The Elder stood before the gathered aspirants, hands folded in his sleeves. His gaze swept over them—some straight-backed and eager, others shifting in place, their nerves poorly hidden. The murmuring from the crowd faded as he spoke.

  “Now that we are all here,” he said dryly, “We can begin. The entrance exams are simple in principle, but many of you will find it difficult in execution.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “Each of you will have seven days to earn a set number of contribution points. Those who succeed will earn a place within the Outer Sect. Those who do not will leave.”

  A ripple of tension passed through the crowd. Jiang would probably share in the nervous energy if he had any idea what contribution points were, but as it was he simply listened calmly.

  “The Sect does not waste resources,” the Elder continued. “Tasks are limited. There are enough points available for approximately seventy-five of you to pass. The rest will fail not because they are weak, but because they are too slow, too foolish, or too complacent.” His gaze lingered for a moment before he turned. “Come.”

  He led them across the courtyard toward a large hall built from dark wood and stone. A pair of broad doors stood open, revealing rows of wooden counters manned by robed disciples. The air hummed with quiet efficiency—aspirants moving toward the counters, exchanging brief words before stepping aside.

  “This is the Job Hall,” the Elder said. “Here, you will take on tasks to earn contribution points.” He gestured toward the entrance. “The further inside you go, the more difficult the tasks—and the greater the reward. Menial labour is assigned near the entrance. If you want to sweep floors for two points at a time, that is your choice.” His lips curled slightly. “But do not expect to pass that way.”

  Jiang’s eyes tracked the room. Beyond the first counters, where servants were directed toward side passages, the hall deepened. Each section was marked by a change in architecture—the simple wooden partitions giving way to more elaborate carvings, the lanterns casting brighter light.

  “The easiest points come from wealth,” the Elder continued. “Monetary donations to the Sect are a form of contribution, and are thus accepted – but even the wealthiest amongst you will find the price to be steep. Cultivators are forged through effort, not luxury. Do not expect to be able to bribe your way into our Sect.”

  There was a not-insignificant amount of grumbling over that. Ironically, the statement seemed to have annoyed everyone equally – the rich aspirants were complaining that their money wouldn’t totally pave the way, while the poorer aspirants were grumbling about how it was unfair that some people wouldn’t have to work as hard.

  The Elder gave them all a stern look. “If anybody has told you that the world is fair, they have done you a grave disservice. There will always be those more fortunate than yourself. Complaining about it only reveals your own deficiencies.”

  The grumbles quieted, but Jiang wasn’t naive enough to think that everybody was happy about it.

  “In any event, the majority of you will be competing for the remaining tasks. Some will require strength. Others will require wit. You may work together if you wish, but keep in mind that any contribution points awarded will be distributed evenly amongst all members, regardless of how much they actually helped.”

  “There is, of course, a final way to accrue contribution points, which is to advance as a cultivator. You may be wondering why we reward such advancements – after all, is gaining strength not its own reward? – but the simple fact of the matter is that the stronger you are, the more use you are to the Sect.” The Elder turned to cast his gaze over the crowd. “The vast majority of you have only just begun your path, and, in truth, are little better than mortals right now. You are of limited use to us, and thus, anything you do to increase your use to us is rewarded.”

  The Elder ignored the displeased mutterings that resulted from his somewhat insulting words. Jiang didn’t really see what the fuss was about – assuming they were at the same stage as he was, they really were just slightly better than mortal.

  The Elder turned sharply on his heel, striding away from the job hall. “Don’t fall behind,” he called over his shoulder at them.

  He led them away from the hall, down a stone path that opened into a vast courtyard. They passed beneath a wooden archway, its beams carved with flowing script that Jiang couldn’t read. The space was open, lined with evenly spaced stone benches facing a raised platform.

  The Elder stopped, turning to face them once more.

  “This is where your mandatory lessons will take place,” he said, his voice carrying easily through the open air. “Unless your tasks specifically exclude you, you will attend.” His gaze swept over them, sharp and assessing. “Some of you may believe that understanding cultivation is secondary to practising it. You are mistaken. The path of a cultivator is not only forged through effort but also through knowledge. Strength without understanding is little more than brute force, and brute force will only carry you so far.”

  Jiang’s eyes flicked to the platform. He had never received formal instruction in anything before, and he doubted a week of lessons would suddenly make him understand cultivation. Still, the way the Elder spoke made it clear—this was not optional.

  They continued past the raised platform, following the covered walkways and coming to a larger open area. The area was divided into sections, each with a different purpose. Some were open courtyards lined with worn sparring circles, while others contained simple wooden dummies or racks of training weapons. A few held nothing at all, save for young disciples sitting motionless, their breathing controlled and their eyes closed.

  “These are the Sect’s training grounds,” the Elder said. His voice was calm, but there was an unspoken authority in it. “You will have access to them for the duration of the trial. Use them wisely.”

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  “As aspirants, you are not yet disciples,” the Elder continued. “However, that does not mean you may do as you please. Sparring is permitted, but only within designated areas, and only if both participants agree. Any attempts at intimidation, coercion, or reckless fighting will be dealt with accordingly.” His tone made it clear that ‘accordingly’ would not be pleasant.

  There were a few quiet scoffs from the crowd. A handful of the more well-dressed aspirants—clearly from wealthier families—exchanged glances. Jiang didn’t doubt that some of them would push the boundaries of what was considered ‘coercion.’

  “The Sect does not waste time settling petty disputes,” the Elder continued. “If you seek to challenge another, do so properly. An open sparring ring exists for a reason. If you wish to test your strength, then do so in a manner that benefits both you and your opponent.”

