ã€ŠDestiny Reckoning[A Xianxia Cultivation Progression Mythical Fantasy]ã€‹


 Chapter 1 : Prologue

    It was a realm beyond human understanding: an endless time of darkness with no warmth of light. The lightness of life itself had never dared to touch this. Thunder reverberated through the ominous silence, echoing as if the sky were being shredded to pieces. It felt as if reality itself was waiting at the edge of destruction.

    Suddenly, a light appeared in the darkness and passed through the sky. That was neither a falling star nor a flash of lightning.

    Only a man.

    Beaten, bleeding, yet still standing.

    His arms folded into a warm embrace around a feeble child whose breaths were shallow, as though they were fragments of a delicate world beyond his¡ªunknown to the world shattering around him.

    Crimson stains marked the delicate fabric, tracing fingers curled around the child''s frail self. With bloodied lips, he whispered, ¡°I can¡¯t understand why destiny won¡¯t let us go.¡±

    Everything was covered with darkness, and then a few bright points of light appeared on the horizon. Figures clad in black clothes stood behind them, and their pursuers chased them.

    He looked at his left hand with a sigh of disappointment. ¡°Even if I take you to the end of this world, they will follow you there. Your soul is like a beacon for them.¡±

    He shook his hand, not because of the pain, but because of a feeling more unbearable than any wound. It was his responsibility to carve a path to salvation, but now¡­

    Having steeled his heart, he made a difficult decision. Time was running out, and no one else was there. Waving his other hand in the air, a dagger appeared, its handle engraved with a mystical tiger¡ªa reflection of the dire situation he now faced.

    With another wave, The dagger hovered, its tip mere inches from the child''s chest.. His hand lingered, as if sensing the faint heartbeat beneath.

    ¡°There is no other way to save me from every trouble.¡±

    For a moment, despair overtook him. He had known this would be difficult, but now that the time had come, he himself was dying hundred deaths.

    "Forgive me."

    Through the lens of forgiveness, he struck at the child with the dagger¡ªnot to harm him, nor to end his life, which was destined for hardship, but to free him from a fate worse than death.

    Taking a long breath, he made a cutting motion with his hand, silently guiding the dagger toward the child. It was as though he were apologizing for his misdeed. But he did not touch the child. He did not wound his soft body. Instead, he severed the innocent soul into two.

    As the dagger finally traced the motion of the man¡¯s hand, a bright light burst forth from the child¡¯s body, striking him directly. Before that radiance faded completely, the man gathered all of his power and unleashed it upon their pursuers, suffocating the glow that had emerged from the child¡¯s form.

    The light, surging from the child''s body, pierced the man¡¯s chest, leaving behind a deep wound where even his bones were visible. His consciousness wavered for a moment, his vision darkening¡ªbut his work was not yet finished, and he could not rest in the garden of death.

    It was impossible for him to hide the child''s soul power completely. Instead, he could only save his life by breaking its strength into two parts.

    The child''s soul was torn into two. It felt as if the world itself refused to let go, as if fate were crying out in despair, scattering everything in its wake.

    Thunder roared, and even the dagger could not match its force. The man¡¯s legs sank into the fractured earth, wind howled, and shockwaves rippled outward, marking the emergence of a power beyond comprehension.

    Reality rippled.

    The child''s body wavered, dissolving into the air¡ªpresent one moment, vanishing the next, as if time itself sought to erase his existence. And then, after a few fleeting moments, he was gone, as if reality had chosen to rewrite itself once more.

    The man could not withstand the force. His body, already battered and broken, was drenched in blood. He bled from every corner, his strength nearly spent. Even controlling the dagger had become a struggle.

    Not for the joy of saving the child.

    Not for the sorrow of what had been done.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    His enemy was close now. Too close.

    And the job was only half-done.

    In the distance, heavy footsteps and raised voices echoed through the ruins. At least twenty of them. Their leader walked with purpose, his gaze sharp as steel, his will unyielding¡ªa man who had once called him "brother."

    Sampoorna roared, hurling a sphere of pure light¡ªdesperate, defiant. It streaked through the darkness, a final stand against the inevitable.

    BOOM!

    A force just as fierce shattered it midair, golden fragments dissolving into nothing. The next attack came swiftly, a storm made of blades tearing through his defenses. He barely had time to register the impact before his body was flung like a ragdoll, crashing against jagged rock.

    Pain. Unimaginable pain.

    Then¡ªsilence.

    He lay broken, blood pooling beneath him, his breath shallow. Through the haze, he saw a figure approaching, silhouetted against the storm-ridden sky. The man who had betrayed him.

    Kundan.

    "Brother."

    The word carried something unreadable¡ªmockery, regret, or something in between.

    "You should¡¯ve known this would happen."

    Sampoorna coughed, blood dribbling from his lips. A bitter smile tugged at his mouth. "You used to call me your greatest rival. Now you call me a fool?"

    A shadow flickered in Kundan¡¯s eyes, hesitation cracking through his cold exterior¡ªjust for a moment. "You forced my hand, Sampoorna. You always did."

    Sampoorna let out a raspy chuckle, though the effort sent another jolt of pain through his ribs. "No choice?" His voice was weak but sharp, laced with something deeper¡ªbetrayal, sorrow, and the weight of an unbreakable truth. "No. You made yours, Kundan. And you chose power over family."

    Kundan¡¯s jaw tightened, but he didn¡¯t respond.

    "You always wanted to surpass me." Sampoorna¡¯s voice softened, yet the edge remained. "Tell me¡ªwas it worth it?"

    For the briefest second, something in Kundan¡¯s eyes wavered. But then he exhaled sharply, steeling himself once more. "It doesn¡¯t matter. The boy is nothing but a tool. His Majesty has already decided his fate."

    Sampoorna¡¯s hands clenched. "A tool? He¡¯s a child, Kundan. Our family protected him. Our ancestors¡ª"

    "Our ancestors died for nothing!" Kundan snapped, his voice a blade through the storm. His fingers twitched at his side, dark energy curling around them like restless shadows. "They were fools. You are a fool. And I will not let their mistakes dictate my future."

    Sampoorna tried to move, but his body failed him. The damage was too great. He swallowed his pain and forced out his next words. "You will never have honor, Kundan. No matter how much power you gather."

    Kundan¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. "Honor is for the dead."

    A soldier approached, bowing slightly before speaking. "Elder Kundan, the child¡¯s energy signature has vanished. It¡¯s as if he never existed."

    Kundan¡¯s fists clenched. "Gone?" His voice remained steady¡ªtoo steady. But something flickered in his expression: disbelief, hesitation¡­ fear?

    "No. That¡¯s not possible." His fingers twitched, as if grasping for something already lost. "Sampoorna, you wouldn¡¯t¡ª"

    The certainty in Sampoorna¡¯s weary gaze made Kundan¡¯s stomach twist.

    The soldier hesitated. "We have searched thoroughly, Elder. There is no trace."

    For a moment, something unreadable passed through Kundan¡¯s gaze¡ªdoubt, grief? But then, in the next breath, it was gone, buried beneath duty¡¯s unyielding mask.

    Sampoorna inhaled shakily. "The elders say karma is shaped by every interaction¡ªfrom birth to death. I would never let him fall into your hands, to live a life of grief and evil¡­ or to die a traitor¡¯s death. I severed his ties to this world myself."

    His voice trembled, and tears slipped down his face, as if something inside him had broken beyond repair.

    A shadow crossed Kundan¡¯s face. "You¡­ killed him?"

    The words hung heavy in the air.

    Then¡ª

    A pulse of energy erupted from Sampoorna¡¯s battered form.

    Kundan¡¯s instincts screamed. "STOP HIM!" he roared.

    He lunged, his fingers brushing against Sampoorna¡¯s robes¡ª

    Light exploded outward.

    The force sent Kundan staggering back, vision burning with white-hot brilliance. When it faded, the space where Sampoorna had lain was empty. As if he had never been there at all.

    Kundan¡¯s breath came in sharp bursts. His outstretched hand grasped at nothing, disbelief flickering across his face. He had him. Until he didn¡¯t.

    Clenching his jaw, he turned sharply. "Search the area. I want him and the boy found¡ªdead or alive!"

    As Kundan¡¯s forces scattered, the storm above twisted, unnoticed by those below. High above, a lone figure hovered, watching with an unreadable gaze. He lifted a hand, and from the wreckage, something small and fragile drifted toward him¡ªa faint, flickering light.

    A soul. Fractured.

    He turned the shimmering fragment between his fingers, his voice a whisper carried by the wind. "Incomplete. But why?"

    The glow pulsed weakly, resisting his grasp. He hummed in amusement. "A fragment without a home... How peculiar."

    His fingers tightened around it, an unnatural chill seeping into his grip. If this is only a fragment... then where does the rest of you hide? His gaze darkened, pensive. Then, as dawn¡¯s first light crept over the horizon, he dissolved into the fading night, leaving behind only questions.

    Through the settling dust, space twisted once more. A figure¡ªSampoorna¡ªstumbled back into reality, breathless, his wounds barely sealed. His hands clenched as his gaze darted across the battlefield.

    He had no time to waste.

    His heart pounded. Gone.

    A chill crawled down his spine. Don¡¯t tell me¡­ someone found the fragmented soul.

    A curse slipped from his lips. His mind raced. Splitting the soul was the only way to save the child. Hiding it completely was impossible. That¡¯s why I separated the consciousness, masked the teleportation within my attack. The remaining fragment¡­ I concealed it well. Kundan shouldn¡¯t have been able to find it.

    His hands curled into trembling fists. Then who? Were there others lurking in the shadows?

    The night¡¯s devastation lay silent before him, yet in its wake, an even greater storm brewed.

    He had to find both pieces.

    Only then could the child fulfill his destiny.

    With one last glance at the ruined battlefield, Sampoorna steeled himself. There was no time to mourn. No time to hesitate. Only one thing mattered now¡ª

    He had to find both pieces.

    Before it was too late.

 Chapter 2 : The Smiling Orphan

    The world of Yugantar breathed with unseen power. In the whispering wind, the trembling earth, the silent depths of the lake¡ªUrrja pulsed, the hidden lifeblood of creation. It lingered in ancient roots, drifted through the air, waiting to be grasped. To those who could sense it, Urrja was more than mere energy¡ªit was the promise of something greater.

    Cultivators walked the path beyond mortal limits, shaping the world with will alone. Some pursued strength, others sought wisdom. But there were a rare few who did not chase destiny¡ªdestiny came for them.

    Yet, in the far-flung corners of the land, such power was little more than a whispered legend. In places where fields stretched farther than ambition, where hunger and hardship shaped lives more than fate, cultivators were like ghosts¡ªdistant, untouchable, and unreal.

    And in one such village, forgotten by the grand designs of the world, a boy named Aaryan took his first steps toward a path that was never meant for him.

    Kamalpuri was one such place¡ªa village cradled by rolling green hills and a lake thick with lotus blossoms. The mountain to the north cast a long shadow over its people, sheltering them from war, yet keeping them caged. Few travelers passed through. Fewer still returned.

    Here, life bent to the will of the seasons¡ªfickle rains, cruel winters, and the hunger that followed. The wrath of nature was more real than the wrath of the heavens. And in this village, where struggle was as certain as the rising sun, a boy named Aaryan should have given up long ago.

    But he never did.

    Morning light spilled over the rooftops of Kamalpuri, bathing the dirt paths in gold. The scent of damp earth mixed with the smoke of early cooking fires.

    Aaryan strode through the village square, a small sack slung over his shoulder, his steps light, his posture relaxed. His clothes were patched but clean, his hair tied back loosely. He looked no different from the other children¡ªexcept for one thing.

    His eyes held no weight of defeat.

    ¡°Hah, look at him¡ªstill grinning, like he owns the place,¡± grunted a stocky man, shifting the grain sack higher on his shoulder. His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against stone.

    A lanky man beside him snorted, arms crossed. ¡°Tch. I heard he was sneaking around the temple again,¡± he muttered, voice edged with amusement rather than anger.

    Aaryan stretched his arms lazily, turning toward them with an easy smile. ¡°Come on, Uncle, if I got caught, wouldn¡¯t I be scrubbing temple floors right now?¡±

    "Hmph. You¡¯re too carefree for a boy with no family," the stocky man muttered. "Fate watches those who mock it. One day, you¡¯ll laugh at the wrong moment, and the heavens will send a lesson you won¡¯t forget."

    He spat lightly to the side ¡ª a ward against misfortune. A few villagers murmured in agreement, shifting uneasily, as if Aaryan¡¯s words had invited something unwanted.

    Aaryan tapped his chin thoughtfully. ¡°You¡¯re right. I should be crying in a corner somewhere, shouldn¡¯t I? But then, who would listen?¡± He sighed dramatically. ¡°Perhaps if I weep loud enough, the heavens will take pity and send a great cultivator to make me immortal.¡±

    The lanky man chuckled under his breath, but his companion wasn¡¯t as amused. The stocky man¡¯s brow furrowed, lips pressing into a hard line.

    The villagers exchanged glances¡ªwas he mocking them?

    Before they could retort, Aaryan bowed lightly and walked away. ¡°But alas, no time for theatrics¡ªbreakfast awaits.¡±

    Breakfast, if he could find it. He rarely relied on kindness alone. If the temple cook needed extra hands, he could charm his way into a meal. If not, there was always the riverbank, where sluggish fish hid in the reeds. Worst case, the jungle still held traps he had set the night before¡ªassuming nothing else had stolen his catch first.

    Whispers followed him, half-pity, half-scorn.

    ¡°The Clown never stops grinning,¡± one boy sneered, his tone dripping with mockery as he kicked a loose rock. ¡°Bet he thinks he¡¯s better than us.¡±

    Another scoffed, voice low and bitter. ¡°Hmph. What¡¯s there to be proud of? No parents, no family, yet he walks around like he owns the place.¡±

    Nearby, an old woman clutched her prayer beads a little tighter, muttering under her breath. A prayer? A ward? A curse? Aaryan only tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze.

    With a flick of his sleeve, he dusted off an invisible speck¡ªlight, effortless, as if their words carried no weight at all.

    Yet, not everyone spoke with disdain.

    Few truly knew how he managed to get by. One day, he was sweeping temple floors for a bowl of rice; another, he was gutting fish by the riverbank or snaring hares in the underbrush. Some thought he was lucky. Others whispered that he was simply too clever to starve.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°That boy¡­¡± an older man muttered, adjusting his turban with a slow shake of his head. His voice was rough, worn by years of sun and labor. ¡°Always smiling. Like he¡¯s never seen a hard day in his life.¡±

    His companion, a younger man, leaned against a wooden post, arms folded. His tone was lighter, more curious. ¡°Strange, isn¡¯t it? He was found in the mountains alone, yet he acts like he belongs here. No one knows where he came from, but some say he saved lives during those forest expeditions.¡±

    The older man snorted. ¡°Hah. Clever tricks don¡¯t fill an empty stomach. Not that any stomachs are ever full these days. The grain prices keep climbing, and the rains come late¡ª¡± He shook his head.

    The younger man exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. ¡°Maybe not,¡± he admitted. ¡°But when the hunting party was trapped last winter, wasn¡¯t it his plan that got them out?¡±

    The older man let out a sharp breath¡ªhalf dismissal, half reluctant agreement. ¡°Hmph. Doesn¡¯t change the fact that he struts around like he¡¯s got nothing to fear.¡±

    The younger man hesitated, his fingers tracing the rim of a chipped clay cup. He glanced at Aaryan¡¯s retreating figure, his expression unreadable.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers brushed the frayed edge of his sash¡ªa small, absent gesture. His breath remained steady, his steps light, but the movement lingered just long enough to betray something beneath the surface. Then, with a lazy wave, he turned slightly toward them.

    ¡°Careful, Uncle. If you keep frowning like that, you¡¯ll get wrinkles.¡±

    The younger man choked back a laugh, while the older one sputtered in irritation.

    Aaryan¡¯s expression remained unchanged, but for the briefest moment¡ªso brief it could have been imagined¡ªhis gaze turned distant, something unreadable flickering behind it. Then, just as easily, he tossed his head back and let out a soft chuckle, shaking off whatever had threatened to surface.

    By the village well, an elderly woman sat weaving baskets, her hands as worn as the stories she carried.

    ¡°Morning, Aunty,¡± Aaryan greeted, his voice light.

    She peered at him over her work and sighed. ¡°Have you eaten, child?¡±

    ¡°The morning air is quite filling.¡±

    She gave him a flat look.

    He exhaled through his nose, a small, sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

    ¡°Caught again, huh?¡±

    Shaking her head, she unwrapped a cloth bundle and handed him a warm piece of roti.

    ¡°Hmph. Too thin. Eat. Or the wind will take you.¡±

    Aaryan accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. ¡°You have a generous heart, Aunty. May your baskets sell faster than a crow steals rice!¡±

    She snorted. ¡°And may you finally learn to frown.¡±

    Tearing off a piece of the roti, he popped it into his mouth. The taste¡ªsimple, warm¡ªlingered longer than it should have. It was nothing extraordinary, just wheat and fire, yet for a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would have been like to have someone waiting for him at home, pressing a fresh meal into his hands. The thought was foreign, almost laughable. He shook it off with a grin, swallowing both the food and the feeling before it could settle.

    Nearby, villagers spoke in hushed voices, unaware that he was listening.

    ¡°Tch. That Vata brat¡¯s back in town.¡±

    ¡°The one who left to train under a cultivator?¡±

    ¡°Yes! They say he¡¯s become powerful. Brought a group of outsiders with him too.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers stilled.

    The chief¡¯s son¡­

    That wasn¡¯t good news.

    The Vata family ruled Kamalpuri without question. They didn¡¯t need soldiers or threats¡ªthey owned the land, the grain, the stores. A single command from the chief, and a family could starve.

    Aaryan had always been careful never to cross them.

    But if the chief¡¯s son had returned, things might change.

    And when things changed, the powerless suffered first.

    The memory of being forced to pick up fallen fruit burned in his mind¡ªof cold mud under his knees, of a boot pressing against his shoulder, pushing him down, as vivid as the sting of gravel against his palms. It hadn¡¯t been a one-time cruelty¡ªjust one of many. Back then, Aaryan had already been an orphan, a boy surviving on scraps and wits, tolerated but never truly accepted. No one had stepped forward to help. The villagers had watched, some with pity, others with indifference.

    "Pick it up, stray," the chief¡¯s son had sneered, kicking over the basket Aaryan had spent hours filling. "Maybe if you grovel, I''ll let you have it back."

    Aaryan had picked up the scattered fruit without a word, his fingers white-knuckled against the dirt. He never begged.

    That was last year. But the world hadn¡¯t changed. The strong still took what they wanted¡ªand the clever learned when to vanish.

    Aaryan finished the last of his roti, dusted off his hands, and let his gaze wander across the village square. The usual hum of daily life continued¡ªvendors haggling, children chasing each other through the dirt paths, old men grumbling about the weather. But beneath it all, there was something new.

    A shift.

    Whispers of the chief¡¯s son¡¯s return coiled through the air like restless smoke.

    If he was going to survive, he needed more than just food.

    Knowledge was the difference between a fox escaping the hunter¡ªand becoming the night¡¯s meal.

    His feet carried him toward the village¡¯s small general store¡ªnot just for work, but to listen. The shopkeeper heard everything; the right words, the right tone, and Aaryan could piece together what this return meant for him.

    As he stepped inside, the scent of dried grains and old wood greeted him, familiar and grounding. He greeted the shopkeeper with an easy smile, slipping into his usual role.

    Another day. Another job.

    But just as he was about to start sweeping, the murmur of conversation outside changed. A presence filled the space, heavy with authority.

    A hush rippled through the square. Then¡ª

    "Failure is not an option on this mission."

    The voice cut through the murmurs, steady, authoritative. Aaryan felt it like a weight in his chest¡ªsharp, familiar. His fingers tightened around the broom handle.

    Aaryan¡¯s grip tightened around the broom handle. That voice... He knew that voice.

    "The figure stepped forward, and the face from his past came into focus."

    "The chief¡¯s son had returned."

    Aaryan had no way of knowing then, but this expedition would change the course of his life¡ªthe life of an orphan with an impossible smile.

    The murmurs outside swelled. Heavy footsteps. A hush that rippled through the square.

    Then¡ª

    The shadow in the doorway shifted, and a figure stepped forward.

    Tall. Broad-shouldered. Draped in fine traveling robes, embroidered with sigils Aaryan didn¡¯t recognize. The air around him felt heavier, charged¡ªlike the sky before a storm.

    But Aaryan knew that face. He had known it since childhood.

    The chief¡¯s son had returned.

    And from the way the villagers shrank back, from the gleam of polished boots and the quiet, commanding weight of his presence¡ªhe had not returned as the boy who had left.

    Aaryan tightened his grip on the broom handle, fingers pressing into the worn wood. A thousand instincts flickered through him¡ªrun, bow, vanish¡ªbut he did none of them.

    Instead, he let out a slow breath and did what he always did.

    He smiled.

 Chapter 3 : Into the Unknown

    The square held its breath, thick with the hush before a monsoon. Aaryan gripped the broom tighter. He had prepared for this moment. He had told himself he was ready. But as Nayan stood there¡ªtoo close¡ª His breath hitched. He had survived him once. He would again.

    He stood at the center of the square, draped in a fine blue robe embroidered with golden thread. The robe was too rich for Kamalpuri. His dark hair was neatly tied back, a thin gold chain catching the morning light against his collarbone.

    His once-boyish face had sharpened, his jaw set with the arrogance of someone who never heard ¡°no.¡±

    But it was his eyes that had truly changed.

    There had always been cruelty in them, but now it was colder¡ªa man who had tasted power and wanted more.

    Flanking him were two bodyguards, their imposing figures and stern expressions making it clear that no one would dare cross them.

    The first was bald, his left eye clouded and milky-white from a deep scar that slashed across his face. He didn¡¯t need words¡ªviolence spoke for him. He carried himself with the ease of someone who solved problems with his fists first and thought about consequences later.

    The second was a different kind of threat. Broad-shouldered and built like a mountain, he barely moved, barely blinked. He didn¡¯t need to. His presence alone made even the boldest hesitate.

    The villagers recoiled. A mother pulled her child closer, murmuring a quick prayer before turning away.

    Nayan surveyed the crowd like a ruler¡ªuntil his gaze locked onto Aaryan, pressing down like a heavy hand. The memory of Nayan¡¯s last ¡®lesson¡¯ flickered in his mind, but he crushed it before it could settle. He wasn¡¯t afraid. Not anymore.

    Silence.

    Then¡ª

    You," Nayan sneered. "Still skulking around like a rat, I see."

    The words struck¡ªnot unexpected, but still sharp. Aaryan had spent years telling himself Nayan couldn¡¯t hurt him anymore. But now, with all eyes on him, his heart stammered in his chest. He hated how small he felt, how the past slithered back before he could stop it.

    Yet, beneath that sneer, the past tightened like an old wound. Once, he had been that stray¡ªhungry, desperate. But now? Now, he stood his ground.

    His fingers curled slightly, but he refused to let his grip betray him He knew what they were thinking¡ªhe didn¡¯t belong. A mother pulled her child closer. A merchant, halfway through arranging his wares, stilled. No one spoke, but the silence told him everything.

    He imagined the shock in Nayan¡¯s eyes if he struck him¡ªjust once. But that was exactly what Nayan wanted.

    Aaryan forced the anger back, shoving it down like smoldering embers beneath cold ash. His face remained unreadable, his tone light.

    "Morning, Junior Chief." Aaryan kept his voice light. "Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be lucky enough to see you first thing today."

    Nayan exhaled sharply, stepping closer. His head tilted slightly, studying Aaryan as if deciding whether he was worth the breath.

    "Of course, you didn¡¯t. Too busy loitering like you belong here." His lips curled. ¡°Tell me, stray¡ªdo you still grovel, or have you finally learned your place?¡±

    Aaryan schooled his features into something unreadable. "I manage."

    "Manage?" Nayan let out a short, sharp laugh, turning briefly to his bodyguards as if expecting them to share in the joke. The scarred man¡¯s lips curved slightly, while the other remained unreadable.

    "Well, let¡¯s see if you can manage this," Nayan said, his tone turning serious. "My father is gathering men for an expedition. All able-bodied men are expected to report to the temple tonight." His words cut sharp, a challenge threaded through them. "Even strays."

    Aaryan¡¯s stomach twisted.

    He knew better than to argue.

    Instead, he nodded carefully. "Of course."

    Nayan¡¯s fingers drummed lightly against his wrist, a subtle flicker of irritation crossing his face before he masked it, but when Aaryan didn¡¯t give him any, he exhaled through his nose and turned away.

    "Be there," Nayan said, not bothering to turn. "Or I''ll have you dragged."

    With that, he strode off, his bodyguards following closely behind.

    Only when they were gone did the tension in the square loosen, the villagers beginning to murmur again.

    Aaryan ran his thumb over the broom. This wasn¡¯t good.

    As Nayan and his guards faded into the distance, the murmurs of the villagers grew louder, but Aaryan¡¯s mind remained fixed on the coldness of Nayan¡¯s eyes. For a moment, the weight of their exchange lingered like a bruise that refused to heal. He exhaled sharply, shaking off the old feelings. This wasn¡¯t over¡ªnot just for him. He forced his legs to move toward the temple.

    <hr>

    The temple courtyard was packed with men, the air thick with murmurs and uncertainty. The scent of burning oil from the iron braziers mixed with the lingering incense from evening prayers, a sharp contrast to the sweat and dust clinging to the gathered men.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    As Aaryan stepped into the temple courtyard, the air felt heavier¡ªnot just from incense, but from expectation. This wasn¡¯t just another mission. It was something bigger.

    Incense curled around him like a ghost of the past. It stirred old memories¡ªnights spent in dark corners, hiding from things he couldn¡¯t outrun. He had learned to bear the weight, but even now, something in his chest tightened.

    A nagging thought crept into his mind, a reminder of who he had once been¡ªthe stray, always on the outside, waiting for a place to belong.

    At the front of the gathering, Nayan stood tall, his presence commanding. His blue robe shimmered in the firelight as he addressed the crowd.

    "Enough with the pleasantries," he said, his voice firm but impatient. "This mission is important. No mistakes will be tolerated. If we succeed, the rewards will be great¡ªenough to make every one of you feel like a king. But if we fail, the consequences will be severe."

    He let the words settle, then continued, his voice lowering slightly, drawing them in.

    "We march toward something greater than any of you understand. The riches of the mountain await¡ªbut only for those who prove themselves."

    The murmurs in the crowd grew. Some looked eager; others shifted uneasily.

    "So, focus and follow orders without question."

    Aaryan¡¯s heart skipped a beat.

    Then, from the side, another voice cut in¡ªa man with a broad chest and a practiced smile.

    "Junior Chief Nayan," the man began, his tone smooth, measured. "What an honor it is to have you with us today. Will you be joining us on this mission?"

    Unlike Nayan, this man¡ªJivak¡ªwas calculated. Where Nayan was blunt, Jivak was careful. His words were honeyed, but there was poison beneath.

    Nayan waved a hand dismissively, though a faint hint of amusement lingered on his lips."No, I have other matters to attend to. But I will be overseeing everything."

    A pause. A shift in the air.

    "My brother, Sharan, will lead a separate team. Together, we will ensure success."

    Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but unlike the reaction to Nayan, this wasn¡¯t the usual unease. It was something quieter, heavier.

    If Nayan was a blade, Sharan was a net¡ªhis influence woven so deeply that one rarely realized they were caught until it was too late.

    "The teams will remain together as we ascend," Nayan continued. "Only at our destination will we split for our respective tasks. Some will scout the perimeters; others will go deeper into the mountain. You will follow orders without question."

    Jivak¡¯s fingers tapped idly against his belt, his smile unsheathing like a blade.

    "And since this mission is so important," he drawled, "we can¡¯t afford to carry anyone who could be a liability."

    His attention fixed on Aaryan.

    "Aaryan," Jivak called out, his voice casual, almost amused. "A mission like this¡­ well, not everyone is suited for it. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?"

    The crowd shifted, sensing blood in the water.

    The words pricked like a thorn under his skin, but Aaryan forced himself to stay still. He knew this game. Jivak wanted him flustered, wanted the crowd to see doubt flicker across his face. But he wouldn¡¯t give them that. Not again. His fingers flexed briefly before stilling, his breath measured but taut.

    "You¡¯ve made mistakes before," Jivak continued, his tone light. "Surely, we can¡¯t risk another¡ª" He stopped, just for a fraction of a second, but it was there¡ªa crack in the smooth confidence. His lips parted as if he meant to say something else, something sharper, but then he caught himself. A shadow passed over his eyes, quickly masked by a smirk. A moment¡¯s hesitation, barely noticeable, but Aaryan caught it.

    The memory passed between them unspoken. A different expedition. A different mountain. Jivak¡¯s men, half-buried in a rockslide, gasping for breath. And Aaryan, the "stray," the one they had dismissed, pulling them free.

    Jivak recovered quickly, his lips curling with something unreadable. "But then again, luck favors fools, doesn¡¯t it?"

    Aaryan said nothing.

    Nayan¡¯s voice cut through the moment, smooth as silk. "Enough."

    Jivak immediately straightened, his expression unreadable. The shift was subtle, but undeniable.

    "Aaryan," he said, his voice cold. " You¡¯re only here because of your adoptive father. Don¡¯t embarrass me. If not for that, you wouldn''t even be here." His eyes glinted. "So don¡¯t embarrass me.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s mask didn¡¯t falter. "I won¡¯t make any mistakes, Junior Chief."

    Nayan held his gaze, then scoffed. "Good. See that you don¡¯t."

    The tension in the air remained, a coiled thread that wouldn¡¯t quite snap. A slow breath left him, but the tightness in his chest refused to loosen, a knot of unease lodged deep.

    This test was over. The real challenge had yet to begin.

    Aaryan barely had a moment to process before the murmurs in the crowd sharpened into hushed tension. A disturbance rippled through the square as heads turned toward the road.

    Boots pounded against the earth in practiced rhythm. A group¡ªlarge, disciplined¡ªmoved with purpose, their sheer presence commanding attention. Around seventy figures, their formation too deliberate to be simple travelers. At the front, five men stood out.

    Two of them wore robes identical to Nayan¡¯s, deep blue with golden embroidery catching the light. Recognition struck Aaryan immediately. Sharan and Ayan¡ªNayan¡¯s elder brothers. If both of them were here, this was bigger than a simple expedition.

    Then came the others.

    Three figures in polished silver armor moved with the confidence of men accustomed to power. Their presence stirred an uneasy shift among the villagers.

    "Gods above," an older man muttered, voice hushed but urgent. "Ain''t those the city generals from Vasruk?"

    "Looks like ''em," another agreed, tone wary. "What in the hells are Vasruk''s men doing here?"

    "Nothing good," a third voice rasped, lower, careful. "You don¡¯t bring generals for a simple mountain trip."

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers twitched at his side. He had suspected something was off, but this? City generals, Nayan¡¯s brothers, an entire reinforced unit? Whatever lay ahead wasn¡¯t just dangerous¡ªit was important.

    Nayan strode forward to meet them, his usual arrogance giving way to something colder, more controlled. Words were exchanged in quiet tones, clipped and efficient. Aaryan strained to catch fragments¡ªmentions of the mission¡¯s importance, the splitting of teams, the need for absolute discipline.

    And then, the assignments came.

    Aaryan found himself placed in a small group¡ªone that felt more like an afterthought. But his attention snapped into sharp focus at the last name spoken.

    Jivak.

    A leader of his own unit. And Aaryan was now under him.

    Jivak turned slightly, meeting Aaryan¡¯s gaze with a slow, deliberate smirk¡ªequal parts amusement and warning.

    Aaryan rolled his shoulders, forcing the tension out.

    "Everyone, get ready. We march now."

    Sharan¡¯s voice rang out, decisive and firm.

    Aaryan gripped the strap of his satchel, his mind racing even as his body fell into step with the others.

    He could feel their eyes on him¡ªthe silent weight of expectation, of judgment.

    They were all watching. He felt it¡ªlike a hundred hands pushing at his back. But he couldn¡¯t stop now. He wouldn¡¯t.

    Jagged peaks rose in the distance, their dark silhouettes stretching against the sky like silent sentinels, And as Aaryan stepped forward, one thought burned in his mind.

    The wind bit at his skin as they climbed, the mountain ahead seeming to swallow them whole. His legs burned, but he pushed forward. He wasn¡¯t afraid. He wasn¡¯t.

    This was it¡ªthe beginning of his way out. He just had to survive long enough to make it.

 Chapter 4 : The Flower and the Foe

    The procession moved in a steady rhythm, boots crunching against the gravel-strewn mountain path. Aaryan matched the pace, blending into the march, though every muscle in his body remained taut. As they climbed, the air thinned, carrying the mingling scents of damp stone, pine, and fading torch smoke.

    No one spoke much¡ªnot yet. The weight of the journey ahead kept them quiet, each lost in thought. With each step, Kamalpuri faded further behind, swallowed by mist and distance.

    Aaryan reflected on the group''s power dynamics. People claimed to despise sycophants, yet they secretly craved validation. Jivak, their leader, understood this well. He commanded not with force, but with presence¡ªsubtle nods, calculated silences, and the smallest shifts in posture that made others unconsciously lean in. Aaryan had seen it before, and he saw it again now.

    The trail twisted higher into the mountains, narrowing with each step. Gnarled roots jutted from the ground, forcing the marchers to tread carefully between towering trees. The jungle thickened, its canopy casting shifting gold and green patterns. Mist crept between twisted trunks and vines.

    To their left, the mountainside loomed steep and unyielding, jagged rocks jutting from the soil. To their right, the valley plunged into a mist-shrouded abyss. Loose stones skittered beneath their boots, vanishing soundlessly into the depths.

    After hours of walking, they reached a fork in the path, a small clearing barely wide enough for the gathered men. The silver-armored figures at the lead conferred in hushed tones before gesturing to the group. Orders rippled down the line. Some teams split off, vanishing into the jungle. Aaryan¡¯s unit remained on the central path, pressing toward the main peak.

