Jiang was drawn from his meditations by the soft warmth of the sun on his face. His breath came slow and steady, body still settled in the familiar cross-legged position on the floor. He opened his eyes and squinted confusedly against the glare of the sunlight streaming through his window.

  The sky outside was bright. Morning.

  Jiang frowned. Had… had he cultivated through the night?

  His limbs ached faintly, his joints stiff from staying in the same position too long, but aside from that, he felt… fine. A little drained, maybe, but nothing like what he’d expect after missing an entire night of sleep. His mind was clear, his body functional. Tired, but not sluggish.

  He exhaled through his nose, adjusting his position and rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension in his back. He’d always been prone to hyper fixation—getting caught up in something to the point of losing track of everything else—but he’d assumed exhaustion would have forced him to stop at some point.

  Apparently not.

  Jiang rubbed a hand over his face, considering. The old stories spoke of cultivators retreating into seclusion for years at a time, doing nothing but meditating and refining their Qi. He had always assumed it was exaggerated, that it was just a way to make them sound more like mystical sages than people.

  But if a single night could pass like this, if he could push through exhaustion just by cultivating—

  He shook the thought off. It was something to keep in mind, but not something to rely on. He still felt the weight of missed sleep in his bones, just dulled, made bearable. Maybe one night was fine. More than that? He wasn’t about to find out the hard way.

  Still, the night had been very productive. He’d managed to clear out about half of the channels directly connected to his dantian. Technically speaking, he could start working on clearing out his first meridian right away, but Elder Lu had advised him to fully clear all of the channels he could first. Apparently, the process of clearing a meridian often resulted in a surge of Qi racing through his channels, and if he hadn’t cleared enough of them out, it could result in a backlash.

  Nothing life-threatening, but it would slow him down. As much as he wanted to race ahead as quickly as possible to shorten the time his family would spend in the hands of the damn bandits, he knew the smart move was to follow the advice he’d been given. Slow was smooth, and smooth was fast, after all.

  With a quiet exhale, Jiang pushed himself to his feet. His muscles protested briefly before settling. His stomach twisted with hunger, a reminder that, Qi or not, his body still had needs.

  He stepped out of his room.

  The main room of the small dormitory was occupied, his fellow aspirants gathered around the worn wooden table. The scent of damp wood and faint incense still lingered from the night before. Lian, Wei, and Shen were engaged in quiet conversation, but their heads turned as he emerged.

  “You’re awake,” Wei said. His tone was neutral, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

  “We figured you were exhausted,” Lian added. “Didn’t come out all afternoon yesterday.”

  Jiang blinked. Apparently, they had thought he was asleep instead of meditating. A little odd – was it unusual to cultivate like he did? Maybe that’s what the strange empty room was for, and he just hadn’t realised.

  “Huh,” he said.

  Shen snorted. “Not much of an answer.”

  Jiang shrugged. “Pushed hard to get here on time.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly.

  Lian leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. She seemed more at ease than she had been yesterday, her posture relaxed, expression open. “We were about to head to the dining hall. Want to come?”

  Well, she certainly seemed more comfortable now. He was getting the unfortunate feeling that she was one of those excessively friendly people who tried to make friends with everyone – especially if they somehow got the impression he was ‘lonely’ or some nonsense like that.

  He wasn’t lonely, dammit, he just enjoyed his solitude!

  Lian’s slightly uncertain expression made him realise he was looking at her rather intently. Oops.

  He coughed awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, sounds good”

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  Considering he actually hadn’t thought to ask how aspirants were supposed to feed themselves, this worked out rather well. With a sinking feeling, Jiang realised it would probably be a good idea to cultivate at least some kind of relationship – if only so he had someone to ask the myriad questions he was sure to come up with.

  Wonderful.

  — — —

  The dining hall was larger than he expected. Rows of long wooden tables stretched the length of the space, benches worn smooth by years of use. Other aspirants – as well as some full-fledged disciples – were already there, some clustered in quiet conversation, others eating in silence. The air was thick with the smell of cooked grain, stewed vegetables, and something faintly medicinal.

  They joined the line forming at the serving station, where servants were handing out bowls of porridge and a small portion of pickled vegetables. The food was simple and plain. No meat, no extravagant flavours - filling, certainly, but nothing more.

  Jiang accepted his bowl and followed the others to an empty section of one of the tables. The first spoonful was as bland as expected, but he didn’t complain. He’d gone hungry often enough to appreciate any source of free, plentiful food, regardless of taste. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his fellow aspirants didn’t seem quite as enamoured with the meal.

  Wei prodded at his porridge with his spoon, expression blank. “I swear, this tastes like ground-up rice husks and disappointment.”

