their intent flaring slightly in response to the perceived challenge, but Wei Jian just laughed " HaHa The little merchant has claws. How adorable." His gaze flicked back to Ryker. "We'll see how loyal your friends remain when you're exposed as a fraud, Ashford.
He turned and walked away before Ryker could formulate a response, his entourage following like well-trained dogs, Ryker let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"I really don't like him," Lian said quietly.
"That makes two of us." Ryker glanced at Lian, noting the lingering tension in his friend's shoulders. "Thanks for the backup, though. You didn't have to do that."
"Yes I did." Lian's expression was stubborn now, his jaw set "You're my friend. Friends defend each other. Besides, Wei Jian is a pompous ass who deserves to be taken down several dozen pegs."
"Agreed, but let's try not to make enemies before the test even starts."
"Too late," Zyx supplied helpfully. "Wei Jian's been your enemy since you advanced past Rank Three. Everything after that just added fuel."
Fair point. Ryker was about to say something else when a new presence made itself known—not through words or direct approach, but through the sudden shift in the crowd's energy, conversations dying as people turned to look.
She walked through the press of candidates like water flowing around stones the crowd parted automatically without anyone consciously deciding to move. Tall, maybe six or even six-two, with long blue hair pulled back in a severe braid that emphasized sharp cheekbones and a face that could've been carved from marble for all the emotion it displayed. Her robes were standard issue like everyone else's, but somehow on her they looked ethereal, every line crisp and perfect. A sword rested at her hip , and the spiritual energy radiating from it was strong enough that Ryker's soul shivered
Foundation Establishment. High Foundation Establishment, probably Rank Five or Six if he had to guess.
She passed within two meters of where Ryker and Lian stood, her violet eyes scanning the crowd with a detached expression. Those eyes landed on Ryker for exactly three seconds—long enough to evaluate, not long enough to be considered a stare—and then moved on without a flicker of recognition or interest.
"Who was that?" Lian whispered, sounding slightly awed and maybe a little intimidated.
"Raviel Fors," someone nearby answered, their voice low with respect or possibly fear. "Lady Raviel of the Fors Clan. Daughter of the Crazy Demoness. She's one of the strongest candidates this year—maybe top five in the entire examination."
"I heard she's been fighting assassination attempts since she was fourteen," another voice added. "Lives by the blade, doesn't trust anyone, barely speaks to anyone who isn't worth her time."
"Her mother was betrayed and killed by allies," a third voice contributed, quieter and more somber. "They say Lady Fors is here to get stronger so she can take revenge. She's scary."
Ryker watched her disappear into the crowd near the front, and tried to ignore the small warning bell going off in his head. Someone that strong, that focused, that clearly dangerous—she was exactly the kind of person he should be avoiding during these trials.
"She looked at you," Lian observed.
"For like three seconds."
"She didn't look at anyone else. Just scanned and moved on. But she actually looked at you."
"Great. More reputation problems."
Before Lian could respond, a deep gong sound resonated across the entire courtyard. A spiritual technique that made the air vibrate and sent ripples through everyone's bodies . The crowd immediately fell silent, ten thousand candidates turning as one toward the Academy gates.
The gates swung open slowly, revealing a raised platform just inside the entrance where five figures stood in elaborate robes. The one in the center—an older man with a grey beard that reached his chest and an aura that made Ryker's Rank Four cultivation feel like a candle next to a bonfire—stepped forward and somehow projected his voice across the entire assembly without shouting.
"Welcome, candidates, to the Royal Academy entrance examinations."
His voice was calm, measured, and carried an authority that made even the though of arguing with him fatal.
"Thousnads of you stand here today. By the end of these trials, fewer than two hundred will remain to become students. The path ahead is difficult, dangerous, and designed to test not just your strength, but your wisdom, your adaptability, and your resolve."
He paused, letting that sink in. Two hundred out of ten thousand. Two percent acceptance rate. Those were absolutely terrible odds.
"The examinations will proceed in three stages," the instructor continued. "First, the Trial of Knowledge, assessing your understanding of theory, vital survival knowledge, and tactical decision-making. This will take place today. Only the top one thousand scorers will advance to the second stage."
He coughed, then continued
"Second, the Trial of Survival, you will be deployed for one month in our forests with specific objectives and real dangers. Failure means elimination. Death is possible but discouraged."
"Discouraged," Ryker muttered. "How reassuring."
"Finally, for those who survive both stages, you will enter a two-month provisional period as faction members, competing for points through various challenges. Only the members of the top-performing faction's will receive full admission to the Academy."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd at that—surprise, concern, cries.
"You will now be directed to examination halls based on your registration numbers," the instructor said. "The trial begins in one hour. Use that time to prepare mentally. May the heavens guide your paths."
The gong sounded again, and suddenly the crowd was moving—directed by the other instructors who'd appeared from seemingly nowhere, organizing the chaos into ordered lines flowing toward different buildings. Ryker checked his registration token and felt his stomach sink as he realized his number was in Hall Seven, while Lian's was in Hall Three.
"Different halls," Lian said, looking disappointed but not surprised. "I guess they don't want friends sitting together."
"Probably to prevent cheating."
"Good luck," Lian said seriously, gripping Ryker's shoulder again. "You're going to do amazing. I believe in you."
"You too," Ryker managed, meaning it despite his own anxiety. "See you after?"
"Definitely."
They separated as the crowd flow pulled them in different directions, Ryker let himself be carried along toward Hall Seven while trying very hard not to think about the fact that his entire future in this world was about to be decided by a written test.
"You'll be fine," Zyx said quietly. "You've read more cultivation novels than most of these candidates have read actual cultivation manuals. You know the theory backwards and forwards."
"Theory and practice are different."
"Not for a knowledge test they aren't. Trust yourself. Trust me. We've got this."
Ryker walked through the doors of Hall Seven, found his assigned seat near the middle of the room, and sat down while hundreds of other candidates filed in around him. The test papers lay face-down on each desk, waiting. The proctor—a stern-looking woman with auburn hair and a rather feral grin—stood at the front of the room with her arms crossed.
Thirty minutes until the test began.
Ryker closed his eyes, took a deep breath.
He could do this. He had a cheat code named Zyx to draw on, plus he had read enough webnovels to qualify for a doctorate in theoretical cultivation nonsense.
He could absolutely do this.
Probably.
Maybe.
The proctor's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "Fifteen minutes until the examination begins. I suggest you use this time to center your qi and calm your minds. Panicking has never improved anyone's test scores."
Ryker opened his eyes and looked around the hall. Most candidates were indeed meditating, a few looked as nervous as he felt. One person three rows up appeared to be quietly having a crisis.
He wasn't alone in his terror, at least. That was something.
"Breathe," Zyx whispered. "You've got this."
Ryker breathed. Ten minutes.
No pressure.