    Tension thickened despite the steady rhythm of their march. Aaryan caught the subtle tells¡ªhands tightening on straps, glances flickering away too quickly, shoulders stiffening at unseen concerns. Even here, in the wild, the struggle for dominance never ceased.

    By mid-afternoon, the incline briefly leveled. The silver-armored leader raised a gloved hand, signaling a halt. Boots scuffed against loose gravel as the column paused.

    There was no camp, only a brief respite to shake out stiff limbs and ease aching shoulders. Some crouched near the clearing¡¯s edge, their wary eyes scanning the jungle as if expecting something to stir in the mist. Across the space, the three silver-armored figures spoke in low voices, unreadable. The junior chiefs stood by, silent, waiting.

    Jivak, as always, moved among the men, his presence as deliberate as ever. A well-placed comment here, a measured nod there¡ªsubtle, practiced, effortless.

    Aaryan stretched his arms out briefly, easing the tension in his shoulders. The journey was far from over. This was just a brief pause before they climbed even higher, before the jungle gave way to something harsher, more unforgiving.

    As the group settled, Jivak motioned for the men to scatter, ordering them to search for herbs, valuable resources, or anything that might aid their mission. The others dispersed in pairs, exchanging brief nods before vanishing into the jungle. Then Jivak¡¯s gaze landed on Aaryan, and a slow, knowing smile stretched across his face.

    ¡°Aaryan,¡± he called, his voice smooth but edged with something sharper. ¡°Time is of the essence. We¡¯ll split up into smaller groups to make the most of this opportunity. You¡ª¡± he gestured toward a valley, some distance off the main path, ¡°go that way. See if you can find anything useful.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s jaw tightened for the briefest moment before he eased his posture, keeping his expression neutral. Unlike the others, who had been sent in pairs, Jivak had deliberately chosen to send him alone. A test. A punishment. Or both.

    He considered his response. If he refused, Jivak would seize the opportunity to mock him¡ªperhaps even humiliate him in front of the others. Call him weak. Unfit. If he pushed back too much, the consequences would be worse. A public scolding. Or something harsher.

    A brief pause, then he lifted his chin and gave Jivak a polite smile. ¡°Of course, elder brother.¡±

    Jivak¡¯s smirk faltered, just slightly. He had expected hesitation, resistance¡ªsomething he could twist. Instead, Aaryan had given him nothing.

    For a second, Jivak¡¯s fingers twitched at his side. Then, as if remembering himself, he scoffed. ¡°Good,¡± he said, a beat too late. ¡°I¡¯d hate to think you needed someone holding your hand.¡±

    The words were meant to sting, but Aaryan didn¡¯t react. He simply turned and walked toward the valley, his steps steady, unhurried.

    Jivak exhaled sharply through his nose, barely masking his frustration. He lingered for a moment longer, watching Aaryan disappear down the path before clicking his tongue and turning away, leading the rest of the group toward safer, more controlled ground.

    Aaryan, meanwhile, made his way toward the valley. As he drew closer, he realized it wasn¡¯t a valley at all, but rather a shallow cave nestled between jagged rocks. The entrance was narrow, half-obscured by tangled roots and creeping moss. A damp chill seeped from within, and the scent of earth and wet stone filled the air.

    He hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. The soil beneath his boots was soft, leaving faint imprints as he moved forward. Shadows stretched along the uneven stone walls, shifting with the dim light that filtered through the narrow opening.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Inside the cave, shadows stretched along the uneven walls, shifting with the dim light filtering through a crack in the stone. The air was thick with dampness, the scent of wet earth clinging to the silence. Aaryan moved carefully, scanning every inch for anything of value. Loose stones, twisted roots, patches of moss¡ªnothing useful.

    Then, at the back of the cave, something caught his eye.

    A single flower, delicate yet oddly persistent, swayed in the draft. Its pale petals gleamed softly under the dim light, their arrangement strikingly familiar. Aaryan crouched, heart pounding as he studied it. The shape, the color, the way it nestled in the damp soil¡ªit looked like the rare herb Twelve-Petal Earthly Lily, a treasure worth more than most men¡¯s lives.

    It was said to be a flower that could aid immortals in their cultivation, its essence capable of refining the body and soul. Some even whispered that mortals who consumed it under the right conditions could ascend beyond their limits, shedding their fragile existence.

    Excitement flared in his chest. If it was real¡­ this could change everything.

    His fingers hovered near the stem, but he didn¡¯t pluck it immediately. Instead, he examined it carefully, tracing each petal with his gaze. His lips parted as he murmured, "It really looks like it¡­ If I sell this¡ªno, I can''t. I¡¯ll have to present it to the junior chief. If he rewards me handsomely, I could finally¡ª¡±

    He stopped.

    A particular petal held his attention. Something was off. He leaned closer, eyes narrowing. The delicate curve, the faint texture¡ªit wasn¡¯t right. His breath slowed as realization settled in.

    This wasn¡¯t the Twelve-Petal Earthly Lily.

    It was a near-perfect mimic, nearly identical at a glance but lacking the subtle iridescence of the true treasure. A dangerous mistake for those who didn¡¯t know better. The initial rush of hope curdled into disappointment. He exhaled, shaking his head, and stood. Nothing special. Nothing worth keeping.

    He turned, ready to leave.

    Meanwhile¡­

    Jivak had grown restless. He had sent Aaryan alone with one goal¡ªto see him fail. Either he would return empty-handed, proving his uselessness, or he would walk into something dangerous. If, by some stroke of luck, Aaryan did find something valuable¡­ that would be a problem.

    So Jivak had taken precautions.

    From the shadows beyond the cave, one of Jivak¡¯s men crept closer, watching. He had been following Aaryan at a distance, waiting, observing. And now, as Aaryan stood from his crouch, the man¡¯s gaze locked onto the flower. His breath hitched.

    It was unusual. Different.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what it was, but instinct whispered that it was valuable.

    Without hesitation, he rushed forward, brushing past Aaryan with a deliberate shoulder check before yanking the flower from the soil.

    Aaryan barely had time to react. His hand twitched toward the man¡¯s wrist, but the movement was swift, calculated. The thief was already stepping back, tucking the flower into his robes. Aaryan glanced toward the others¡ªsome had seen, he was sure of it. Yet no one spoke.

    Aaryan¡¯s brows drew together. Something was wrong.

    Then, before he could piece it together, the man¡¯s voice rang through the clearing.

    ¡°Look what I¡¯ve found!¡±

    The procession froze. Heads turned. The silver-armored figures shifted, their attention sharp.

    From the center of the group, Nayan stepped forward.

    His gaze locked onto the flower, and for the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Recognition.

    Aaryan stiffened. He knows what it is.

    Jivak, who had been watching from the sidelines, inhaled sharply. His instincts screamed at him¡ªthis was no ordinary plant. Could it really be¡­?

    For a split second, he wanted to claim it. To keep it.

    But he knew better.

    Even if he snatched it now, he couldn¡¯t hold onto it. Not with Nayan here. Not with the silver-armored leaders watching.

    And so, instead, he turned to the man who had plucked it, his expression unreadable. The man, sensing the shift in power, hesitated before stepping back slightly, lowering his gaze.

    Jivak exhaled, masking his frustration. He couldn¡¯t take it. But he could control the story.

    His voice was smooth, effortless. ¡°Aaryan found this.¡± A pause, then a slight shake of the head. ¡°But he was returning empty-handed. Aaryan clearly recognized it but said nothing. If not for another¡¯s quick thinking, he might have hidden it for himself.¡±

    A subtle trap.

    Aaryan¡¯s stomach twisted.

    From his place at the center, Nayan studied Aaryan. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers curled slightly, as though itching to take the flower.

    Jivak pressed on. ¡°We were fortunate that someone was watching. Otherwise, this treasure might have vanished.¡±

    A ripple of murmurs spread through the group, but it wasn¡¯t immediate outrage¡ªsome glanced at each other, uncertain. Doubt flickered in a few eyes, but then Jivak¡¯s words took hold, the accusation settling like a weight among them. The hesitation lasted only a moment before the tide turned against Aaryan.

    Then, Nayan spoke.

    ¡°Take him away.¡±

    The order was quiet, but final.

    The accusation spread like wildfire. The murmurs turned to movement. Before Aaryan could even protest, hands clamped onto his arms, dragging him toward a tree at the edge of the clearing. He stiffened, the rough bark pressing into his back. Jivak¡¯s expression was unreadable, but the calculation in his eyes was unmistakable. They thought they had him cornered.

    He tensed, heart hammering. If he let them take him without a fight, this would be the end. His only way out was through words¡ªif he hesitated, he was finished. He had to force Nayan to think.

    This was it. The trap had been set, the jaws already closing. If Nayan believed the accusation, there would be no second chances. His freedom, his plans, his survival¡ªall of it hung on the next few moments. He forced his breathing to slow, steeling himself. If they wanted a liar, he¡¯d give them the truth instead.

    But then, Aaryan took a slow breath. And in a steady, clear voice, he called out: ¡°Junior Chief, wait.¡±

    Nayan¡¯s gaze snapped to him.

    Aaryan met it head-on. ¡°If I am wrong, you may punish me as you see fit. But if this flower is not what you believe it to be¡­ using it could harm you.¡±

    Silence.

    A murmur rippled through the gathered men. Jivak¡¯s eyes narrowed. Nayan¡¯s fingers flexed.

    Then, another voice cut through the tension.

    Sharan,The eldest of three brothers.

    Measured. Cautious. Always the one to think first, act second.

    ¡°Explain.¡±

    Aaryan exhaled. This was his chance.

    ¡°You have twenty breaths,¡± Aman, the second of the three brothers, said coldly. ¡°Prove it.¡±

    Aaryan swallowed. His mind raced.

    This was it. His last chance.

    He stepped forward, his thoughts aligning in a desperate rhythm.

    Aaryan¡¯s mind raced, grasping for anything that could turn the tide

    Then, carefully, he began.

 Chapter 5 : The Flatulent Verdict

    Everyone in the group was watching Aaryan closely¡ªsome with scorn, others with pity, and many were simply entertained by his misfortune. To them, it was no more than a spectacle.

    Aaryan, however, wasn¡¯t one to care about others'' judgments, but today was different. The weight of their stares pressed against his skin like an unseen force. The murmur of voices surrounded him, thick with anticipation. The damp air pressed against him, thick and suffocating. Any wrong move could lead to a beating¡ªor worse, death.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to handle this carefully,¡± Aaryan thought. His heart was heavy with nervousness, but on the outside, he remained calm, a faint smile on his lips. To anyone observing, it seemed as though he was simply being led to a tree to be tied up. No sign of distress.

    He clasped his hands, bowed again, and spoke in a voice as steady as water, "This flower may indeed look similar to the 12 Petal Earthly Lily, but it''s actually a Blue Vein Ground Flora. It bears no medicinal value and could cause harm if consumed."

    The group was silent, no one responding immediately. Murmurs rippled through them as brows furrowed, eyes darting for someone who might confirm or deny the claim.

    "Blue Vein... Ground something?" one of the men hesitated, turning to his neighbor.

    "Never heard of it," another admitted, scratching his head.

    A snort came from the back. "Sounds made-up."

    One of the men in the crowd spoke up uncertainly, "It really does look like the 12 Petal Earthly Lily."

    Another chimed in, "But what if it isn''t? I¡¯ve heard that the Blue Vein Ground Flora is poisonous."

    One of Aaryan¡¯s team leader¡¯s subordinates sneered, "What do you know? This is clearly the 12 Petal Earthly Lily. You think Junior Chief Nayan, with his vast knowledge, would make such a mistake? Aaryan was planning to take the treasure for himself, and now he¡¯s trying to talk his way out of it."

    "He''s always causing trouble," someone muttered under their breath.

    A few exchanged knowing glances, their eyes filled with thinly veiled disdain.

    Nayan had never liked Aaryan. From the moment they''d met, there was an instant animosity. Aaryan, being a lowly orphan, had no place in Nayan¡¯s world, and his existence only reminded Nayan of his own superiority. Today, though, Nayan saw an opportunity to further degrade the young boy. When he heard the murmurs of doubt, especially from Aaryan''s team leader¡¯s minion, a fire sparked in Nayan''s chest.

    Nayan¡¯s jaw tightened as his fingers drummed impatiently against the hilt of his sword. His eyes flickered between Aaryan and the uncertain murmurs of the crowd, irritation darkening his features. He had never liked Aaryan, but now¡ªnow he was making him look like a fool. His grip on the hilt tightened before he snapped, "Do you think we¡¯re children, Aaryan?" His voice was sharp enough to cut through the air.

    "You think you can fool us so easily? I¡¯ve seen the 12 Petal Earthly Lily with my own eyes. All the characteristics match. Men, take him away!"

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers twitched slightly before he stilled them. He could feel the sticky dampness of sweat on his palms, the cool breeze doing little to ease the heat rising beneath his collar.

    He forced his voice to remain even, "Junior Chief, please examine the last two petals from the bottom side of the flower. You¡¯ll see the unique blue vein structure that¡¯s only found in the Blue Vein Ground Flora."

    Sharan, Nayan''s older brother, was hesitant. He¡¯d spent years studying rare herbs, but even he had never personally encountered this one. His fingers traced the edges of the petals, his mind recalling old records and lectures. Something didn¡¯t quite match up.

    His suspicion wavered for just a moment. He nodded to Aman, who ordered a few men to inspect the petals. The three brothers moved a short distance away, whispering among themselves, leaving Aaryan alone with the rest of the group.

    Aaryan watched them carefully, his heart pounding in his chest. If they don''t believe me, there''s no escape. I need to shift the blame before they make up their minds, else I won¡¯t make it out of this alive.

    Minutes dragged by, each one stretching longer than the last. He could barely read the expressions on the brothers'' faces as they inspected the flower. It felt like an eternity before they returned.

    "What you said is true," Aman finally spoke, his voice measured.

    Aaryan¡¯s breath hitched with relief, but before he could speak, Sharan cut in with a cool, calculated tone. "But the veins on the petals aren''t exactly like the Blue Vein Ground Flora. In fact, only one petal has the full vein structure. The others are incomplete. If I recall correctly, all petals should have the same vein structure."

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Aaryan¡¯s eyes widened with surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected Sharan to notice that. It was true that the veins only developed fully once the flower matured, but it wasn¡¯t something a casual observer would catch.

    With a forced smile, Aaryan bowed deeply. "What Junior Chief says is absolutely right. Your profound knowledge surpasses even my understanding. I merely wanted to seize this opportunity to show a little of the knowledge I¡¯ve acquired."

    The crowd¡¯s eyes widened. Aaryan¡¯s words were clearly designed to flatter. The leader of Aaryan¡¯s group clenched his fists in frustration, cursing Aaryan inwardly for stealing his own tactic.

    Aaryan continued, "Both plants are very similar in appearance, and it''s hard to tell them apart at a glance. The Blue Vein Ground Flora, when it matures, develops blue veins on the petals. But since this flower was plucked early, only two petals have veins. If you let it mature, all the petals would show the characteristic vein structure."

    "Look, whether it''s a ten-petal or a twelve-petal, it''s still just a flower," someone grumbled.

    A few nodded in agreement, their expressions doubtful.

    "Kid could be spouting nonsense for all we know," another said, arms crossed.

    The air was thick with tension and the scent of crushed leaves. Even the rustling trees seemed to hold their breath.

    But still, Sharan remained silent. His expression gave nothing away, though his eyes were sharp and calculating. Aaryan could feel the weight of his gaze, but he couldn¡¯t predict what would happen next.

    As silence hung heavy, Aaryan felt his stomach churn. He couldn¡¯t wait any longer. He had to push his luck. "I didn¡¯t pluck the flower because it wasn¡¯t fully matured and hadn¡¯t borne fruit. The fruit is what¡¯s truly valuable¡ªit can be used to create deadly poisons. The flower itself is almost worthless in comparison. I was hurrying back to report to you, Junior Chief, when one of these men destroyed the treasure. It¡¯s a great loss, and now we¡¯re in this mess."

    Gasps rippled through the group. None had expected Aaryan¡¯s quick wit. The man who had plucked the flower was shaking with fury. He had no idea how to respond to Aaryan¡¯s accusation, and he felt his mind going numb.

    "You¡­" the man began to yell, but his words faltered as he trembled.

    Just then, the two silver-armored men stepped forward, silencing the commotion with a glance. Their presence alone caused everyone to hush.

    One of them, his nose sharp and eagle-like, grinned. "You¡¯re all wasting our time. This could be settled easily. Have one of you eat a petal, and we¡¯ll know if it¡¯s poisonous."

    The suggestion was simple, but it wasn¡¯t lost on anyone that the silver-armored men were taking amusement from the situation. Aaryan¡¯s stomach twisted again, but he steeled himself. He couldn¡¯t predict how this would turn out.

    Sharan, though, was calculating. His fingers briefly curled into a fist before relaxing. His gaze flickered over the group, lips pressing into a thin line. He had studied countless herbs, but uncertainty gnawed at him. If Aaryan was right, then they had almost made a grave mistake. If he was wrong¡­ allowing doubt to fester would make him appear weak. He knew they couldn¡¯t make Aaryan eat the petal after the warning.

    ¡°You..Eat It.¡±

    The silence stretched unbearably as all eyes locked onto the trembling man. His fingers twitched around the petal, his breathing shallow. Sweat trickled down his temple.

    Someone took a slow step back, their face twisted in uncertainty. A hushed whisper rippled through the group¡ª¡°This is going to be bad...¡±

    A younger man swallowed hard, glancing at the others. "What if it''s poison?"

    Another shifted uneasily, inching toward the edge of the gathering, ready to flee if needed.

    The silver-armored men exchanged glances, their smirks deepening. As enforcers under the regional commander, their job was to maintain order¡ªbut they were just as entertained by a good spectacle as anyone else.

    One of them folded his arms, leaning forward slightly, clearly entertained. The other chuckled under his breath, murmuring, ¡°This should be fun.¡±

    Aaryan fought to keep his expression neutral, but the corner of his lips twitched for just a moment. He had read about this particular reaction before¡ªjust not in any medical text. If his hunch was right, things were about to get... interesting.

    The man took a deep, shuddering breath and placed the petal in his mouth.

    The crowd leaned in, holding their breath. A second passed. Then another.

    His face contorted¡ªfirst in confusion, then horror. His stomach let out a deep, ominous growl.

    Sharan''s eyes narrowed. "Is it working?"

    Someone took a cautious step back.

    Another gulped.

    The wind rustled.

    Then¡ª

    Pfffffffffffffffffffffffftttttttttttttt...

    The sound ripped through the silence like a war drum.

    A stunned pause.

    Then chaos.

    Half the group staggered backward, their expressions ranging from shock to barely contained laughter. A horrified yelp escaped one of the villagers, while another gagged and cursed, waving a hand in front of his face.

    The armored men doubled over, roaring with laughter. One of them wiped a tear from his eye, gasping, "Oh, this was so worth the wait!"

    The man, still trembling, clutched his stomach. "W-what did you make me eat?!"

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, suppressing a grin. He had hoped for chaos, but this? This was perfect. If the silver-armored men were entertained, they might not bother questioning him further. And if the commotion escalated, slipping away unnoticed would be even easier. All he had to do now was act just surprised enough to stay out of suspicion.

    Sharan didn¡¯t laugh. While the armored men doubled over, his gaze remained fixed on Aaryan, fingers tapping absently against his arm. His lips parted as if to speak, but he only exhaled, his expression unreadable.

    His gaze lingered a beat longer. The boy¡¯s movements were sharp yet measured¡ªreactive, but not reckless. Not just surviving. Adapting.

    Sharan¡¯s fingers stilled. A flicker of thought passed behind his eyes before he turned to Aman, murmuring something too low to hear.

    Nayan¡¯s face twisted in fury. ¡°Enough of this nonsense!¡± he snapped, voice sharp as a blade. ¡°He¡ª"

    But his words were drowned out by the roaring laughter of the armored men. One of them clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. ¡°Relax, Junior Chief. We all needed a good laugh today.¡± Nayan stiffened, his hand twitching near his sword hilt, but he could do nothing.

    No one was listening.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral. The moment passed, but he knew better than to relax completely. With practiced ease, he shifted just enough to blend into the background¡ªquiet, unremarkable. Just another commoner.

 Chapter 6 : The Wolves Within

    The group moved steadily through the wilderness, their initial wariness easing into idle conversation. The terrain was unfamiliar, but their mission remained unclear. So far, the journey had been uneventful¡ªalmost too much so.

    Then, without warning, the uneasy calm shattered.

    Everyone froze. The air thickened with disbelief. What had begun as a trivial mishap involving a flower had escalated into something far worse. The man responsible shrank under their stares, his face burning with humiliation.

    Then the stench hit.

    It was vile¡ªlike something rotten unearthed after days of decay. A putrid weight pressed into their lungs, making stomachs churn.

    Aaryan reacted instantly. "Move! Don¡¯t breathe it in!" His voice cut through the chaos, his gaze locked on the culprit. "It''s mildly poisonous. If you inhale too much, you¡¯ll end up like him."

    The group stumbled back, hands over their noses, their retreat desperate. Jivak¡¯s glare burned into Aaryan. His fists clenched. ¡°So you knew this would happen after eating the petal, and you didn¡¯t warn us?¡± His voice was sharp, brimming with accusation.

    A heavy metallic creak broke the tension as the Silver-Armored General shifted. His sharp gaze swept over them, unimpressed.

    ¡°Enough,¡± he said, his voice like unsheathed steel. ¡°If this is enough to shake you, you don¡¯t belong here. Move, or stay behind choking on your own stupidity.¡±

    The cold finality in his tone left no room for protest. Sharan exhaled sharply, irritation flickering across his face before pragmatism took over. Without another word, the group packed up and continued, their steps subdued under the General¡¯s silent scrutiny.

    As they trekked up the mountainside, An elder, who had initially dismissed him, finally approached. "You¡¯re not as useless as I thought," he admitted grudgingly. Aaryan only nodded, recognizing the first sign of acceptance.

    Aaryan could feel the villagers¡¯ eyes on him. Pity, disdain, and contempt still lingered in their gazes, but something else was creeping in¡ªadmiration. It was subtle, but it was there. Aaryan wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about it. Knowledge, after all, was power¡ªbut it didn¡¯t always command respect.

    He let out a small sigh, walking ahead of the group. He couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. Despite the disdain he had suffered, in that moment, his quick thinking had earned him something far more valuable than respect: survival.

    Though Jivak¡¯s glare still burned at his back, Aaryan knew the man had no choice but to ignore him for now. There was no time for grudges¡ªat least, not until they were safely out of the mountains.

    The day passed quickly. By evening, they reached the mountaintop. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows from the dense canopy above. The scouts had already selected a clearing for their camp, and tents were quickly set up around a central fire.

    As night fell, the leaders gathered around the fire to discuss their mission. The crackling flames filled the silence before Sharan raised his hand, signalling the group to quiet down. His voice, calm but firm, echoed in the stillness of the night.

    ¡°You all know how important this mission is,¡± he began, sweeping his gaze over the group. ¡°But not all of you may know the full details. I¡¯ll explain now so we¡¯re all prepared.¡±

    He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing.

    ¡°We are here to capture three wild beasts known as scorpion-tail wolves,¡± Sharan said. ¡°These creatures are dangerous, and capturing them will not be easy.¡±

    A ripple of unease darkened their expressions. Aaryan could see it in their eyes¡ªfear, confusion, and the helplessness that always accompanied the unknown. Though most of them didn¡¯t understand the intricacies of cultivation, they all knew the stories about scorpion-tail wolves.

    The tales alone were enough to make anyone¡¯s blood run cold. Even a single scorpion-tail wolf was known to tear through an entire hunting party, its venom making even the slightest wound lethal.

    Aaryan¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He had read about these creatures, but hearing the stories spoken so plainly sent a chill down his spine.

    ¡°These aren¡¯t just wolves,¡± someone muttered, their voice barely above a whisper.

    Aaryan swallowed hard, his mind recalling the details. Their black fur swallowed the moonlight, turning them into shadows. Their tails¡ªlong, segmented, and tipped with venomous barbs¡ªstruck with the precision of a scorpion. Their claws could shear through stone, and their hides were tough as mountain rock. A full-grown one could rival a cultivator at the peak of the 3rd stage of Anima.

    For a group of villagers, facing them wasn¡¯t just dangerous¡ªit was suicide.

    Sharan seemed to sense the rising panic. His voice grew sharper, more commanding. ¡°There is no need to panic. They fled from the city generals who had been hunting them. All we need to do is help capture them, and we¡¯ll share in the rewards. This mission will help the village chief¡¯s plans for the future.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s thoughts flickered. He couldn¡¯t believe things were this simple. His expression remained neutral, but his mind raced with doubt. If the city generals had been hunting these beasts, what chance did a group of villagers have? Something didn¡¯t add up.

    Taking a measured breath, he finally spoke, his tone respectful but firm. ¡°Forgive me, Junior Chief, but with three of them, even injured, how can we be sure our numbers are enough?¡±

    A few villagers turned toward Aaryan, gratitude flickering in their eyes. He had voiced what they had been too afraid to ask. For the first time, some of them looked at him with subtle admiration, their previous disdain softening into something more neutral¡ªperhaps even respectful.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Nayan¡¯s glare darkened as he turned toward Aaryan, about to rebuke him for questioning the leadership, but before he could speak, the Silver-Armored General shifted. His presence alone was enough to command attention, the dim firelight reflecting off the cold steel of his armor.

    ¡°The beasts are not fully matured and have sustained heavy injuries in our previous confrontation,¡± the eagle-nosed man said, his voice measured, carrying the weight of absolute certainty. ¡°There¡¯s nothing for you to worry about.¡±

    His words were final, brooking no argument. The villagers exchanged uncertain glances but ultimately said nothing. If the Silver-Armored General believed the wolves were no longer a significant threat, who were they to question him?

    Having explained the situation, the leaders dismissed the group. The villagers dispersed, heading to their respective tents, some murmuring among themselves, while others remained silent, lost in their thoughts.

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze lingered on the chief, whose weary eyes darted between the village hunters. He clenched his fists. If the chief got a beast core, he could afford pills for his sons...

    Before he could dwell on the thought, an elder scoffed, ¡°It¡¯s like a suicidal mission for people like us, and I have no intention of sacrificing myself for the gains of others.¡±

    The words struck Aaryan like a cold breeze¡ªpractical, ruthless, but undeniably true

    The leaders broke up, and the group returned to their tents for rest. But the following days brought nothing but frustration. The wolves remained elusive. The group expanded their search area, scouring the dense forest for any sign of them, but after a week, there was still no trace. The pressure was mounting.

    By the ninth day, Aaryan was on patrol when a scream shattered the stillness of the camp. The usual chorus of crickets had gone silent. The faint rustle of leaves in the wind felt... wrong. As if something unseen was watching, waiting.

    Rushing back, he found the group in chaos, A blur of black¡ªfast, too fast¡ªripped through the night. A scream¡ªraw and desperate¡ªcut through the air before vanishing into the void. Shadows danced wildly as the fire flickered. Someone ran past, their breath ragged, their eyes wild with terror. He knew immediately what had happened.

    The wolves weren¡¯t just hunting them. They were toying with them. Too intelligent for a frontal assault, they picked their targets carefully, striking in the dark and vanishing before anyone could react.

    Torn cloth fluttered from a broken tent pole. a bloodstained boot lay abandoned, its owner lost to the night. A low wind carried the scent of iron and damp earth. Aaryan¡¯s fingers brushed against something wet.

    Sticky.

    Blood.

    One of the young men staggered back, his face pale as he stared at the blood-soaked ground. His voice trembled with fury and fear.

    "The chief picked us for this? Sent us off without telling us what we were walking into? Damn him!" His fists clenched at his sides. "Damn all of this!"

    The silver-armored leaders quickly assembled a search party. They returned late that night, empty-handed. As they entered the camp, hushed murmurs spread among the men, fear thick in the air.

    Later, in a secluded part of the camp, Nayan and the silver-armored leaders gathered. Sharan stood with arms crossed, his expression grim. Aaryan, lingering nearby, listened.

    Sharan¡¯s voice was quiet but firm. ¡°This isn¡¯t a hunt anymore. We¡¯re being picked off. If we don¡¯t change something, we¡¯ll be the ones buried here.¡±

    Nayan¡¯s tone was sharp. ¡°We finish this. No matter what.¡±

    Sharan let out a humorless laugh, gesturing at the dwindling camp. ¡°Look around. If this keeps up, there won¡¯t be anyone left to fight.¡±

    A silver-armored leader scowled. ¡°If we falter, the villagers will break.¡±

    Sharan¡¯s fingers tightened against his arms. ¡°They¡¯re already breaking. Keep pushing, and they¡¯ll shatter.¡±

    Nayan¡¯s knuckles whitened. His voice was cold. ¡°Then I¡¯ll make sure they don¡¯t.¡±

    Sharan held his gaze before shaking his head. ¡°Stubborn bastard.¡± Then, louder, ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t be surprised when this all collapses.¡± He turned and walked away.

    Nayan watched him go, his face unreadable. Then he turned to the others. ¡°Keep the men in line. We¡¯re not leaving until the job is done.¡±

    Unease settled over the camp.

    The next two days were no better. Four more men disappeared. Fear spread like a disease, and morale crumbled. No one cared about rewards anymore¡ªthey just wanted to survive.

    Yet returning to the village seemed just as dangerous. Aaryan saw it in their eyes. The villagers weren¡¯t just afraid of the wolves¡ªthey feared the wrath of the village chief. Failure was not an option. They were pawns in a game far beyond their control. Quiet murmurs of betrayal and exploitation rippled through the group.

    Frustrated by the growing unrest, Nayan wasted no time asserting his authority. He dragged two men into the center of the camp, His knuckles white from how tightly he clenched his fists, as if holding himself back for just a moment longer. Without hesitation, he struck the first man across the face, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

    "You think this is a game?" Nayan snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Spreading rumors? Doubting my command? You think that¡¯ll keep you alive?"

    The second man cowered, shaking his head, but Nayan¡¯s fist drove into his gut, cutting off his breath.

    The crack of fists against flesh echoed through the camp, each blow hammering the message home.

    When he finally stepped back, his voice was deathly calm. "Anyone else feel like running their mouth?"

    No one dared to speak.

    Aaryan clenched his teeth.

    No matter how much I struggle, the outcome is already decided for me. If only I had the strength to change it.

    The realization hardened into resolve. I will hold my fate in my own hands. No one else will control it.

    As he made his way back to his tent, he overheard two of Nayan¡¯s lackeys talking in hushed voices.

    "I heard the village chief is taking the junior chiefs for disciple selection at the cultivation sect," one said eagerly.

    The second man let out a laugh. "Not just that! He¡¯s buying rare pills to make sure they get selected. With our boss becoming a cultivator, who in these villages would dare go against us?"

    Aaryan¡¯s mind sharpened like a blade.

    No wonder they¡¯re willing to risk everything for these beasts. The village chief must have struck a deal, offering men in exchange for resources. With those riches, securing spots in the sect would be a mere formality.

    For them, this is an opportunity. For us, it¡¯s a death sentence.

    His instincts weren¡¯t wrong. The village chief was staking everything to secure his son¡¯s future. That was when the city generals had approached him with a proposition. They had suffered heavy losses trying to capture the scorpion-tail wolves and, unable to afford more setbacks, turned to the village chief for reinforcements. If the wolves carried beast cores, they would be worth a fortune. Even without them, their bodies could be used to refine valuable pills and elixirs.

    For the village chief, it was a perfect deal¡ªhe could offer disposable manpower in exchange for wealth and resources. He had no concern for the lives lost. Whether the mission succeeded or failed, he would come out ahead.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the villagers. Their shoulders sagged with exhaustion. Their eyes were empty, resigned to their fates.

    Is human life really worth so little?

    The ambitions of a few had outweighed the lives of hundreds.

    Feeling the weight in his chest, he walked toward a small group huddled around a dim fire and sat down quietly.

    In the past, they would have mocked or ignored him. Now, no one had the energy. Their futures were uncertain. The threat loomed over them like a stormcloud.

    Aaryan sighed. Who was the real hunter here? The wolves¡­ or the village chief?

    He sat in silence, staring at the flickering flames, before finally rising and heading back to his camp.

 Chapter 7 : Tides of Change

    As the days wore on, the situation grew more perilous. Though there were few deaths, the frequency of attacks was increasing, and the villagers could feel the tension in the air. As a result, many began to engage with others more than before, trying to find solace in community. And as the days passed, they began to notice a change in Aaryan.

    ¡°Have you noticed? Aaryan''s been a lot more talkative lately,¡± one villager remarked, watching him from a distance.

    ¡°Yeah, he thinks his constant chatter and goofy smile will make us like him more,¡± another scoffed.

    Despite the harshness of their words, there was a flicker of something else in their eyes¡ªan unspoken softness that betrayed the underlying guilt they felt.

    ¡°It''s strange, isn''t it? How we used to treat him...¡± one said, his voice trailing off.

    Most villagers were having similar thoughts. It seemed that in their discomfort, they were starting to rethink their past treatment of Aaryan. As time passed, they saw the change in him. He was no longer just the village fool¡ªhe had become something more, someone they couldn¡¯t ignore.

    One evening, as the sun began to set, Aaryan and his group were returning to the safety of their camp after another exhausting day spent hunting in the wild. The air was thick with frustration.

    "I want to beat those bastards to a pulp! It''s been over twenty days, and we haven''t even come close to catching those beasts. And yet, they''re happy to return empty-handed," Nayan grumbled, his voice full of anger.

    "They¡¯re just happy to survive,. You know that," Sharan replied calmly. "For them, it''s a victory if they come back alive, not if they kill the wolves."

    The group was passing through a path which have been cleared out earlier, large trees on one side and mountain wall on the other.

    As they neared the camp, a chilling sound split the evening air¡ªa deep, guttural growl. It echoed from the trees nearby, sending an icy chill through the group. Then came the sound of a blood-curdling scream.

    "AAAAHHHH!" the cry rang out, and before anyone could react, a shadow darted through the underbrush and tore through the back of the group. A villager screamed in pain before he fell silent.