  Shen snorted. “What did you expect? Roast duck?”

  “I expected food,” Wei said flatly. “This is more like… punishment.”

  Lian rolled her eyes. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s bland.”

  “It’s free.”

  Jiang kept eating, letting the conversation wash over him. A few seats away, a group of wealthier aspirants weren’t nearly as reserved in their complaints.

  “This is disgraceful,” one of them muttered, pushing his bowl away with barely concealed disgust. “My family pays the sect good silver, and they expect me to eat this slop?”

  “The Sect doesn’t care how much silver your family has,” another grumbled. “They care about contribution points.”

  “Tell that to Zhang Shuren,” the first scoffed.

  Jiang glanced up at that, curiosity stirring. He wasn’t the only one—Wei and Shen both turned their heads slightly, feigning disinterest but clearly listening. There was a smaller counter near the entrance to the dining hall that Jiang had noticed as they entered but hadn’t paid much attention to. A few disciples stood behind it, handing out different bowls from the standard fare. Unlike the thin, watery porridge in front of Jiang, these bowls were filled with richer, thicker grains, their surface faintly steaming with something more than just heat.

  “Lucky bastard,” Wei muttered.

  Jiang turned to follow his gaze.

  Zhang Shuren stood near the counter, his posture as stiffly perfect as it had been yesterday during the initiation. He looked as though he belonged here—better than here, really—his uniform crisp, his expression vaguely disinterested as he accepted a bowl of clearly higher-quality food.

  As he reached for it, he raised his other hand, fingers brushing over a small wooden token at his waist. The surface glowed faintly, almost imperceptibly, before dimming again.

  “What’s that by his belt?” he asked, curious.

  “What’s what?” Lian turned, following his gaze across the room. “Oh, that’s just his contribution token.”

  At Jiang’s obviously confused look, she elaborated, pulling a small wooden token from the pocket of her robes and passing it over to him. “We got them from the job hall yesterday. It’s how the Sect tracks your contribution points, and you use it to pay for things with them.”

  Jiang turned the token over in his fingers. It was simple, smooth wood, marked with a faintly glowing inscription. When he moved it, the light shifted, revealing carved numbers beneath the surface. Lian’s had a small “2” displayed on it.

  “This seems awfully easy for someone to steal,” he observed.

  Shen snorted. “Nope. Tried it.”

  Jiang raised an eyebrow.

  “What the lug means to say is that we tested it with each other’s tokens,” Wei said, leaning over to jab Shen in the side. “The tokens are bound to the user’s Qi, so no one else can use it. Even if you lose the token you can just get another one – though it does cost a couple of contribution points.”

  “How do they work?” Jiang asked, curious.

  “Some kind of formation engraved inside the token somehow,” Lian explained, reaching over to reclaim her token. “I don’t really understand it either,” she confided, “but it works, and that’s all that matters. Anyway, you tap it against something that takes points to pay for things, and it deducts automatically.”

  Jiang grunted, turning his attention back to his meal.

  Across the room, Zhang Shuren had made his way to where a group of full disciples sat together, their uniforms slightly more refined than the aspirants’. Their meals were noticeably better as well—thicker grains, richer vegetables, and some even had small portions of meat. Clearly, whatever their rank was, it was enough to afford more than the basic rations.

  Near the entrance, a few aspirants had already finished eating but weren’t leaving. Instead, they lingered by the walls, some chatting, others simply watching. Jiang frowned slightly. Were they waiting for something?

  Shen watched him enviously.

  “Rich bastard probably had points before even getting here.”

  Lian hummed. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Elder Yan sponsored him, right?” She tilted her head before glancing curiously at Jiang. “Kinda surprised that you don’t already have points, actually. Aren’t you being sponsored by Elder Lu?”

  Jiang snorted. “The extent of his sponsoring was to get me through the gate,” he revealed before pausing. “Well, that and telling me how to cultivate in the first place,” he amended. It was probably best to avoid sounding ungrateful.

  The others seemed unsure how to take that.

  “Right, well, I guess each Elder does things differently?” Lian settled on lamely.

  Wei, who had been scraping the bottom of his bowl with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, suddenly straightened. “People are leaving,” he muttered, nodding toward a few aspirants rising from their seats.

  Shen groaned. “Already?”

  Lian sighed. “Guess we should head to the job hall before all the good tasks are gone.”

  Jiang didn’t really see how there could be “good” tasks—work was work—but he wasn’t about to argue. Then again, he didn’t really know how any of the tasks worked yet, so maybe some of them were definitively worse than others? He pushed his empty bowl aside and stood. “Let’s go, then.”

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