The Qin Empire greeted us with dust, noise, and color.
For a year the mountain had been our only sky, our breath drawn to the rhythm of stone and silence. Now the air itself tasted different — iron, spice, smoke, and the faint sweetness of roasted chestnuts from the market stalls that lined the stone road ahead. Flags in crimson and gold fluttered from the rooftops of the border town; the emblem of a coiling dragon spread its wings across each one, scales glinting under the afternoon sun.
People moved like rivers through the streets — merchants shouting prices, cultivators in traveling robes striding with quiet arrogance, soldiers in dull bronze armor watching with hawk eyes. The din pressed in from all sides.
I caught my reflection in a passing window — the dark leather coat, the new blade at my hip, the faint flicker of light that ran under my skin when I breathed. No one here knew what we'd endured inside that mountain. No one would believe it anyway. To them, we were just two travelers — tired, dusty, eyes too sharp for our years.
"Feels strange," Alex murmured beside me, his gaze following a passing cultivator whose qi shimmered faintly red. "After all that silence."
I nodded. "The world's loud again."
We followed the scent of ale and smoke to a tavern on the corner of the main square. Its sign read The Jade Boar, the wood carved into the rough snout of the beast. Inside, light spilled from paper lanterns, catching dust motes that swirled like stars. The air was thick with sweat, laughter, and the sharp scent of spirit wine.
We took a table in the shadowed corner. Alex set a small pouch on the counter, and when the innkeeper came by — a stout woman with a voice like gravel — he slid out two basic beast cores, dull blue stones pulsing faintly with residual mana.
"Currency's good here?" he asked.
She squinted, held one up to the lantern, then grinned, showing a gold tooth. "Good enough to buy you drinks and a room, traveler. You two don't look like farmers — cultivators, eh?"
"Something like that," I said.
Her grin widened. "Then you've come at the right time. The empire's mustering soldiers again. Another border conflict with the western tribes, so they're recruiting anyone strong enough to stand without shaking."
I raised an eyebrow. "Recruiting? What's the requirement?"
"Depends which banner you want to serve under," she said, lowering her voice. "For the central army — minimum's the Purple Blood Realm for qi users, or the Void Realm for mana wielders. If you've got the strength, you'll eat well and earn better."
Purple Blood Realm. Void Realm.
I felt Alex's gaze meet mine across the table. A faint smile tugged at both our mouths — that silent understanding we'd shared since childhood.
In the mountain, we'd fought against shadows and illusions, but out here, the world had structure — realms, orders, ranks. And though we'd come far, in the grand weave of this empire's power we were still small flames in a storm.
We drank in silence for a moment, listening to the murmur of voices. Travelers spoke of generals whose swords could split rivers, of alchemists in the capital who could turn qi into life essence, of noble families vying for favor. It was a world of ambition and blood.
"We could live quietly," Alex said softly, almost teasing.
I looked at him over the rim of my cup. "Could we?"
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "No. Not after what we've seen. Not after what we've lost."
I finished my drink and stood. "Then it's settled. We'll join the army."
He leaned back, folding his arms. "With our levels, they'll give us rank immediately."
"Maybe," I said, watching the soldiers who sat laughing near the far wall, their qi faint but disciplined. "But rank's not what we need. We need experience. We need to learn how the world fights — how real wars are fought."
Alex nodded slowly. "Agreed."
We spent the rest of the evening gathering details. The Qin Empire's recruitment center was a fortress of black stone near the eastern wall, where applicants would undergo strength testing and spiritual resonance screening. Those who passed were assigned divisions — infantry, spell corps, scouts, or specialists.
When we finally stepped out of the tavern, night had fallen. The moonlight draped the rooftops in silver. Somewhere in the distance, a gong sounded — the call of curfew.
I adjusted the strap of my blade and glanced eastward, where the outline of the recruitment citadel rose like a crouched beast against the horizon.
"This is it," Alex said quietly. "The next step."
I smiled, the kind that didn't quite reach the eyes. "The mountain tempered us. The world will test us."
The wind shifted — carrying with it the distant smell of steel and rain. I could feel something stir inside me, the same instinct that had guided us through death and silence: this was where the next chapter of our power began.
Side by side, we walked toward the lights of the recruitment fortress.