    Aaryan''s heart pounded as he looked around, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His eyes snapped to the direction of the scream.

    ¡°The beast is fast... even with its injury,¡± Aaryan murmured under his breath. He could see the wolf¡ªa dark shape, about four feet tall¡ªwith a visible gash running down its back and hind legs.

    The group froze. The wolf''s bloodshot eyes fixed on them, and its movements were calculated, ready to strike.

    Without thinking, Aaryan dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a shadow that lunged toward him. He scrambled to his feet, heart racing, and saw the wolf¡¯s eyes staring at him with hunger.

    ¡°Looks like they¡¯re good at fleeing, at least,¡± Aaryan thought bitterly, noticing three of the junior chiefs hiding behind rocks. His eyes scanned the area and found a bag lying nearby. Without a second thought, he snatched it up, ignoring the angry shout from Sharan.

    "That''s mine!" Sharan barked, but Aaryan was already emptying the contents onto the ground. A dagger fell from the bag, along with various other items.

    Ignoring Sharan¡¯s protests, Aaryan picked up the dagger and drew his own, holding one in each hand. He turned to face the oncoming wolf, sweat pouring down his face. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands gripped the daggers tightly.

    The wolf advanced, its eyes glinting with malice. Just then, Aaryan heard voices behind him. His gaze snapped to the group of villagers¡ªthree men, including a boy no older than sixteen, huddled behind him.

    "Junior chief, please help us," one of them called out, fear evident in his voice.

    "Get behind me," ordered one of the men, holding his hand out protectively.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Aaryan sighed, grateful for their support but knowing he couldn¡¯t afford to be distracted. The danger was still very real. He quickly assessed his options. The area was too tight, and they were surrounded. No easy escape.

    ¡°I can¡¯t run. There¡¯s nowhere to go,¡± Aaryan thought, panic creeping into his chest. The wolf was drawing closer. He couldn¡¯t afford to freeze. His only chance was to act quickly.

    He was trying to come up with a plan to handle the situation when suddenly an idea hit him. He hesitated for a while as the idea was too dangerous for his liking and failure would mean certain then. Seeing no other way he gritted his teeth and decided to throw kitchen sink at it.

    ¡°We have to work together,¡± Aaryan said in a low voice, his words firm. "I have a plan. Follow my lead."

    The villagers looked at him uncertainly, but seeing no better option, they nodded. Aaryan turned back to face the wolf. The beast was getting closer now, and Aaryan could feel the weight of every breath he took.

    In a flash, Aaryan sprinted toward the wolf, his eyes locked on its gleaming fangs. The villagers gasped.

    ¡°What¡¯s he doing? Is he trying to get himself killed?¡± one of them whispered, hiding behind a boulder, fear creeping into his voice.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t have time to care about their doubts. He ran straight at the wolf, pushing himself to the limit. Desperation was in his eyes as he fought to keep his fear at bay. The wolf hesitated, surprised by his bravery, and slowed its advance.

    Then, as the distance between them closed, the wolf lunged with terrifying speed. But Aaryan was ready. He dove to the side, narrowly escaping the attack, and rolled to his feet.

    With a quick gesture, he signalled the others to shout. They obeyed without hesitation, using their voices to distract the wolf.

    The wolf hesitated for just a moment¡ªjust long enough for Aaryan to seize the opportunity. He bolted toward it, leaping into the air. With both daggers raised, he aimed for the wolf''s head.

    But the wolf was quick. As Aaryan came closer, the beast whipped its tail around with lightning speed, smashing it into Aaryan¡¯s chest. The force of the blow sent him crashing into a tree, the impact nearly knocking the breath out of him.

    Pain exploded through his body. Blood filled his mouth as he coughed violently, but his vision cleared just enough for him to see the wolf¡ªstaggering and enraged. One of the daggers had hit its mark, embedding itself deep in the wolf¡¯s left eye. The beast howled in agony, a high-pitched wail that sent a shiver through the group.

    The villagers stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. Aaryan had actually managed to injure the beast.

    ¡°I did it...¡± Aaryan thought, relief flooding his body despite the pain.

    The wolf, now blinded, staggered back, shaking its head violently as blood poured from the wound. It growled, sensing the danger of the situation.

    Suddenly, the sound of another wolf approaching filled the air. Another wolf, who was keeping watch arrived. The injured wolf, still in pain, turned its gaze toward the new companion.

    ¡°They¡¯re retreating,¡± one of the leaders shouted. ¡°We can¡¯t let them escape!¡±

    But despite their efforts, the wolves fled into the thick underbrush, disappearing into the jungle. Sharan and Nayan cursed under their breath.

    Aaryan, barely conscious and still lying on the ground, heard their shouting. His vision blurred, and he could only hope that, somehow, the attack had bought them enough time for a retreat.

    "These damn beasts... we were so close!" Nayan snarled, Then he turned towards Aaryan fuming he asked ¡°how dare you touch our things?¡±

    Just then, a voice rang out. "Don¡¯t lay a hand on him!" Three of the villagers stepped forward, standing between Aaryan and Nayan¡¯s advancing fury.

    ¡°You may be leaders, but you will not treat Aaryan like this. He saved us," one of the men declared. His voice was firm, and there was a new sense of resolve in his eyes.

    Nayan¡¯s face twisted with anger, but before he could respond, Aman¡¯s voice cut through the tension. ¡°Enough, Nayan. We¡¯re done here. Let¡¯s head back to camp and tend to the wounded.¡±

    With a snarl, Nayan turned away, signalling the others to follow. Sharan lingered for a moment, his eyes flickering between Aaryan and the retreating villagers. Aaryan, still fighting to stay conscious, wondered what Sharan was thinking.

    The villagers carefully carried Aaryan back to camp, their hands gentle but their faces grim. They cleaned his wounds as best as they could before leaving him to rest. Aaryan lay still, his chest aching with each breath.

    ¡°Looks like I was lucky. No broken ribs, just bruising,¡± he thought, closing his eyes to rest.

    Back in the leaders'' camp, the mood was anything but calm. The six leaders sat in a tense circle, each one seething with frustration.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill him,¡± Nayan hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. ¡°He¡¯s made a mockery of us. If we don¡¯t deal with him, there¡¯ll be more trouble ahead.¡±

    Sharan¡¯s voice was low and measured. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Nayan. I already have a plan. We¡¯ll either kill the wolves soon, or we¡¯ll abandon the mission and head back to the village.¡±

    The room fell silent as one of the leaders, eyes narrowed, asked, ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡±

    Sharan grinned maliciously. ¡°We¡¯ll use the violet mist spheres to incapacitate them. If we can lure the wolves into a confined area, we can take them down.¡±

    ¡°But we only have three spheres,¡± Nayan pointed out, his voice filled with concern. ¡°And one is damaged. They won¡¯t be enough to knock out all three wolves.¡±

    Sharan¡¯s smile widened. ¡°True. But if someone can lure them into the right spot...¡±

    Nayan¡¯s eyes widened in realization. ¡°You mean...¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Sharan said, his voice dripping with malice. ¡°And if he fails, I am sure we can get at least one of the wolves and meanwhile if he dies, well he can only blame his bad luck¡­¡­.¡±

    The others laughed, their amusement dark and twisted. The tension in the air grew heavier.

 Chapter 8 : The Bait Of Destiny

    The sounds of hushed voices and bustling activity woke Aaryan from his deep sleep. His mind, foggy from the heavy rest, quickly noticed how little pain he felt from his injuries. It felt as if he¡¯d slept through the afternoon, and he couldn¡¯t help but think it was strange that his body had healed so quickly.

    He pushed aside the tent¡¯s curtains, stepping into the cool morning air. Immediately, a sea of eyes turned toward him, and Aaryan felt the weight of their gazes. He wasn¡¯t just a child anymore. After the events of yesterday, he had somehow become the focal point of the village¡¯s hope, the one they looked to for guidance.

    One of the older men whom Aaryan had helped was the first to speak, his voice warm with gratitude. ¡°You¡¯re looking much better. How¡¯s the pain?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine in a day or two,¡± Aaryan answered with a smile. His injuries had indeed been minor compared to what they had first seemed. ¡°But what about the others?¡±

    ¡°Thanks to you, most of us are doing well. Not many injuries to speak of.¡± The man nodded, smiling back at Aaryan.

    There was a shift in the crowd then. A voice behind Aaryan spoke with a tone of disbelief, ¡°That smile... it¡¯s different somehow. It doesn¡¯t seem so annoying now.¡±

    Another boy, who had once shared that sentiment, added, ¡°I never thought I¡¯d say this, but... it looks good on him, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    For the first time in a while, the air around the group felt lighter, as if the heavy weight of fear had lifted. Laughter, albeit soft, rippled through the crowd. Aaryan was about to head toward his camp when he saw Sharan looking at him from a distance.

    Their gazes met, and Sharan¡¯s smile sent a chill down Aaryan¡¯s spine. It was the kind of smile a predator gives when its prey is just within reach.

    That doesn¡¯t look good, Aaryan chuckled inwardly but quickly turned his attention back to the crowd, making his way toward his tent.

    Could it be? he thought. Did that dagger really mean that much to him? Is he still holding a grudge?

    He picked up the pace, his thoughts swirling.

    ¡°Enjoy the glory while it lasts, Aaryan. You may be a hero today, but everyone loves a tale of sacrifice. Heroes who shine and save the day are memorable, but those who sacrifice themselves for the greater good... that¡¯s the story the village will tell for years to come.¡± Smiling, Sharan turned and entered his tent.

    ¡°Seems like things won¡¯t be easy for me from here on,¡± Aaryan thought. They¡¯re surely trying to cause trouble for me, but what can I do? In his tent, Aaryan was thinking about how to avoid the coming disaster, but no matter how he racked his brains, he couldn¡¯t come up with anything.

    ¡°Forget it, I¡¯ll deal with it when the time comes. There¡¯s no sense in overthinking this now.¡± Having made up his mind, he closed his eyes and laid down to rest.

    The days that followed were deceptively quiet. No one went out to hunt the wolves. The villagers were content, some almost starting to believe that perhaps they were free of the threat. But for Aaryan, an unsettling feeling crept over him.

    Something isn¡¯t right. They wouldn¡¯t just give up... not without a reason.

    A few days later, the sharp sound of a horn broke the silence. It was a signal to gather at the main tent.

    Aaryan¡¯s stomach tightened. The villagers murmured in confusion, speculating about what was to come.

    ¡°They must be sending another party to search for the wolves,¡± one man grumbled.

    ¡°No, I think they¡¯re planning to head back to the village,¡± another suggested.

    Everyone walked toward the main camp, their footsteps heavy with uncertainty. Among them, Sharan stood with his usual calm expression, hands clasped behind his back. As Aaryan approached, Sharan¡¯s eyes met his again, and a smile played at the corners of his lips. He muttered something to one of his men, but Aaryan couldn¡¯t hear the words.

    The crowd gathered, their focus solely on Sharan and the leaders surrounding him.

    ¡°All of you have worked very hard for this mission, and hence everyone here will receive one sack of rice as a reward.¡± Unexpectedly, the one speaking was not Sharan, but the eagle-nosed man.

    A cheer went up from the crowd. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to last a month for most families. The mood lightened.

    ¡°And the families of those who lost their lives... they will receive five sacks,¡± the eagle-nosed man continued.

    Aaryan was taken aback. Five sacks? For the dead?

    A wave of gasps passed through the villagers, who looked both surprised and relieved.

    Have they really given up? he thought. But then his eyes drifted toward the other leaders and paused at Sharan, who was still looking at him.

    ¡°No, they are definitely up to something,¡± Aaryan thought and kept listening carefully.

    The eagle-nosed man was very pleased. This was, more or less, what he had expected.

    ¡°We are planning on returning to the village to come back with more reinforcements and tools...¡± Now it was the short silver-armoured leader who spoke.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    A cheer, much louder than before, rang out. Aaryan was stunned, but before he could process what was happening, the next sentence confirmed what he had been thinking all along.

    ¡°We want to give it one more try. We have come up with a plan to capture those beasts with the help of these.¡± The silver-armoured leader continued, gesturing toward a tray held by a nearby man. On it rested three dark spheres.

    ¡°These are Violet Mist Spheres. The mist contained in them is made by extracting the poison of 20 Three-Ringed Black Spiders, known for their hallucination-inducing poison, along with many other herbs that can knock out those beasts unconscious. Once they are unconscious, we can easily deal with them,¡± said the eagle-nosed man.

    Aaryan listened to every word very carefully. He knew whatever the leaders had planned would surely involve him, so he wanted to be ready for all possible situations.

    ¡°If these spheres can take down the wolves, why didn¡¯t we use them before? Why wait until now?¡± he asked the leaders.

    Another man added, ¡°We could¡¯ve avoided so much loss if we had them earlier.¡±

    Nayan couldn¡¯t contain himself and was about to jump out when Aman stopped him.

    Before the eagle-nosed man could respond, Sharan stood, his voice calm but authoritative. ¡°The problem wasn¡¯t that we didn¡¯t want to use them. The issue was that the spheres need to be used all at once. The area they affect isn¡¯t very large, so we needed to ensure the wolves were close enough together for the mist to work.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that we didn¡¯t want to use them earlier, but the thing is, we couldn¡¯t. All three spheres needed to be exploded simultaneously to be effective enough, and the area in which the mist will be effective is not very large. Hence, all the wolves needed to be lured in to close proximity to each other for it to work. We were hoping for the right opportunity to present itself.¡±

    ¡°Junior Chief, what sort of opportunity?¡± Aaryan looked over his shoulder as the man who spoke was directly behind him. It was the same man he had seen talking to Sharan earlier.

    So, they want me to be the bait and have surrounded me in case I decide to make a run for it. Aaryan was very nervous in his heart but kept a calm face on the outside.

    ¡°Little Brother Aaryan,¡± Sharan continued, his gaze landing on Aaryan with an unsettling smile. ¡°This plan would only work if one can manage to get close enough to those wolves. As we saw a couple of days ago, Little Brother Aaryan is very capable of doing so and hence is the ideal candidate for our plan.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s stomach churned as the pressure of the situation closed in on him. Everything was silent, everyone looking toward Aaryan.

    The silver-armoured leader¡¯s voice broke the silence. ¡°We understand it¡¯s a dangerous mission, but you¡¯ve shown courage. Please, think of the village. Success would bring great benefits to the whole village.¡±

    ¡°They handed out rewards to win over the villagers. If I agree, I¡¯ll be the bait, and if I don¡¯t, then these minions surrounding me will surely incite the villagers and turn them against me.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s thoughts raced, but he knew it was a decision he couldn¡¯t escape. Refusing would doom him. Accepting might doom him as well, but at least he could take control of his fate.

    ¡°So, Aaryan, what¡¯s your decision?¡± asked Nayan, smirking, not willing to give any time for Aaryan to escape.

    Aaryan was helpless. He couldn¡¯t agree, as it would put him in a dangerous position, and if he didn¡¯t, he would face the wrath of the masses. Struggling in his heart, his eyes filled with determination.

    ¡°Fine, you want to push me to a dead end? I¡¯ll make sure you regret it. You think my fate is in your hands, that I¡¯ll die just because you want me to? I don¡¯t think so. And even if my fate is in your hands for now, I will carve out my own destiny.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

    The shock that rippled through the leaders was palpable. Sharan¡¯s smile faltered slightly. ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t respond, only nodded. His face was set, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

    Seeing him agree so easily surprised everyone, especially the leaders.

    ¡°He seems confident. Does he have something that can help him escape the wolves?¡± asked the eagle-nosed man in a low voice.

    ¡°If he had something like that, then he wouldn¡¯t have gambled his life last time,¡± the short man replied.

    ¡°He is just a fool and will die for sure,¡± Nayan grinned.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what tricks he has; he is just a child. He was lucky last time, but thunder doesn¡¯t strike the same tree twice,¡± Sharan smiled

    viciously.

    ¡°So, it¡¯s decided. We¡¯ve already made all the necessary preparations. We will be moving out in an hour. Everyone, get ready.¡± As the leaders turned to leave, Aaryan felt the weight of their eyes on him. Nayan gave him a mocking look, and Sharan¡¯s grin was full of malice, as if they had already won.

    The villagers, while still grateful for his actions in the past, now saw him as nothing more than the bait for their final attempt. But Aaryan wasn¡¯t concerned about them anymore. He was focused on one thing: survival.

    Aaryan stood there for a while, clenching his hands. In his village, he had always worked hard for his meals and never complained, always satisfied with what he had. But life had taught him a lesson, a lesson which he engraved in his heart. He turned and left for his tent, determination filling his eyes. And for once, that smile of his was nowhere to be found.

    Soon, the whole group left the area. It was their final attempt, so there was no way to leave anyone behind. They made their way toward the depths of the forest, and after a few hours of walking, they came near a clearing.

    Aaryan saw the area¡ªit was a valley he had seen earlier. The rest had stopped a bit back, only Aaryan and the three men who had stood against Nayan to save him were left to proceed into the valley.

    Clearly, they had been targeted for speaking out, but there was no other way. As far as the villagers were concerned, four lives were nothing if they could get back to the village.

    ¡°I¡¯ve dragged all of you into this,¡± Aaryan said, remorse in his eyes.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. We would have died already if not for you saving us,¡± replied the old man with a slight smile.

    Sharan was hiding some distance away along with his men, ready to take action at any moment.

    Aaryan and his group made their way into the depths of the valley, carefully surveying the area. The valley itself was empty except for a few boulders of different sizes.

    ¡°This is a trap, not just for them but for us as well. We¡¯re flanked by towering cliffs on both sides, and the only way out is the sheer drop of a waterfall behind. They really don¡¯t want us to survive.¡± Aaryan shook his head.

    They found a suitable place near a huge boulder, lit a fire, and set up a tent nearby. There wasn¡¯t much for them to do, except for Aaryan. His mind never stopped turning, his eyes scanning the surroundings constantly, looking for a way to turn the situation in his favour.

    The whole group waited patiently, and the days passed without incident. On the fourth day, as the sun began to set, Aaryan was lying near the fire, eyes closed. The atmosphere was cold and oppressive, with a deep sense of foreboding filling the air. His eyes snapped open, and he looked toward the trees on the right. The tree had a trunk thick enough that three people would have to join hands to cover it, with leaves as big as two inches. He narrowed his eyes, trying to look into the darkness. Suddenly, he yelled with everything he had.

    ¡°WATCH OUT!¡±

    The group quickly reacted and got behind the boulder. A boom rang out, and a huge black claw slammed into the boulder, sending chunks of rock flying.

    The people in the distance went on alert, and the leaders looked toward the valley with anticipation. They knew¡ªthe hunt had begun.

 Chapter 9 : Crimson Resolve

    The air was thick with tension, the cold creeping into Aaryan¡¯s bones despite the crackling fire that barely seemed to cut through the chill. The valley, once quiet and empty, now felt like a cage¡ªsilent, oppressive, and closing in. His mind buzzed with the weight of the danger that was right in front of him. The trap had been set, and he had agreed to play his part¡ªto be the bait¡ªbut even now, as he stood among the remnants of his decision, doubt flickered at the edges of his resolve.

    The group hurriedly moved toward another boulder, but before they could reach it, another one of the beasts lunged at them. Its massive black claw sliced through the air with a speed that defied its size. The wolf was nearly as large as the boulder, its eyes glowing with a dangerous, otherworldly light. Its enormous form twisted and shifted, its dark fur blending with the shadows of the forest.

    Aaryan scrambled to his feet, but the others were not so lucky. One man had barely managed to avoid the strike, but the wolf¡¯s claw still caught him. The jagged slash tore through his shoulder, leaving a gaping wound that sprayed blood across the stone. The others rushed to drag him back out of the wolf¡¯s reach, but his cries filled the valley.

    The rest of the group, watching from afar, sucked in a deep breath, eyes wide with horror. From the first attack to this moment, barely ten breaths had passed, and already one of them was gravely injured.

    ¡°Thankfully, I don¡¯t have to face these beasts,¡± said one of the villagers abruptly, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

    ¡°Damn it, we don¡¯t stand a chance against these monsters,¡± one of Aaryan¡¯s companion muttered, wiping a nervous sweat from his brow.

    ¡°Move!¡± Aaryan shouted, snapping the group back to attention. Another claw slashed through the air, missing them by inches. The group scrambled backward toward another boulder, their only shield against the beasts circling them.

    ¡°We can¡¯t keep retreating like this,¡± one of the men grunted, still clutching his injured companion. ¡°Soon we¡¯ll reach the waterfall. We¡¯ll have nowhere to go.¡±

    ¡°We need to drive them into that corner,¡± Aaryan said, his voice steady despite the chaos around him, pointing to a narrow gap between the mountain wall and a massive boulder. ¡°That¡¯s our only chance.¡±

    The group hesitated, their thoughts racing as they tried to formulate a plan. Then, a bone-chilling howl pierced the air¡ªanother of the wolves. A shadow shifted in the trees, and the final creature emerged, its eyes blazing with predatory hunger.

    ¡°All of them are here,¡± Sharan muttered from his position behind the rocks, his voice low but full of dark anticipation. ¡°If that fool plays his part right, we¡¯ll have them all.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s pulse quickened. The trap was tightening around them, and every move he made felt more desperate. The wolves were circling now, stalking with eerie patience, as if savouring the game. They didn¡¯t seem to be in any hurry and were very cautious¡ªmaybe due to the setback they had received last time.

    ¡°There!¡± one of the group members called out. ¡°We can use the burning wood to drive them into the corner. But we¡¯ll need a distraction¡ªotherwise, we¡¯ll be dead before we even get close.¡±

    Silence fell over the group as they all knew what the distraction would require: someone would have to bait the wolves. And whoever did would almost certainly die.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± the old man, who had been injured earlier, said with a resigned sigh.

    ¡°You¡­ don¡¯t have to do this. We will think of something else,¡± Aaryan said hesitantly.

    The old man shook his head, his eyes sad but resolute. ¡°I¡¯m already done for. I¡¯ll buy you some time. You¡¯ve got more to live for, kid.¡± He tossed his sword to Aaryan, a final act of trust. ¡°Use it well. Stay alive, and make sure this isn¡¯t for nothing.¡±

    With that, he turned and started running in the opposite direction of the fire, hurling a rock toward one of the wolves to draw its attention. The two wolves, which were closer to the old man, noticed the distraction and began to move toward him, their eyes gleaming with malice.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Aaryan said, urgency in his voice. His heart was heavy as he watched the old man¡¯s sacrifice, but he didn¡¯t allow himself to mourn. Not yet.

    The group rushed forward, moving quickly toward the bonfire, but one wolf¡ªa monstrous creature with a single glowing eye¡ªshifted its focus to them, crouching low, its massive form preparing to strike.

    Aaryan acted without thinking. He grabbed a burning stick from the fire and shoved it toward the wolf¡¯s mouth just as it lunged. The beast howled in pain, recoiling away from the flame. Aaryan didn¡¯t stop to breathe. He grabbed another burning piece of wood and held it tightly in his hands, ready for the next strike. His two companions did the same, their faces pale with fear but determined.

    ¡°AAAAAARGGGHHHHH!¡±

    The valley seemed to echo with a blood-curdling scream. Aaryan whipped his head around to see the old man torn apart, his body flung into the air like a ragdoll.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Aaryan whispered, his voice barely audible as he bowed his head toward the spot where the man had fallen. He couldn¡¯t afford to lose focus, as this was not the time to get distracted.

    ¡°We¡¯re close to the corner,¡± Aaryan called out, shaking off the grief that threatened to consume him. ¡°Stay close to each other. Don¡¯t separate, or none of us will make it.¡±

    The wolves circled them, always cautious, testing for weakness. They lunged at the group, but Aaryan and his companions dodged, leaping behind boulders or rolling away from the beasts¡¯ deadly claws. The pace was relentless, but they kept moving, inching toward the narrow corner.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there,¡± Aaryan said. His voice was firm, but there was a hint of desperation in his eyes. ¡°Take these,¡± he said, handing each of them a violet mist sphere. ¡°On my signal, we throw them.¡±

    After a few more lunges and dodges, the group made their way to the corner, the wolves growing more restless. The air seemed to vibrate with tension as they closed in. The creatures were calculating, their eyes watching every movement, their muscles coiled to strike.

    The group stood there, eyes fixed on the beasts, sometimes waving their fire sticks in the air. After some time, the wolves grew impatient and spread out, blocking all retreat paths. Suddenly, they lunged toward Aaryan and his group.

    ¡°Now!¡± Aaryan shouted, throwing his mist sphere onto the ground in front of him, while moving back as fast as he could. The others followed suit, their spheres hitting the earth with soft, wet sounds. The air immediately thickened, and a strange violet mist began to billow out, enveloping everything in a haze.

    Soon, Aaryan and his companions, as well as the beasts, were covered in the violet blanket. Aaryan and his companions quickly covered their noses and began to move silently, creeping along the edge of the cliff, staying as close to the mountain wall as possible. They didn¡¯t dare speak, knowing the mist could give them away.

    The seconds stretched into what felt like hours. Aaryan¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Had it worked?

    ¡°What happened there?¡± asked one of the minions hiding in the distance.

    ¡°Did they succeed?¡± said another.

    The eyes of the leaders were shining with greed. They looked at each other and started readying their men to act any moment from now.

    Aaryan and his companions made their way out of the mist, not daring to take a single breath in. They started to make their way toward the main group without making any noise, keeping their whereabouts as concealed as possible.

    ¡°THUD!¡±

    A loud noise rang out, followed by another similar sound.

    Aaryan looked toward the mist, trying to figure out what was happening when he suddenly saw a black, whip-like tail lashing through the air, heading toward his head. He instinctively jumped to the right, and the tail slammed into the spot where he had been standing moments earlier.

    Before his two other companions could react, a black shadow emerged from the mist, lunging toward one of the men. Before he could scream, his head was bitten off from his shoulders.

    Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The other man started running toward the group, but before he could go far, the wolf pounced on him. The tail pierced his heart, and another scream echoed through the walls.

    The sudden turn of events left everyone shocked. People who were about to charge into the valley stood there like statues.

    ¡°What happened? Why didn¡¯t the wolves faint?¡± asked Sharan, gasping for breath.

    Nayan was standing next to him, trembling in fear. Beside him was Aman, his eyes as wide as saucers.

    ¡°How would I know? I¡¯m standing right where you are,¡± said the eagle-nosed man, cursing in his heart for accepting this mission.

    ¡°How¡­ How is this possible? What am I supposed to do now?¡± Seeing the wolf turning toward him, Aaryan felt like the world had stopped for a moment.

    The mist began to thin out, revealing the view in front of them. Two wolves were lying unconscious.

    ¡°How unlucky¡­¡± Aaryan sighed.

    ¡°We got two... we got two!¡± Nayan exclaimed.

    ¡°Hahahaha, told you this would work¡­ Why didn¡¯t I think of it before?¡± Sharan chimed.

    ¡°Now, all we have to do is wait for that wolf to kill the kid. If the kid manages to injure the wolf before dying, we could capture it too. Otherwise, we¡¯ll simply drive it away,¡± said the eagle-nosed man, licking his lips manically.

    The wolf turned toward Aaryan, a wound visible in its left eye.

    ¡°So, it¡¯s you. How ironic. It really is fate, then,¡± said Aaryan, holding tightly onto the sword in his hand.

    The wolf growled and moved like lightning, sending its massive claw toward him. But Aaryan was already in motion. He dodged to the side, but the wolf¡¯s tail slammed into him, sending him crashing into the mountain wall with a sickening crack.

    Pain exploded through Aaryan¡¯s body, and he gasped for air. He coughed 4-5 mouthfuls of blood, trying to get on his feet with the help of his sword, which he still held onto. Refusing to give up, he stood up somehow, swaying left and right.

    His whole body was covered in blood, pain coming from every muscle and bone. His eyes dimmed, threatening to close at any moment.

    ¡°I can¡¯t watch it anymore. He¡¯s just a child,¡± said one of the old villagers, turning his head to look in another direction.

    ¡°What can we do? We can only pray that his suffering ends quickly, and he has a peaceful afterlife,¡± said another with sorrow in his eyes.

    ¡°Junior chief, should we try to help?¡± asked someone from the crowd.

    ¡°Our priority is the wolves; everything else comes after that,¡± said Aman with a very calm demeanour.

    ¡°Humph, that¡¯s what happens when you don¡¯t know your place,¡± mocked Nayan.

    The wolf advanced again toward Aaryan, swiping its claw through the air. Aaryan tried to dodge, but he was already injured and couldn¡¯t move completely out of the way. He missed the claws but still got hit with part of it and was sent flying into one of the tall trees standing on the periphery of the waterfall.

    This time, he felt that all of his bones had been shattered, and all his muscles had been torn. He bit his tongue, causing his already bloody mouth to fill with more blood.

    ¡°Am I going to die here? Is this the end for me?¡± he thought.

    Unable to move, he just lay there. He could see the wolf slowly coming toward him, and the other villagers slowly making their way toward the two unconscious wolves.

    Seeing this, hatred filled his heart¡ªa feeling which he wasn¡¯t very familiar with¡ªand it overtook his mind.

    ¡°NO! I WILL NOT DIE HERE!¡± This was the only thought he had at this moment.

    As the rage inside him reached its boiling point, he felt a very strange sensation in his soul. A barrier seemed to be hidden in the depths of his soul, a barrier which seemed to hide something. At that moment, a crack appeared on that illusionary barrier, and a sudden burst of power and energy erupted from deep within his body. His broken bones started to mend together, and his torn muscles and tendons fused. Although the pain was much worse than before, like 1,000 ants gnawing at his flesh, he felt like his blood was burning.

    He got to his feet, still swaying, and looked toward the approaching wolf.

    ¡°He still hasn¡¯t died,¡± said Aman, his voice tinged with surprise.

    ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time,¡± said Nayan.

    ¡°Hurry, we need to kill these wolves before they wake up,¡± urged the eagle-nosed man.

    ¡°I WILL NOT DIE HERE. I WILL NOT DIE HERE. I... WILL... NOT... DIE... HERE...¡± Aaryan yelled, running toward one of the trees, right on the edge of the cliff leading to the waterfall.

    The wolf saw him running and chased after him with haste. Aaryan ran as fast as he could, and as the wolf closed in on him, he reached the tree, using it as a springboard to leap into the air, his sword, stained with his own blood, aimed at the head of the beast. He narrowly dodged the wolf¡¯s biting mouth, and with all the strength he could muster, he plunged the blade into the wolf¡¯s skull. The impact rattled through his body, but he didn¡¯t stop. He dragged the sword down its head, splitting its skull open with a final, desperate effort.

    The wolf¡¯s body went limp beneath him, and Aaryan collapsed, his body giving out. Blood pooled beneath him, and he stared into the lifeless eyes of the creature.

    Something inside him had changed. A power he didn¡¯t understand, didn¡¯t even know existed, had awakened. His chest heaved with exertion, his vision blurring at the edges. But he wasn¡¯t willing to close his eyes.

    Not yet.

 Chapter 10 : The Unbound

    Aaryan¡¯s body was a battleground of pain, each movement a sharp reminder of the violence he had endured. Blood dripped from the gashes and wounds across his skin, pooling on the ground beneath him. His breath came in shallow, frantic bursts, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a desperate release. The world around him swam in and out of focus, his vision blurred from both exhaustion and blood loss. His muscles screamed in protest with every attempt to move, and yet, something deep inside¡ªsomething raw and primal¡ªrefused to let him succumb to the darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision.

    He was still alive.

    But how?

    The thought barely formed before it was smothered by the overwhelming surge of instinct. He couldn¡¯t stop now. He had survived this time, but how long could he keep relying on luck? The beasts, the battle, the endless danger¡ªit would only be a matter of time before they came for him again, and next time, he might not be so lucky.

    "I killed it... I really killed it¡­" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but there was a sense of disbelief in the words, as if he couldn¡¯t quite believe what he had done. The wolf that had nearly torn him apart, the beast he had brought down with the strength he didn¡¯t even know he had.

    He glanced toward the spot where the old man had fallen. His sacrifice¡ªthe man¡¯s life for Aaryan¡¯s survival¡ªburned in his mind. The image of the man being ripped apart by the wolves was a memory he couldn¡¯t escape. That loss weighed on him, but he couldn¡¯t afford to mourn just yet. Not while there was still a chance to escape.

    He staggered to his feet, each movement a battle. His legs were weak, his arms trembling with the strain, but his eyes, sharp despite the haze of exhaustion, scanned the valley around him. The village loomed in the distance, a place that had once offered the promise of safety, but now felt like a trap¡ªa cage he couldn¡¯t stay in.

    ¡°I can¡¯t stay here,¡± Aaryan muttered under his breath, his grip tightening around the hilt of his bloodstained sword. ¡°I survived this time, but next time¡­¡± He didn¡¯t finish the thought. He didn¡¯t need to. The truth was clear enough. If he stayed, if he went back with them, the people who had watched him fight, the ones who had sent him to face death, they would use him again. His life would never be his own.

    His gaze swept over the valley once more, seeking any sign of an escape. The dense forest on the other side of the valley called to him, but it wasn¡¯t the trees that drew his attention. It was the sound¡ªthe constant, thundering rush of water crashing down the cliffs behind him.

    The waterfall.

    It had been there all along, a soft, distant roar in the background of the battle, unnoticed in the chaos. But now, as the world around him fell silent except for that relentless roar, it became clear. The waterfall was his escape.

    His heart pounded as the idea took root. The water, the current, the sheer force of it¡ªthere would be no way for the villagers to follow him there. It was his chance.

    Aaryan¡¯s legs shook, but he forced himself to move toward the sound, toward freedom. But as he took his first step, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head, squinting through the haze of his blurred vision. He turned back, swaying but moving , towards¡­¡­¡­.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    The villagers.

    They were watching him, their eyes wide with disbelief. He could hear their whispers¡ªfragments of words carried on the wind.

    ¡°How is he still alive?¡± someone asked, barely a breath of sound.

    ¡°He should¡¯ve died. We all saw it,¡± another muttered.

