Dawn broke quietly over the backyard of the trade store. Chen Mo rose early, his muscles still sore from the previous day’s training. He splashed cold water over his face, steadying his breathing before stepping out into the waking streets. At a nearby stall, he bought a simple breakfast, then spent another hundred copper coins on ten steamed buns, wrapping them carefully to eat at midday.

  By the time he reached the Silver Crane Martial Hall, the courtyard was already filling with youths. Chen Mo spotted Jin Tao and the others, exchanged brief greetings, and joined them as they moved into the morning lineup. The noise gradually died down when Master Lian stepped forward. His gaze swept over the assembled disciples before he spoke, his voice calm and without embellishment. “Begin the Silver Crane Stance.”

  At the command, the youths assumed the stance in unison. Limbs tensed, breathing slowed, and the courtyard fell into strained silence as the grueling practice began once more.

  The courtyard soon revealed clear differences among the disciples. Some of the older trainees held the Silver Crane Stance with practiced stability, their movements smooth and controlled, while the newer recruits trembled visibly, struggling to maintain even the basic form. Mistakes were everywhere. Master Lian moved through the ranks without pause, correcting postures with sharp words and stern gestures, his scolding echoing across the yard whenever someone faltered too badly.

  Chen Mo remained focused. The stance was no longer unfamiliar to him, and the physical foundation he had built through years of archery training (panel time)allowed him to adjust quickly. Each correction from Master Lian was absorbed and applied almost immediately. His eyes occasionally flicked to the invisible panel, fully aware that once the stance was performed correctly in its entirety, it would register. With every breath, every subtle adjustment of balance and muscle tension, Chen Mo edged closer to that threshold.

  At some point, the strain eased.

  Chen Mo adjusted his breathing almost instinctively, his spine straightening, his weight settling cleanly through his legs. For a brief moment, everything aligned. The tension in his limbs did not vanish, but it became orderly, controlled. A faint warmth passed through his body and disappeared just as quickly, like a ripple over still water.

  The panel surfaced.

  Name: Chen Mo

  Age: 14

  Realm: None

  Martial Arts:

  ? Basic Silver Crane Stance 1/100

  Skills:

  ? Archery (Perfect)

  Chen Mo’s heart stirred. Finally… it’s done.

  The panel had responded once more. It hadn’t granted him power, nor had it elevated his realm, but its return alone was enough. Calmly, he resumed the stance, refining each movement with renewed focus. Whatever came next, at least now, the path forward was visible again.

  Even after the panel’s confirmation, Chen Mo did not maintain perfection. His posture wavered at times, his breathing slipped out of rhythm, and the strain crept back into his muscles. Still, his corrections came faster now, each mistake identified and amended with growing precision. When Master Lian passed by again, his steps slowed. He studied Chen Mo for a brief moment before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod and moving on without a word.

  By midday, Master Lian finally raised his hand. “Enough,” he announced. The command rippled through the courtyard like a release. “You may rest. Those entitled may go to the cafeteria for the body-nourishing soup.”

  The tension broke instantly. Relief spread across the youths’ faces, exhaustion replaced by anticipation. Murmurs rose, feet shifted eagerly, and the group began moving at once. Chen Mo exhaled quietly, his own hunger surfacing at the mention of the soup. Even knowing its effects were modest, the chance to experience it firsthand stirred a rare note of eagerness in him.

  On the way to the cafeteria, the tension finally loosened. Jin Tao let out a long breath and shook his arms. “This training is too exhausting,” he muttered. “I don’t even know if I can last three months like this.” Another youth beside him laughed dryly and replied, “You’ll have to. This body-nourishing soup isn’t cheap. You can buy it outside in the pharmacies, but it costs at least five taels a bowl. For people like us, it’s essential.” The others nodded in agreement, their fatigue briefly overshadowed by anticipation.

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  They soon reached the cafeteria of the outer yard, where several servants were already waiting. Chen Mo and the others took out the small wooden tokens they had received the previous day, using them to enter and claim their allotted portion. One by one, bowls were handed out, while a servant carefully recorded each name, ensuring nothing was missed. The process was efficient and orderly, a quiet reminder of the discipline enforced within the Silver Crane Martial Hall.

  Chen Mo accepted his bowl and drank slowly. The soup was bitter, far worse than any herbal concoction he had tasted before, but warmth spread through his limbs almost immediately. The exhaustion weighing down his body eased slightly, replaced by a faint but steady vigor. His eyes narrowed in thought. So this is the effect…

  He finished the bowl without hesitation, feeling energy settle deep within his muscles.

