Chapter 2 — The First Steps on the Cultivation Path
The examination grounds of Liora's Outer School stretched wide, packed with hundreds of young hopefuls.
Some wore fine robes of silk, bearing clan insignias.
Others, like Ashen, wore simple training uniforms — patched, faded, but serviceable.
A stage stood at the far end of the field.
Upon it, instructors in black robes oversaw the proceedings with cold, indifferent gazes.
Ashen's heart beat heavily as he joined the line for registration.
Each candidate was first required to demonstrate their basic physical aptitude: strength, speed, endurance.
Only then would they be tested for spiritual sensitivity — the ability to sense and draw in the world's invisible energies, the first step toward true cultivation.
Ashen took a deep breath, calming his nerves.
The other students were laughing, boasting, or sparring lightly to show off.
He kept to himself, silent and observant.
His memories — both his own and those inherited from this body's past — told him enough: this was not a place for weakness.
---
"Next!" a bored instructor called.
Ashen stepped forward.
A large, solid block of stone sat before him.
"Strike it. Leave at least a mark if you want to proceed."
Ashen sized up the stone. It wasn't a mere rock; it was reinforced with minor spirit patterns to withstand normal blows.
He drew in a breath, focused, and punched.
A faint thud echoed in the air.
Ashen grimaced as pain lanced through his knuckles.
When he looked, a tiny, almost invisible crack had formed at the point of impact.
The instructor raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed.
"Passable for a civilian."
Ashen bowed slightly and moved to the next station, cradling his bruised hand.
---
The speed test involved sprinting across a hundred-meter track marked with spirit runes that resisted movement.
Ashen ran.
His breath came in ragged gasps. His legs burned with every step.
Others overtook him — faster, stronger, more confident.
He crossed the finish line, middle of the pack, panting hard.
No one cheered.
No one jeered.
It was simply another small, unnoticed survival.
---
Finally came the most crucial part: the Spirit Affinity Test.
Candidates sat cross-legged on meditation mats while holding a smooth jade stone.
If they could channel even a thread of spiritual energy into it, the stone would glow — red for weak affinity, blue for strong, and gold for prodigious.
Ashen sat down as instructed.
He pressed his palms against the stone and closed his eyes.
He felt nothing at first.
Just the dull ache in his muscles, the chatter of other students, the wind tugging at his hair.
He forced himself to focus, reaching deeper, searching for something — anything — that might respond to his call.
At last, after what felt like hours, he sensed it: a faint warmth, like a tiny ember hidden deep within his chest.
Slowly, painstakingly, he coaxed it outward, letting it trickle into the stone.
A dull, flickering red light emerged.
Weak affinity.
The instructor nodded dispassionately and made a mark on his slate.
"Accepted into Outer School. Class D," he announced without ceremony.
Ashen opened his eyes, feeling both relief and disappointment.
He hadn't failed, but neither had he impressed anyone.
Class D — the lowest tier.
Where commoners, late bloomers, and hopeless cases were thrown together, forgotten.
Ashen rose, bowed again, and left the mat, cradling the jade token they handed him.
Student ID: D-247.
He had passed.
Barely.
But he had passed.
---
The dormitories for Class D were cramped, the air thick with the scent of sweat and damp wood.
Ashen found his assigned room: a tiny space with two narrow beds and a battered wooden desk between them.
His roommate hadn't arrived yet.
Ashen dropped his simple cloth bag on the bed and sat down heavily.
He pulled out the cultivation manual they issued: "Spirit Foundations: The Path Begins."
The first technique was a basic breathing method designed to absorb the world's ambient energy — spiritual qi — into one's meridians.
Ashen read carefully, etching every word into his mind.
No shortcuts.
No miracles.
Only effort.
---
That night, while the dorms buzzed with noisy chatter and rough laughter, Ashen sat cross-legged in bed, trying to practice the breathing method.
At first, nothing happened.
He felt ridiculous — breathing in rhythm, holding his breath, visualizing streams of energy entering his body.
But he persisted.
Hour after hour, despite the cramps in his legs and the dryness in his throat.
Just as he was about to give up, he felt a faint sensation — like mist brushing against his skin from the inside.
The first wisp of spiritual qi had entered him.
Ashen's eyes snapped open, burning with a stubborn light.
"It's slow... but it's real," he thought.
He closed his eyes again and continued breathing, ignoring the aching muscles, ignoring the sneers and laughter from nearby rooms.
In the darkness, a boy with nothing — no talents, no blessings, no fate — began his climb.
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