The morning sun painted the Lin Clan's training grounds in gold. Dew clung to the blades of grass, sparkling faintly as if tiny crystals had been scattered under heaven's hand. At this hour, the clan's younger generation assembled under the watch of Instructor Liang another instructor of the clan. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture straight as a spear, his gaze sharp enough to silence even the most restless of children.
Today was not just for the new batch who had completed their testing—it was also for those who had begun their training a year earlier. Dozens of youths stood in orderly rows. The difference was obvious at a glance: the thirteen-year-olds, freshly stepping onto the path, still bore some childishness in their bearing, while the fourteen-year-olds stood sturdier, their movements calmer, breathing steady with faint traces of martial rhythm.
Instructor Liang's voice broke the silence.
"Listen carefully. The Man Realm is divided into three great stages: Body Tempering, Qi Nurturing, and Spirit Refinement. Each stage has nine layers—Initial, Middle, and Peak in every realm. This is the foundation of cultivation, the path you must walk before even dreaming of Earth Realm experts."
He began to pace slowly, his boots crunching against the packed dirt of the grounds. His eyes swept across the crowd, lingering a heartbeat longer on Lin Xun before continuing.
"In the Body Tempering Realm, the Initial Stage is about awakening your strength. Breath and blood must flow like a river without stagnation. In the Middle Stage, muscles harden, skin thickens, bones grow denser—this is when your body first begins to taste what it means to resist the elements. By the Late Stage, your marrow resonates, your frame can endure blows no common man could survive. Most stop here, trapped for months or years, for breaking into the Peak requires forging unity between blood and qi."
He gestured toward several older youths standing in the second row. Their bodies carried faint spiritual fluctuations, their stances rooted like trees. "These are examples. Some among you are already at Late Stage Body Tempering. A few stand ready to step into Peak. Look at them carefully. This is what one year of diligence brings."
A ripple of awe and unease spread among the new initiates. Lin Xun caught sight of Lin Ming smirking faintly in the row of older students. That look carried both pride and challenge, a reminder that he stood ahead.
"Now," Instructor Liang said sharply, "sit. Cultivate."
The youths sank cross-legged onto the ground. A hush fell, broken only by the faint rustle of breath as each child began to attempt channeling their nascent qi according to the clan's introductory method: Ember Breathing.
Lin Xun closed his eyes. The warmth of the morning sun on his skin blended with the flow of air through his lungs. In his dantian, a faint spark flickered, the first stirring of energy drawn from heaven and earth. He focused, guiding it slowly as instructed, weaving it into his blood and marrow.
Footsteps circled him. Instructor Liang's presence stopped nearby. His voice was low, carrying a bite.
"With your so-called gifts, even a misstep here would be disgraceful."
Several heads turned, but no one dared speak. Lin Xun did not respond. He drew a slow breath, steadying his thoughts. Pressure, bias—it mattered little. He had endured worse already. He guided his qi through another cycle, feeling the subtle strengthening of sinew and breath.
Time passed like this, until the instructor clapped his hands. "Enough. Rise."
The children stood. Sweat dampened their foreheads; faces flushed from exertion. The older ones looked unruffled, while the new initiates panted slightly.
"Cultivation is the root," Liang said. "But battle tempers the root into steel. Today, you will spar."
A stir of excitement rippled through the older group. They had been waiting for this moment. The younger ones exchanged nervous glances.
Instructor Liang's eyes gleamed faintly as he announced, "Pairs will be formed across batches. Let the older generation restrain themselves. Do not cripple your juniors—though a bruise or two is part of the lesson."
He began pairing names. When Lin Xun's was called, his opponent was revealed to be Lin Shao, a boy at Late Stage Body Tempering. The older youth grinned broadly, rolling his shoulders.
"Don't worry, cousin," he said, "I'll try not to break anything."
A murmur ran through the watching children. This was hardly a fair match. Yet Instructor Liang gave no sign of adjusting it.
The two stepped onto the central ground.
"Begin!"
Lin Shao moved first, his step pounding the dirt. His fist swept forward, heavy and fast. Lin Xun reacted instinctively, his body lowering, twisting aside as the strike grazed past his shoulder. The force alone made his bones tremble.
He retaliated with a sharp step-in, aiming a palm toward Shao's ribs. But the older boy blocked easily, countering with a sweeping leg that knocked Lin Xun back. Dust scattered as he skidded, barely regaining balance.
The clash continued—Lin Shao pressing, Lin Xun evading and absorbing the blows. Each strike rattled his body, but he refused to fall. Sweat poured down his back, his breaths heavy. The murmurs of the onlookers rose with each exchange.
"Enough," Instructor Liang barked at last. "Step back."
Lin Shao gave a theatrical bow, smirking as he returned to his line. Lin Xun straightened slowly, chest heaving, bruises forming along his arms. Yet he stood tall, refusing to show weakness.
The instructor's gaze lingered on him. "Barely passable. Remember—endurance without progress is still mediocrity."
Lin Xun did not reply. His silence was its own answer.
Other spars followed. Some of the younger ones were overwhelmed, some held their ground better. By the end, faces were bruised, spirits tested.
Instructor Liang finally raised his hand, signaling the session's close. But instead of dismissal, his words carried an edge of solemnity.
"This year's training will not be as usual. The clan's annual martial gathering approaches. All of you will participate. Victors will decide the allocation of resources and the ranking of our younger generation. This is not merely a contest—it is the future of your standing in the clan."
The announcement was like thunder. The older youths straightened, their eyes burning with ambition. Whispers spread swiftly among the younger group—fear, excitement, pressure mixing in equal measure.
Lin Ming's smirk returned, sharper this time. His gaze flicked toward Lin Xun, as if already anticipating the stage where they would clash.
As the crowd dispersed, the air buzzed with talk of the gathering. Some boasted of their coming victories. Others worried about being humiliated. Among them, whispers about Lin Xun grew loudest.
"Five elements or not, he's just starting."
"Perhaps it's nothing but empty reputation."
"Let's see if he even lasts past the first round."
Lin Xun heard fragments as he walked away, body sore but spirit steady. The path ahead was pressing down heavier than before—but within his chest, a quiet determination burned brighter.
The martial gathering was coming. Whether the clan wished to test him, restrain him, or push him, he would answer on the stage.