  After the brief rest, the youths returned to the courtyard and resumed the Silver Crane Stance. The soup’s warmth lingered in Chen Mo’s body, subtle but undeniable. His muscles still burned, his legs still trembled, yet the fatigue no longer crushed him as before. Each breath felt slightly deeper, each movement marginally steadier.

  As he corrected his posture again and again, the panel flickered into view.

  Basic Silver Crane Stance: 5 / 100

  Chen Mo’s gaze sharpened. The increase was small, almost insignificant on the surface, but it confirmed what he had suspected. The soup did not grant instant power, yet it allowed his body to endure longer, to refine the stance with greater efficiency. Five points in a single day… he thought calmly. This path works.

  Around him, some youths began faltering once more, sweat soaking their clothes, faces pale with strain. Chen Mo remained silent and steady, maintaining his rhythm until the sun dipped lower, fully aware that every correct repetition was slowly carving his foundation.

  By the time the sun leaned westward, it was already the hour of Shen. Sweat soaked the courtyard stones. Many youths could barely maintain the stance, legs shaking, breaths ragged, some collapsing the moment they were allowed to straighten.

  Master Lian’s voice cut through the air. “Enough. Line up.”

  The trainees hastily formed rows. A servant soon approached, holding a folded sheet of paper with both hands and presenting it to Master Lian. He glanced over it once, expression unreadable.

  “When your name is called,” he said calmly, “step forward.”

  One by one, ten names were spoken.

  Chen Mo stiffened slightly. He and the others who had joined recently exchanged brief, confused glances, while the older trainees remained silent, their faces composed. The ten youths who stepped forward wore dark expressions, apprehension clear in their eyes.

  Master Lian looked at them for a moment before speaking. “You have trained here for exactly three months. There has been no apparent progress. You do not need to come tomorrow.”

  No anger. No explanation. Just a verdict.

  With that, he turned and left the courtyard.

  The remaining youths stood in silence, some indifferent, others uneasy, as if a cold wind had passed through the yard. Chen Mo left with Jin Tao and the others without a word, the weight of the scene lingering in his mind.

  He was not worried about facing the same fate. What troubled him was something far more immediate. The soup.

  By the time he returned to his room in the trade house backyard, the sky had darkened. He fetched water, washed the sweat and dust from his body, then sat down and ate the ten steamed buns he had bought earlier, forcing himself to finish them rather than waste a single coin. Afterward, he pulled out his remaining silver, counting silently.

  Three taels per bowl…

  Chen Mo stared at the pile, weighing whether he should buy the soup tomorrow or endure a few days without it.

  The next day followed the same rhythm.

  Chen Mo woke early, washed, and went out to buy breakfast from a street stall. He ate quickly, then packed another ten steamed buns, spending a full hundred coins without hesitation. By now, frugality had become instinct, but hunger during training was a greater enemy than thrift.

  At the Silver Crane Hall, the courtyard was already filling. Jin Tao and the others arrived one after another, greeting each other with tired nods before lining up. Master Lian soon appeared and ordered them to begin the Silver Crane Stance.

  The hours crawled by.

  Legs burned. Backs ached. Sweat streamed down faces and pooled beneath bare feet. Master Lian’s corrections were fewer today, not because the stance was easy, but because most mistakes had already been made yesterday.

  Chen Mo focused on maintaining each movement precisely. His body remembered the form now, but exhaustion dulled his control. By the time training ended, he felt hollowed out, as if every ounce of strength had been wrung from his limbs.

  That night, when he checked the panel, the change was modest.

  Basic Silver Crane Stance: 7/100

  Only two points.

  Chen Mo exhaled slowly. The difference between training with the body-nourishing soup and without it was unmistakable. Without the soup, each step forward felt like wading through mud.

  After training, the youths gathered near the outer yard wall, sitting or squatting wherever they could. Talk inevitably turned to the three-month limit.

  Jin Tao spoke in a low voice. “My father mentioned this before I came.”

  The others leaned in.

  “The hall judges us by how long it takes to sense qi,” he continued. “Those true talents, the ones they call seeds, they don’t take more than ten days. The hall pours resources into them. They’re rare.”

  He swallowed before continuing. “Most decent students take around a month. That’s normal. Taking one or even two months is still acceptable.”

  A brief silence followed.

  “But once you reach three months,” Jin Tao said quietly, “even if you sense qi on the last day, your future prospects will be limited. And if you still can’t sense it by then, you’re expelled. No exceptions.”

  No one laughed. No one argued.

  Chen Mo listened without comment. His face remained calm, posture straight, but his thoughts were already turning.

  Efficiency matters.

  And without the soup, time was slipping through his fingers.

  That night, back in his room, Chen Mo lay awake longer than usual, calculating costs, days, and risks. The path ahead was clear, but it was narrowing.