The morning bells of Heavenly Dragon Sect tolled across the mountains, their clear tones echoing from peak to peak. In the newcomers' compound, the sound stirred Li Wei from meditation. The faint glow of qi still lingered around him, dissipating like mist as he opened his eyes.
The spiritgrass from yesterday's mission sat sealed in a small vial beside his mat, ready to be turned in for contribution. Fifteen points. So little, and yet tangible. He turned the vial in his hand once before tucking it into his sleeve.
Outside, the compound was already alive. Liang Fei stretched in the courtyard, his torso bare, fists pounding against a wooden post until the crack of impact carried through the air. Each strike left faint dents in the wood, his grin wild despite fresh bandages wrapped around his knuckles.
"Morning, brother sword," Liang Fei called when he noticed Li Wei. "Back so soon from the forest? Good. You didn't miss anything worth a song. Just me proving these posts are weaker than my fists."
Mei Yun stepped out soon after, her robe sleeves neat, her dark hair tied back in its usual simple knot. She glanced at Li Wei, and for a moment, her gaze softened. No words were exchanged, but the quiet understanding of yesterday's mission lingered between them.
From the other side of the compound, Xu Feng emerged with his usual disdainful air, crimson sigils faintly glowing along his arms. His eyes swept over Li Wei and Mei Yun as if they were little more than stones on the path, then fixed ahead toward the sect's central square.
Jian Tao followed, composed but rigid, his crimson-and-gold robes immaculate despite the plain quarters. His steps carried pride, but there was tension in the way his jaw clenched — the memory of defeat still clung to him, though he wore it beneath layers of princely calm.
Shen Mu was last, quiet as always, his expression unreadable. He acknowledged the others with a slight nod and nothing more.
Each of them was beginning to walk their own road.
The Mission Hall loomed busy again, but Li Wei did not stop at the jade boards. He already knew the truth — small missions gave small rewards, and cultivating with scraps was no cultivation at all. His mind churned with calculation: Spiritgrass, fifteen points. Foundation Establishment required not only time, but pills, manuals, and resources that could not be bought with patience alone. At this pace… years. Too many years.
At the center of the sect's outer square, the Stele of Names pulsed with light. Disciples clustered around it, voices rising in anticipation. Li Wei and Mei Yun found themselves drawn forward by the tide of movement.
The stone's surface glimmered with shifting characters, thousands upon thousands of names ranked in harsh order. At the top, ten names shone gold. Just beneath, a hundred more glowed faint silver. The rest stretched downward, fading into dimness, like stars vanishing at dawn.
Whispers rippled suddenly through the crowd. A duel was about to begin.
Xu Feng stepped forward, crimson qi curling faintly from his arms like smoke. Opposite him stood a veteran disciple in gray, his stance low and steady, a saber gleaming in his grip. The two bowed briefly before the duel was marked, then the courtyard filled with the clash of steel and qi.
Li Wei watched in silence, his gaze sharp. Xu Feng's bloodline was no idle boast — his movements carried unnatural weight, his strikes leaving afterimages of crimson light. The veteran disciple held his ground for a dozen exchanges, but a sudden surge of power from Xu Feng broke through his guard. The saber clattered to the ground.
Gasps rose from the watching disciples. Xu Feng's name shimmered on the stele, climbing dozens of ranks in a single instant.
"Another bloodline heir," someone muttered."They always rise quickly.""Let's see how long his arrogance lasts."
Xu Feng's lips curved into a cold smile as he turned away, eyes sweeping briefly across Li Wei as though daring him to step forward. But Li Wei remained still, his hand resting lightly on the hilt at his side. He had no intention of rushing blindly.
"Your road is patient," Mei Yun murmured quietly beside him. "I think that unsettles him more than if you had fought."
Li Wei did not answer. His gaze lingered on the stele instead, the shifting names a reminder that the sect itself was a battlefield without end.
By midday, the stele flared again. This time it was not a duel, but an announcement. Characters of golden light appeared across its surface, far larger than any rank:
Joint Mission – Caravan EscortEscort a merchant convoy along the Northern Vein Road. High risk: spirit beast incursions and bandit activity reported.Reward: 180 contribution per participant. Minimum participants: 6.
A ripple of excitement swept the disciples. Joint missions were rare, and the reward was considerable compared to the petty scraps of spiritgrass and menial labor.
"Perfect," Liang Fei boomed when he saw it. "Now that's a feast worth swinging fists for. We should sign up, brother sword!"
Shen Mu's eyes flickered briefly toward the board, then away again, as if already calculating what it would take to return alive. Jian Tao stood rigid, his jaw tightening at the mention of escorting merchants, but he did not speak.
Li Wei considered silently. Danger and reward were twinned. Fifteen points had felt like a drop of water. One hundred and eighty was enough to matter — enough to start climbing.
Mei Yun touched her token lightly, as if testing the weight of choice. "If we take it, we should not go unprepared."
Her voice carried no hesitation, only the quiet pragmatism that had always marked her.
They left the square together, the crowd already surging toward the Mission Hall to claim slots. The path back wound past quiet streams and shaded bridges, yet neither Li Wei nor Mei Yun spoke at first.
It was Mei Yun who broke the silence. "Do you ever wonder why the sect demands so much risk from us? Even to cultivate properly, we are driven to bleed for it."
Li Wei's steps slowed slightly. He looked toward the peaks rising in the distance, their palaces gleaming faintly in the afternoon light. "Because cultivation is risk. If we cannot face danger here, how can we reach beyond?"
Her lips curved faintly, though her gaze turned distant. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the sect simply wishes to see which of us can endure long enough to be worth their attention."
There was something heavier in her tone, something unspoken. For a heartbeat, Li Wei considered pressing her further, but he saw the way her fingers tightened within her sleeves and let it rest.
He inclined his head. "Whatever the reason, we endure all the same."
Her expression softened then, and she nodded.
That evening, Li Wei returned once more to the stele. The names still shifted, duels still rose and fell, but his gaze was fixed not on the ranks, but on the faint golden shimmer where the caravan mission remained.
Around him, disciples whispered eagerly, weighing the risks, the rewards, the alliances to be formed. For them, the mission was opportunity. For Li Wei, it was something sharper: a reminder that in this place, even the first steps were walked on the edge of blades.
He turned away at last, his thoughts steady. Contribution. Ranking. Danger. This was the rhythm of the sect. A rhythm he would need to master.