    ¡°He fought like a beast. A boy¡­ and he killed it.¡±

    There was awe in their voices, yes, but also something else¡ªfear. The same fear that had been growing in Aaryan ever since the battle had ended. They were afraid of him. And why wouldn¡¯t they be? He shouldn¡¯t be alive. They should¡¯ve seen him torn apart like the others. But he wasn¡¯t. And it scared them.

    Aaryan¡¯s hands shook as he took another step, his mind clouded with exhaustion, but his resolve was firm. There was a fire within him now, burning through the pain, pushing him forward. He wasn¡¯t just a survivor anymore. He was something else. Something the villagers didn¡¯t understand.

    Sharan stood off to the side, watching him with narrowed eyes, calculating. His gaze was cold, distant. But Aaryan could feel the weight of his stare, the way Sharan sized him up like a puzzle that needed to be solved. He had seen Aaryan fight¡ªhe had seen him survive. And now, Sharan wanted to know how.

    Behind him, the eagle-nosed man strode forward, his heavy footsteps crushing the mud beneath him. He came to stand next to Sharan, his sharp gaze flicking over Aaryan, then down to the fallen wolves.

    ¡°Well?¡± Sharan¡¯s voice was low, but there was impatience in it. ¡°Did you find anything?¡±

    The eagle-nosed man gave a soft, bitter laugh, his eyes lingering on Aaryan for a moment longer than necessary. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    Sharan¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®nothing¡¯? No core?¡±

    The eagle-nosed man nodded grimly.

    ¡°No core?¡± Sharan¡¯s voice rose, his disbelief hardening into anger. ¡°All of this? All these damn wolves, and there¡¯s no core? What kind of fool¡¯s errand is this?¡±

    The eagle-nosed man turned his gaze back to Aaryan, his eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and something darker. He hadn¡¯t expected the boy to survive, let alone outlast them all.

    Aaryan¡¯s legs threatened to give out as he stumbled toward the wolf¡¯s body. His sword felt like a weight too heavy to carry, but he gripped it tightly, his hand trembling. There was no strength left in him, no energy to fight back. He could barely keep his focus, but he knew what had to be done. He needed to get out of there, and if he could take something¡ªanything¡ªalong the way, it would be worth it.

    His fingers curled into the wolf¡¯s half-split skull, searching until they closed around something hard and smooth.

    With a sickening squelch, he ripped it free.

    He turned, making his way toward the waterfall.

    ¡°Stop him!¡± the eagle-nosed man¡¯s voice was frantic now, desperate. He dashed forward, his movements fuelled by rage.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t stop.

    He didn¡¯t look back.

    With every step away from the group, his body burned, his muscles screaming in protest. But his mind was clear now. There was no turning back. He couldn¡¯t be a pawn anymore. He couldn¡¯t be controlled.

    As he reached the edge of the waterfall, the roar of the water deafened him, the cascading spray soaking his clothes. He stood at the precipice, staring down at the abyss below. His heart raced, but there was no fear in his chest. Only resolve.

    ¡°Prey that we don¡¯t meet again,¡± he called over his shoulder, his voice carrying in the wind. It was a warning, a declaration.

    Without another word, Aaryan leaped.

    The fall was brief but overwhelming. The current gripped him instantly, pulling him under. For a moment, the world went silent. The past was swept away, swallowed by the water. And Aaryan¡ªtired, broken, but alive¡ªwas carried away into the unknown.

    ¡°NOOOOO!¡± The eagle-nosed man¡¯s shout echoed behind him, but Aaryan was already gone.

    Sharan and the others arrived moments later; their faces twisted with rage. They looked toward the waterfall, the only sign of Aaryan¡¯s escape, but the boy was nowhere to be found.

    ¡°He took the core,¡± the silver-armoured man muttered, kneeling beside the wolf¡¯s lifeless body.

    Sharan gritted his teeth. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving until we find him. Dead or alive.¡±

    Down below, Aaryan¡¯s body was battered by the water, his limbs burning as he fought against the current. He didn¡¯t know where he was going. All he knew was that he couldn¡¯t stop. Now, He truly was ¡°UNBOUND¡±.

 Chapter 11 : The Debt of Life

    The world was nothing but water¡ªcold, dark, and unforgiving. Aaryan¡¯s body was battered, dragged beneath the violent current. His limbs were numb, his head a dull throb of pain, and his breath came in sporadic, ragged gasps. His eyes remained closed, too heavy to open, too tired to fight the overwhelming pull of unconsciousness.

    He didn¡¯t know how long he was submerged. Time had lost all meaning, stretched out into an endless blur of water and pain. Every now and then, the current would shift, and he¡¯d feel himself slamming into rocks or being spun around, but it wasn¡¯t enough to pull him back to full awareness. It was as if the river itself was trying to claim him, to drag him into the depths where he would never be seen again.

    But something kept him afloat. It wasn¡¯t hope. It wasn¡¯t willpower. It was the sheer instinct of survival¡ªthe raw, animal need to live, to fight, to breathe. And so, despite everything, he kept drifting.

    Until¡­ a shift.

    The current suddenly slowed, the wild churn of the water dimming, as if it had released its grip on him. The frantic tug of the water felt distant, like it was no longer trying to drag him under, but simply carrying him. His limbs were still numb, but the danger, the immediate threat of drowning, seemed to ease. His body floated, weightless, his chest rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths. The cold seeped into his bones, but it was different now¡ªit wasn¡¯t the suffocating grasp of drowning. It was just... cold. An aching numbness, but one he could survive.

    Am I¡ªalive?

    His eyes flickered open, just a sliver at first. The world was a blur of blue and gray, and for a moment, he didn¡¯t recognize anything. His mind was foggy, disoriented, the memories of the battle, the village, the fall into the water slipping through his fingers like sand.

    The sound of rushing water still filled his ears, but it wasn¡¯t as deafening as before. He was on a narrow bank, the river now flowing past him with a gentler pull. The realization hit him like a splash of cold water¡ªhe was still alive.

    Aaryan¡¯s breath hitched, his chest tight with the effort to stay conscious. His body screamed in protest, the cuts and bruises across his skin making every movement feel like agony. His limbs were weak, uncooperative. He could feel the blood from his wounds soaking into his clothes, the sticky weight of it clinging to him like a reminder of how close he had come to dying.

    He tried to lift his head, but the world tilted dangerously, the ground beneath him swaying as if it were a ship tossed by waves. It was hard to tell where the ground ended, and the air began. The world spun around him. His vision darkened, and for a moment, the weight of exhaustion threatened to pull him under again.

    Focus. Focus.

    With a grunt of effort, Aaryan forced himself to sit up, his muscles trembling with the strain. His arms shook as he pushed himself into a crouch, his legs feeling like they might give out at any moment. He braced himself with one hand on the wet earth, fingers digging into the muddy ground. His breath came in uneven gasps, but he refused to stay down.

    Each movement was an act of defiance against his own body, against the fatigue that clawed at him. He couldn¡¯t stop now. Not when he was so close to freedom.

    The riverbank was slippery, the rocks sharp and unforgiving beneath him, but Aaryan didn¡¯t care. He forced his unsteady legs to move, one step, then another. Every inch felt like a battle, but he managed to pull himself closer to the edge of the water, away from the churning current. His bloodied sword hung loosely at his side, the weight of it a constant reminder of everything he had fought through to get this far.

    Just a little more.

    Finally, with a heaving breath, he managed to pull himself fully out of the water, collapsing onto the wet ground. His body shook uncontrollably, and his lungs burned as he gasped for air, but he was out. He had made it.

    He lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky, trying to regain his breath. His chest rose and fell in shallow, frantic gasps, but the cold, biting air felt like a lifeline.

    I¡¯m alive.

    Aaryan''s mind drifted in and out of consciousness like the ebb and flow of the river he had barely escaped. His body felt foreign to him¡ªheavy and broken, each breath a struggle. The world around him seemed to blur at the edges, the sounds muffled, like he was submerged beneath the surface once more. He could hear the distant rush of the river, the wind cutting through the air, but everything else was vague, uncertain.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    And then¡ªfootsteps. Soft, cautious, as well as the constant hubbub of chattering approaching from his left. Aaryan''s eyelids fluttered, but he couldn¡¯t summon the strength to open them. He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled, too weak to support him. He felt himself sway, as if the world itself was trying to tip him over.

    ¡°Seems like there are others here.¡± His heart filled with vigilance.

    The evening sun cast long shadows over the riverbank as a group of strangers stood gathered, their eyes fixed on the unconscious figure of Aaryan. He had been washed ashore like a broken doll, his clothes torn and bloodied from his ordeal, his body barely clinging to life. The group was silent, the only sounds the rush of the water and the quiet murmur of the wind through the trees.

    ¡°Is he¡­ dead?¡± one of them asked, a man with a weathered face, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

    Aaryan¡¯s eyes flickered open, just enough to make out the form of a woman kneeling beside him.

    The old woman¡¯s face was a mask of sternness, her sharp, calculating eyes narrowing as she assessed the scene before her. Her lips were pressed into a thin, unwavering line, showing no trace of emotion, only determination. Her posture was rigid, her shoulders squared, exuding a quiet authority that demanded attention. Her silvery hair framed her face like a crown of wisdom and severity, and there was a weight to her gaze, as though she had seen much in her long years, none of it easily forgotten.

    Aaryan wanted to speak, but no words came out from his sore throat. All he could do was smile, his very own smile, and then his vision darkened again as he finally got lost in the pain and exhaustion.

    ¡°Huh¡­¡± the old lady gasped, but soon the stern look manifested again, though there were traces of gentleness in the deep corners of her eyes.

    The group exchanged uneasy glances. They had come to the riverbank to wash their clothes, and they had no business in helping a boy they didn¡¯t know. But something about the scene before them¡ªabout Aaryan¡¯s battered body and the way he had been pulled from the river¡¯s grip¡ªfelt like a calling they couldn¡¯t ignore.

    ¡°He was in the water¡­ alone,¡± one of the men murmured, his voice filled with disbelief. ¡°How did he survive?¡±

    ¡°What do we do with him?¡± asked someone else.

    The old lady looked towards the group, her gaze stopping at a boy.

    ¡°Take him to my house,¡± she instructed, her tone brokering no dissent.

    ¡°Since when did this old coot become so kind?¡±

    The young man hesitated but soon gave in under the stern eyes of the lady. He moved to Aaryan¡¯s side, kneeling carefully to lift him. His hands were strong but gentle as he cradled the boy¡¯s limp body, feeling the heat of fever rising from him. He struggled slightly under the weight, but his determination was evident.

    With that, the group began to move, slowly but steadily. The young man carried Aaryan in his arms, the young woman walking behind him, keeping a watchful eye on the boy. The others followed at a distance, keeping watch over the riverbank, their faces still filled with confusion and worry.

    <hr>

    When Aaryan awoke again, it was to the scent of herbs and the warmth of a fire. His body ached, but the pain felt distant, more like a shadow than a reality. He opened his eyes slowly, and the first thing he saw was the old woman sitting beside him, her sharp eyes watching him with quiet patience.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± a flicker of relief crossed her features.

    ¡°How long was I unconscious?¡±

    ¡°Three days.¡±

    ¡°So, it¡¯s been at least three days since I escaped. I hope I¡¯m far from them. I wouldn¡¯t survive if they find me in this condition.¡± As the thought crossed his mind, he tried to sit up, but his muscles screamed in protest, forcing him to lie back down. He groaned, his throat still sore.

    ¡°Easy now, just where do you think you¡¯re going? Although your injuries aren¡¯t as bad as they looked, you still need to rest well before you can leave.¡±

    He glanced around, taking in the small, simple cabin. The walls were made of wood and stone, a warm fire crackling in the hearth. The room was dim, lit by the soft glow of a few candles.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± he started, but his voice failed him again. He cleared his throat, trying again. ¡°Where¡­ am I?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re in my home,¡± she said. ¡°I found you on the banks. You looked half-dead, I¡¯ll be honest, but I¡¯ve patched you up as best I can.¡±

    ¡°You pulled me out of the water,¡± he muttered, more to himself than to her.

    ¡°I did,¡± she confirmed. ¡°And you owe me a debt now, whether you like it or not.¡± Her voice was teasing, but there was no malice in it. ¡°But we¡¯ll worry about that later.¡±

    Aaryan tried to sit up again, this time managing to prop himself up with his elbows. The world was still a little dizzy, but clearer now. ¡°I¡ªthank you,¡± he managed, the words feeling foreign, like something he hadn¡¯t said in a long time.

    ¡°No need for that. Kind words wouldn¡¯t pay for all the herbs I¡¯ve used up. You can work for me to pay the debt,¡± she said, her voice still teasing, but without malice. ¡°But we¡¯ll worry about that later.¡±

    Aaryan didn¡¯t argue. He didn¡¯t know how long it had been since he had eaten or slept properly, but he knew one thing: he would never forget the kindness of this stranger. The world outside was a dangerous place, but in this moment, he felt as though he was in the hands of someone who cared.

    For the first time in his life, Aaryan allowed himself to close his eyes, without any worry for the future, as the warmth of the fire and the safety of the woman¡¯s presence lulled him into sleep.

    Unbeknownst to him, far away from where he was, the search for him had been called off as the villagers rushed back to Kamplapuri. Something had occurred, to which he had nothing to do with, but yet was connected to him¡ªconsequences of which he would have to face in the near future.

 Chapter 12 : A List, a Chance, and a Promise

    The first few days after Aaryan woke up were a blur. Each time he stirred, the world around him seemed clearer. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting soft flickers of light on the stone walls. He was no longer in the cold grip of the river¡¯s pull, and for the first time in what felt like ages, his body was at rest, though not entirely healed.

    The old woman who had found him on the riverbank tended to his wounds with quiet efficiency. She fed him soup made from herbs and meat, forced him to drink bitter teas that burned his throat but eased the fever. Her care was practical, no-nonsense, and devoid of the warmth he had expected from someone who had saved his life.

    Aaryan had tried to leave on the third day, his body too stiff to move with any real strength, but the old woman¡¯s steely gaze stopped him.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere until I say so,¡± she said, her tone as firm as a boulder. ¡°Sit down and eat. You won¡¯t get far in your condition, not unless you want to end up back in that river.¡±

    ¡°But I¡ª¡± Aaryan had begun, but the sharpness in her eyes silenced him.

    ¡°No arguments. The more you fight me, the longer you¡¯ll stay here. Trust me, you won¡¯t like it.¡±

    As the days wore on, he began to notice things¡ªthe small details of the old woman¡¯s home, the way she moved with quiet efficiency, and how her eyes, though often cold, softened for just a moment when she thought no one was looking. She had a certain strength about her, an air of someone who had lived through hardships, made her own decisions, and lived with their consequences.

    On the sixth day, when Aaryan could finally sit up without his chest burning in protest, the old woman entered the room with a pot of hot tea in hand. She placed it down beside him and looked at him with a sharp, appraising gaze.

    ¡°You look better,¡± she said, her voice gruff but not unkind. ¡°Still weak, but better.¡±

    Aaryan nodded, careful not to overexert himself. ¡°Thank you¡­ for everything.¡±

    She grunted in response, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet. Your injuries haven¡¯t healed completely. And I don¡¯t need your thanks. You think I just saved you for the good of my heart? I¡¯ve been around long enough to know that it¡¯s better to have someone in debt to you than to leave them to die. Who knows, maybe I¡¯ll need you for something later. You¡¯ll be useful, even if it¡¯s only to haul some firewood or carry a heavy sack of grain.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s face twitched, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

    ¡°I¡ªthank you, really,¡± he said again, his voice stronger now. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I would¡¯ve done without you.¡±

    The old woman waved her hand dismissively, but her lips twitched ever so slightly, as if she were holding back a smile. Then she turned away and busied herself with some task in the corner.

    ¡°You can stay as long as you need,¡± she said over her shoulder, her voice still firm, but there was a subtle shift in her tone¡ªa softer edge that Aaryan couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°But don¡¯t think for a second that you¡¯ll be some charity case. I¡¯ve got enough to do without babysitting someone who can¡¯t take care of themselves.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s chest tightened, but this time, it wasn¡¯t from the pain of his wounds. It was the recognition that, despite her gruff exterior, the old woman had seen his struggle and hadn¡¯t turned him away.

    He stared at her for a moment, his voice still hoarse from his near-drowning, as he muttered, "You know, you don¡¯t have to pretend like that¡­" His tone was teasing, just a little, but with an edge of honesty he couldn¡¯t quite suppress, accompanied by that silly smile of his.

    Her eyes hardened slightly, a quick flicker of irritation flashing across her face, but he could see the hint of something else¡ªsomething softer, maybe just a crack in the mask she''d been wearing for too long.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get smart with me, boy,¡± she snapped, though the edge in her voice was slightly less sharp than before. ¡°Just focus on getting better. I didn¡¯t do this for you to turn into some ungrateful pup, so don¡¯t go thinking you owe me any sort of gratitude.¡±

    Aaryan wanted to laugh, but he stifled it, not wanting to provoke her more. Instead, he simply nodded, still half-smiling to himself. He was beginning to realize that the old woman¡¯s care was as much a part of who she was as her stubbornness. She was offering him shelter, food, and care, but her words didn¡¯t match the kindness in her actions.

    Maybe it wasn¡¯t about words. Maybe she just didn¡¯t know how to say it.

    ¡°I can help,¡± Aaryan said slowly, testing her reaction. ¡°I am used to working for my own food.¡±

    The old woman froze for a moment, her back still turned, but Aaryan caught the faintest flicker of something in her posture¡ªsomething like hesitation. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, and she turned back to face him with a scowl.

    She watched Aaryan as he lay propped up against the wall of the small cabin, her gaze sharp and calculating, as always. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the dim light flickering across her face, but there was no warmth in her expression.

    The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows around the small cabin, and for a moment, Aaryan almost thought she might ask him to do some impossible task¡ªlike climbing a mountain with a sprained ankle or fetching water from the well while blindfolded.

    But no, she just handed him a crumpled list of supplies. ¡°Take this to the market,¡± she said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. ¡°And don¡¯t come back without everything. If you do, I¡¯ll be forced to assume you¡¯ve learned nothing and are completely ungrateful. Don¡¯t make me regret helping you.¡±

    Aaryan glanced at the list. It was the kind of list that would make a grown man cry¡ªgroceries, herbs, dried meats, a few trinkets. If there was a way to make shopping sound like a life-or-death mission, the old woman had mastered it. He looked back at her, his face blank.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Thanks for the warm welcome,¡± he muttered to himself, but she either didn¡¯t hear or didn¡¯t care. She was already rummaging through the cabinet, completely unfazed by the fact that he had been lying half-dead a few days ago and was still trying to figure out how to keep his limbs from falling off.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got two legs. Use them.¡± She tossed a small coin pouch at him, which he caught clumsily, nearly dropping it in the process. ¡°Don¡¯t spend it all on sweets or frivolous things. I need those herbs, not your poor taste in snacks.¡±

    Aaryan blinked. ¡°Right, no sweets. Got it.¡±

    As he started to leave, she shot him one more look. ¡°And don''t try to slack off. I¡¯ll be watching you. You¡¯re not getting out of this that easily.¡±

    He nodded obediently. ¡°Sure, sure. I¡¯ll get everything.¡±

    He walked out of the cabin, and the brisk air hit him like a slap to the face. ¡°What is it with these people? Harsh as a stone, but somewhere beneath it, there¡¯s... kindness? Maybe? No, she¡¯s probably just practicing some ancient form of torture.¡±

    As he made his way toward the market, he tried to ignore the constant complaints his body made at every step. ¡°Oh, my legs feel like they¡¯ve been replaced with tree stumps. This is a person¡¯s reward for nearly drowning, just some list of annoying chores. Well, fine, no one ever said heroes get pampered. Maybe I¡¯ll start a new career as a professional shopper.¡±

    The market was some distance from the cabin, as it was on the outer edge of the city. It was bustling with people shouting prices, children running around, and the smell of bread and roasted meat wafting through the air. It wasn¡¯t so different from the villages he¡¯d been to before, but something about it felt... off. Maybe it was the unusual number of heavily armoured men lurking in the shadows, or the nervous glances exchanged between some of the merchants. ¡°Not sure if this is a market or an impromptu meeting of the ¡®Why I Love Chaos¡¯ club,¡± he thought, but he wasn¡¯t about to stop for a sociological analysis.

    He scanned the list again, mentally counting the number of things on it he had no idea how to buy. Herbs? He could manage. Dried meats? That was a safe bet. But there were a few other things¡ªthings that looked suspiciously like they could involve haggling, which Aaryan had never been great at. ¡°Ah, yes. Perfect. One of these days, I¡¯ll learn how to negotiate. Probably when I''m an old man with a beard that reaches my ankles.¡±

    He made his way from stall to stall, trying to look like he knew what he was doing while internally panicking over the list. But even in the chaos of the market, something kept gnawing at him: Grandma Kalyani.

    That was the old woman¡¯s name.

    Despite her rough words, despite her constant reminders that he wasn¡¯t here for her charity, there was something in her actions that spoke volumes. She didn¡¯t have to save him, didn¡¯t have to offer him shelter, or even feed him. She could¡¯ve just left him to die in the river and gone on with her life. But she hadn¡¯t.

    Aaryan¡¯s lips twitched slightly as he grabbed a bundle of herbs from one stall. ¡°She¡¯s annoying, no doubt about that. But I guess... she¡¯s been kinder than most people. Tough love, or just plain love? Guess I¡¯ll never know with her. If I ask, she¡¯ll probably hit me with a broom or something.¡±

    He moved to another stall, where a young woman with a kind smile handed him some dried meat. "You seem new here," she said, her voice soft.

    Aaryan forced a smile. "Just visiting," he said, though it felt like a lie. He wasn¡¯t sure if he was visiting at all. "At least she won¡¯t make me feel like I¡¯m failing life for five seconds,¡± he thought, but then quickly reminded himself that he had to finish his errand. "Focus. Get back to that list. There¡¯s no escape.¡±

    The air was thick with chatter and the sounds of vendors shouting their wares, the clink of metal, and the scent of spices and fresh produce filling his senses. But amidst all the noise, something caught his attention¡ªan unusual gathering around a wooden post in the center of the square. People were clustered in tight circles, whispering to each other, their eyes fixed on a large scroll pinned to the post.

    Curiosity piqued, Aaryan made his way closer, his feet dragging a little from his lingering exhaustion. As he got closer, the hushed murmurings grew louder, and he could catch fragments of conversation.

    "Did you hear? The Evernight Pavilion is choosing new disciples, right here in our Green Veil City."

    "Fifteen days! The selection trials are soon. Do you think we have a chance?"

    ¡°Who knows? I heard they will choose only one or two disciples per city.¡±

    As he pushed his way through the crowd to get a better look at the notice, his hand subconsciously went to the hilt of his sword, a habit born from the dangers he had faced in the past few days. His fingers brushed over the bloodstains still faintly visible on his clothes, and he sighed, feeling his weariness settle deeper into his bones.

    The notice was written in elegant, flowing script. It was a call to those with potential¡ªan opportunity to be tested, judged, and chosen for The Evernight Pavilion¡¯s next group of disciples.

    The words seemed to dance before his eyes as he read them again. It was like a door opening in front of him¡ªa door to something beyond his wildest dreams. But he quickly shook his head. He had no formal training, no mentor, no real understanding of what the trials would involve. How could he¡ªsomeone who had barely scraped by in life¡ªever hope to qualify for something like this?

    The crowd around him was growing thicker now, with more and more people stopping to read the notice, their voices rising in excitement.

    "Think I have a shot?" one man muttered to his companion; his voice filled with doubt.

    "Why not? We¡¯ve all got a chance. They choose based on potential, not what we¡¯ve already mastered," the other responded.

    Aaryan felt a sudden pang of insecurity. How could they be so confident? What if they were right? What if, deep down, he had what it took?

    But just as quickly, doubt settled in again. He had nothing. No training. No cultivation techniques. Just a bloodied sword and a past full of mistakes. His only experience was fighting to survive, and even then, he¡¯d barely made it out alive. Could a person like him really stand a chance against others who had been training their whole lives for opportunities like this?

    "Fifteen days..."

    "Can I even make it? What do they want from a disciple, anyway? Am I even ready? I can barely get through a full day without wanting to collapse."

    A sigh escaped his lips as he turned away from the crowd, his heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty. The idea of becoming a disciple of The Evernight Pavilion seemed so far out of his reach, but the thought of the possibilities¡ªof training, of becoming something greater¡ªlingered in the back of his mind.

    Maybe, just maybe, there was a way for him to get there. Maybe if he could just hold on a little longer, things would change.

    But for now, he turned his back on the notice, his mind full of swirling thoughts. It was not a time to make hasty decisions.

    As he made his way back to the cabin, he pushed the worries about the selection to the back of his mind, the weight of the bags in his arms suddenly feeling much heavier. It was almost like the old woman had planned for him to struggle a little with this. Like she knew he¡¯d be just fine once he got out there. But of course, she¡¯d never admit that.

    When he stepped through the door of the cabin, she glanced at him with a raised brow. ¡°You got everything?¡±

    Aaryan looked down at the pile of items in his arms. ¡°Yep. Got your herbs, your meats, and your random bits and bobs.¡±

    She didn¡¯t smile, but her eyes softened for just a moment. ¡°Good. Now, get yourself cleaned up. I¡¯m not running a charity here.¡±

    ¡°There it is,¡± Aaryan thought, rolling his eyes. ¡°She¡¯s probably melting inside, but you¡¯d never see it. Still, I guess... maybe I can stick around here a little longer.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, old lady,¡± he muttered, though he didn¡¯t know if she could hear the faint gratitude in his voice.

    ¡°Stop calling me that,¡± she snapped, though her tone was softer than usual.

    ¡°My bad, Grandma¡­¡± Aaryan chuckled as he set the items down. He couldn¡¯t help it.

    ¡°Maybe she does care, after all.¡±

 Chapter 13 : A Test of Worth

    A few days passed. One evening, Aaryan stood outside the cabin, the wind tugging at his sleeves, and stared into the distance. His fingers brushed the bloodstains on his shirt¡ªremnants of a past that seemed so distant, yet still clung to him like the damp chill in the air. He thought about the notice in the market¡ªthe call for new disciples to join The Evernight Pavilion. The words echoed in his mind, each one like a whisper that urged him to take a step forward.

    "Ten days... only ten days until the selection."

    He was still sore from his near-drowning, his body far from its prime. His muscles ached with every movement, as though his own body was still unsure if it was ready to keep going. But then, his thoughts turned to the future.

    "What do I have to lose?"

    The question gnawed at him. He had nothing. No formal training. No mentors. No clear path forward. But the thought of what the Evernight Pavilion offered¡ªtraining, power, purpose¡ªwas tantalizing.

    "Could I really make it? What if I fail? What if I''m not good enough?"

    Doubt crowded his mind, filling him with an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. But then another thought struck him. He had nothing else. Nothing but survival. And wasn¡¯t survival enough to give him a shot?

    Just as he was about to turn and head back inside, Grandma Kalyani¡¯s voice reached him from the cabin.

    "You know," she said, her tone gruff but thoughtful, "there are a lot of people in this world who wait for luck to find them. But luck won¡¯t get you far if you¡¯re not willing to work for it. Take the workhorse, for example. He doesn''t stop because the road''s tough. He doesn''t wait for the path to get easier. He just keeps moving, step after step, until the road¡¯s behind him."

    "But¡­" the young boy who had carried Aaryan from the riverbank tried to explain.

    ¡°No buts. On your father¡¯s account, I can only lend you this much. Go back and work for the rest of it yourself.¡± Grandma Kalyani¡¯s words were as sharp as ever.

    Aaryan¡¯s brow furrowed, unsure at first why her words felt like they struck a chord deep inside. She wasn¡¯t talking to him, wasn¡¯t telling him to chase the trials or giving him advice, but somehow, her words landed like a blow to his hesitation.

    "Workhorse... keep moving."

    It was simple, but it resonated. No one else would fight for him. No one else would walk the path ahead of him. If he wanted to make something of himself, he would have to push forward, no matter how hard it got.

    Taking a deep breath, Aaryan squared his shoulders, the uncertainty slowly starting to melt away under the weight of his resolve.

    "I¡¯ll keep moving," he whispered to himself, a quiet determination in his chest. "I¡¯ll take the test. I¡¯ll do it."

    And with that, he turned back toward the cabin, ready to face whatever came next.

    <hr>

    The morning of the selection day arrived with a crispness in the air that bit at Aaryan¡¯s skin, a reminder that the season was shifting. The sky was overcast, the clouds hanging low, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath in anticipation. His nerves were a tangled mess, but there was something else¡ªan undeniable pull, a sense that today would define everything that followed.

    Aaryan stood at the edge of the cabin, looking out at the path that wound through the area, toward the heart of Green Veil City. It was a path he had seen many times before, but today it felt different¡ªheavy with the weight of expectation. He adjusted the straps of the small bag slung over his shoulder, checking the few items he had packed¡ªsome dried food, a water skin, and his sword. He had never been one for showy preparation, but something about this day made him want to be ready for anything.

    As he turned to leave, Kalyani stood in the doorway, watching him with her usual calculating gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind rustled the trees, carrying the sounds of life from the village¡ªvoices calling out, children laughing, the clink of tools being used.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get why you¡¯re in such a hurry. A few more years wouldn¡¯t hurt,¡± she said finally, her voice gruff, yet with an undertone of something softer, almost resembling concern. ¡°Don¡¯t expect them to roll out a carpet for you just because you showed up. It¡¯s a test¡ªone you have to pass on your own.¡±

    Aaryan looked at her, his gaze steady, meeting her eyes. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but those words stuck with him more than he cared to admit. She wasn¡¯t telling him anything he didn¡¯t know, but hearing it from her, in her blunt way, made it real.

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait a few more years,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°I want power, and I need it now.¡±

    Kalyani didn¡¯t respond right away, slightly shocked by his response.

    ¡°What might have happened to him?¡± she wondered. ¡°It seems it wasn¡¯t the first time he had to fight to survive.¡±

    She simply nodded, as though she understood more than she was willing to say. Then, with a quick flick of her wrist, she handed him a small pouch.

    ¡°Take this,¡± she said, her tone back to its usual gruffness. ¡°For the road. You¡¯ll need it.¡±

    Aaryan took the pouch without question, though the weight of it in his hand felt heavier than it should have. He didn¡¯t need to open it to know it contained money¡ªor at least enough to get by. But it was more than that. It was an offering of something. Trust, maybe. Or perhaps just a sign that, despite all her sharp words, Kalyani didn¡¯t think he was entirely useless.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he muttered, slipping the pouch into his pocket.

    With that, he turned and started walking down the path, his feet moving automatically as his mind raced.

    The city was alive with activity, more so than usual. People were bustling through the streets, merchants shouting their wares, children running by in excited groups, all of them aware of the significance of the day. The streets grew busier as he neared the town square, the crowds growing thicker as people made their way toward the venue where the trials would take place.

    Aaryan¡¯s heartbeat grew louder in his chest now, each step a drumbeat, his breath shallow with anticipation. He tried not to let the fear creep in, but it was there¡ªthere was no way to avoid it. A place like this, filled with so many hopefuls, so many skilled individuals¡ªit was easy to feel small. It was easy to wonder if he even belonged here.

    But he pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. I¡¯m not here to belong. I¡¯m here to prove something. To myself.

    As he neared the open space where the trials were to take place, he could see it: a large stage set up in the center of the square, surrounded by towering wooden beams that served as makeshift stands. The area was packed with people, all waiting, murmuring in anticipation. At the far end of the stage stood a group of people, each of them draped in dark robes, their eyes sharp and evaluating.

    The sight made Aaryan¡¯s stomach tighten, but he didn¡¯t look away. This was it. The moment where everything could change. He had no idea what would happen, what the trials would ask of him, but he knew one thing for certain: I won¡¯t back down.

    He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath, stepping into the throng of hopefuls who had gathered. The air was thick with tension, and he could feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on him as he joined the crowd.

    The atmosphere around the contest venue buzzed with nervous energy as the crowd of hopefuls shuffled forward, their eyes darting around, whispering in hushed tones, and occasionally exchanging glances of uncertainty. Aaryan stood among them, his stomach churning with the anticipation of what was to come. The air felt thick, like a pressure building before a storm, and he couldn''t shake the sense that the real challenge was still to come.

    The queue moved slowly, inching forward as the time for the trials drew near. As they approached the side stages where the qualifying rounds would be held, Aaryan couldn¡¯t help but notice a group of individuals standing near the entrance. They were draped in long, dark robes, their faces hidden by hoods, giving them an air of cold detachment. The robes were embroidered with intricate patterns in silver thread, marking them as disciples of the Evernight Pavilion¡ªthe prestigious sect overseeing the trials.

    The disciples'' presence added an unsettling weight to the atmosphere. They stood tall, their expressions unchanging, as if the rest of the world was beneath them. Aaryan caught the occasional glint of cold amusement in their eyes as they surveyed the contestants, their posture stiff and superior. They weren¡¯t here to make friends. Their sole purpose was to observe, to direct, and to judge.

    One of them, a tall figure with piercing eyes and an imposing presence, stepped forward and raised a hand. Instantly, the murmurs in the crowd silenced. His voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

    ¡°Line up. Move quickly. You¡¯ll be assigned to your qualifying rounds. If you miss your turn, you''re out. Do not speak to the judges unless instructed. Understand?¡±

    His tone was commanding, and the air seemed to tighten around him. No warmth, no encouragement¡ªjust cold efficiency.

    The disciple didn¡¯t wait for an answer, his eyes already moving to the next contestant as he directed them to the side stages.

    ¡°Move along,¡± he snapped to a young man in front of Aaryan, who quickly hurried past, his face flushed with embarrassment.

    Aaryan barely had time to digest the disciple''s words when he caught sight of another group that had already moved ahead. A group of young men and women, their robes impeccably tailored, their faces adorned with self-assured expressions. They were clearly from wealthy families, their fine clothing hinting at their privileged backgrounds. Each one was accompanied by a servant or two, carrying their belongings, as though they had nothing to do but wait for their turn in the trials.

