Jin and Lian Xuan walked along the stone-paved paths of Jade Peak. The cold wind flowed down from the mountains, rustling the hanging ribbons on some doorways and making the paper lanterns clink softly. Stairways stretched like gray serpents between the pavilions; disciples came and went carrying bags of herbs, manuals, or simple buckets of water.
"Last month was… intense," Lian Xuan said, gesturing as they walked. "The first week I thought I wouldn't make it. My Qi kept stagnating and every breathing session ended with chest pain."
"And how did you fix it?" Jin asked, curious.
"Well…" Lian Xuan smiled, a little embarrassed. "Part of it was thanks to the deacons' lectures… but also because I didn't start from zero. My family has cultivated for generations. Back home they already taught me the basics: initial circulation, breathing techniques, how to prevent Qi from dispersing into the secondary meridians…"
—He moved his hand, as if sketching the flow in the air—. "It was hard, sure, but not as difficult as it was for many of the others."
Jin nodded silently. That explained why Lian Xuan had improved so quickly.
Not that Jin actually knew what the 'standard pace' of cultivation was.
The path opened into a clearer area. Several stone platforms stretched across different levels, connected by short ramps. On them, disciples practiced basic combat forms or circulation techniques.
"I'm thinking of taking simple missions," Lian Xuan continued. "The ones at the top of the Task Hall board: clearing areas of the forest, escorting carts with supplies, helping collect medicinal herbs… that kind of thing. The pay is small or none, but at least they give contribution points."
"Makes sense," Jin murmured.
"And if I gather enough, I could request access to manuals and combat techniques. Even if we're only at the first level of Qi Condensation, sooner or later we'll have to fight."
The idea sounded reasonable. Direct. Practical. Not like the complicated plans Jin had been making in his head these past few days.
They reached the edge of one of the platforms. The air hummed softly with the collective circulation of the disciples' Qi — a faint but constant sensation.
"This place is always packed," Lian Xuan said, crossing his arms. "They say cultivation is an individual path, but in the end everyone comes here to train. Seeing others… pushes you."
Jin watched the young cultivators and felt a strange tug inside.
"Maybe," he said, "I should come here once in a while too."
"You definitely should," Lian Xuan replied with that odd smile that looked threatening but was really just enthusiasm. "If YOU show up here, everyone will lose their minds."
Jin let out a small laugh.
"I don't want to cause chaos."
"Brother Jin…" Lian Xuan tapped his shoulder. "You're already chaos to a lot of people. They just don't know it yet."
The sun was still high when Jin and Lian Xuan turned to leave the platform area. The air smelled of warm stone and dried sweat; several disciples were still training, some striking wooden posts, others practicing basic stances.
They had taken only a few steps when six figures blocked their path.
The one who stepped forward was a young man of maybe seventeen, eighteen. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the confident gaze of someone who had watched countless batches of newcomers pass beneath his shadow. A senior brother of the outer sect.
"Well," he said casually, "look what we have here. The great useless prodigy."
His attention was fixed on Jin, ignoring Lian Xuan completely. His five companions formed a semicircle behind him, like they were used to this kind of display.
Jin frowned, but said nothing. Lian, on the other hand, tilted his head, mildly confused.
"Senior brother?" he asked politely. "Is something the matter?"
The older youth raised a hand to stop him.
"Brother Lian Xuan, yes? I've heard your family is a mid-tier cultivation lineage. Not something to take lightly…" —he smiled, without mockery—. "My advice is that you don't get involved. This has nothing to do with you."
Lian frowned, uncomfortable. Not from fear, but because the whole thing reeked of trouble.
Then one of the flunkies peeked from behind, pointing at Jin with his chin raised, twisted grin, eyes full of resentment.
"There he is," he said. "The country bumpkin who thinks he's a genius."
Jin stared at him… nothing. He had no idea who he was. He had never seen his face.
But Lian recognized him instantly — one of the aspirants from the entrance exam, the one who had tried to humiliate Jin… and whom Lian had shut down with a single sentence.
"You again…" Lian muttered, bored.
The boy stepped forward, pointing at Jin as if demanding a reaction.
"Surprised?" he spat. "Did you think passing one trial put you above everyone else?"
Jin felt a strange impulse flash through his mind.
Seriously…?
Of all the clichés… this one?
He saw himself as a protagonist from those cheap cultivation novels he had read in his previous life. He wondered if the destiny of every cultivator included mandatory battles with idiots lacking creativity.
The senior brother raised a hand to calm his follower, still wearing that polite smile that made every insult more irritating.
"As I said," he repeated, "Brother Lian, you may leave if you wish. This is between this boy—" he gestured toward Jin, gentle but firm, "and us."
Lian made a subtle step forward — not enough to block, but not backing away either.
"Senior brother," he said neutrally. "He is my companion. Even if he comes from a small village, he is in the sect, same as us. I don't like it when someone tries to use their status to—"
"Don't misunderstand me," the senior interrupted, still courteous. "I don't question your judgment. I'm simply warning you… it would be a shame if a minor conflict ended up staining a respectable family."
The young followers laughed under their breath. The resentful boy crossed his arms, as if he had already won just by dragging Jin into this.
Jin inhaled deeply.
He didn't want a fight.
He wasn't looking for one.
But he wasn't the kind of person to lower his head.
