The sun was an unfamiliar weight on Aryan's skin. After weeks spent under the dense, perpetual twilight of the jungle, the open sky felt vast and unnervingly exposed. The world of men welcomed him not with warmth, but with an assault on the senses he had so meticulously honed. The air, no longer smelling of damp earth and primal life, was thick with road dust, the scent of livestock, and the cloying sweetness of overripe fruit from a passing cart. The silence of the hunt was replaced by a cacophony of wagon wheels, merchants hawking their wares, and the loud, undisciplined chatter of other travelers.
His mind, accustomed to the elegant efficiency of the jungle's ecosystem, processed the scene as a cascade of errors. Wasted energy in every shout. Unnecessary movements in every gesture. A broadcast of weakness in every boast. It was a chaotic, inefficient system, and it set his teeth on edge. He moved through it all with a deep, internal stillness, his gaze sweeping over his surroundings, his mind automatically cataloging, assessing, and dismissing the endless stream of new data.
His journey brought him to Veridia, the last major city before the Azure Dragon Mountain Range, where the famed Academy was located. Veridia was no sleepy backwater like Devagarh. It was a bustling, swollen hub, its population temporarily tripled by the influx of thousands of aspiring candidates for the annual entrance examination.
The city was a sea of youthful ambition. Every inn was full, every teahouse overflowing. The streets were crowded with young men and women, all radiating the vibrant Qi of the Qi Condensation Realm. They moved in boisterous groups, their new armor polished to a high sheen, their hands resting proudly on the hilts of newly-purchased spirit-infused weapons. They were peacocks, displaying their fine plumage, their faces a mixture of arrogance, excitement, and thinly-veiled anxiety.
Aryan, in his simple, travel-stained clothes, with his plain steel sword strapped to his back, was an anomaly. He was a grey stone in a river of shining, colorful fish.
He attracted a few scornful glances, which he registered and immediately disregarded. Their opinions were irrelevant data points, background noise in a complex system.
He found a teahouse that was slightly less crowded than the others and took a small, isolated table in the corner. From this vantage point, he could observe the entire room without drawing much attention. He ordered a simple pot of tea and began the next phase of his preparation: information gathering. The air was thick with talk of the examination.
"—I heard this year's head proctor is Elder Rajendra from the Hall of Discipline. They say he once failed an entire batch because their stances were sloppy."
"—The Beast Trial is the real killer. My cousin tried last year. Said he saw a boy get torn apart by a pack of Wind Wolves in the first hour. You have to form a team, it's the only way."
"—Forget the beasts. It's the other candidates you need to worry about. The Sharma family from Devagarh is here. Their young master, Sameer, is said to be at the peak of the 8th Layer of the Qi Condensation Realm. He crippled a boy last week just for bumping into him."
Aryan's fingers stilled on his teacup at the mention of the familiar name. He filed the information away. Sameer Sharma was here. A predictable, if annoying, variable.
He spent an hour listening, sipping his tea, and building a more complete picture of the challenges ahead. The trials were not just a test of strength, but of endurance, teamwork, and ruthlessness. The proctors were strict, the environment was lethal, and the competition was fierce. It was exactly the kind of complex, multi-variable problem he enjoyed.
His quiet observation was inevitably interrupted. A group of three young cultivators, dressed in the fine, embroidered silks of a wealthy merchant clan, swaggered into the teahouse. Their leader, a boy with a perpetually smug look on his face, scanned the room. His eyes fell on Aryan's solitary table, the only one with an empty seat.
"Boy," the leader said, his voice loud and dismissive. "We need this table. Find somewhere else to drink your ditchwater."