    One of the young men¡ªhis robe a shade of deep crimson with gold accents¡ªwas standing tall, his posture exuding arrogance as he looked around at the other contestants. His hair was slicked back, and his face was marked with a mixture of disdain and boredom.

    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll even let us compete with the likes of them?¡± a young woman beside him whispered, her voice laced with mockery. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, clearly irritated by the surrounding crowd.

    ¡°Pathetic,¡± the young man replied, sneering. ¡°I doubt even half of them will make it past the first round. I have already broken through the second stage of Anima¡ªthis is just a formality.¡± His voice dripped with confidence; arrogance so thick that it was impossible to miss. He casually tapped a hand on the hilt of the sword at his side, a symbol of his family''s wealth and status.

    The group of rich contestants stood apart from the others, already primed for the competition. Aaryan could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere around them¡ªthere was a palpable difference in how the wealthy contestants carried themselves. They were used to privilege, to being at the top, and it showed in the way they looked down on the others. They had trained their whole lives, and they wore that fact like a badge of honor.

    Aaryan, by contrast, felt out of place. He had no servants, no polished robes, no family legacy to fall back on. His only weapon was the rough experience he had gained through survival, through the struggles that life had thrown at him. Yet as he watched the group of elite contestants, a strange fire flickered inside him. He wasn¡¯t here to win any popularity contest. He wasn¡¯t here to impress anyone with his background. This was his chance, his moment to prove that even someone like him¡ªsomeone without a name, without connections¡ªcould still make his mark.

    As the queue inched forward, Aaryan couldn¡¯t help but overhear the rich boy''s smug comment about the trials.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be in the top ten, no doubt about it. They¡¯ll be begging to accept me by the end of the day,¡± the boy boasted, his voice laced with arrogance.

    Aaryan tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, feeling the weight of his resolve settle into place. Let them think what they want. It didn¡¯t matter. They could have all the money and status in the world, but it wouldn¡¯t guarantee them success here.

    He wasn¡¯t going to let anyone look down on him just because he didn¡¯t fit their idea of what a disciple should be.

    The disciple in the black robe gestured sharply, breaking Aaryan¡¯s concentration. ¡°You¡ªget in line. Now,¡± the disciple snapped, motioning for him to move toward one of the side stages.

    With a final glance at the smug group, Aaryan squared his shoulders, ignoring the looks from the wealthy contestants. It was easy to think they all had something he didn¡¯t¡ªa confidence, a training, a history. But Aaryan pushed those thoughts aside as well.

    He didn¡¯t need what they had. He only needed to take the first step.

    And he was here now.

    With that final thought, he stood tall, waiting for the test to begin.

 Chapter 14 : Zero

    The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows across the bustling city square. The air was thick with tension, despite the warm golden light filtering through the banners and stalls that lined the edges of the plaza. Hundreds of hopeful cultivators stood gathered, their voices hushed as they awaited the arrival of the Evernight Pavilion''s elders.

    The crowd murmured among themselves.

    "When will it start?" a young man whispered, his voice laced with impatience.

    As if responding to his words, carrying a sudden chill that had no place in the midday heat. The shadows darkened unnaturally, stretching across the ground as if pulled by invisible hands. The conversations died instantly.

    Four figures emerged from the rippling distortions of shadow and light, standing atop the raised blackstone platform as though they had been there all along. Their arrival was silent, without footsteps or sound¡ªunnatural, inhuman.

    The first elder, clad in deep violet robes embroidered with silver moons, stepped forward. His hood concealed most of his face, but his piercing silver eyes gleamed, scanning the crowd with quiet authority.

    A shiver passed through the assembled contestants.

    "The selection trial begins now." His voice was cold, emotionless.

    Another elder, wearing a half-moon mask, took over. "There will be two rounds." His words rang across the silent square. "The first round will test your affinity with Urrja¡ªwhether you are even worthy of stepping onto the path of cultivation."

    Murmurs rippled through the contestants.

    "What if someone fails the affinity test?" a young man whispered, his face pale.

    A woman beside him scoffed. "Then they were never meant to cultivate. They¡¯ll surely either be sent back¡­ or discarded."

    The third elder, draped in black with a silver sash, raised a hand, silencing them. "The second round will test your survivability." His voice held a dangerous edge. "Your ability to think, to endure, and to adapt."

    A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.

    The last of the elders, an old woman with dark tattoos curling up her arms, chuckled softly. "Your results from both rounds will be combined." She let the words hang, before adding, "From this group, ten experimental disciples will be chosen. Among them, two will be selected as outer disciples of the Evernight Pavilion."

    The moment those words were spoken, hushed conversations erupted among the contestants.

    "Experimental disciples¡­?" Aaryan muttered under his breath.

    A man beside him, his arms crossed, sneered. "More like glorified servants. They do the dirty work, run errands, and most don¡¯t even survive long enough to become true disciples."

    "That¡¯s not entirely true," another contestant added in a low voice. "Some of them rise. But only a few. The Pavilion doesn''t waste resources on the weak."

    Aaryan remained silent, his eyes flickering toward the elders. Ten will be chosen, but only two will actually have a place in the sect. The rest¡­ expendable.

    His grip tightened.

    The murmurs in the crowd settled as the first elder raised his hand, commanding silence. His silver eyes swept over the gathered contestants, assessing them with an unreadable gaze.

    "One final rule," he said, his voice calm yet absolute. "The first-place winners of both rounds will be automatically qualified for the third and final round, regardless of their combined score."

    A ripple of excitement and tension passed through the contestants.

    The elder gestured towards the edges of the plaza, where each side stage had a human sized rectangle set up. Each was carved with intricate symbols, glowing faintly under the afternoon sun. The Stone of Affinity.

    The second elder, clad in black robes embroidered with silver mist, took a step forward. His voice was deep, carrying an authority that silenced all whispers.

    "This artifact before you is the Stone of Affinity," he explained. "A treasure of the Evernight Pavilion, refined over centuries. It does not merely test whether you can cultivate¡ªit reveals the depth of your connection with Urrja itself."

    He let his words hang before continuing. "The symbols engraved upon it were crafted by the first Pavilion Lord. They shift in response to one¡¯s potential, drawing upon the Urrja that lies dormant within. A low response means weak affinity. A high response¡­" He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "Means you hold the power to walk further upon the path of cultivation."

    There was no need for further explanation. Everyone understood the implications.

    "The first round begins now," another elder announced. "Step forward towards platforms. You will place your hand upon the Blackstone. It will measure your affinity with Urrja, and you will be given a score out of ten."

    Groups of contestants hesitantly moved towards the platforms. Each stage was manned by a masked disciple, standing like silent sentinels beside the Blackstone.

    Aaryan followed the group toward the nearest platform. Up close, the Blackstone¡¯s surface pulsed faintly, its engravings shifting like flowing water. The air around it felt heavier, charged with an unseen force.

    The first contestant stepped up, a tall youth with a confident smirk. He pressed his palm against the stone, closing his eyes. For a moment, nothing happened¡ªthen the symbols flared to life, glowing with a dim orange light.

    A masked disciple turned to the elders and declared, "Affinity score: 4."

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    The youth clicked his tongue, stepping back. "Tch. I expected at least a six."

    One by one, the contestants went up. Some received scores of five, a few lucky ones got six, but many left with scores in the twos and threes, their faces pale with disappointment.

    Then, a well-dressed young man strode forward with an air of casual arrogance, he was the same young men who had claimed earlier to be at 2nd level of Anima stage.

    The young man strode forward with a chilling sense of superiority. His air was not just one of confidence, but an overwhelming presence of entitlement. His steps were deliberate, every movement a clear declaration that the world should bend to his will. He was the son of the city lord, and the world was his to control.

    A hush fell over the crowd.

    "It''s him, City Lord¡¯s Son" someone whispered.

    "I think his name is Varun," another murmured.

    "He¡¯s already been training under for some time and I heard, he had deacon of the sect as his mentor till now¡­ his score will be high."

    Without a hint of humility, he placed his hand on the stone, as though he were a king bestowing a favor upon the artifact.

    The crowd fell into a hushed silence, some staring in awe, others recoiling in disdain at his palpable arrogance. The noble didn¡¯t even spare them a glance.

    The moment his fingers touched the Blackstone, the engravings flared to life with a blinding golden light, far stronger than any before. The stone pulsed with energy, responding to his presence like a servant to a master. The pulsing light remained steady, refusing to fade immediately like the others.

    The masked disciple¡¯s voice rang out, louder this time. "Affinity score: 8.0."

    Silence.

    One of the elders, the old woman with dark tattoos, nodded approvingly. "The talent this time is quite good." She glanced toward the City Lord¡¯s son, her eyes lingering for a moment before she continued, "A score of eight means high-grade talent. With proper guidance, such individuals have a chance to reach the Garima realm or beyond."

    Another elder, the one in the silver mist-embroidered robes, spoke in a measured tone. "Not just that. His path forward will be far smoother than most. If he proves himself in the later rounds, the Pavilion may even take special interest in his growth."

    The words carried weight. A score of eight and above was rare¡ªthose who reached such heights often became figures of influence in the cultivation world.

    The crowd was shocked to silence, but the young lord¡¯s eyes narrowed in contempt.

    ¡°Only eight?¡± he muttered, his lips curling into a sneer. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s enough to crush those weaklings. But not enough to secure the top spot. I¡¯ll need to remind them who truly belongs at the top.¡±

    The cruelty in his voice wasn¡¯t lost on anyone, but he didn¡¯t care. He saw the other contestants as nothing more than stepping stones to be crushed beneath his boot. To him, the trials weren¡¯t a test of potential, but a platform for him to flaunt his superiority and secure his place at the top.

    As he pulled his hand away from the Blackstone, his gaze swept over the crowd, eyes lingering on those who had failed miserably¡ªthose who scored twos and threes, their faces pale and full of disappointment. He smirked at them, reveling in their failure, as though their lack of ability was something he could feed off of.

    "Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, his disdain so thick it could be felt in the air.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly as the line moved forward.

    Finally, it was Aaryan¡¯s turn.

    He approached the stone, stepping onto the platform. The murmurs in the crowd had mostly died down, though a few still whispered.

    "Never seen him before."

    "Must be another nobody. He doesn¡¯t even look strong."

    ¡°truly, anybody can participate even a kid¡­how old is he? Five¡± mocked someone.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, stepping forward when it was finally his turn. He placed his hand on the stone.

    The moment his skin made contact; a chilling sensation shot up his arm. The energy slithered through his veins, reaching toward his core. Something was probing him, seeking, searching¡ªlike an unseen force trying to peel him open from the inside.

    And then

    A pulse erupted from deep within him, not of resistance, but of hunger. A silent, unseen force within his very being stirred, devoured, and in an instant¡ª

    The energy vanished.

    ¡­

    Nothing happened.

    No glow. No shifting engravings. No pulse of energy.

    The stone remained cold beneath his hand, its symbols still and lifeless.

    A few chuckles broke the silence. Then whispers.

    "Nothing? Not even a flicker?"

    "He¡¯s probably a commoner with no potential¡­ what is he doing here?"

    Aaryan kept his face blank, but inside, his thoughts raced.

    Why? He had seen the stone react to everyone else, even those with low affinity. But for him¡­ nothing.

    Even Aaryan didn¡¯t knew what had happened inside his body much less others around him. Confused , Just as he was about to withdraw his hand¡ª

    A sudden shift.

    Not in the stone.

    In the first elder.

    Seated atop the raised pavilion, the first elder, who had remained motionless with his eyes closed throughout the test, suddenly opened his eyes.

    A faint glimmer flickered across his gaze, barely noticeable¡ªbut it was there.

    The masked disciple hesitated before finally announcing, "Affinity score: 0."

    Snickers broke out among the contestants.

    "Zero? He¡¯s got no talent at all."

    "What a waste of time."

    Aaryan ignored them, stepping off the platform without a word. He could feel their mocking gazes, but they didn¡¯t matter.

    But amidst the growing noise, one of the elders¡ªthe one with the half-moon mask¡ªspoke, his voice sharp and laced with curiosity.

    "This is¡­ unusual." He turned toward the other elders, his gaze lingering on the still, lifeless stone. "I have never seen anyone without any affinity at all. Even mortals, those without cultivation, possess some connection to Urrja¡ªhowever negligible."

    Another elder, the old woman with dark tattoos curling up her arms, narrowed her eyes at Aaryan, studying him as if he were an anomaly rather than a failure. "Then what does that make him?"

    The half-moon masked elder exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I don¡¯t know."

    As the elders shifted their attention to the next contestant, only one of them remained still.

    The first elder¡¯s silver eyes lingered on Aaryan, barely narrowed. For just a moment, a flicker of something¡ªdoubt? Interest? ¡ªcrossed his face.

    But then he closed his eyes again, saying nothing.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, walking toward the waiting area. His hands clenched.

    Aaryan sat in the waiting area, his back against a cold stone pillar, his arms resting on his knees. Around him, contestants whispered, some still laughing about his zero score, others discussing the high affinity of the City Lord¡¯s son.

    But their words barely reached him.

    His hands lay open in his lap. Empty. Just like the stone had declared.

    Zero. Not low. Not weak. Nothing.

    ¡°Nothing. The stone felt nothing from me.¡±

    He had expected a low score, but zero?

    Was it possible that he truly had no connection to Urrja? That he had been chasing something he was never meant to have?

    For the first time in a long while, doubt crept into his heart.

    He had spent his life believing he could rise above his circumstances, that he could carve a path forward through sheer will. But what if willpower wasn¡¯t enough?

    ¡°What if fate had already decided that I wasn¡¯t meant for this?¡±

    A flicker of doubt wormed its way into his mind.

    The thought burned, twisting deep inside him. He had always fought against the scorn, the mockery¡ªbut this was different. The Stone of Affinity was no cruel villager or arrogant noble. It was a tool of the Evernight Pavilion, a treasure that had never been wrong before.

    His fingers curled into fists.

    So, what does that mean for me? That I¡¯ll always be weak? That I should just accept my fate?

    A sharp exhale. His heart pounded, his thoughts spiraling¡ªbut then he stopped.

    No.

    His grip tightened.

    ¡°No. That can¡¯t be it. I refuse to accept that.¡±

    The stone had given him nothing, but that didn¡¯t mean he had nothing.

    Power isn¡¯t just something you¡¯re born with. It¡¯s something you take. Something you earn.

    He exhaled slowly, his grip tightening.

    I don¡¯t need talent. I don¡¯t need the stone¡¯s approval. I just need a way forward.

    His gaze hardened.

    And there¡¯s only one way forward now. I must take first place in the second round.

    He pushed himself to his feet. A slow, determined breath.

    ¡°If talent won¡¯t open the door, then I¡¯ll break through with will.¡±

    He looked up, his gaze sharp, unshaken.

 Chapter 15 : Trapped Within, Fighting Without

    The sun had shifted lower in the sky, casting long, golden beams across the city square. The tension that had momentarily eased after the first round now thickened again as the elders returned to the center platform. Their robes swayed lightly in the wind, their expressions unreadable.

    The First Elder stepped forward, his silver eyes sweeping over the contestants. "The first round is now complete," he announced, his voice carrying through the plaza. "The second round begins immediately."

    Murmurs broke out among the gathered cultivators. Some still reeled from their results in the first round, while others straightened their backs, ready for whatever trial lay ahead.

    The Third Elder, draped in black with a silver sash, raised his hand for silence. "All of you will now be divided into groups of ten. Each group will take their place at one of the side stages."

    Masked disciples moved swiftly through the crowd, guiding contestants toward their designated spots. Aaryan found himself among a mixed group¡ªsome looked confident, others uneasy.

    On each side stage, the contestants formed a circle, sitting cross-legged. In front of each of them lay a single, round object, not bigger than a baby¡¯s fist¡ªan Astral Seed.

    The Fourth Elder, an old woman with dark tattoos curling up her arms, stepped forward, her voice carrying an eerie calm. "Before each of you lies an Astral Seed," she said. "A magic artifact, inscribed with chants and mystic spells."

    Aaryan''s gaze flickered toward the object. The Astral Seed was no ordinary item¡ªit pulsed faintly, as though a dormant energy lay within. Covered in intricate, almost living inscriptions, it radiated an indescribable pressure, neither hostile nor welcoming, merely... waiting.

    The Second Elder, the one in silver mist-embroidered robes, continued. "Each of you will drop a single drop of blood onto the Astral Seed. The moment your blood touches it, the second round will begin."

    A cold gust of wind swept through the square, though the sky remained clear.

    The contestants exchanged glances. Some reached for their daggers immediately, pricking their fingers without hesitation, while others hesitated, wary of what lay ahead.

    Aaryan took a steady breath. His fingers hovered over his dagger. He hesitated¡ªnot out of fear, but out of thought.

    The first round had rejected him. The stone had shown nothing. But this time, there was no stone to judge him. No silent crowd waiting to mock his failure.

    This was different.

    This was a challenge that required only his will.

    "It doesn''t matter what happened before. I will not fail again."

    He drew his dagger in a swift, controlled motion. The sharp edge pressed against his fingertip, a thin bead of blood welling up.

    His gaze hardened.

    A part of him wanted to yell at them, to scream that it wasn¡¯t his fault. That the stupid stone was wrong. That he wasn¡¯t weak.

    But he wouldn¡¯t.

    He never cried, not when he was kicked in the dirt, not when they took food from his hands, not even when he was left to fend for himself. But this... this was worse.

    Being laughed at in front of so many people, being told he was nothing.

    His small fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger.

    His throat felt tight, but he swallowed it down.

    "Fine."

    If they wanted him to fail, to give up, then he would do the opposite.

    He raised the dagger and pressed the tip against his fingertip. The sting barely registered. A single drop of blood welled up.

    "I''ll show them. They laugh at me because they think I am weak. They won¡¯t be laughing for long."

    With that final thought, he let the drop of blood fall onto the Astral Seed.

    As the blood splashed onto the seed, the symbols carved into it ignited, glowing with an otherworldly radiance.

    And then¡ª

    The world around them shifted.

    Aaryan blinked.

    One moment, he had been sitting on the cold stone stage, the Astral Seed glowing beneath his fingertips. The next¡ªeverything had changed.

    He found himself standing in the middle of a dense, ancient forest. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something sharper¡ªsomething metallic. The towering trees around him were twisted and gnarled, their bark covered in glowing veins that pulsed like faintly beating hearts. Strange mist drifted along the forest floor, curling around his ankles like ghostly fingers.

    His breath came out uneven. "Where am I?"

    His small hands clenched into fists as his eyes darted around, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. The last thing he remembered was the Astral Seed¡¯s glow¡ªbut this? Was this real? A dream? A hallucination?

    Other contestants were in similar situations, looking around in confusion. Some were muttering to themselves, others cautiously taking defensive stances.

    Aaryan took a slow breath, steadying himself.

    This place felt¡­ off.

    The weight in the air, the way the wind barely moved¡ªit wasn¡¯t normal. It reminded him of something. Something he had felt before.

    Then, it clicked.

    His heart pounded as the realization struck him.

    The valley.

    The night the scorpion-tailed wolves had lurked in the shadows, unseen but watching.

    That same oppressive feeling, that sensation of being prey.

    He stiffened. His skin crawled.

    Something was here.

    His ears strained, his instincts screaming at him to move. He wasn¡¯t alone.

    The whisper of leaves shifting. A breath of air, different from the wind. The faint scrape of claws against bark.

    Then¡ª

    A blur of movement.

    A beast lunged from the undergrowth.

    Aaryan barely had time to react before his body moved on instinct. He threw himself to the side, rolling across the dirt as sharp fangs snapped where he had just been standing.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    It was smaller than the wolves but just as fast.

    The creature was sleek, muscular, and covered in dark, bristling fur. Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto him, filled with pure predatory hunger. Jagged, bone-like protrusions jutted from its shoulders, and its long, curved claws dug into the ground. It was already shifting, readying itself for another strike.

    Aaryan pushed himself to his feet, his pulse hammering.

    The beast snarled, its yellow eyes glowing in the mist. Its jagged bone-like protrusions twitched as it circled Aaryan, low to the ground, muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap.

    Aaryan¡¯s breathing was steady, but his body was tense. This wasn¡¯t like the scorpion-tailed wolves. The creature was smaller, its movements erratic, but¡ªit was weaker.

    Or so he thought.

    It lunged.

    Aaryan moved too slow.

    Claws raked across his left arm, tearing through fabric and biting into skin. Pain flared. He sucked in a sharp breath, stumbling back. Blood dripped from the wound, warm against his skin.

    The beast snarled, already preparing for its next attack. He couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate again.

    He sprinted toward a tree, ignoring the sting in his arm. His fingers broke off a thick branch. Without a second thought, he grabbed a sharp stone from the ground, using it to carve the tip into a crude spear as fast as his trembling hands allowed.

    A sharp rustle came from behind.

    The beast attacked again.

    Aaryan twisted¡ªbut not fast enough.

    The creature¡¯s weight slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. His back hit the ground hard, and he barely turned in time to avoid its snapping jaws. It was on top of him now.

    His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

    With a desperate growl, he thrust the wooden spear upward, straight into the beast¡¯s throat.

    It let out a gurgling hiss, thrashing violently before collapsing. Its glowing eyes dimmed as it disintegrated into mist.

    Aaryan gasped for breath, pushing himself up. His whole body ached. His left arm throbbed where the beast had clawed him, warm blood trickling down his skin. He clenched his teeth.

    And then¡ªa sound.

    He turned.

    Two more creatures emerged from the mist, faster than the first. Their claws scraped against the forest floor as they rushed at him without hesitation.

    Aaryan forced himself to his feet, pushing the pain aside.

    ¡°Too fast. I can¡¯t keep dodging.¡±

    The first beast lunged. He moved, but his injured arm slowed him down. Its claws grazed his side, tearing into his ribs. He stifled a pained grunt.

    There was no time to check the wound¡ªthe second beast was already in the air.

    Aaryan threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding it. His grip tightened around his wooden spear.

    ¡°If one hit could kill them... then I just need to strike first.¡±

    The first creature lunged again. Aaryan ducked low, driving the spear into its underbelly. The beast screeched as it dissolved into mist.

    The second snarled, leaping at his exposed back.

    At the last second, Aaryan twisted, grabbing a thick branch and smashing it across its skull. The creature staggered, and he wasted no time plunging his spear into its chest. The mist swallowed it.

    Silence returned.

    Aaryan straightened, gasping for breath. Three down. Blood dripped from his arm and side, pain pulsing beneath his skin. His vision swam for a moment, but he shook it off.

    Then the mist thickened.

    He felt them before he saw them¡ªfour more creatures emerging, watching him.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers clenched around his weapon.

    ¡°What kind of stupid test is this? Do they want us all dead?¡±

    Or... maybe, this test isn¡¯t about killing them.

    His mind raced. His eyes flicked around the forest.

    ¡°The real trial isn¡¯t about how many I can kill¡­¡± He dodged to the right, narrowly avoiding a claw. ¡°It¡¯s about surviving. Or finding a way out.¡±

    Aaryan took a deep breath, forcing his aching body to stay steady. His wounds throbbed, but he had no time to rest.

    He scanned the trees. The creatures came in pairs, doubling each time. That meant...

    Aaryan turned sharply, noticing the mist. It had grown thicker, swirling unnaturally around him. It wasn¡¯t just hiding the creatures¡ªit was controlling the trial.

    He took a step back. The beasts didn¡¯t move. They just stared. As if waiting for him to play into the cycle.

    ¡°So this is a game¡­¡± He clenched his jaw. ¡°What happens if I don¡¯t play my part?¡±

    Without hesitation, Aaryan turned and ran¡ªnot forward, but sideways. He veered off into the thickest part of the trees, cutting through the tangled underbrush.

    The creatures howled, but they didn¡¯t follow.

    Aaryan pressed on, dodging trunks and shoving through the mist that fought to pull him back. If this test was about survival, escaping the cycle was the answer.

    After what felt like an eternity, Aaryan slowed. The mist around him had changed¡ªthicker, heavier. The air felt wrong, tainted with something unseen.

    He had ventured deeper into the forest, and something about this place didn¡¯t want him here.

    At first, the silence was comforting. But it quickly became oppressive.

    With each step, a creeping unease settled in his mind.

    ¡°What if I wasn¡¯t meant to escape?¡±

    The thought hit him so naturally, he barely noticed it.

    But then another followed.

    ¡°What if I wasn¡¯t meant to be here at all?¡±

    His footsteps faltered.

    ¡°What if they were right?¡±

    The stone had given him nothing¡ªno glow, no reaction, no affinity. He wasn¡¯t strong. He wasn¡¯t gifted. Maybe...

    ¡°Maybe I really don¡¯t belong here.¡±

    Aaryan exhaled shakily. His fingers clenched and unclenched. His wounds burned, a constant reminder of his weakness.

    His legs grew heavy. The trees ahead blurred, their shapes twisting as if rejecting him.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t meant for this world.¡±

    His stomach churned.

    Aaryan stopped.

    His breath hitched. Something was wrong.

    The doubts had always been there, lurking, but now they overwhelmed him¡ªtoo sudden, too crushing. It wasn¡¯t just fear. It was as though something was pressing down on his very soul, drowning him in despair.

    Aaryan clenched his fists.

    ¡°No¡­ I belong where I want. These thoughts¡­ they¡¯re not mine.¡±

    The realization hit him like ice water.

    The forest wasn¡¯t just trapping his body¡ªit was attacking his mind.

    His breath came in ragged gasps as he snapped out of his thoughts. His fists trembled, and his wounds flared, but he hadn¡¯t moved an inch.

    The trees were still the same. The mist still thick. And worst of all...

    The four beasts stood before him, exactly where they had been before he tried to escape.

    His heart pounded. ¡°I never left.¡±

    A cold chill settled in his chest. The trial wasn¡¯t testing his strength, nor his ability to escape. Every time he tried to move forward, he had only been running in circles.

    Which meant...

    ¡°If running isn¡¯t the answer, and fighting isn¡¯t either... what do they want from me?¡±

    Aaryan exhaled shakily, forcing his mind to work. ¡°What is this trial really asking?¡±

    If survival was the goal, he would have passed already. If it was about combat, he would have had to kill more beasts. But the moment one fell, another appeared.

    The trial wasn¡¯t about fighting or running. Then what?

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze flickered back to the creatures. They weren¡¯t attacking. They were waiting. For what?

    His grip tightened around his spear as a dangerous thought took root.

    ¡°What if it¡¯s not what it looks like? I¡¯ve been treating this like something I need to beat, but... What if I don¡¯t have to fight at all? What if the answer... is to surrender?¡±

    ¡°But if I¡¯m wrong, I¡¯ll die.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s jaw clenched. Then he took a step forward.

    The beasts reacted instantly. Their yellow eyes flashed, and they snarled, lowering into attack positions.

    Aaryan¡¯s hands trembled, but he didn¡¯t raise his weapon.

    He took another step. Then another.

    The beasts lunged.

    Claws tore through the air. Aaryan shut his eyes.

    Pain never came.

    <hr>

    A sudden pull, as if his entire being was being yanked from existence¡ª

    A rush of cold wind slammed into him¡ª

    Then¡ª

    Aaryan gasped. His vision blurred. He was back.

    His breath came in uneven gasps. His body ached, but there were no wounds.

    The cold stage beneath his feet. The murmurs of the crowd. The ever-watchful eyes of the elders¡ªall real. No more mist. No more beasts.

    Had he passed? Had he failed?

    Aaryan didn¡¯t know.

    But as he looked down at his trembling hands, something caught his eye. All around him, the astral seeds placed before the contestants were dim, their glow long since faded. But his...

    His seed still shone.

    A faint, pulsing light flickered at its core¡ªthe only one not gone dark.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers twitched. His mind raced. What did this mean?

    Before he could make sense of it, a voice rich with amusement echoed across the stage.

    "Well, well..."

    One of the elders, the old woman with dark tattoos, stepped forward. Her lips curved into a smirk as her gaze swept across the stunned crowd.

    "It seems that only one person has truly passed this test."

    A stunned silence followed.

    Aaryan¡¯s eyes widened. What?

    Gasps rippled through the crowd. Contestants, barely recovering from the trial, snapped their heads toward him. Their faces a mix of disbelief, frustration, and shock.

    "What?!"

    "Only one?"

    "That¡¯s impossible!"

    The murmurs swelled into an uproar.

    The elder raised a hand, silencing them with a single motion.

    "For the rest of you," she said, "your results will be judged based on how long you survived and how many beasts you managed to kill. But as for who truly cleared the trial¡ª"

    Her eyes, filled with some surprise, locked onto Aaryan.

    "You qualify for the Final Round."

    The silence was deafening.

    For a long moment, no one spoke. No one moved.

    Then¡ª

    "WHAT?!"

    A furious cry broke the silence.

    The contestants erupted. Some stared at Aaryan in confusion, others in outrage. The noble-born youths who had scoffed at him earlier looked as though they''d been slapped.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t he get 0 in previous round.¡±

    Even the elders showed flickers of surprise.

    Yet, amidst the chaos, the First Elder remained silent.

    His silver eyes were locked onto Aaryan, unblinking. His expression was a mask, but deep within, a thought stirred.

    "How... intriguing."

    He walked the same path as the others, yet reached a different end.

    The trial was meant to test resolve, survival, and instinct. It wasn¡¯t meant to be cleared. And yet, this boy had done so.

    The First Elder¡¯s fingers curled slightly in his robe.

    "No affinity... yet this result? Either he¡¯s a mistake... or something much more dangerous."

    His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he finally closed his eyes.

    "Let¡¯s see what fate has in store for you, boy."

 Chapter 16. No Name, No Privilege, No Fear

    Silence.

    For a long moment, the crowd remained frozen, as if unable to process what they had just heard.

    "He passed?"

    "That... that boy?"

    "How is that possible?"

    The murmurs started low, uncertain, before swelling into a cacophony of disbelief, envy, and reluctant awe. Some leaned forward as if their eyes had deceived them, while others shook their heads, unwilling to accept the result.

    "This must be a mistake!" someone muttered, their voice sharp with irritation.

    "A mistake? You saw it yourself. His Astral Seed was the only one still glowing," another countered, eyes flickering with suspicion.

    "Maybe there''s something special about him."

    "Special? Hah! He must have cheated somehow!"

    Aaryan barely heard them. His mind was still catching up with reality. His fingers curled and uncurled as he glanced down at his still-glowing Astral Seed, its faint pulse syncing with his racing heartbeat.

    He had passed.

    His breath was steady, but inside, his thoughts churned. The beasts, the endless cycle, the crushing despair¡ªit had all been real. And yet, the moment he had let go, it had ended.

    "Surrendering... was the right choice?"

    He didn¡¯t know what the trial had truly tested, but the result was undeniable. He had succeeded where every other contestant had failed. But was it really victory, or had he simply stumbled upon the answer by chance?

    Before he could dwell on it further, the Fourth Elder¡¯s voice rang out, cutting through the lingering unrest.

    "Aaryan," she called, her eyes glinting with curiosity before she moved on. "Varun, Devika, Ren, Yash, Lina, Ankur, Suraj, Jia, and Ishaan."

    A hushed murmur spread through the audience as the names were spoken. These were the ten experimental disciples.

    Aaryan lifted his head, his gaze flicking toward the other eight. Most were from wealthy families, their fine robes and well-fed statures marking them as sons and daughters of nobility. Their expressions ranged from pride to cold calculation, eyes darting across the others as if already measuring their competition.

    Among them were three familiar faces¡ªtwo boys and a girl who had stood close to Varun earlier.

    As Aaryan analyzed the other contestants, the others were doing the same.

    Suddenly, Varun''s voice cut through the noise.

    "What a joke."

    Aaryan turned just as Varun strode forward, his sneer sharper than ever, golden eyes brimming with condescension.

    "They took my name after yours?" He scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "This is laughable."

    He took a deliberate step toward Aaryan, lowering his voice just enough that only a handful could hear¡ªbut making sure Aaryan did.

    "Do you really think you won? You passed because I wasn¡¯t there." His golden eyes, sharp with arrogance, locked onto Aaryan. "Tch. You got lucky, nothing more. If I had participated in that joke of a trial, you wouldn¡¯t have had the chance to stand on the same stage as me."

    Aaryan met his gaze, expression unreadable.

    "Lucky?"

    "That¡¯s what they¡¯re all thinking, isn¡¯t it? That I won because of luck¡ªa fluke."

    For some reason, the word irritated him more than it should have.

    But he didn''t respond.

    What was the point?

    Come to the central stage," the First Elder instructed, his silver gaze sweeping over the ten of them. "These are the experimental disciples. From among them, only two will become outer disciples of the Evernight Pavilion."

    The square erupted into discussion.

    "So it''s not over?"

    "Of course not! The real test begins now. Just because they¡¯re chosen doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯ll remain."

    "Only two will make it... which means the real competition is just starting."

    Aaryan exhaled slowly.

    Only two.

    His fingers curled at his sides. He had fought so hard just to be recognized, just to get this far. But recognition wasn¡¯t enough. If he failed now, he would still be cast aside.

    As he took his first step toward the central stage, he could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on him¡ªsome resentful, some intrigued, some dismissive. It didn¡¯t matter.

    He was here.

    The ten contestants stepped onto the central stage, their expressions ranging from tense determination to thinly veiled arrogance. The crowd had not yet settled; whispers still rippled through them like waves, many still fixated on Aaryan.

    "I still can''t believe it. That kid made it here?"

    "And look who he''s standing next to¡ªalmost all nobles. You think someone like him can stand a chance?"

    Aaryan remained quiet, his gaze scanning the other contestants. Most were from influential families, their fine robes and confident stances making that clear.

    He was the outlier here, but he was no stranger to standing alone.

    Before any more words could be exchanged, one of the elders raised his hand.

    A flicker of light appeared above his palm before it expanded, forming a glowing orb, pulsing with shifting colors. It hovered in front of the contestants, illuminating their faces with an eerie glow.

    "The final round," the elder¡¯s voice rang out, "is combat."

    The murmurs in the crowd exploded into full-blown chatter.

    "Of course! This is how it should be!"

    "No more tests of the mind¡ªjust strength! Let¡¯s see who actually deserves to be here."

    The elder let the noise settle before he continued.

