The stable was no longer just a place of muck; it had become a makeshift laboratory of high-stakes cultivation and questionable engineering. While Dax poked at the remains of his "Spiritual Vacuum" and Grog tried to teach the Tapir how to sit (the Tapir was currently pretending to be a rock), Piet decided it was time for a lecture.
"Vincy," Piet's voice was like a tutor who had seen too many students fail Basic Math. "The world you live in thinks cultivation is a ladder. It's not. It's a sieve. Most people are just the sand falling through the holes."
"So, how does it work?" Vincy asked, trying to scrape charred porridge off his sleeve. "I know about Qi Condensation, but what comes next?"
"In this modern, simplified era," Piet drawled, "you have the Body Refining Realm—where you're basically just a slightly harder-to-kill peasant. Then Qi Condensation, where you finally stop leaking energy. After that is the Foundation Establishment, where you build the 'house' for your soul. Most of the 'Masters' in this school are stuck there, decorating their living rooms and calling it enlightenment."
Piet's shimmering figure paced the stall.
"Above that lies the Golden Core, the Nascent Soul, and eventually the Spirit Severing stage. But don't worry about those. At your current rate, you'll reach the Golden Core right around the time the sun burns out."
Vincy looked at the Dream-Eating Tapir. "And what about them? The Tapir scared everyone, but you treated it like a puppy."
"Beasts don't have realms; they have Grades," Piet explained, flicking the Tapir's straw hat. "This rug is a Grade-4 beast. It has enough mental power to give a whole village nightmares about giant vegetables. Grade-1 to 3 are basically just angry wildlife. Grade-7 and above? They can talk, they can shapeshift, and they usually have better fashion sense than your Headmaster."
The Tapir let out a supportive bleat and offered Vincy a half-eaten Star-Core Clover.
While Vincy was learning that he was at the bottom of the cosmic food chain, a shadow moved outside the stable. A group of students in grey robes—the "trash" disciples—were kneeling in the mud.
"Oh, Great Sparrow," a muffled voice called out. "We have brought the tithe!"
Vincy opened the stable door to find ten students holding a tray of... very spicy steamed buns.
"What is this?" Vincy asked, backing away.
"We are the Order of the Sparrow," the lead student whispered, his eyes wide. "We saw how you used the 'Exploding Porridge Technique' to defeat Cyrus. We seek to follow your path of... unpredictable destruction."
"Tell them the secret to the technique is a lack of basic safety protocols," Piet snickered.
"Go away!" Vincy hissed. "It was an accident! Dax built a machine that sucked!"
"A machine that sucks Qi from the heavens!" the students marveled, scribbling notes. "The Prophet is humble!"
The "Order" scrambled away just as a messenger in violet robes arrived. He didn't kneel; he looked at the stable with a look of profound disgust.
"Vincy Sparrow," the messenger announced. "Lady Seraphina of the Inner Court requests your presence at the Jade Training Grounds tomorrow. You are invited to a 'Friendly Exchange' of skills. Note that 'Friendly' in the Inner Court usually involves at least one broken rib."
"A exchange of skills?" Piet's violet eyes sparked with a predatory light. "Excellent. Vincy, we need to work on your Star-Scripture Flick. It's like the 'Needle-Point' disruption I used on Baron, but instead of popping a wrist, it uncurls the opponent's hair. It's devastating to their social standing."
"Can't we just practice running away?" Vincy pleaded.
"No. Running is for people who don't have a dead Prince in their head. Now, pick up that shovel. We're going to practice 'Weightless Sweeping' until you can't feel your arms."
As the sun set over the Myriad School, Vincy Sparrow—Prophet of the Spicy Bun, Vessel of a Grumpy Prince, and the only student currently being trained by a ghost to ruin people's haircuts—began to sweep.