What happens if I fail here?
Kael already knew the answer before the thought finished forming.
The training ground of the Flowing River Sect was silent, yet it felt louder than any market street. Hundreds of eyes pressed down on him. Not openly—no one stared outright—but the weight was there all the same, heavy and cold.
At the center of the stone platform stood a wooden puppet.
Its joints creaked softly as spiritual lines carved into its body began to glow.
Kael swallowed.
His palms were wet.
He wiped them against his robe, then froze. The fabric was thin, worn smooth at the edges. He forced his hands to still and lifted his gaze.
Across the platform, other trial participants stood relaxed. Some chatted quietly. Others closed their eyes, breathing slow and deep, chi flowing evenly through their bodies.
None of them looked at him for long.
He was not worth it.
A whisper drifted from behind.
"Is that… the servant?"
"The one who feeds chickens?"
"He's really here?"
A soft laugh followed.
Kael's jaw tightened.
He had spent a full year rising before dawn—cleaning, hauling, feeding animals—while others cultivated. Five spirit stones a month. That was all the sect gave servants. Just enough to keep them from starving. Never enough to grow fast.
Others had families.
Teachers.
Better techniques.
He had none of that.
Only a low-rank meditation art the sect gave to servants. Slow. Shallow. Painfully inefficient.
And still, he stood here.
A bell rang once.
An elder's voice carried across the platform, calm and distant. "Inner Sect trial. Defensive assessment. Hold your spell until the puppet stops."
No warmth.
No encouragement.
Just rules.
Kael drew in a breath.
Chi was everywhere—thin, formless, drifting through the air like mist. He pulled it in, guiding it through his meridians with care. Too fast and it would scatter. Too slow and it would leak away.
His dantian stirred.
Weak.
Unstable.
Chi Nurturing Stage—Level One.
Initiate.
He felt it clearly. The shallow pool of power inside him. Not even close to the others here. Most waited until Level Five before daring this trial.
Trying now was madness.
Or desperation.
The puppet moved.
Wood scraped stone as it stepped forward. Its speed was sudden, sharp. Not fast enough to kill—but fast enough to punish mistakes.
Kael raised his hand.
His fingers traced a seal he knew better than his own face. He had practiced it in the dark, in silence, until his joints ached and his vision blurred.
His voice came out hoarse.
"Tier Zero spell—Barrier."
Chi surged.
The air in front of him bent, folding inward. A translucent shell shimmered into place, thin as glass, trembling at the edges.
A barrier.
Barely.
The puppet lunged.
Its leg snapped out in a clean kick.
Bang!.
The barrier rippled violently, light racing across its surface like cracks in ice.
Kael staggered back half a step.
Someone scoffed.
"At Level One?"
"Does he think willpower makes up for cultivation?"
Kael's breath came shallow. He pushed more chi forward, teeth grinding as the strain burned through his chest.
Steady. Don't scatter it.
The puppet struck again.
Another kick. A punch. Each impact drained him faster than the last. His barrier shook, thinning, the surface warping inward.
Sweat ran down his neck.
His thoughts slipped.
If it breaks—
His stomach tightened.
Home flashed through his mind.
A cold courtyard.
Smiling faces that never reached the eyes.
Brothers who spoke softly while planning loudly.
And her.
The mistress of the Red District.
Her body heavy, her cheeks flushed with indulgence. Her eyes had burned when she saw him—burned with hunger.
Back then, his father had stepped between them.
A Spirit Building Stage warrior.
One pulse of power had crushed the air, forcing her gaze down. Forcing her desire to retreat.
But his father was gone now.
And Kael had seen his brothers visit that place. Again and again.
One word from her.
That was all it would take.
His hands trembled.
The barrier flickered.
The puppet drew back its fist.
"No—!"
Kael forced his chi forward, ignoring the tearing pain in his meridians.
"Tier Zero spell—Barrier!"
The shell thickened—only a fraction—but it was enough.
The punch landed.
The barrier bent inward like it would shatter, then held.
A sharp exhale tore from Kael's chest.
Around the platform, whispers grew louder.
"He's still holding?"
"Disgusting."
"Just break already."
At the edge of the crowd, the atmosphere shifted.
Students straightened.
Voices softened.
Someone stepped aside.
Kael didn't know why at first.
Then he saw her.
She moved through the crowd without looking at anyone. White robes untouched by dust. Her posture straight, her steps light. No arrogance—just certainty.
People made space for her without being asked.
Kael caught fragments of whispers as she passed.
"Kalara…"
"The Lin family's daughter…"
"So young, already Mid Spirit Building…"
"She's here to take the trial too?"
His barrier shook again.
He almost lost it staring.
Not at her beauty—but at the way the world bent around her. The way people lowered their voices. The way even the air felt different near her.
She did not look at him.
Not once.
Her gaze passed over the platform as if he were part of the stone beneath her feet.
An ant.
The puppet attacked again.
This time, the barrier shattered.
Light exploded outward.
Kael was thrown back, his body slamming into the ground. Pain ripped through his ribs as the breath was crushed from his lungs.
He rolled once and stopped.
Silence.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Kael lay there, chest heaving, staring at the sky.
If I fail… I'm done.
No sect.
No shelter.
No protection.
Just family politics and a fate worse than death.
His fingers curled into the stone.
Slowly, he pushed himself up.
The elder's gaze rested on him, unreadable.
Kael lifted his head.
His eyes were shaking.
But they did not look away.