    "Defeat your opponent, and you will have a chance to become an outer disciple. Lose, and you remain an experimental disciple. That is the rule."

    His gaze swept over the contestants, ensuring they all understood the weight of his words.

    Then, he gestured toward the glowing orb.

    "Within this orb are numbered tokens¡ªone to five, in two different colors. Each of you will take one. The contestants who draw the same number but different colors will be paired as opponents."

    The orb shimmered, and the contestants exchanged glances before stepping forward, one by one.

    Varun reached out first, grabbing a token effortlessly. A smirk tugged at his lips as if he already considered himself victorious.

    One by one, the others followed.

    Aaryan hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping forward. He reached into the glowing sphere, feeling an invisible pull guiding his hand.

    His fingers closed around a token.

    Number 3.

    He glanced around. Who had drawn the other 3?

    Before he could find out, the elder¡¯s voice rang out again.

    "Contestants with number 1, remain on the stage. The rest of you, step back."

    Two figures stayed behind.

    One was Varun. The other was a noble youth, a young man dressed in elegant robes embroidered with silver thread. His stance was poised but rigid, his face struggling to mask his unease.

    A masked disciple stepped onto the stage¡ªthe referee. His mere presence silenced the crowd.

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    "Begin."

    The noble barely had time to react.

    Varun moved like a phantom. One second, he stood tall, unconcerned. The next, his foot dug into the stone, and he vanished¡ªor at least, that¡¯s how it seemed.

    The noble barely managed to bring up his guard before a palm strike slammed into his chest, sending him skidding backward. His breath hitched as he struggled to regain his balance, but Varun didn¡¯t give him the chance.

    In a blur, Varun closed the distance, spinning mid-step and driving a precise kick into his opponent¡¯s ribs. The force sent the noble tumbling across the stage, coughing violently.

    It was over.

    Varun hadn¡¯t even broken a sweat.

    "Winner¡ªVarun," the masked disciple announced, stepping forward as the noble groaned in defeat.

    Varun tossed his hair back, smirking.

    "Was that all?" he scoffed, stepping off the stage without sparing his opponent another glance. His eyes lingered on Aaryan.

    Aaryan said nothing, but he met Varun¡¯s gaze without flinching.

    The second match began.

    A girl and a boy stepped forward.

    The boy barely lasted a second before he bowed deeply.

    "Elder Sister Devika," he said quickly, glancing toward Varun. "I am no match for you. There is no need for us to fight."

    The crowd erupted.

    "What?! Is he admitting defeat already?!"

    "Tch. Just another bootlicker trying to earn favor with Varun¡¯s group."

    "Pathetic. Some people would rather submit than fight."

    Devika merely smiled, stepping off the stage without a word.

    The elder sighed. "Winner¡ªDevika."

    Aaryan exhaled slowly.

    He wasn¡¯t surprised. This was the way of the powerful. Some didn¡¯t need to fight¡ªthey won before the battle even started.

    Pushing these thoughts aside, Aaryan made his way onto the stage.

    His opponent, a tall, burly young man, was already there. He looked like a sword ready to be drawn from its sheath.

    "Ren? Isn¡¯t he the son of General Adhir?"

    "He¡¯s no pushover. I heard his father trained him since he could walk."

    Ren stood tall, his stance solid¡ªthe stance of a trained warrior. His every movement carried precision, honed through years of disciplined training under his father, a renowned general.

    Aaryan, by contrast, stood with a relaxed posture, his eyes locked onto Ren¡¯s every breath, every shift of muscle.

    "Why is he just standing there?"

    "Does he even know how to fight?"

    Ren wasted no time.

    With a sharp exhale, he lunged.

    His first attack was a rapid step-in¡ªa straight punch aimed at Aaryan¡¯s center. It came fast, backed by explosive strength.

    Aaryan shifted to the side, the punch barely grazing past him.

    Ren didn¡¯t stop.

    He spun with the force of his missed attack, his foot rising in a brutal roundhouse kick.

    Aaryan ducked. The kick swept over his head, missing by a hair.

    Then came a barrage¡ªfists, elbows, and kicks. A storm of blows rained down, relentless and unyielding.

    Aaryan dodged. Every time.

    Not a single attack landed.

    But to the crowd¡ªhe looked miserable.

    "He¡¯s just running away!"

    "Pathetic! He isn¡¯t even trying to fight back!"

    "Ren is overwhelming him completely!"

    Varun scoffed from the sidelines. "Tch. I knew it. He¡¯s just a rat, scurrying around, hoping to get lucky again."

    Yet, amidst the jeers, the elders watched in silence.

    The Third Elder¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Ren is strong. Proper form, proper execution. His attacks flow smoothly from one into the next. A well-trained warrior."

    The Second Elder, arms crossed, let out a low hum. "But Aaryan¡­ his movements are... odd, to say the least."

    The Fourth Elder, the old woman with dark tattoos, grinned. "He¡¯s playing with him."

    The First Elder, who had kept his eyes closed, finally opened them.

    "No training. Just instinct."

    The others turned to him.

    "Instinct?" the Third Elder murmured.

    The First Elder¡¯s silver gaze locked onto the fight. "Yes. He moves like a beast that has hunted all its life. Watch closely. It looks like he¡¯s being cornered, but¡­ he¡¯s in complete control."

    Just as the words left his lips¡ª

    Aaryan¡¯s expression shifted.

    For the first time, he moved forward.

    Ren threw a heavy punch¡ªAaryan sidestepped, barely moving his feet.

    Aaryan slid in close.

    A knee¡ªburied deep into Ren¡¯s ribs.

    The impact cracked through the air.

    Ren staggered. His stance wavered.

    The crowd fell silent.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t let him recover.

    Like a shadow, he was already moving.

    A sharp elbow¡ªslammed into Ren¡¯s shoulder.

    A twist¡ªa palm strike to his sternum.

    Ren stumbled back, eyes widening.

    What?

    Why was he suddenly getting hit?

    Aaryan¡¯s feet barely touched the ground as he glided forward. A flurry of precise, devastating strikes followed.

    A kick to the leg¡ªRen¡¯s balance broke.

    A punch to the jaw¡ªhis head snapped back.

    A final, brutal palm strike to the chest¡ªRen was lifted off his feet and sent crashing onto the stage.

    Silence.

    Aaryan exhaled. His stance relaxed.

    Ren didn¡¯t get back up.

    The referee stepped forward. "Winner¡ªAaryan."

    The crowd was stunned.

    "H-he was losing just a moment ago!"

    "No. No, This¡­This¡­..."

    "That seemed almost too easy for him... was he just dodging for fun earlier?"

    The elders exchanged glances.

    The Fourth Elder chuckled. "Instinct, was it?"

    The First Elder¡¯s gaze lingered on Aaryan.

    "Yes. And it''s terrifying."

    The atmosphere remained charged as the remaining five contestants stood in a line. The Elder waved his hand, and once again, a glowing orb floated before them. Inside, three types of tokens shimmered¡ªtwo with Number 1, two with Number 2, and a single blank token.

    The First Elder spoke, his voice even. ¡°Each of you will take one token. Those with matching numbers will fight. The one who draws the blank... gets a free pass to the final round.¡±

    Aaryan reached out, his fingers brushing against the cool surface of the glowing orb before plucking out a token.

    Number 2.

    He glanced around.

    Varun held Number 1, smirking. A commoner boy beside him, thin but determined, held the other Number 1¡ªhis opponent.

    Devika held Number 2.

    And the last contestant, a noble named Yash, turned his token with a victorious grin. Blank.

    He had a free pass.

    The crowd buzzed with conversation.

    "Lucky bastard!"

    "That means the rest have to fight even harder."

    The First Elder nodded. "Let the next match begin. Number 1¡ªstep forward."

    Varun strode onto the stage, his movements casual, arrogant. His opponent, the commoner, took a steady breath, fists tightening. He knew he was outmatched, but he wouldn¡¯t go down without a fight.

    The moment the referee signaled the start¡ªVarun exploded forward.

    The crowd barely saw the first hit.

    A brutal knee to the gut crushed the commoner¡¯s breath from his lungs. He staggered, coughing violently, but Varun didn¡¯t stop.

    A savage punch¡ªstraight to the ribs.

    A sharp crack echoed.

    A desperate step back¡ªbut Varun was faster.

    He grabbed the commoner¡¯s shoulder, slammed his elbow into his jaw, and then kicked him across the stage.

    The boy crashed onto the stone, blood dripping from his mouth.

    Varun didn¡¯t look at him. He turned to the crowd instead, arms crossed, his eyes filled with pure disdain.

    "Hmph. Weak."

    There was no mercy. No restraint.

    He had toyed with his first opponent. But this? This was meant to send a message.

    The commoner groaned, struggling to push himself up.

    Varun scoffed. ¡°Stay down. You¡¯re embarrassing yourself.¡±

    The referee sighed, stepping forward. "Winner¡ªVarun."

    The audience barely reacted.

    "The commoner was too weak."

    "What did he expect, going up against someone like Varun?"

    "Pathetic. He should''ve forfeited."

    No one cared about the brutality. No one questioned it.

    Aaryan¡¯s fists curled at his sides.

    As Varun strode off the stage, basking in his easy victory, Aaryan moved¡ªtoward the fallen commoner.

    The boy flinched as Aaryan knelt beside him. His breathing was ragged, pain evident in his face.

    Aaryan extended a hand. "Here."

    The boy hesitated for a second before grasping it. Aaryan pulled him up effortlessly, steadying him when he swayed.

    A few people in the crowd muttered at the sight, some scoffing, others simply uninterested.

    The boy looked away, his jaw clenched. "I was weak."

    Aaryan studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "No. You stepped onto that stage knowing you would lose and still fought anyway." He paused. "That isn¡¯t weakness."

    The boy¡¯s shoulders tensed. "Then why is everyone laughing?"

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze swept across the crowd. Some still whispered, others looked amused. It was always the same¡ªthey only respected those who won.

    He could have blamed a lack of resources for people like them, but that would only serve as an excuse in the future for the young man standing before him.

    He looked back at the boy, his usual calm smile in place. "Because they only see what they want to see."

    The boy blinked, caught off guard.

    Aaryan¡¯s voice was quieter, but firm. "You didn¡¯t lose because you were weak. You lost because your opponent was stronger. That¡¯s not something to be ashamed of."

    For a long moment, the boy said nothing. Then, finally, he nodded.

    Aaryan gave a small nod in return before stepping back toward the lineup.

    As he moved, he could feel Varun¡¯s gaze on him.

    Mocking. Amused.

    But Aaryan didn¡¯t care.

    Varun stepped off the stage, his gaze sliding toward Aaryan. A slow, taunting smirk.

    The referee turned to the remaining two fighters. "Number 2¡ªstep forward."

    Aaryan exhaled, stepping onto the stage.

    Devika followed, her lips curved into an alluring smile.

    Before the match could start, Varun¡¯s taunting voice rang out again.

    "Aaryan," he called smoothly, folding his arms. "I hope you''re enjoying this moment. After all, it''s not every day a beggar stands where nobles should be."

    The crowd chuckled, some nodding along.

    Varun smirked, his gaze sharp. "Tell you what, since you have no chance of winning, why don''t you kneel and beg Devika for mercy now? Maybe she''ll let you walk away with some dignity."

    The audience erupted into laughter.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers twitched.

    Devika let out a soft laugh, stepping closer.

    "Oh my¡­ becoming an outer disciple must be very important to you."

    She tilted her head, her voice a sweet purr. "But wouldn¡¯t it be better to make¡­ friends? A lowborn like you could use someone like me."

    She took a step closer, her gaze predatory.

    "What do you say, Aaryan?"

    Aaryan said nothing.

    Devika¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. She had expected him to react. To blush, to hesitate.

    He didn¡¯t.

    She sighed dramatically. "Very well. But don¡¯t blame me for what happens next."

    The referee raised his hand. "Begin!"

    Devika moved first.

    She dashed forward, her speed impressive.

    Her fingers curled as she prepared to strike¡ªaiming straight for Aaryan¡¯s throat.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t move.

    Not an inch.

    The crowd held its breath.

    ¡°You lowlife, I will kill you right h¡ª¡±

    Devika¡¯s attack was inches away¡ª

    But before she could complete either the attack or the threat, Aaryan vanished.

    A sudden gust of wind. A blur of motion.

    Before anyone could register what had happened¡ª

    Aaryan was already behind her.

    His strike landed.

    Devika¡¯s body stiffened, her eyes widening in shock¡ªbefore she collapsed onto the stage, unconscious.

    Silence.

    The crowd stared.

    Even the nobles, who had scoffed moments ago, couldn¡¯t hide their astonishment.

    The referee stepped forward after a stunned pause.

    "Winner¡ªAaryan!"

 Chapter 17 : The Battle That Never Was

    Aaryan turned away from Devika¡¯s unconscious form and stepped off the stage.

    Silence clung to the air like a thick fog, the once-boisterous crowd frozen in disbelief.

    The nobles who had scoffed at him moments ago now watched with wide eyes, their smug expressions replaced with uncertainty.

    "He... he won in a single move?" someone finally whispered.

    "That speed... I didn¡¯t even see him move!"

    The murmurs quickly swelled into an uproar.

    "What level of Anima stage is he?"

    "He must be at least Third Stage! Maybe even Fourth!"

    "Nonsense!" another voice snapped. "He¡¯s just a commoner! How could he possibly have advanced that far?"

    "If he¡¯s not at that level, then how did he do that?"

    While the nobles scrambled for an explanation, another section of the crowd¡ªone often drowned out by the arrogant voices of the elite¡ªbegan murmuring as well.

    "I knew it," a lean young man said, gripping his friend¡¯s shoulder. "I told you he wasn¡¯t normal! That wasn¡¯t luck¡ªthat was skill!"

    "Right?" another agreed, his voice hushed yet excited. "He moved like a ghost. If you blinked, you missed it!"

    "Maybe¡­ just maybe, someone like us can stand against them," a young woman whispered, watching Aaryan with cautious hope.

    Not all commoners spoke up. Many knew better than to openly defy the nobility, but even among them, quiet admiration flickered like embers waiting to catch fire.

    One older man shook his head, rubbing his chin. "That boy fights like someone who¡¯s been in real battles. Not those controlled duels nobles play."

    Meanwhile, not every noble was so quick to dismiss Aaryan¡¯s victory.

    A few younger nobles remained quiet, their gazes lingering on Aaryan, deep in thought. They had watched Devika fight before¡ªher techniques were sharp, her strength undeniable.

    And yet, Aaryan had ended it in an instant.

    A noble youth in dark blue robes muttered, "If he¡¯s just lucky, then why did Devika lose in one strike?"His companion, after a moment of hesitation, nodded. "There¡¯s more to him than we thought."

    Others, however, scoffed and turned their noses up.

    "Hmph. Even if he¡¯s strong, he¡¯s still beneath us."

    But the hesitation had been there.

    On the elders¡¯ platform, the Fourth Elder tapped her fingers against the wooden railing, her ink-dark tattoos pulsing faintly with energy. Her sharp gaze never left Aaryan¡¯s retreating form.

    "He doesn¡¯t seem to have even broken through to the First Stage of Anima," she murmured, her voice laced with intrigue.

    The Third Elder frowned. "That¡¯s impossible. Even someone at the 2nd level wouldn¡¯t be able to generate such force."

    The Second Elder, arms crossed, let out a low chuckle. "You¡¯re assuming he fights like a regular cultivator."

    The Fourth Elder¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. "Then what is he fighting like?"

    The First Elder finally opened his silver eyes, observing Aaryan closely as he walked past the defeated contestants without a hint of arrogance or pride.

    "Like someone who has survived battles that should have killed him," he said, his voice calm yet carrying a weight that silenced the other elders.

    For a long moment, none of them spoke.

    Then, the Fourth Elder exhaled, shaking her head. "If he¡¯s truly still at the Mortal stage... then this boy has far more potential than we thought."

    Down below, Aaryan reached the contestant lineup, his expression unreadable. The others unconsciously shifted, making room for him.

    Varun¡¯s golden eyes burned with something unreadable¡ªdisdain, irritation... perhaps even the first flickers of unease.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t acknowledge him.

    He had no need to.

    Because the weight of the moment spoke for itself.

    The arena buzzed with voices, the stunned silence finally breaking into heated discussion.

    "She lost? Just like that?"

    "How can this be? Devika is at the Second Stage of Anima! That strike shouldn¡¯t have been enough to take her out!"

    "I told you¡ªthere''s something off about him. That wasn¡¯t normal strength."

    "He got lucky. That¡¯s the only explanation."

    "Lucky?" someone scoffed. "Then why hasn¡¯t anyone else been that lucky?"

    Among the noble spectators, scornful laughter rippled through the air.

    But in the crowd¡¯s lower sections, where the common folk stood, the whispers of admiration grew louder.

    "He didn¡¯t just win. He crushed her!"

    "This is the first time I¡¯ve seen a noble lose so utterly. Maybe¡­ maybe the sect isn¡¯t just for them."

    A noble scoffs at Aaryan, and a commoner retorts, "If he¡¯s so weak, then why did Devika lose in one hit?"

    "Shhh!" a woman warned. "You want to get us in trouble?"

    Still, a few braver souls couldn¡¯t hold back.

    A younger boy, no older than twelve, clenched his fists and grinned. "That was amazing!" he blurted out. "Brother Aaryan, you¡¯re the best!"

    Heads snapped toward him, but instead of shrinking back, the boy stood taller. His father sighed in exasperation, ruffling his hair before turning back toward the stage.

    "It¡¯s been a long time since someone gave these nobles a real reason to be afraid," the man murmured.

    But not everyone saw it that way.

    As debates raged, members of Varun¡¯s group rushed onto the stage, lifting Devika''s unconscious body.

    One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered noble, cast a dark glare at Aaryan.

    "You think this is over?" he muttered, his voice low and sharp. "Watch yourself, beggar. You won¡¯t always get lucky."

    Another noble, a girl with cold, calculating eyes, sneered. "Enjoy your little victory. You won¡¯t get another."

    Aaryan said nothing.

    Words meant nothing to him.

    But Varun?

    Varun chuckled, stepping forward with his usual easy arrogance, yet his golden eyes gleamed with something colder.

    "Impressive," he said, his tone deceptively light. "But if you make it to the final round¡­ I¡¯ll take care of you myself."

    He smiled, but there was no humor in it. Only promise.

    Before Aaryan could respond, one of the elders stepped onto the stage, raising his hand. A glowing orb appeared before him, swirling with flickering energy.

    "There are three tokens within," the elder announced. "Two with matching numbers. One blank."

    The crowd leaned forward, watching intently as the three remaining contestants stepped up.

    Varun was the first to take a token. He turned it over, and his smirk widened. Number 1.

    Yash followed, drawing his own. Number 1.

    Aaryan reached in last, pulling out the final token. Blank.

    For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then¡ª

    "Lucky again?" someone muttered.

    A ripple of mocking laughter spread through the noble spectators.

    "Hah! So this is how he¡¯s getting by?"

    "Luck can only take him so far."

    "He¡¯s just running from real fights!"

    But this time, their laughter was not the only reaction.

    "He¡¯s already proven himself," a commoner woman muttered, shaking her head. "Do they really think his win against Devika was luck?"

    "Exactly," a man beside her agreed. "They just don¡¯t want to admit it. If a commoner beats a noble, then what does that say about them?"

    The nobility¡¯s scorn continued, but for the first time, voices in the crowd weren¡¯t just mocking Aaryan.

    Some were beginning to believe in him.

    Varun let out a low chuckle. "Seems even the heavens wants me to end you in the final."

    Before the taunts could grow louder, the elder¡¯s voice cut through them like a blade.

    "Enough."

    The crowd fell silent.

    The elder¡¯s gaze swept over them, unreadable. "Luck¡­ is also a form of power. All of you here are lucky. Born into wealth, into noble families. Do you think that was by your own strength?"

    A hush fell over the younger nobles. Some averted their eyes. Others scowled, unwilling to acknowledge the truth.

    The elder¡¯s lips curved into a slight, knowing smile. "Had fate been different¡­ who knows where you would be?"

    The weight of his words settled over the crowd, but Varun only scoffed.

    "Spare me the lecture," he muttered, stepping onto the stage. "Let¡¯s get this over with."

    Yash followed, cracking his knuckles as he faced Varun.

    The referee raised his hand. "Begin!"

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    The fight started evenly.

    Yash was quick, his footwork sharp. He dodged Varun¡¯s first few attacks, countering with well-placed strikes.

    Then¡ªhe landed a clean punch to Varun¡¯s jaw.

    The crowd gasped.

    A flash of surprise crossed Varun¡¯s face.

    Then his expression darkened.

    In a blur, he attacked with vicious precision.

    A knee to the stomach.

    An elbow to the ribs.

    A devastating palm strike that sent Yash reeling.

    But Varun didn¡¯t stop.

    A brutal kick knocked Yash to the ground. Then another. And another.

    The referee moved immediately, stepping between them.

    "Enough!"

    Varun didn¡¯t move at first. His eyes locked onto Aaryan, his breath steady despite his anger.

    Then, slowly, he stepped back.

    "Winner¡ªVarun!" the referee declared.

    Varun turned, his golden gaze settling on Aaryan.

    It wasn¡¯t just a look. It was a warning. A challenge. A promise.

    The crowd noticed and erupted with a clamour.

    The moment the referee declared Varun the winner, murmurs spread like wildfire.

    "He¡¯s already looking at Aaryan."

    "Of course. That¡¯s his real target."

    "Does he think Aaryan will even make it past him?"

    "After all that luck? I doubt it."

    While some helped Yash off the stage, his face twisted in pain, most eyes remained locked onto Varun and Aaryan.

    A select few, mostly disciples from noble families, scoffed at Yash¡¯s defeat. "Tch, he actually landed a hit and still lost miserably."

    But the elders ignored the commotion, their expressions unreadable as they stepped onto the stage.

    Their mere presence silenced the entire crowd.

    Aaryan inhaled sharply as he was called forward.

    As he stepped onto the stage, Varun¡¯s stare never wavered¡ªa sharp, unblinking pressure that Aaryan could feel even without looking directly at him.

    The First Elder studied both of them, his silver eyes calm but piercing.

    "Congratulations," he finally said, his voice carrying across the silent arena. "You have both overcome every challenge and proved yourselves."

    A beat of silence.

    Then¡ª

    The crowd erupted.

    As expected, cheers filled the air for Varun.

    "The rightful winner!"

    "As expected of the son of the City Lord!"

    "This was inevitable!"

    But for Aaryan?

    Jealousy.

    Mockery.

    Disdain.

    "Overcome? Him?"

    "He only won through sheer luck."

    "He shouldn¡¯t be standing there."

    "If he faces Varun, his luck will finally run out."

    They couldn¡¯t openly speak against Varun¡ªnot with his powerful background¡ªbut Aaryan was different.

    Weakness, in their eyes, was an unforgivable sin.

    For the first time, Aaryan had felt something close to happiness when the elders congratulated him.

    But as the crowd¡¯s reaction washed over him, that feeling soured.

    No.

    He still wasn¡¯t powerful enough.

    If he were strong, they wouldn¡¯t be mocking him.

    If he were strong, they wouldn¡¯t dare to look down on him.

    The elder¡¯s voice cut through the noise once more.

    "The final round will begin shortly."

    Aaryan¡¯s thoughts swirled, his mind replaying the trial, the battles, the faces of those who still dismissed him as nothing.

    Then¡ªa thought struck him.

    He exhaled, lowering his head in a respectful bow.

    "Elders," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Before the final round begins¡­ may I ask you to clear some of my doubts?"

    The crowd stilled.

    Even Varun¡¯s expression flickered¡ªjust slightly.

    For a moment, silence reigned.

    The elders exchanged glances, their surprise evident.

    In their presence, even the strongest cultivators tread carefully. Many of the most powerful figures in the empire would have their confidence shaken, their words measured, their thoughts cautious.

    Yet, Aaryan stood there¡ªcalm, composed¡­ and asking a question.

    The crowd didn¡¯t know how to react at first. The tension in the air was thick, their murmurs hushed.

    Then, the mockery returned.

    "What could a nobody like him possibly have to ask the elders?"

    "He should be grateful he even made it this far!"

    Aaryan remained unmoved.

    The First Elder finally responded, his silver gaze unreadable. "Speak. What is it you wish to ask?"

    Aaryan¡¯s voice was steady. "What is the benefit of winning the final round?"

    The arena froze.

    Then¡ªchaos.

    The mockery exploded.

    "HAH! Did he just ask what the benefit of winning is?!"

    "He actually thinks he has a chance?"

    "Maybe all that luck has gone to his head!"

    Even Varun let out a scoff, arms crossed. But with the elders present, he refrained from speaking.

    The elders, however, didn¡¯t react as the crowd expected.

    Instead of dismissing him, they studied him more closely.

    Even now, with the entire arena mocking him, his clarity of thought remained unshaken.

    The Fourth Elder was the first to respond, her gaze sharp but amused. "Naturally, the winner will be the champion of this selection. It is a prestigious title."

    Aaryan nodded slightly, thinking over her words. Then, after a pause, he spoke again.

    "Is there anything else?"

    The mood shifted.

    The other elders'' expressions darkened slightly¡ªnot in anger, but curiosity.

    One of them¡ªhis voice laced with a touch of sternness¡ªspoke. "Are you¡­ looking down on the title given by the Evernight Sect?"

    The crowd went silent.

    But Aaryan didn¡¯t falter.

    His expression remained calm as he met their gazes.

    "I am not looking down on the title," he said evenly. "But if participation in the final round is not mandatory, and if it is only a title¡­ then I will not participate."

    Dead silence.

    For the first time, even the mockery stopped.

    Even Varun¡¯s smirk vanished.

    No one¡­ had expected this.

    At first¡ªsilence.

    Then¡ªchaos.

    The arena erupted as if Aaryan had committed blasphemy.

    "He doesn¡¯t want to fight because he knows Varun will crush him!"

    "After all that, he¡¯s just a coward!"

    The jeers grew louder, blending into a storm of ridicule. The crowd laughed, mocked, and pointed, their voices full of scorn.

    Even some nobles sneered. "Tch, what a waste of an outer disciple spot."

    The elders remained silent.

    But it wasn¡¯t because they were indifferent¡ªthey were shocked.

    They had expected many things from this boy¡ªbut not this.

    Their gazes sharpened as they turned to him, their thoughts shifting rapidly.

    Then, without speaking, they began discussing¡ªdirectly into each other¡¯s minds.

    "This boy¡­ what is he thinking?"

    "Don¡¯t tell me he¡¯s truly afraid?" one elder questioned, skepticism in his voice.

    Another¡¯s response was immediate. "No¡­ it doesn¡¯t feel like fear. There¡¯s something else."

    A third elder mused, "Most people in his place would fight just to prove themselves. Yet, he simply¡­ does not care. Why?"

    A brief pause.

    Then¡ªthe First Elder finally spoke, his mental voice carrying absolute certainty.

    "He is not afraid. Nor is he avoiding it."

    The other elders listened closely.

    "He simply believes a mere title isn¡¯t enough for him to fight."

    The discussion stilled.

    The First Elder continued, his voice steady.

    "Fighting is always dangerous. Even if he isn¡¯t afraid, he does not see the point in an unnecessary battle."

    "He doesn¡¯t care what the crowd says. Or¡­ perhaps he does, but he knows that even if he wins, it won¡¯t change their opinions of him."

    "It is hard to say what he truly thinks, but one thing is clear¡ªthis boy is interesting."

    The other elders fell into contemplation.

    Then, breaking the silence, the First Elder finally spoke aloud, his voice carrying over the entire arena.

    "If you do not wish to fight, you may forfeit. But remember¡­" His silver gaze bore into Aaryan.

    "People might think you are avoiding the fight."

    Aaryan remained unshaken.

    The crowd watched eagerly, waiting for him to crack.

    Aaryan knew what they would say. He knew how they would mock him. But in the end, their words meant nothing. Power did not come from their approval¡ªit came from something far greater. Something he had yet to reach.

    Instead, he spoke calmly.

    "People will always think something," he said. "But I will only fight when I believe it is worth it. I will not fight for others¡¯ amusement."

    The elders¡¯ curiosity deepened.

    They had seen prideful warriors, power-hungry nobles, reckless fools, and desperate dreamers.

    But Aaryan?

    He was none of those things.

    And that¡­ made him even more intriguing.

    ¡°You say that you don¡¯t look down on the title given by the sect itself but your actions show the opposite¡± second elder tried to put some more pressure.

    Aaryan remain silent. Nothing on his face.

    "Are you rejecting the title because you think yourself above it, or do you believe you¡¯ve already gained what you needed?" Third elder chipped in , adding more pressure to see if Aaryan crumbles.

    Aaryan met the Third Elder¡¯s gaze, his expression unreadable. The murmurs in the crowd had not yet died down, but he remained unaffected, his voice steady as he responded.

    "I do not think myself above the title," he said, his tone neither defensive nor apologetic. "But I do not seek a title for the sake of having one. If it came with something that could aid my path forward, I would fight for it. But if it is only recognition, then I have no use for it."

    He paused, letting his words settle. Then, his gaze swept over the gathered nobles, the envious stares, the mocking smirks. "No title will change how they see me," he continued, his voice quieter but no less certain. "And I do not fight to prove myself to those who have already decided what I am."

    His eyes returned to the elders. "I fight when it is necessary. I fight when it matters. This¡ª" he glanced at Varun, then back at the Third Elder, "¡ªis neither."

    As the First Elder observed Aaryan with an unreadable expression, the Fourth Elder¡¯s sharp gaze flickered toward him.

    For years, she had known him to be indifferent to most disciples, even the most talented ones. He evaluated them, guided them when needed, but never lingered. And yet¡ªhe had watched Aaryan.

    Interesting.

    She tilted her head slightly, her ink-dark tattoos pulsing faintly.

    The other elders saw a boy rejecting the final match, a disciple with an unorthodox mindset. But the First Elder?

    He sees something else.

    Her lips curved just slightly, a knowing glint in her eyes.

    Aaryan had drawn the attention of the one man in this sect whose interest truly mattered.

    And that?

    That was far more dangerous than any title.

    Her voice rang out, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "Aaryan, what is your final decision?"

    Before Aaryan could respond, Varun stepped forward, his golden eyes gleaming with contempt. His smirk was confident, but something in his gaze was colder than before.

    Tch. I should¡¯ve known.

    He scoffed, taking another step closer, his voice dripping with ridicule. "You talk big, but in the end, you¡¯re just a spineless coward."

    His words were meant to provoke, to humiliate. But deep inside, Varun wasn¡¯t satisfied.

    This doesn¡¯t make sense.

    He had seen lucky people before¡ªnobodies who stumbled into victories they didn¡¯t deserve. But luck could only take someone so far. It couldn¡¯t explain everything.

    Not how he dodged Ren¡¯s attacks without effort.Not how he defeated Devika in a single strike.Not how he never once lost control.

    And now¡­ he¡¯s forfeiting?

    Varun¡¯s fingers twitched slightly at his side, his nails digging into his palm.

    Is he really afraid? No¡­ that doesn¡¯t feel right.

    Aaryan was calm. Too calm. He wasn¡¯t making excuses, wasn¡¯t trying to salvage his reputation.

    Then why?

    Why walk away from the final battle after coming this far?

    For the first time, an unsettling thought crept into Varun¡¯s mind¡ªWhat if Aaryan truly believed fighting him wasn¡¯t worth it?

    That possibility made something burn inside him.

    No. That¡¯s impossible. He¡¯s just putting on an act. He has to be.

    Varun let out a chuckle, masking the sharp edge of irritation creeping into his thoughts.

    "Did you finally realize your luck has run out?" he taunted. "Or maybe¡ª" he laughed softly, "you just know that stepping into the ring with me would humiliate you beyond repair?"

    But Aaryan only watched him silently, his expression unreadable.

    Then¡ªhe spoke.

    "Don''t worry, Varun." Aaryan¡¯s voice was calm, steady. "I''m sure you''ll get your chance in the future."

    Varun felt something cold coil in his chest¡ªa sharp, biting sensation that he refused to name. His smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he forced it back into place.

    What?

    Aaryan turned to the elders, his voice cutting through the now-silent crowd.

    "I will not participate further. I forfeit."

    The arena erupted.

    Mockery, laughter, outrage¡ªevery possible reaction exploded at once. But Varun barely heard any of it.

    His fingers curled into fists at his sides. His jaw clenched. Forfeit?

    No.

    This didn¡¯t make sense.

    Aaryan had endured everything so far¡ªthe ridicule, the battles, the scorn¡ªand now he was just¡­ walking away?

    After coming this far? After standing at the edge of the final fight?

    Varun''s pulse pounded in his ears. This wasn¡¯t fear.

    He had seen cowards before¡ªfighters who bent under pressure, who made excuses, who clung to whatever dignity they had left by pretending they were too good to fight.

    But Aaryan¡­ he wasn¡¯t making excuses. He wasn¡¯t trying to salvage his reputation. He wasn¡¯t afraid.

    Then why?

    Varun''s golden eyes locked onto Aaryan, searching, dissecting, trying to understand.

    He had assumed that, in the end, Aaryan would reveal his limits. That when backed into a corner, he would fight desperately¡ªjust like all the other commoners who thought they could rise above their station.

    But he wasn¡¯t desperate. He wasn¡¯t even resisting.

    He was simply walking away, as if none of this mattered.

    And that thought burned more than Varun wanted to admit.

    Is that it? Do you think this fight isn¡¯t even worth your time?

    His breathing was steady, but his fists clenched tighter. Damn it.

    For the first time, he wasn¡¯t satisfied.

    He should be enjoying this¡ªshould be laughing, mocking, basking in the fact that Aaryan had bowed out before even facing him.

    And yet¡ª

    The victory felt hollow.

    Because luck didn¡¯t bring him this far.

    So why was he walking away now?

    What is he thinking?

 Chapter 18 : A Path Chosen, A Journey Begins

    The uproar from the crowd rang in Aaryan¡¯s ears, but he remained still. The accusations, the mockery, the disbelief¡ªit was nothing new. Yet, for the first time, something felt different.

