The "Friendly Exchange" was still days away, but for Vincy, time had become a distorted blur of manual labor and political geography lessons delivered by a ghost who clearly hated the current administration. As Vincy scrubbed the floors of the stable, Piet projected a shimmering map into the air—the map of the Kingdom of Douff.
"If you're going to survive the Inner Court, Vincy, you need to understand that you aren't just in a school," Piet said, his translucent finger pointing at the capital city, a sprawling metropolis shaped like a crescent moon. "You are in a pressure cooker. The Myriad School is the kingdom's primary engine for war. Every student is a potential weapon, and every faction is a political party in disguise."
The Kingdom of Douff was held together by an uneasy alliance of three major powers, each with eyes on the Myriad School:
The Royal House of Douff (The Bronze Throne): Currently led by King Alaric. They viewed the school as their personal barracks. They favored "Stabilizers"—cultivators who were obedient and predictable. This was why magic, Piet's specialty, was so strictly regulated; it was too chaotic for a King who liked his subjects in neat rows.
The Merchant Conglomerate (The Gilded Scales): They funded the school's research and resources. They didn't care about loyalty; they cared about efficiency. To them, a genius like Vincy was a "commodity."
The Ancestral Clans: Ancient families like Kaelen's Great River Clan. They were the "Old Money" of cultivation. They believed bloodline was everything. Vincy—a nameless youth from Buckinga Village—breaking the records of their ancestors was more than a surprise; it was an insult to their very existence.
Vincy stopped his scrubbing, leaning on his broom as he stared at the shimmering map. A question had been gnawing at him since the cave.
"Piet," Vincy started tentatively, "how do you know all this? The factions, the secret alliances, the exact flavor of King Alaric's paranoia? You've been dead—or a scroll, or whatever—for ages. You traversed worlds and ended up in a cave in the middle of nowhere. How do you have access to literally everything happening in the kingdom right now?"
Piet paused, his shimmering form flickering like a candle in a breeze. He looked at Vincy with a mixture of amusement and something that looked like ancient, weary pride.
"Vincy, when my soul merged with yours, it didn't just sit in a corner of your brain. My consciousness is linked to the Primordial Star Scripture. Think of the world's spiritual energy as a giant, invisible web. Every word whispered, every scroll written, every movement of Qi... it leaves a vibration in that web."
Piet gestured to the air around them. "To you, the air is empty. To me, it's a library that never stops writing itself. I don't 'know' things because I read them in a book; I know them because the stars remember everything, and I am the one who knows how to read the stars. Also," he added with a smirk, "I spend a lot of time eavesdropping on the Elders when you're asleep. You really should work on your snoring; it makes it hard to hear the juicy details of the High Chancellor's tax evasion."
"The reason Elder Karl is hiding you in the 'trash' dorms isn't just to study you," Piet continued, his tone turning serious again. "He's hiding you from the King's inspectors. A boy who breaks a testing stone is a 'threat to national security.' If the Bronze Throne finds out you have a soul-capacity that dwarfs the Crown Prince's, they won't invite you to tea. They'll invite you to an execution."
Vincy's face went pale. "So... if I win the exchange against Lady Seraphina, I'm dead? And if I lose, I'm just a failure?"
"Welcome to the high-stakes world of Royal politics, kid," Piet smirked. "The trick is to win in a way that looks like a fluke. Or, win in a way that makes you too famous to kill quietly."
While the "Order of the Sparrow" continued to leave spicy buns at his door, the Inner Court was already playing their moves. Lady Seraphina wasn't just a student; she was the niece of the High Chancellor. Her "invitation" to Vincy was a test ordered by the Gilded Scales. They wanted to see if the "Sparrow" was a gold mine or a dud.
In the shadows of the Jade Training Grounds, Seraphina watched a group of servants prepare the arena. "The boy has no clan backing," she murmured to her attendant. "No master. No history. He is a blank slate in a kingdom written in blood. If he survives the first five minutes of our match, tell my uncle to cancel the contract with the Great River Clan. I think we've found something much more interesting than Kaelen."
As the days ticked down toward the exchange, the atmosphere in the Myriad School shifted. The laughter of the lower students died down, replaced by a tense, heavy silence. Everyone was waiting.
Vincy Sparrow, the boy who just wanted a sturdier hoe, was now the focal point of a kingdom's hidden war.
"Don't look so miserable," Piet chuckled as Vincy collapsed into his hay bed. "On the bright side, if the kingdom falls apart because of you, you won't have to finish scrubbing these stables."
"That's not helping, Piet," Vincy groaned. "That's really not helping."