"Then speak clearly," Jin said at last. "What do you want?"
The senior smiled like someone opening a game whose ending was already decided.
"Simple," he said. "Just a demonstration. If your name truly deserves the noise it has caused… then show us something."
The disciples training nearby began to notice the tension. One by one, they slowed down or stopped, alert, expectant.
The whispers grew around them. The senior adjusted his uniform, crossing his arms as if everything had been under control from the beginning.
"It wouldn't be fair," he said calmly, eyes still on Jin, "for me to face you directly." —He paused, as if it were a trivial detail—. "I am at the seventh level of Qi Condensation. It would be… abusive."
Jin didn't react. Not a twitch. Only the slow blink of someone who already knew where this was going.
The senior turned to his followers.
"But someone of a closer level could give you a reasonable test," he added. "To evaluate your foundation, your control, your… temper."
The five looked at each other. One of them —tall, slightly hunched, the kind of face that tries too hard to look tough— stepped forward with a smug smile.
"Senior brother," the volunteer said. "I don't mind doing it." —He knocked his knuckles against his chest—. "Qi Condensation, third level."
The other four encouraged him with quiet chuckles and low slaps on the back. The resentful boy nearly vibrated with barely contained glee.
Jin sized him up quickly. The Qi around the volunteer was bulkier than his own, though messy. Presence alone… clearly superior. Three levels ahead was no joke.
"Of course," the senior added, "he will hold back." —He smiled—. "It would be inappropriate for someone with experience to injure a newcomer."
The volunteer snorted a nasal laugh.
"Don't worry, 'genius,'" he said. "I won't break anything… important."
Jin felt the same absurd thought brush his mind.
Cliché.
He was living the required chapter in every cultivation story: the moment when the protagonist is forced to fight idiots who use 'level' as an argument.
Lian Xuan lifted his chin slightly, visibly uncomfortable.
"Senior brother," he interjected, "if you want to measure him, there is the spiritual pressure stone. You don't need to—"
"Brother Lian," the senior interrupted again, always polite. "I understand your concern." —He pointed at him, gentle, without aggression—. "But remember what I said. This is not a matter for someone of your status. We wouldn't want to drag your family into something so… trivial."
He gestured toward the center of the platform, inviting Jin.
"Just a demonstration, young talent. Nothing more."
The air thrummed with expectation. The disciples who had stopped training stepped closer, forming a natural circle. Some whispered quietly. Others simply watched, curious.
Jin took a step. Not backward. Not forward. He just breathed.
He hadn't sought this.
He didn't want it.
But some things couldn't be avoided.
He looked at the volunteer, then at the senior.
"All right," he said without raising his voice. "If it's 'just a demonstration'… then let's get it over with."
A collective murmur rippled.
The platform was cleared.
The disciples gathered around one of the empty platforms. It was one of the largest, with faint cracks and impact marks across the stone—silent evidence of hundreds of past duels. The sun was still descending, casting short shadows across the gray floor.
Jin climbed the stone steps unhurriedly. The boy— the follower the senior had chosen— followed behind him, tightening his fists with nervous excitement. His eyes gleamed with pride.
Above, the senior clapped twice to catch the attention of the improvised audience.
"You know the rules," he said calmly. "This is only a test of capability. No advanced martial techniques… and no Qi circulation allowed."
Several heads turned in surprise.
"No Qi?" someone in the crowd asked.
The senior smiled.
"Jin has only just reached the first level of Condensation. He hasn't had time to train any technique… it would be unfair." —Then he pointed at the follower—. "You may use your physical level, of course. But restrain your Qi. Only brute force, speed, reflexes… basics."
The boy nodded with exaggerated seriousness, as if he had just received a prestigious assignment.
Jin exhaled slowly, relaxing his shoulders. The stone beneath his feet was warmed by the sun, coarse under his leather boots. He didn't feel fear… only mild annoyance.
A public fight… without Qi… because of a resentful idiot…
Definitely a cliché.
The senior raised a hand, watching both participants.
"When I lower it… we begin."
Lian Xuan remained at the edge, arms crossed. His brow was a tight line.
Jin noticed his eyes — attentive, calculating…
The hand dropped.
"Begin!" the senior announced.
The follower moved first. A quick step, a punch aimed at Jin's face.
"Tsk!" escaped from some spectators, anticipating a clean hit.
But Jin didn't block.
He turned his head just enough for the fist to graze the air, feeling the wind shear past his cheek. The sound of the missed strike echoed hollowly.
The follower's face tensed.
Second attack: a hook to the abdomen, fast and aggressive.
Jin stepped back half a step — a simple motion. Not elegant nor flashy, but precise. The opponent's arm swung past him without making contact.
The boy clicked his teeth.
"Are you just going to dodge?" he growled, charging a third strike, this time diagonal, hoping to catch Jin off guard.
Jin wasn't watching his fists anymore.
He watched his shoulders, his breath, the way he planted weight on his legs.
He's impatient.
He overextends when he thinks he has advantage.
Fast strikes… but undisciplined.
Jin slid to the opposite side with a clean step, and the attack missed again.
Murmurs began. Some surprised. Others irritated.
Red with frustration, the follower launched a more chaotic combo: a high punch, followed by a leg sweep.
Jin leaned his torso aside and jumped just enough to clear the sweep, landing without losing balance.
He still hadn't thrown a single punch.