    He had expected anger. Frustration. But none came. Instead, there was only indifference¡ªan emptiness that neither jeering nor silence could reach.

    He had chosen this path, and no amount of noise would change that.

    As the chaos spread through the arena, the First Elder¡¯s silver eyes studied him, too measured to be disappointment¡ªperhaps even laced with intrigue. The Fourth Elder, silent until now, finally spoke. ¡°How unusual.¡± Her ink-dark tattoos pulsed faintly, but she said nothing more.

    But Aaryan wasn¡¯t looking at the elders.

    His gaze was locked onto Varun.

    For a moment, neither of them moved. The golden-haired noble¡¯s smirk remained, but something in his eyes flickered¡ªirritation, confusion, something unspoken.

    Aaryan knew why.

    Varun had wanted to crush him, humiliate him, erase all doubt that Aaryan¡¯s victories were anything more than luck. But now? There was nothing left to prove.

    A victory without a fight was the most unsatisfying victory of all.

    Varun¡¯s jaw tightened. He had expected a battle, to carve his superiority into the very foundation of the sect. But now? He had been denied that. His golden eyes gleamed¡ªthis wasn¡¯t over.

    A gust of wind passed through the arena, scattering dust and carrying away the last echoes of the shouting spectators. Then¡ªthe bell tolled.

    It was over.

    The elders gave their final declarations, but just as Aaryan turned to leave, the First Elder raised his hand, silencing the murmuring crowd.

    ¡°All ten selected disciples must gather at the main pavilion in fifteen days. You will then depart for Evernight Pavilion, where your true cultivation journey will begin.¡±

    His voice erased the last remnants of disorder.

    Evernight Pavilion.

    The true starting point of a cultivator¡¯s path.

    Aaryan absorbed the words without reaction, nodding once before descending from the stage.

    The city was still buzzing with talk of the tournament, but Aaryan ignored it. His feet moved on instinct, leading him toward Kalyani¡¯s residence, but his mind was elsewhere.

    The weight of stares followed him¡ªsome amused, some mocking, some confused. A few whispered behind his back.

    "He really just walked away?"

    "Tch, must¡¯ve known Varun would¡¯ve crushed him."

    ¡°Maybe¡­ but then why did Devika fall to him so easily?"

    Aaryan ignored them, but the questions lingered.

    What did he want?

    Strength? Respect? Recognition?

    For so long, he had believed power would earn him respect. That if he became strong enough, people would see him as an equal. But respect given under threat was hollow, and admiration built on fear meant nothing.

    Would they have treated Varun with the same reverence if he had been weak? Would they still respect Devika if she had lost before she built her reputation?

    Did people truly respect others, or did they simply fear consequences?

    His fists tightened.

    If strength alone defined respect, then was it truly respect at all?

    But if not strength¡­ then what was he searching for?

    The uncertainty gnawed at him. The answer remained just out of reach, shifting like mist whenever he thought he had grasped it.

    But one thing was certain.

    He could not afford to remain weak.

    Whatever path he chose, whatever answer he sought¡ªit all meant nothing if he didn¡¯t have the strength to walk it freely.

    And so, for now, he would keep moving forward.

    Until he found his answer.

    <hr>

    The wooden gate creaked softly as Aaryan stepped inside, the familiar scent of medicinal herbs and damp earth greeting him. The house was the same¡ªweathered yet sturdy, a quiet sanctuary away from the suffocating arrogance of nobles and sect disciples.

    Yet, for all the warmth the place carried, his thoughts remained cold.

    Respect. Power. Acceptance.

    Would he ever find an answer? Or was he chasing something that didn¡¯t exist?

    Before he could sink further into his thoughts, a sharp voice cut through the air.

    "Hmph. Took you long enough to come dragging yourself back here," Kalyani¡¯s voice rang out from the porch.

    Aaryan glanced up to see the old woman seated on her usual wooden stool, her keen eyes narrowed at him. The wrinkles on her face deepened as she scrutinized him, her hands busy grinding some herbs in a worn-out mortar.

    She didn¡¯t wait for him to speak. ¡°Judging by that look on your face, I already know. You lost, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Aaryan blinked. ¡°¡­What?¡±

    ¡°Hah. Don¡¯t ¡®what¡¯ me.¡± Kalyani scoffed. ¡°I can see it all over your face. You got crushed, humiliated, and now you¡¯re sulking your way back here, brooding like a half-plucked crow.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s eye twitched. Half-plucked crow?

    Before he could respond, Kalyani continued. ¡°Not surprising. Cultivators are nothing but a bunch of delusional muscle-brained fools who think waving around their fancy techniques makes them superior.¡± She gestured dramatically, as if mimicking a sword strike. ¡°Prancing around like peacocks, screaming about bloodlines and destiny... A bunch of muscle-headed brats who¡¯d get lost in their own shadow if you took away their fancy techniques.¡±

    Aaryan exhaled through his nose. ¡°I didn¡¯t lose.¡±

    Kalyani snorted. ¡°Oh? Then what, you ran away? Got scared? Maybe tripped over your own arrogance and¡ª¡±

    ¡°I was accepted into the sect.¡±

    Silence.

    Kalyani¡¯s grinding stopped. She slowly lifted her gaze, her expression unreadable.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°¡­What?¡±

    ¡°I was accepted as an outer disciple,¡± Aaryan repeated, his voice even.

    For a long moment, Kalyani just stared at him.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°HAH!¡± A loud, barking laugh burst from her lips. She smacked her knee, shaking her head in amusement. "You? Accepted? Those sect fools must be blinder than I thought!"

    Then, her expression softened¡ªjust slightly. Pride.

    A flicker of warmth.

    Then¡ª

    "Hmph! Don¡¯t go thinking this means you¡¯re special!" She pointed a bony finger at him. "Joining the sect doesn¡¯t make you some grand hero!"

    Aaryan sighed. "I haven¡¯t even set foot in the sect yet."

    ¡°And? Do I look like someone who underestimates your ability to be a walking disaster?¡±

    Aaryan rubbed his temples.

    This woman¡­

    But somehow, her pride meant more than all the praise in the world.

    The night was silent, save for the distant hum of insects and the occasional rustle of wind against the trees. The moon hung high, casting silver light over the small courtyard where Kalyani sat on her usual wooden stool, a cup of tea cradled in her hands.

    Aaryan had expected her to be asleep, but instead, she was watching the sky, lost in thought. He hesitated at the doorway before stepping forward.

    "You gonna stand there all night or sit down?" she said without looking at him.

    Aaryan sat down on the worn-out bench across from her. The tea kettle on the table still let out faint wisps of steam. Without a word, Kalyani poured another cup and pushed it toward him.

    For a while, neither spoke. Just quiet company beneath the stars.

    Then, she finally broke the silence. "You''re leaving soon."

    Aaryan nodded. "Yes."

    Kalyani took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving him. "So tell me¡ªdo you really want to be a cultivator?"

    Aaryan exhaled through his nose. He had been asked this question before, but this time, it felt¡­ different.

    "I don''t know," he admitted. "I used to think I wanted power. That if I became strong enough, people would respect me. But now, I wonder¡­ do they ever really respect anyone? Or just fear them?"

    Kalyani hummed, tapping her fingers against the cup. "Smart question for a brat who still smells like blood and sweat."

    Aaryan ignored the insult and continued. "Strength changes how people look at you. But does it change what they actually think?" His gaze drifted downward. "Or am I just chasing something that doesn''t exist?"

    For a moment, Kalyani didn¡¯t answer. The air between them was thick with unsaid words. Then¡ªshe let out a sigh.

    "You want to know the truth, brat?" she said, setting her cup down. "People will treat you however it benefits them. Some will act respectful because they fear you. Some will praise you because they want something from you. And a few¡­ a very, very few will actually see you for who you are."

    Aaryan listened carefully, her words digging into his thoughts like buried thorns.

    "But if you waste your life chasing their respect, you¡¯ll never be satisfied. You¡¯ll always be looking over your shoulder, wondering if it¡¯s real." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "So tell me¡ªwhat¡¯s more important? That they respect you? Or that you respect yourself?"

    Aaryan was silent for a long time.

    Finally, he said, "...I don¡¯t know yet."

    Kalyani huffed. "Tch. Of course, you don¡¯t. You¡¯re eight years old."

    Aaryan scowled. "I¡¯m older than that."

    "Could¡¯ve fooled me," she muttered, taking another sip of tea.

    Aaryan shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite himself.

    Then, as if remembering something, he turned to her. "Do you have an old box?"

    Kalyani raised an eyebrow. "A box? For what?"

    "For my old clothes. And my sword."

    She frowned. "What for? Just throw them away. They¡¯re torn up, bloodstained, and stink worse than a dead cow."

    Aaryan shook his head. "No."

    Kalyani studied him for a long moment. "Sentimental fool," she muttered. "Fine, I¡¯ll humor you. Why keep ¡®em?"

    Aaryan ran a hand over the cloth of his robe, his fingers brushing against the old dried stains. "Because," he said slowly, "they remind me of where I started. And one day, when I look back, I want to remember how far I¡¯ve come."

    Kalyani snorted. "Hah! Look at you, talking like some wise old monk. Next, you¡¯ll tell me the wind whispers secrets to you, and the moon is your long-lost mentor."

    Aaryan sighed. "Are you going to give me the box or not?"

    Kalyani rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I¡¯ll find one. But don¡¯t blame me when you open it later and wonder why you kept the stink of the past locked up like some prized treasure."

    Aaryan chuckled softly. "Maybe I will."

    And for the first time that night, he felt a little lighter.

    <hr>

    The morning was bright and crisp, the sun casting long shadows over the small house as Aaryan stood at the gate, his bag slung over his shoulder.

    Today was the day when he would leave. He glanced back toward the house, expecting Kalyani to come out and at least say something.

    The house behind him was silent.

    Too silent.

    Aaryan frowned, glancing back at the slightly open door. He had expected something¡ªmaybe one last snide remark, at least an exasperated sigh.

    But there was nothing.

    A few more moments passed.

    Still nothing.

    Finally, Aaryan sighed and turned back toward the road. Maybe this was her way of¡ª

    "OI! You better not be leaving without saying something, you ungrateful brat!"

    Aaryan flinched as the door slammed open, revealing Kalyani in all her furious, apron-wearing glory. In one hand, she clutched a wooden spoon like a weapon. In the other¡ªa half-cut radish.

    "...Were you just standing behind the door waiting for this exact moment?" Aaryan asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Kalyani scoffed. "Don''t flatter yourself! I was cooking. Unlike you, some of us still need to eat, you know." She wiped her hands on her apron and marched forward, eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. "Tch. You actually look like a proper disciple now."

    Aaryan smirked. "Starting to miss me already?"

    "Hah!" Kalyani let out a sharp laugh. "Miss you? The only thing I¡¯ll miss is the extra food you kept stealing from my kitchen. Maybe now I won¡¯t have to restock my rice every three days."

    Aaryan shook his head, but there was something warm in the way she said it.

    For a moment, they stood there, neither speaking.

    Then, in a much quieter voice, Kalyani muttered, "...You really are leaving, huh?"

    Aaryan nodded. "I¡¯ll be back."

    Kalyani clicked her tongue. "Hmph. Of course, you will. Knowing you, you¡¯ll get kicked out within a month for causing trouble."

    Aaryan smirked. "I¡¯ll make sure to send word if that happens."

    Kalyani snorted. "Tch. Don¡¯t bother. Just show up if you''re still alive."

    Aaryan exhaled, a rare softness crossing his features. "Alright."

    Kalyani eyed him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then¡ªwith absolutely no warning¡ªshe grabbed him and pulled him into a crushing hug.

    Aaryan froze.

    This¡­ was new.

    "Grandma

    "Shut up."

    Aaryan blinked as she squeezed him tighter.

    Then, just as suddenly, she shoved him away and coughed loudly, pretending as if nothing had happened.

    "I was just checking if you had any food hidden in your robes," she muttered. "Can never trust a brat like you not to steal something on the way out."

    Aaryan huffed, rolling his eyes. "Right. Of course."

    Kalyani crossed her arms. "Now, go on then. Off with you."

    Aaryan turned toward the road, taking his first steps forward.

    "Aaryan."

    He paused.

    "Don¡¯t die."

    Aaryan turned back slightly, offering her a small, lopsided smile.

    "I''ll be back before you run out of rice, grandma."

    Kalyani snorted, waving him off. "Tch. Brat."

    And with that, he walked away.

    Kalyani watched him go, arms still crossed, a frown still on her face.

    The morning felt¡­ too quiet.

    She huffed and muttered under her breath, "Damn brat¡­ couldn¡¯t even let me be happy about getting some peace before making it all sentimental."

    Then¡ªshe turned back toward the house, only to freeze mid-step.

    A wooden box sat neatly by the door.

    Aaryan¡¯s old, bloodstained clothes were inside, carefully folded. His first dull, chipped sword rested on top, the same weapon he had fought with during his early struggles.

    Kalyani stared at it.

    Then, after a moment¡ªshe carefully picked it up.

    For a long time, she just stood there, running a hand along the edge of the box.

    Then, she sighed.

    "¡­Damn brat."

    And with that, she took it inside.

    <hr>

    Aaryan¡¯s footsteps were measured as he walked toward the place where it had all happened. The same arena, the same people¡ªbut he was different now.

    The air carried a strange weight, whispers laced with speculation.

    A familiar voice, smug and expectant, sliced through them.

    "Look who finally decided to show up."

    Varun stepped forward, golden eyes filled with their usual condescension. "Tell me, how does it feel to be a disgrace? Do you think forfeiting makes you untouchable? The sect won¡¯t protect you forever."

    Aaryan didn¡¯t respond immediately. He simply looked at Varun.

    Then, after a moment of silence, he spoke.

    "You keep looking ahead, expecting to see me in your way. But what happens when you realize I was never on the same path to begin with?"

    Varun¡¯s smirk stiffened¡ªso quick most wouldn¡¯t have noticed¡ªbut Aaryan did. The briefest flicker of unease, buried beneath arrogance.

    He turned away before Varun could mask it.

    "Tch."

    A scoff from the side.

    Devika crossed her arms, disdain written across her face. "You act composed, but we all see the truth. You forfeited because you were afraid. In the end, that¡¯s all you are¡ªa coward who¡ª"

    "If that helps you sleep at night, keep telling yourself that."

    Aaryan¡¯s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it¡ªnot of hostility, but of quiet certainty.

    For a moment, her fingers twitched¡ªbut then, her gaze hardened.

    Before she could speak again¡ª

    "Enough."

    A commanding voice silenced the crowd.

    A figure clad in Evernight Pavilion¡¯s robes had appeared at the entrance, their presence alone shifting the atmosphere.

    "The ten chosen disciples¡ªit¡¯s time to leave."

    The weight of finality settled over the gathering. Devika stilled. Even Varun said nothing as reality sank in.

    Aaryan took a slow breath. This was it.

    He turned away from them, not out of dismissal, but because he had already made his choice.

    It wasn¡¯t about them anymore.

    As he stepped forward¡ªtoward the sect, toward the unknown¡ªhis thoughts echoed in the silence of his mind.

    Do they fear me? Do they respect me? Do they hate me?

    Or does it even matter?

    Respect without power is hollow. Power without purpose is meaningless. And acceptance? Nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

    No¡ªwhat I need is something greater.

    And I will find it.

 Chapter 19 : The Evernight Pavilion

    The ten chosen disciples stood in a half-circle, their expressions a mix of excitement, apprehension, and quiet determination. Before them, a carved stone platform pulsed with silver inscriptions, glowing faintly like the veins of an ancient beast waiting to awaken.

    A robed elder stepped forward, his deep blue garments embroidered with faint constellations. His presence alone silenced the murmurs.

    "This is a temporary teleportation array," he announced, his voice smooth yet absolute. "It is not a spatial gate, nor does it allow you to traverse boundless distances. It is an anchor, tied to Evernight Pavilion¡¯s receiving array. The process will not harm you, but..."¡ªhis sharp gaze swept over them¡ª"it is not pleasant for the unprepared."

    A few disciples tensed.

    "For a moment, you will experience nothingness¡ªno air, no ground, no senses. Do not resist it. The more you struggle, the worse it will be."

    A hesitant voice rose from the group. "Elder, what if something goes wrong?"

    The elder arched a brow. "Then you will be lost between realms, wandering an endless void until your mind shatters and your body turns to dust."

    Silence.

    Then¡ªhe smiled. "But that has never happened."

    Before anyone could protest, his hand lifted. The silver inscriptions beneath them flared brilliant white, enclosing them in a seamless dome of light.

    And in the next instant¡ª

    Nothing.

    For the briefest moment, existence unravelled. No air, no self¡ªjust an unspoken question, lingering in the darkness.

    Then¡ª

    Reality snapped back.

    Aaryan staggered as his feet met solid ground, his mind swimming from the disorienting transition. Around him, the other disciples fought for balance, dizziness clinging to their senses. But as their vision cleared, all words died on their lips.

    Before them stretched Evernight Pavilion¡ªa place that defied the laws of the world.

    It was not built upon land, nor nestled within mountains. It floated.

    They stood upon a vast stone terrace, neither rock nor jade but something more¡ªsomething alive, pulsing with an ancient rhythm. Bridges of woven light arched across the sky, linking towering spires that vanished into swirling mist. Silver-leafed forests stretched into the distance, glowing faintly, while rivers of glittering mist cascaded like slow, dreamlike waterfalls.

    Above them, the sky was an endless indigo expanse¡ªno sun, no stars, just a soft ambient glow that seemed to exist within the air itself. Shadows stretched long and unnatural, shifting without wind.

    And in that quiet, Aaryan felt something. Not Urrja¡ªsomething deeper. A presence. Watching. Listening.

    A hum resonated through the space¡ªnot a sound, but a vibration in their bones.

    Then¡ª

    "Welcome," the elder spoke, his voice calm, yet heavy with meaning. "This is Evernight Pavilion."

    The disciples followed the elder toward a distant floating island, atop which stood a grand ceremonial hall. Figures in dark robes moved swiftly in and out, their movements efficient, their faces unreadable.

    "So, other cities had selection competitions like ours," Yash muttered.

    "Of course," Devika scoffed. " So many weaklings here¡­ you¡¯ll feel right at home, Yash."

    Yash¡¯s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Devika smirked.

    Inside, the ceremonial hall loomed with quiet authority. Towering pillars lined the space, their shifting inscriptions whispering of those who had stood here before¡­ and failed. The ceiling stretched into a starless void, a vastness untouched by mortal hands.

    A figure stepped forward.

    The elder¡¯s silver eyes glinted like moonlight on steel, his voice smooth but unyielding.

    "You have stepped into a world beyond what you know."

    The murmurs died instantly.

    "Here, strength is not given¡ªit is earned. Respect is not demanded¡ªit is taken. And survival?" His gaze swept across them. "It is a privilege."

    Tension settled in the air.

    "You may believe you are gifted. Talented. Destined for greatness."

    "You are mistaken."

    Unease flickered across the group.

    The elder lifted a hand. Three glowing symbols appeared in the air, each pulsing with a rhythmic beat.

    "Evernight Pavilion follows three unbreakable laws. Forget everything else if you must¡ªbut remember these."

    Rule 1: Strength Dictates Everything

    The first symbol flared brightly before dissolving into embers.

    "Cultivation resources will be given¡ªbut they can also be taken. After your first month, you will fight not just for progress, but for survival."

    Several disciples shifted uncomfortably.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers curled slightly. I will not fall.

    Rule 2: Respect the Hierarchy

    The second symbol pulsed.

    "Evernight Pavilion is structured¡ªExperimental Disciples, Outer Disciples, Inner Disciples, Core Disciples, and Elders. Your rank defines your privileges."

    "Challenge someone above you without permission, and you will be punished¡ªunless you seek to take their place."

    Aaryan noted the immediate shift in expressions. Some disciples smirked, already plotting their ascension. Others grew uneasy, suddenly realizing how low they stood. ¡°The ambitious ones are easy to spot. They¡¯ll either rise fast¡ªor be the first to fall.¡±

    "You may resent your place, but here, your worth is decided by your own hands."

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Rule 3: Betrayal is Death

    The final symbol turned a deep crimson.

    "Colluding with outsiders. Revealing sect secrets. Harming fellow disciples outside sanctioned battles. These are not mistakes."

    "They are choices. And choices have consequences."

    A pause.

    "You may leave the sect if you wish. But if you betray it¡ªthere is only one path left for you."

    ¡°There are no warnings. No second chances. The sect does not ask for loyalty¡ªit assumes it. Break that assumption, and you won¡¯t even have the time to regret it.¡±

    The crimson symbol shattered into dust.

    Aaryan watched the faces around him. Some were unnerved. Some defiant. But they all understood¡ªthis was not a place for the weak-willed.

    "Now that you understand your place," the elder continued, "let us speak of your future."

    With a wave of his hand, a massive projection of a cultivation diagram appeared, glowing softly.

    "The First Stage¡ªAnima. First, you will purge impurities. Then, you will open your meridians, laying the foundation for true power. This process is slow¡ªbut vital..."

    "The Second Stage¡ªMahima. Here, your Urrja awakens. Your affinity will determine your strength. Your choices will define your path."

    Aaryan listened carefully. This was it¡ªthe path to power.

    The elder¡¯s gaze darkened.

    ¡°Beyond that lies a realm you are not yet ready to understand. Some of you will thrive. Some will crumble. The sect does not care. Only the strong will move forward."

    The First Challenge - Separating the Strong from the Weak

    Just as the weight of the rules settled, the elder¡¯s tone shifted.

    "To ensure that only the worthy progress, a test awaits you."

    Several disciples straightened, tension rising.

    "At the end of your first month, you will face a test.¡±

    The reaction was immediate¡ªsome eager, some nervous, some calculating.

    "Here, weaker disciples will be tested. Stronger ones will claim better resources. And those who cannot defend what is theirs¡­"

    The elder let the words hang in the air before finishing.

    "¡­were never meant to have them in the first place."

    ¡°If you believe your rank is unfair¡ªprove otherwise. Defeat a disciple above you, or break through your cultivation. If you fail to advance, you will be cast aside. The sect does not wait for the weak.¡±

    The Reality of Their Journey

    The hall remained silent for several moments. No one moved.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly. He understood now.

    This was not a place where people survived on kindness. Everything would have to be taken.

    And he would take what was his.

    ¡°You will be taken to residences now which are also based on your standing in the sect¡±

    The elder turned, his robe swaying with effortless grace.

    "Now, go. Your first day has begun."

    With that, the gathered disciples were left with their thoughts. Some excited. Some afraid. Some determined.

    Aaryan simply clenched his fists.

    One of the elder led the disciples across a grand stone bridge suspended over a mist-laden abyss. Below them, the floating islands of Evernight Pavilion stretched across the sky, like shattered fragments of a celestial realm, each piece held in place by unseen forces.

    The first islands they approached were stark and simple. The air here was thinner, the structures utilitarian¡ªrows of low, unadorned stone dwellings lined winding paths, their walls rough and unpolished. There were no ornate carvings, no glowing runes¡ªonly bare necessities. Some dwellings even bore signs of abandonment, as though previous occupants had either left or perished.

    A few disciples wrinkled their noses as they noticed faint scorch marks on some walls, cracks in the stone, and training grounds littered with broken weapons. The air here carried an unspoken message: struggle or be forgotten.

    ¡°These islands belong to the Experimental Disciples,¡± the elder announced. His tone was even, yet devoid of sympathy. ¡°Here, you are given shelter, but nothing else. You must reach the third level of Anima within two years, or defeat an Outer Disciple to remain. Fail, and you will be removed.¡±

    A few among the group tensed at the words. Aaryan remained silent.

    Moving further, the landscape began to change. The next islands were closer together, bound by wide, reinforced walkways of dark stone. The structures here were larger, made of polished black rock, each dwelling fortified with obsidian-like etchings that faintly pulsed with Urrja.

    Unlike the stark emptiness of the Experimental Disciples¡¯ quarters, this area thrummed with activity. The sound of sparring echoed through the air¡ªdisciples clashed on open training platforms, the force of their techniques shaking the very ground. Others practiced Urrja refinement near obsidian monoliths engraved with swirling runes, drawing energy from their surroundings.

    ¡°The Outer Disciples reside here,¡± the elder continued. ¡°They have earned their place, but if they cannot continue proving themselves, they will fall just as easily as they rose.¡± His gaze swept across them. ¡°Only those who reach the sixth level of Anima¡ªor defeat an Inner Disciple¡ªmay ascend further.¡±

    Aaryan observed the way the Outer Disciples carried themselves. Some wore expressions of quiet focus, completely immersed in their training. Others looked predatory, watching the newcomers like hunters assessing their prey.

    Already, the divide was clear. This was not just about talent. This was about who had the will to keep climbing¡ªand who would be cast aside.

    The elder¡¯s gaze flickered toward the next set of islands, suspended in perfect alignment, as though drawn toward the very heart of the sect. These islands were not only closer together but also larger, more fortified, their edges connected by bridges of seamless silver stone. The structures here were taller, layered in dark wood and engraved metal, exuding an air of quiet power.

    ¡°The Inner Disciples reside here. Those who step into sixth level of Anima or claim victory against an Inner Disciple may ascend to these ranks.¡±

    A silence settled over the group as their eyes drifted toward the final stretch of islands¡ªones that seemed just outside the reach of all others.

    Encircling a single colossal island wreathed in deep mist, these lands were few in number, but their presence was overwhelming. Here, massive stone citadels stood against the sky, each marked with ancient sigils of Evernight Pavilion. Even from a distance, the power radiating from these islands felt oppressive.

    ¡°The Core Disciples live here. They are not just cultivators; they are the future of Evernight Pavilion.¡±

    ¡°The Core Disciples do not concern you. If you ever become worthy enough to see them, you will understand.¡±

    His voice carried the weight of finality, silencing any further questions.

    Beyond them, suspended in absolute solitude, was the main island¡ªthe true heart of the sect. It loomed above them all, an untouchable domain of ethereal light and veiled shadows.

    The elder¡¯s voice dropped, final and unwavering.

    ¡°You do not need to concern yourselves with that place. Not yet.¡±

    With that, the disciples were left to stare at the world before them¡ªtheir journey had only just begun.

    As they reached the entrance to the Experimental Disciples'' quarters, the elder¡¯s gaze swept over them one last time.

    "Your time here is limited. Prove yourselves, or disappear.¡±

    As the elder left, The disciples rushed forward, eager to claim their dwellings. Most gravitated toward the central pavilions, where the lakes reflected the endless twilight sky, creating an illusion of tranquillity. Others settled in stone chambers near the inner pathways, forming small clusters¡ªa silent acknowledgment of their need for allies.

    Aaryan, however, moved in the opposite direction.

    He followed a narrow, winding path that led to the outermost edge of the disciple quarters, where the ground grew uneven and the air felt heavier¡ªnot with energy, but with emptiness.

    No grand structures. No rivers of Urrja. Just silence.

    At the end of the path, he found a small, cave-like dwelling carved into the mountainside. It was barebones¡ªjust a single stone chamber with a bedding slab and a space for meditation. The walls were rough, unpolished, and unlike the pavilions in the centre, there were no signs of past occupants.

    Aaryan stepped inside, running his fingers along the cool stone.

    No one wanted this place. No one saw value in it.

    That made it perfect.

    <hr>

    Sitting cross-legged on the hard bedding, Aaryan let out a slow breath. His mind replayed the elder¡¯s words, the rules of the sect, and most importantly¡ªthe silent hierarchy among the new disciples.

    Many of them had already begun their cultivation journey. Some had strengthened their bodies, reaching the First Level of Anima, while others had pushed further, refining their endurance and resilience at the Second or even Third Level.

    He, however, had nothing.

    Among the new Outer Disciples¡­ I am the weakest.

    It was not a bitter thought. Not something that required frustration or resistance. It was simply the truth.

    They¡¯ve walked this path longer than I have. It makes sense that they¡¯re ahead.

    I will move at my own pace.

    There was no need to compare, to rush, to prove anything to anyone. His path was his own.

    He leaned back against the stone wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

    Strength would come¡ªnot as a gift, not as a privilege. But as something he would carve out of this world with his own hands, and when it does, no one would see it coming

    Tomorrow, he would begin.

    That was enough.

    As Aaryan settles into his bare cave, he could glance toward the distant core islands, where a single pulse of energy ripples through the mist, like the heartbeat of a sleeping beast.

 Chapter 20 : Smirks & Swords

    Aaryan woke before dawn.

    The air outside was crisp, carrying the scent of damp stone and something faintly metallic¡ªlike the lingering breath of an ancient beast slumbering beneath the floating islands. His cave-like dwelling sat at the outermost edge of the Outer Disciple quarters, far from the clustered pavilions where most new disciples had settled.

    Silence stretched across the landscape, the mist swirling low over the ground. In the distance, faint lights flickered across the deeper sect islands, where the more powerful disciples had already begun their training. Their world was still beyond his reach.

    Beyond the quiet, the sect pulsed with life¡ªblades sharpening, unseen forces pressing against meditating disciples. Strength was currency here. He had yet to earn his first coin. But unlike most, he would invest carefully, ensuring returns left no room for doubt.

    But out here?

    Out here, it was empty.

    For now.

    Aaryan exhaled, watching his breath curl into the cold air before dispersing. It was quiet here. Peaceful, even. But he knew it wouldn¡¯t last.

    Not in a place like this.

    He took a moment to stretch, brushing his fingers along the rough stone walls of his dwelling. The space was bare¡ªjust a bed, a meditation area, and silence.

    he left his dwelling and began his walk toward the Resource Distribution Hall.

    The Outer Disciple quarters were far from luxurious, but they were structured. Unlike the Experimental Disciples¡¯ scattered residences, these islands had proper training platforms, sparring grounds, and cultivation chambers, though none as refined as those deeper within the sect.

    Bridges of dark stone connected each island, some lined with inscriptions that pulsed faintly with Urrja, remnants of protective formations. Aaryan walked at a steady pace, passing groups of disciples who had already gathered in hushed discussions.

    Some wore fresh robes, their backs straight with uncertainty. Others had garments faded from years of wear, their eyes sharper, their silence heavier.

    It didn¡¯t take long before he approached the Resource Distribution Hall¡ªa large, fortified pavilion built from polished black stone, its high archways etched with Evernight Pavilion¡¯s insignia. The energy in the air felt slightly denser here, a quiet reminder of the power that governed this place.

    Aaryan entered, his gaze sweeping over the orderly rows of sect attendants behind stone counters, distributing supplies to waiting disciples.

    The sect attendants worked with practiced efficiency, their faces impassive. They had seen hundreds of disciples come and go. Today¡¯s newcomers were tomorrow¡¯s forgotten names.

    Most of the newcomers had arrived early, forming a loose line. Some whispered amongst themselves.

    ¡°So for the first month, our resources are guaranteed¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but after that, we have to fight for them.¡±

    ¡°Tch. The sect is ruthless.¡±

    Aaryan moved into the line, his mind already calculating.

    For now, the resources were safe. But in a month, the fights would begin. Some would rise. Some would fall. And some would simply disappear¡ªswallowed by the sect¡¯s quiet indifference.

    Aaryan exhaled, pushing the thought aside for now. He had time. Just not much of it.

    Then, the murmurs shifted.

    A new presence entered the hall.

    Varun entered like a man who had just won a tournament, a bet, and a lifetime supply of arrogance all in one breath. His golden hair caught the dim lantern light dramatically, as if the heavens themselves had ordained his presence. Behind him, his minions followed in synchronized smugness.

    But it wasn¡¯t just them.

    Several older Outer Disciples walked in beside him, not speaking, but their presence alone made it clear¡ªVarun wasn¡¯t just another new recruit.

    ¡°He already has connections¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, what do you expect? He¡¯s the City Lord¡¯s son.¡±

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°I heard some of the older disciples already favor him. Must be nice not having to fight for your place.¡±

    The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Some disciples tensed. Others quickly averted their gazes.

    One of the older disciples flicked a glance at Varun, then immediately lost interest. Another, however, watched with quiet amusement¡ªas if waiting for a good show.

    Varun¡¯s eyes swept over the room, pausing briefly as if searching for something.

    Then¡ªhis smirk widened.

    His gaze landed on Aaryan.

    And he started walking toward him.

    The Resource Distribution Hall buzzed with murmurs as disciples gathered, the scent of ink and parchment mixing with the faint, ever-present hum of Urrja in the air.

    Aaryan stood in line, hands in his sleeves, observing the process with quiet patience. It was peaceful¡ªfor about three seconds.

    Then, of course, Varun happened.

    "Aaryan, my dear friend!"

    Oh no.

    Aaryan didn''t even need to turn. The exaggerated cheerfulness in Varun¡¯s voice was already causing his soul to ache.

    By the time he finally glanced up, Varun was already upon him, his signature smirk and two minions in tow.

    But today, there were more.

    Three older Outer Disciples stood behind Varun, watching with the kind of expressions old tavern-goers had when watching a bar fight about to start.

    These weren¡¯t fresh disciples like Aaryan. These were veterans of stagnation.

    Too weak to become Inner Disciples. Too stubborn to leave. Too bored to mind their own business.

    Aaryan sighed. So this was happening.

    Varun gestured grandly toward Aaryan, as if unveiling a rare, exotic beast.

    "Brothers, this is Aaryan! The miracle recruit! The one who got into the sect with nothing but sheer luck and a slightly tolerable face!"

    Aaryan had two options¡ªignore him and let him feel superior, or press just hard enough to make him stumble. He chose the latter. It was always more fun that way.

    Aaryan smiled. "I see you¡¯ve been practicing your introductions, Varun. That one almost stung."

    One of the older disciples, a bulky man with a receding hairline and the face of someone who had given up on life decades ago, folded his arms. "This is the kid you were talking about?"

    Varun nodded, still grinning. "The very same! Isn''t it inspiring?"

    The bulky disciple¡ªlet¡¯s call him Senior Ravi¡ªgrunted. "Hmph. Looks scrawny."

    Aaryan nodded solemnly. "I am. But I make up for it by being devastatingly handsome."

    Senior Ravi paused. Then he nodded. "Fair."