  Beyond the sparring rings, the training grounds shifted. Wooden stakes jutted from the earth in irregular patterns, some worn smooth by repeated impact. A few disciples moved between them with careful footwork, weaving through the obstacles with an ease that spoke of long practice. Further back, near the edge of the grounds, a row of stone pillars stood in quiet contrast to the rest. Jiang wasn’t sure what their purpose was, but a few disciples sat before them, their posture rigid, unmoving.

  In truth, he wasn’t sure what the purpose of almost any of this was. He’d vaguely known that cultivators were supposed to be deadly fighters but hadn’t really considered what the training would look like. Even worse, by the sounds of things, training wouldn’t be a solo endeavour.

  Jiang suddenly realised he might actually have to – shudder – interact with other people. He’d gotten away with avoiding it in his village, largely by dint of spending most of his free time in the forest, but it looked like it was catching up to him.

  “Training is more than battle,” the Elder said. “If all you seek is strength, you will never truly grasp cultivation. Meditation is just as vital as sparring, and understanding the flow of Qi is more important than swinging a sword.”

  Jiang filed that information away. He had no weapons, no formal training, and no understanding of Qi—but he knew how to watch, how to learn.

  The Elder turned sharply. “Come.”

  They left the training grounds, moving deeper into the Sect. The buildings here were more prominent, their construction more refined. There was a quiet order to everything—the way the paths curved naturally, the way the halls were positioned to allow light through without being overexposed to the elements.

  The winding path they followed eventually ended at a row of simple but well-maintained buildings.

  “These will serve as your quarters for the duration of the trial,” the Elder said. “Rooms are shared – and before anybody wastes my time by asking, no, this is not optional. You may decide amongst yourselves who you wish to share with, but do not waste my time with complaints later.”

  With that, the Elder turned on his heel and strode away, leaving them standing in uneasy silence.

  For a long moment, no one moved. Then, as if on cue, the richer aspirants—those in fine robes, those who had grumbled about monetary contributions not guaranteeing their entrance—began shifting together. There was no need for discussion. They knew each other, or at least recognised who among them was worth aligning with.

  The rest of the aspirants hesitated, then scrambled to do the same. People turned to the nearest person they even vaguely recognised, latching onto acquaintances, friends, or just anyone who didn’t seem actively hostile.

  Jiang stood still, watching as the numbers around him thinned. The richer aspirants had already disappeared into their buildings, their disdainful expressions making it clear they were relieved to be rid of the ‘lesser stock.’ The others had sorted themselves with almost frantic energy until only a dozen or so people remained.

  None of them looked particularly pleased about it.

  Jiang exhaled through his nose. He should have expected this. The ones left behind were the ones no one knew or the ones who didn’t have the social standing to be immediately chosen. Most wore simpler clothing, their hands rough from work.

  A few muttered among themselves before breaking off into smaller groups, leaving the stragglers to their fate. Jiang watched without much interest as the numbers dwindled further—until, at last, only three people remained.

  Himself, two other older men, and a young woman. The idea of a woman sharing a living space with men she wasn’t related to was a little scandalous, but apparently there wasn’t much consideration for gender at the Sect.

  No one spoke.

  The young woman broke first, exhaling hard and squaring her shoulders. “Well, seems like it’s us,” she said, forcing a half-smile despite her visible nerves. “Might as well introduce ourselves. I’m Lian.”

  The taller of the two boys shifted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Wei,” he offered. His clothes were a little too big on him, like they’d been passed down from an older brother. “Guess we’re stuck together.”

  The other boy, stockier, arms crossed over his chest, just grunted. Then, when Lian raised an expectant eyebrow at him, he sighed. “Shen.”

  Jiang sighed, somehow already exhausted by the interaction. “Jiang,” he said shortly. This was already very much out of his comfort zone.

  “Great!” said Lian with forced cheer. “Glad to meet you all. I guess… we should check out where we’re going to be living for the next week?” The sentence started off as a statement before devolving into a question. The other two guys were either just naturally quiet – which gave Jiang some hope at least – or simply didn’t care enough to disagree, so they all made their way towards the last empty building.

  The living quarters were simple. A large-ish common area containing nothing but a single wooden table that stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by stools. Four doorways around the edges of the wall led to separate sleeping areas, each with a curtain in place of a door. Another doorway led to what seemed like a random spare room, though it had a few small mats on the ground. Jiang had no idea what purpose it served, but the others seemed less confused, so he figured it must be for something to do with cultivation.

  As a whole, the building was basic, but seemed to be well maintained – there were no cracks in the walls, no dust in the corners of the rooms. Jiang had slept in worse.

  Lian forced another smile. “At least we get our own space, sort of.”

  “Better than a straw mat on the floor,” Wei muttered, mostly to himself.

  Shen ran a hand over one of the stools by the table, nodding slightly. “Could be worse.”

  Lian looked between them, visibly relieved that at least someone had responded to her attempt at conversation. “Guess we’ll be stuck with each other for a while,” she said, mostly to fill the silence.

  Shen grunted. Wei just gave a small shrug.

  Jiang ignored them in favour of walking to the furthest corner, brushing the curtain aside and stepping into the small space. A small window provided enough light to see by. The bedding looked like the rest of the building – thin, not luxurious, but at least clean. The way his body was aching from the journey, particularly the last push up the mountain, it was the most comfortable-looking thing he’d seen in weeks.

  Before he could even consider lying down, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

  “Boy.”

  Jiang’s shoulders stiffened. He turned his head to see Elder Lu standing just past the threshold, one hand resting casually behind his back. His new roommates were rather wide-eyed at being in such close proximity to an Elder without the benefit of being hidden in a crowd.

  Jiang already knew this wasn’t a social visit.

  “I believe it’s time we had a talk,” Elder Lu said.

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