    Another disciple, a wiry-looking man with perpetual dark circles under his eyes, hummed. "Didn¡¯t you say he was arrogant?"

    Varun''s smile twitched. "Oh, he is. He just hides it behind that infuriating calmness.¡±

    Aaryan blinked, feigning surprise. "You think I''m calm? That¡¯s funny. I think you¡¯re calm. And that concerns me, honestly."

    Varun¡¯s smirk twitched. A split second. Barely noticeable. But Aaryan caught it.Good. That meant he was getting under his skin.

    Varun frowned. "Why would that concern you?"

    Aaryan sighed dramatically. "Because I was hoping you''d take all this pent-up energy and channel it into something productive. Like, I don¡¯t know, cultivation?"

    One of the older disciples snorted, poorly disguising a laugh.

    Varun''s smirk thinned.

    But he recovered quickly, his voice dripping with false warmth. "Aaryan, Aaryan¡­ you misunderstand. I¡¯m only looking out for you."

    "Ah, yes," Aaryan nodded. "Much like how a cat looks out for a mouse. With love, care, and just the faintest hint of hunger."

    Senior Ravi chuckled outright.

    Varun''s grip on his own sleeve tightened.

    But he pressed on, turning back to the older disciples.

    "My dear seniors," Varun clasped his hands together dramatically, "I thought it would be wise to introduce Aaryan to you. After all, he¡¯s so new, and¡ª"

    "¡ªAnd he might need help?" Aaryan finished for him. "Guidance? Brotherhood? Maybe a warm hug to remind him that he belongs?"

    Senior Ravi choked on air.

    Even the wiry disciple rubbed his forehead, shaking his head with a faint grin.

    Varun''s smile was officially strained.

    "Aaryan," he sighed, placing a firm hand on Aaryan¡¯s shoulder. "You wound me."

    "Not yet," Aaryan replied. "But I might, if you keep touching me."

    A visible twitch.

    Before Varun could snap, a calm yet authoritative voice cut through the air.

    "Enough."

    Silence.

    The older disciples stiffened, stepping back instinctively.

    From the far side of the hall, a figure descended the steps. He was draped in dark robes, simple yet authoritative, and his sharp gaze cut through the gathered disciples like a blade.

    His presence didn¡¯t demand attention. It commanded it. Not with volume, nor with power, but with the quiet, unwavering authority of a man who had seen a hundred arrogant disciples fall¡ªand would see a hundred more.

    He was not an Elder, but his position still held authority.

    The man paused before the crowd, his eyes sweeping over the group before finally speaking.

    "I am Overseer Dharun," he introduced himself, his tone measured but firm. "I oversee matters within the Outer Disciple ranks. That includes resource distribution¡ªand making sure it remains efficient."

    His gaze flicked toward the group¡ªnot lingering on anyone in particular, but heavy nonetheless.

    "If you¡¯re here for resources, get them. If you¡¯re here for pointless posturing, leave."

    The older disciples exchanged glances.

    Aaryan noticed Varun¡¯s posture stiffen, just slightly.

    Ah. He didn¡¯t expect this interruption.

    Dharun didn¡¯t wait for an answer. He simply turned, already disinterested. ¡°Enjoy your resources. You never know when they might be your last.¡± His voice was calm, but it left a shadow behind¡ªone that no one dared to step into.

    No one spoke. Even the air felt heavier.

    Then, as if released from a spell, the hall resumed its usual noise¡ªbut quieter than before.

    As soon as he was far enough away¡ª

    Varun smirked, folding his arms. ¡°You¡¯re clever with words, Aaryan. But let¡¯s see how long that lasts when you have to fight for your resources next month.¡±

    Aaryan smiled lazily. ¡°Ah, so you admit you can¡¯t beat me in an argument. That¡¯s progress.¡±

    Senior Ravi wheezed.

    The dark-circle disciple actually had to clutch his side.

    Varun¡¯s face was carefully neutral, but Aaryan could see the tension in his jaw.

    As the disciples finally began moving forward to collect their resources, Varun leaned toward Aaryan and whispered, voice low and venomous.

    "This isn¡¯t over."

    Aaryan smiled pleasantly.

    "It never is."

    And with that, he walked forward.

    Varun¡¯s glare burned into his back, but Aaryan didn¡¯t look back.

    The game had only just begun. And Aaryan had no intention of playing by the rules.

 Chapter 21 : The First Step

    Disciples stepped forward one by one, receiving identical satchels¡ªstandard rations, cultivation pills, and a slip of parchment indicating some sort of map , marked on which were some buildings.

    It was orderly. Efficient. And temporary.

    Here¡¯s a small portion that smoothly integrates the announcement, Aaryan collecting his robe and ID token, and making his way toward the technique hall:

    As the line of new disciples steadily moved forward, a sect attendant stepped onto a raised platform near the counter. Dressed in plain, deep-gray robes, his presence wasn¡¯t commanding, but his voice carried through the hall with practiced authority.

    "All newly admitted disciples, once you have collected your monthly resources, you may proceed to the various sect halls to claim your standard-issued items."

    The murmurs in the hall hushed slightly as disciples turned their attention toward him.

    "Your sect robes and identity tokens can be retrieved at the Hall of Induction," he continued. "These are mandatory for all disciples. Remember, the robes you wear and the token you hold signify your standing within the sect. Do not forget your place. Additionally, you are permitted a one-time selection of a foundational technique from the Hall of Echoing Arts."

    That last part caused a ripple of excitement. While the sect was known for its cutthroat hierarchy, it still ensured its disciples weren¡¯t left entirely directionless.

    "The Trading Hall and the Hall of Artisans are also open for those who wish to familiarize themselves with sect transactions. Dismissed."

    With that, the attendant stepped down, and the usual chatter resumed.

    Aaryan took his satchel from the counter¡ªits weight lighter than he expected. A month¡¯s worth of rations, a few low-grade cultivation pills, and a single slip of parchment detailing his residence and sect standing. He didn¡¯t linger. The next destination was clear.

    <hr>

    The Hall of Induction stood on the far side of the Outer Disciple quarters, a modest yet structured building made of dark, polished stone. Its high, arched entrance bore the Evernight Pavilion insignia¡ªa crescent moon woven with spiralling runes. Unlike some of the grander sect halls, this place was functional rather than ornate.

    Inside, rows of attendants distributed robes and identity tokens to the new disciples. The process was efficient; names were confirmed, robes handed out, and tokens engraved with each disciple¡¯s details.

    Aaryan approached the counter. The attendant, a middle-aged man with sunken eyes, barely spared him a glance before setting down a neatly folded robe and a small, metallic ID token.

    "Outer Disciple robes and identification. Sign here."

    Aaryan scanned the robes before picking them up.

    They were made of midnight-blue fabric, simple yet durable, with a single silver trim running along the cuffs and hem¡ªthe mark of an Outer Disciple. Unlike the Experimental Disciples, whose robes were a dull gray with no markings, this at least had some presence.

    The Inner Disciples, however, wore deep black robes, adorned with faint silver inscriptions that pulsed with Urrja, signifying their higher status. The difference was subtle, yet undeniable¡ªa quiet reminder of one¡¯s place.

    His ID token was a flat, obsidian plate, no larger than a palm, engraved with his name and standing. It wasn¡¯t just for identification¡ªit also served as a key for accessing certain sect halls.

    As he ran his fingers over the token, he wondered¡ªwould this someday mark him as more than just another Outer Disciple?

    Sliding the token into his sleeve, Aaryan turned and made his way toward the next stop¡ªthe Hall of Echoing Arts.

    After collecting his Outer Disciple robes and identity token from the Hall of Induction, Aaryan made his way toward the Hall of Echoing Arts¡ªthe place where disciples received their foundational techniques. The journey took him deeper into the Outer Disciple quarters, where towering stone structures loomed over carefully maintained training platforms.

    The Hall itself stood apart from the others. Unlike the dark-stone buildings that made up most of Evernight Pavilion, this structure was ancient, its exterior carved from a weathered silver-gray stone that seemed to hum faintly with forgotten energy. Wide steps led up to a grand entrance, where two enormous obsidian doors, etched with curling patterns resembling swirling Urrja, stood half-open. Despite the heavy appearance, they barely made a sound as disciples passed through.

    Aaryan crossed the threshold.

    Inside, the Hall of Echoing Arts was eerily silent, save for the soft shuffling of robes and the faint scratching of quills from attendants stationed at the counters. The air carried a scent of aged parchment and ink. Lining the walls were rows upon rows of wooden shelves, each holding meticulously arranged palm-leaf scrolls, bound together by thin golden threads.

    A sect attendant in deep gray robes stood near the entrance, his voice clear but indifferent.

    "All new Outer Disciples, proceed to the first floor. The Purification Sutra will be issued to you. You may also choose one additional technique from the categories of Movement, Attack, or Utility. Once you have made your selection, report to the counter to receive your copy. Do not attempt to take techniques beyond your rank. Doing so will be¡­ unwise."

    The last words were spoken in an unreadable tone, neither a warning nor a threat, but something heavier.

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze flickered toward the spiral staircase at the far end of the hall. It led upward to higher floors, but an unseen pressure seemed to weigh against him the moment he so much as thought of climbing it. The second floor remained out of reach¡ªfor now.

    With measured steps, he moved toward the first floor¡¯s collection.

    A separate shelf held the Purification Sutra, its palm-leaf scrolls marked with the symbol of a coiling serpent¡ªan old representation of renewal and strength. Unlike the Experimental Disciples, who received only the first three levels, Outer Disciples were granted access to the full six levels.

    Aaryan traced a finger along one of the scrolls, feeling the slight pulse of energy beneath the old fibers before selecting his copy.

    One step closer.

    Next came the additional technique selection.

    Rows of wooden plaques categorized the options into three main sections:

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    <ul>

    <li>Movement Techniques ¨C Swift, elusive footwork, allowing one to evade or outmaneuver opponents.</li>

    <li>Attack Techniques ¨C Offensive strikes, each designed to be simple yet effective for Outer Disciples.</li>

    <li>Utility Techniques ¨C Defensive or supportive skills that enhanced a cultivator¡¯s adaptability in battle.</li>

    </ul>

    Aaryan moved along the shelves, considering his choice. Around him, disciples whispered among themselves.

    "Phantom Step is the safest choice¡ªeveryone picks that. "I heard Iron Wave Palm is powerful, but hard to master. "If you don¡¯t pick something useful now, you¡¯ll regret it during challenges¡­"

    Their voices faded as he ran his fingers along the aged wood of the plaques.

    Aaryan wasn¡¯t in a rush. Predictability was a weakness¡ªevery decision in this sect had to be deliberate.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers hovered over the wooden plaques. Phantom Step was the safest choice¡ªdozens of disciples had already taken it.

    Safe. Reliable. Expected.

    He almost reached for it. Almost.

    Then, he shifted his hand. A path too well-tread was a path too predictable.

    His fingers brushed over a different plaque.

    This one.

    Finally, he reached out and picked his technique.

    At the counter, an attendant sat behind a long wooden desk, an ink brush in hand. As Aaryan placed the two scrolls before him, the man barely looked up.

    "Name?"

    "Aaryan."

    The attendant dipped the brush into dark ink and inscribed something on a fresh palm leaf before placing both the original technique scrolls back onto the shelf. Then, with practiced ease, he reached for a thin, transparent jade slab beside him, pressing it against the copied leaves.

    A soft glow. A ripple in the air.

    In mere seconds, the process was complete. Aaryan now held his own copies, the ink still fresh on the leaves.

    The attendant gave him a brief glance before waving a hand dismissively.

    "Done. Next."

    Aaryan took the scrolls, slipping them into his sleeve as he turned to leave.

    No fanfare. No unnecessary words.

    Just progress.

    And that was enough.

    The dim glow of a flickering oil lamp cast shifting shadows against the rough stone walls of Aaryan¡¯s dwelling. The small chamber, bare aside from a simple bed and meditation area, felt even more silent than usual. Outside, the faint hum of cultivation filled the air as disciples honed their strength, but within these walls, there was only stillness. Aaryan sat cross-legged on the cold floor, two palm-leaf scrolls resting before him.

    He reached out, fingers brushing against the first scroll¡ªthe Coiling Serpent Bind. The coarse texture of the leaf felt oddly fitting for a technique shunned by most. He carefully unrolled it, revealing elegant yet precise script detailing the method¡¯s core principles.

    Few pursued this technique beyond the early stages¡ªit was considered difficult to master and overly dependent on an opponent¡¯s aggression. Against overwhelming force, it lacked decisive power. But that was precisely why Aaryan had chosen it. He had no interest in direct confrontation. He didn¡¯t need dominance¡ªonly control.

    The serpent does not fight strength with strength. It coils, adapts, and constricts. Its fangs are secondary¡ªits patience is its true weapon.¡±

    Most disciples sought power that would elevate them immediately. Phantom Mirage Step would have been an easy choice¡ªelusive, practical, and widely respected. But it was also predictable. Many disciples would train in it, and that meant many would train to counter it.

    Coiling Serpent Bind, on the other hand, was unpredictable. It was a method that few valued, making it a weapon only a select few would understand. And weapons that were underestimated¡­ were often the deadliest.

    It is not a path of dominance, he thought, but of control.

    He continued reading. The technique revolved around absorbing an opponent¡¯s force, neutralizing their attack, and subtly redirecting it. Each movement was designed to coil around an enemy¡¯s aggression like a constricting serpent. It did not seek to overpower but to guide¡ªto force an opponent into a position of weakness without them even realizing it.

    His fingers traced the intricate illustrations demonstrating various applications of the technique. The first step was learning how to read an opponent¡¯s momentum. The second was refining his grip¡ªnot just physical grip, but the ability to latch onto an enemy¡¯s rhythm and exploit it. The third¡­ was making the technique instinctual.

    Mastering this would take time¡ªa luxury he couldn''t afford to waste.

    Aaryan sighed, rolling the scroll shut before placing it carefully to the side. He would begin practicing soon, but first, he had another foundation to lay.

    Control was meaningless without endurance. A technique, no matter how refined, would crumble if the body lacked the strength to support it.

    With measured movements, he reached for the second scroll¡ªthe Purification Sutra.

    Unrolling it, he was met with a different kind of script¡ªone that emphasized methodical body refinement. Unlike the Coiling Serpent Bind, which was a combat technique, the Purification Sutra focused entirely on fortifying the body.

    "A body burdened with toxins is like a rusted blade. To cultivate strength, one must first be untainted."

    This was the first step to true cultivation. Unlike higher-stage techniques that incorporated Urrja, this sutra relied purely on physical tempering¡ªdetoxifying impurities, strengthening the internal structure, and preparing the body for the Mahima stage. Herbs, medicinal baths, controlled fasting¡ªthese were the methods outlined within. It was less about power and more about preparation, ensuring the body could handle the immense strain of true cultivation when the time came.

    Aaryan read through the details carefully. Unlike those born into wealth or noble bloodlines, he couldn¡¯t afford to ignore these fundamentals. Many disciples rushed ahead, eager to wield techniques and unleash power, but their foundations would remain weak. And in this sect, the weak were doomed to fall.

    With a slow inhale, he set both scrolls aside and closed his eyes, organizing his thoughts.

    Coiling Serpent Bind would be his weapon. The Purification Sutra, his foundation.

    One to outmaneuver opponents, the other to prepare his body for true cultivation.

    Two paths. One goal.

    Survival.

    And then¡ªascension.

    <hr>

    The First Step ¨C Internal Flow Regulation

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, steadying his breath as he unrolled the first volume of the Purification Sutra. The inked script, sharp and deliberate, detailed the foundation of all bodily refinement¡ªInternal Flow Regulation.

    He adjusted his posture, straightening his back as he cleared his mind. The flickering oil lamp cast long shadows along the chamber walls, its soft light the only movement in the stillness around him. Outside, distant murmurs of disciples training echoed faintly, yet within these walls, there was only him and the ancient text before him.

    "Before a body can be strengthened, it must first be stilled."

    Aaryan traced the opening words with his fingers, absorbing their meaning. The technique was simple in concept yet demanding in execution¡ªcontrolled breathing, perfect stillness, and precise internal awareness. Before a cultivator could purge impurities or temper their flesh, they had to understand the natural flow within their own body.

    He let the words settle in his mind before closing his eyes. His breathing slowed as he followed the instructions, drawing air in through his nose, holding it just long enough to sense the faintest shifts within, then releasing it steadily.

    Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold.

    Time passed. He repeated the process over and over, seeking the elusive sensation the scroll described¡ªa subtle awareness of his body''s inner flow. Minutes turned to hours, yet nothing changed.

    His back ached slightly from holding the posture, his knees pressing uncomfortably against the stone floor. A single drop of sweat rolled down his temple¡ªnot from exertion, but from the sheer stillness of his unmoving form.

    Still his body remained silent. No warmth, no sensation of energy shifting, no sign that he was progressing.

    Hours passed. His breath remained steady, his focus unbroken. But deep inside, an almost imperceptible question formed¡ªWas he even doing it right? Before the thought could take root, Aaryan exhaled slowly, shaking it off.It was meant to be hard.

    If something as fundamental as Internal Flow Regulation could be mastered in mere hours, then those who wielded true strength would be nothing special.

    Aaryan slowly opened his eyes, his expression calm. He was not discouraged. The first step was always the most difficult, but that only meant he had taken it.

    He adjusted his seated posture slightly and resumed his breathing.

    He would try again. And again.

    Until he felt it.

 Chapter 22 : The Flicker of Progress

    The twelfth night in Evernight Pavilion was colder than usual. Aaryan sat in his dimly lit chamber, legs folded in meditation. The oil lamp beside him flickered, its glow weak but persistent¡ªmuch like his progress.

    Nearly two weeks had passed, yet despite hours of daily practice, Internal Flow Regulation still eluded him. The technique demanded perfect control over breath and awareness, yet his body remained unresponsive. He had followed the sutra¡¯s instructions exactly¡ªslow, steady breathing, complete stillness, the mind turned inward¡ªbut nothing changed. No warmth, no energy shifting, nothing.

    Yet tonight, he sat once more, unwavering. If it were easy, everyone would have mastered it already.

    He exhaled, emptying his lungs before drawing in a slow, measured breath.

    Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold.

    Maybe his body wasn¡¯t broken¡ªmaybe he simply wasn¡¯t meant to cultivate. The thought slithered into his mind, unwanted, undeniable. But if he accepted it¡­ what was left?

    So he inhaled again.

    He repeated the cycle, sinking deeper into his breath. His awareness stretched inward, seeking¡ªanything.

    Nothing.

    Minutes passed. Then an hour. The oil lamp burned lower, shadows stretching across the stone walls.

    hen¡ªa flicker. His fingertips tingled, a strange but unmistakable sensation trickling through his veins. But there it was¡ªa ripple beneath his skin. Not the overwhelming surge he had imagined, but a delicate thread of warmth stirring deep within.

    His breath hitched. Don''t lose it.

    But the warmth faded, slipping away like sand through his fingers.

    Yet this time, it had been there.

    Aaryan opened his eyes slowly, the lamp¡¯s flickering light reflected in his gaze. Barely anything at all.

    But it was proof.

    A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Finally.

    He adjusted his posture and closed his eyes again. He would try again. And again.

    Until that flicker became something greater.

    Days blurred into a cycle of breath and motion.

    Each morning, Aaryan refined his control over the Purification Sutra. Though progress was slow, the warmth no longer felt like an accident. It was something he could reach with effort, something he could cultivate.

    It wasn¡¯t easy. Some days, he would sit for hours and feel nothing. Other times, the warmth appeared for mere seconds before vanishing. Frustrating¡ªbut expected. If this were easy, everyone would have a strong foundation.

    At first, the warmth disappeared as soon as it emerged. But over time, it lingered. Seconds stretched into minutes. It wasn¡¯t enough¡ªbut it was something.

    Yet, when he switched to Coiling Serpent Bind, that progress disappeared. His body was listening now. So why did the technique still feel lifeless?

    Purification Sutra had taught him patience. But Coiling Serpent Bind required rhythm. Flow. An opponent¡¯s strength to work with. Right now, he had nothing to feel.

    Each night, he practiced the forms¡ªprecise but rigid. The serpent in the illustrations coiled, slithered, flowed¡ªhis own movements felt forced, stiff, unnatural. How could he learn a technique that relied on adaptation when there was nothing to adapt to?

    He struck again, twisting his wrist mid-motion, trying to redirect an invisible force. It felt wrong. Forced. His movements lacked flow. With a frustrated breath, he lashed out, the strike hitting the dummy too hard, too direct. Like forcing a river to bend with sheer will. Impossible.

    Aaryan unrolled the scroll, eyes tracing the passage he had read countless times:

    "The serpent does not fight strength with strength. It coils, adapts, and constricts. Its fangs are secondary¡ªits patience is its true weapon."

    No rigid stance. No fixed movements. Only adaptation.

    The scroll detailed three core principles:

    <ol>

    <li>Reading Momentum ¨C Understanding an opponent¡¯s flow before they even strike.</li>

    <li>Redirection ¨C Using their own strength against them.</li>

    <li>Instinct ¨C Making the technique part of oneself.</li>

    </ol>

    Something was missing. He had mirrored every movement, but nothing was clicking.

    He clenched his fist. How was he supposed to adapt when there was no opponent?

    Each strike landed hollow¡ªa ghost of a technique with no force to shape it. His grip tightened. Maybe this technique was useless alone. But even that thought irritated him. No. He wouldn¡¯t let this beat him before he even began.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    His arms burned from repetition, fingers stiff from countless strikes. His breaths came sharp, each exhale edged with frustration.

    Not perfect. But it would do.

    Aaryan struck¡ªnot with force, but with flow. His wrist twisted, wrapping around the dummy, guiding its nonexistent energy as if it were real. Sloppy at first, hands fumbling to maintain flow. But with each attempt, the motion grew smoother.

    Minutes passed. Then an hour.

    His strikes landed, but they meant nothing. A hollow rhythm against an unyielding dummy.

    Had he been forcing the technique instead of understanding it?

    Then, as his frustration peaked, a thought surfaced.

    He had been treating Coiling Serpent Bind like a rigid form, but it wasn¡¯t one. It wasn¡¯t something to be memorized¡ªit was something to be felt. It wasn¡¯t in the pages of the scroll, but in movement itself.

    Had he been chasing something that wasn¡¯t there? Was it the technique itself, or the way he had approached it?

    The scroll¡¯s words repeated in his mind, but they weren¡¯t enough. His hands curled at his sides, then loosened. He exhaled slowly, shifting his stance¡ªhis body adjusting, mirroring the fluidity he had been chasing all along.

    He needed more.

    Watching others fight¡ªseeing the flow of battle in real time¡ªthat was how he would understand.

    Aaryan stepped out into the night, his hood drawn low. The sect was never truly silent. Even at this hour, distant echoes of battle techniques being practiced rang out from different training areas.

    He moved through the pathways, keeping his steps light. His destination: the outer training arenas.

    If he couldn¡¯t practice Coiling Serpent Bind properly, he would watch.

    He reached a secluded vantage point near the wooden walkways surrounding one of the sparring grounds, carefully positioning himself within the shadows. Below, disciples trained beneath dim lantern light, their figures shifting rapidly as they clashed.

    He narrowed his eyes, focusing on those who countered rather than attacked.

    A lean, sharp-eyed disciple stood against a heavier opponent. The larger fighter launched a powerful strike. A dull thud echoed as the larger disciple¡¯s fist met empty air. His opponent had already moved, a ghost against the lantern light. Then¡ªa single shift, a sharp pivot, and the balance was stolen before the blow could even land. The heavier man stumbled, the crack of gravel beneath his feet the only sound before he fell onto one knee, breath ragged from wasted strength.

    Aaryan¡¯s pulse quickened. That.

    Further down the courtyard, another match¡ªtwo disciples sparred with wooden weapons. One held firm, swinging powerfully. The other, instead of blocking, let his blade slide just enough to redirect the force, tilting the strike away instead of meeting it head-on. The wood scraped together with a sharp hiss before parting, the redirected force causing the first disciple to stagger back, blinking in frustration.

    A distant shout rang out as another pair clashed. The scent of sweat and damp earth filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of burning oil from the lanterns. The ground trembled slightly beneath the force of repeated strikes, each impact vibrating through the wooden walkways where Aaryan crouched. He felt the faint pulse of movement in his fingertips as he steadied himself against the railing.

    A short distance away, another match unfolded. One disciple weaved effortlessly between strikes, his movements like flowing water. His opponent swung with brute force, but each blow missed its mark, slicing through empty air. Aaryan could hear the sharp exhalations of effort, the barely audible shuffle of feet adjusting on the dirt floor. Then, with a sudden burst, the smaller disciple twisted, using his opponent¡¯s momentum to flip him over. The heavy impact rattled through the ground, sending dust into the air.

    Aaryan''s breath slowed as he studied another fight¡ªthis one different. Two disciples circled each other, their eyes locked in silent calculation. One darted in, delivering a series of swift, precise strikes. The other, instead of blocking, merely shifted his weight ever so slightly, letting each attack slide past his body like wind passing through reeds. It was effortless, controlled¡ªlike the very essence of Coiling Serpent Bind.

    He clenched his fists. His breath caught. A sharp pang of realization coiled in his gut. How had he not seen it before?

    Coiling Serpent Bind wasn¡¯t just a technique¡ªit was a mindset.

    He had been trying to memorize movements when he should have been understanding momentum. He had been forcing the forms when he should have been feeling the flow.

    The realization sent a surge of energy through him. He stayed longer, observing different fighters, breaking down the way they moved, the way they reacted.

    Some were rigid, predictable. Others were more fluid, adjusting to their opponent¡¯s actions with ease. Those were the ones he paid the most attention to.

    Each fighter had their own flow¡ªsome like rushing waves, others like shifting wind. He had spent nights memorizing movements when what he needed was to find his own rhythm. His own flow.

    Flow wasn¡¯t just movement¡ªit was reaction. It was balance, knowing when to yield and when to press forward. He had spent days memorizing forms, when all along, he should have been listening to the battle itself.

    His body tensed, then relaxed as if something had unlocked within him. The stiffness in his movements suddenly felt unnatural¡ªwrong.

    He stayed well into the night, unnoticed and unseen. Tomorrow, he would return. And the day after that. Until he could read movements like words on a scroll.

    The next night, Aaryan found himself in the same place. Watching, studying.

    During the day, he practiced. His footwork changed first. He no longer focused on strict forms but on reacting. If he stepped forward, how quickly could he pull back? If he pivoted, how much force did he naturally generate?

    At first, his body resisted. His stance faltered, ankles sore from shifting weight. Each movement carried hesitation, his reflexes half a beat too slow, too rigid.

    But slowly¡ªpainstakingly¡ªhe improved.

    By the fifth night of observation, he had begun anticipating attacks before they landed.

    By the seventh, he felt the difference in weight when an opponent shifted their stance.

    The shift was effortless, like slipping into a river¡¯s current instead of fighting against it. For the first time, his body responded not with thought, but with instinct. A thrill ran through him¡ªnot of excitement, but of understanding.

    It had taken days, yet now, in a single moment, his body understood what his mind had struggled to grasp. If learning was this slow¡­ how long until he was truly ready?

    Despite his progress, something still gnawed at Aaryan.

    He was slow.

    In the courtyard, a few disciples exchanged words about tomorrow. Some were confident, laughing. Others were sharpening weapons in silence. Aaryan exhaled. He was nowhere near their level. Not yet

    The first month had been guaranteed.

    From now on, only those strong enough to hold their place would keep receiving resources.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, controlling his breath.

    His progress was slow.

    But he wasn¡¯t stopping.

    They had been training for years. He had been here for weeks. Yet for the first time, he didn¡¯t feel lost¡ªhe felt prepared.

    Tomorrow, he would stand among them¡ªnot as their equal, but as someone who refused to be left behind. He wasn''t strong enough. Not yet. But neither was he the boy who sat in stillness, waiting for power to come to him. Strength wasn¡¯t given¡ªit was taken. And he was ready to take his first step.

 Chapter 23 : A Battle Unfought, A War Unseen

    The first light of dawn seeped through the heavy clouds above Evernight Pavilion, painting the sky in muted shades of gray and blue. Aaryan stepped out of his chamber, his breath misting in the cold morning air. The once-quiet sect was now alive with motion.

    The stone pathways buzzed with activity as new disciples hurried about, their voices quieter than before. Gone was the eager chatter from their first days¡ªreplaced now by unease. Their robes, though still crisp, seemed heavier with tension. Some clutched their identity tokens tightly, fingers white with pressure, as if holding onto their lifeline. Others exchanged wary glances, eyes flickering to the older disciples who moved among them like wolves stalking the herd.

    And the older disciples knew it.

    They walked with slow, confident strides, their smirks barely concealed as they observed the fresh batch of nervous faces. Some whispered to each other, their words laced with amusement, already picking out which newcomers looked the weakest. Others openly chuckled, cracking their knuckles in anticipation. The unspoken rule had taken effect¡ªresources were no longer guaranteed. If a new disciple couldn¡¯t defend what was theirs, it simply wasn¡¯t theirs to keep.

    Aaryan watched as a particularly tall senior, his sleeves loose and fluttering, leaned in toward a trembling new disciple.

    "Excited to claim your share?" the older disciple asked, voice smooth, predatory. "I hope you can keep it."

    The younger disciple swallowed hard but didn¡¯t reply. He lowered his head and hurried forward, gripping his token even tighter.

    Aaryan''s expression remained unreadable, but inside, he understood the shift. This was no longer just about progress¡ªit was about survival.

    The wind howled across the terrace, whipping at the robes of the gathered disciples. At the mountain¡¯s peak, where the Resource Hall stood like a silent guardian, a vast stone platform stretched out over the cliff¡¯s edge. From here, one could see the sect sprawled below, the valley shrouded in swirling mist, the distant peaks jagged against the morning light.

    Overseer Dharun stood at the center, his deep blue robes billowing, the golden insignia of the Evernight Pavilion gleaming on his chest. His presence alone commanded silence. The new disciples, already tense, stood in rows as he surveyed them with sharp, scrutinizing eyes. Before him, long wooden tables held neatly arranged pouches¡ªspirit stones, medicinal herbs, spirit beast meat, and vials of purified essence water. The resources that could determine their survival in the coming days.

    Dharun¡¯s voice cut through the wind, steady and cold. ¡°Today marks the start of your second phase in the sect. From this moment on, you are no longer protected.¡±

    A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some of the new disciples tightened their grips on their robes, while others darted nervous glances at the older disciples standing idly near the staircase that led down from the terrace.

    Dharun continued, ¡°Your resources will be distributed now. Once you claim them, the first test begins.¡± His gaze swept over the new disciples, lingering on their paling faces. ¡°Survival is not given¡ªit is earned.¡±

    He gestured to the attendants beside him. ¡°Step forward when your name is called.¡±

    One by one, the new disciples approached, collecting their share. Some moved quickly, clutching their pouches to their chests, eager to leave. Others hesitated, their fingers trembling as they took the resources, eyes flickering toward the staircase.

    Aaryan remained still, watching.

    The older disciples lingered near the terrace¡¯s only exit, standing in small groups. Some leaned lazily against the stone balustrades, their expressions amused. Others exchanged quiet words, their postures casual¡ªbut their eyes were sharp, predatory. They weren¡¯t here for the view.

    The moment a new disciple took their pouch and tried to leave, the older disciples shifted, blocking the path.

    A heavy silence settled over the terrace.

    One of the younger disciples, a boy with nervous eyes, hesitated near the staircase. He tried to step past. A hand shot out, pressing against his chest.

    ¡°Going somewhere?¡± The older disciple¡¯s grin was all teeth.

    Dharun didn¡¯t turn. He had seen it but said nothing.

    One by one, the new disciples realized¡ªthey were trapped.

    Aaryan stepped forward when his name was called. He took his pouch with a calm, steady grip, slipping it into his robe. Then, he turned, facing the blocked exit.

    As the last disciple received their share , Dharun turned on his heel and strode toward the Resource Hall.

    The moment his back was turned, the older disciples moved.

    For a moment, the terrace was silent. A breath held. A heartbeat stretching too long.

    Then¡ªviolence.

    Aaryan stood at the edge of the battlefield, arms loose at his sides, eyes sharp and calculating. Fights had erupted in seconds¡ªdisciples lunging at one another, some with clear strategies, others with nothing but blind desperation.

    The first scream tore through the air as a new disciple was punched in the gut, doubling over, his pouch yanked from his hands before he could even react.

    A sickening pop echoed as a leg bent in the wrong direction. The disciple let out an inhuman shriek, his fingers clawing at the stone floor, eyes bulging with shock. He tried to crawl away, dragging his ruined limb, but a boot slammed down on his back, grinding him into the dirt.

    Blood spattered the stone as a disciple, too slow to dodge, took an elbow to the nose, the impact breaking cartilage. He staggered back, choking on his own blood before a knee to the ribs sent him crashing onto the ground.

    A smaller disciple suddenly flung dirt into his attacker¡¯s eyes, forcing the older disciple to stumble back with a snarl.

    Another feigned injury, his body limp¡ªuntil his opponent turned. In that instant, he lashed out like a cornered animal, driving a hidden blade into the disciple¡¯s thigh. No rules. No honor. Only survival.

    Some attacked wildly, fists and legs lashing out in flurries of untrained strikes. Others fought with precision, redirecting blows, using footwork to unbalance their opponents before striking. The scent of sweat and dirt filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of blood as the first injuries appeared.

    A boy, barely fifteen, clawed at the ground as two disciples stomped on his hand, grinding it beneath their heels until he let out a choked scream. Another, more experienced, dodged a heavy punch, slipping behind his opponent and kicking him forward into another fight. The sickening crack of a bone breaking made a few nearby disciples hesitate, but only for a moment.

    Aaryan saw it all.

    Who attacked first? The arrogant.

    Who was attacked first? The weak.

    One disciple, a boy no older than sixteen, fell to his knees as a group closed in on him. "Please, I¡ª" His plea ended in a choked gasp as a knee drove into his throat, sending him sprawling. His fingers trembled as he reached for his satchel, but a boot crushed his wrist, snapping it clean.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Aaryan moved subtly, avoiding the clusters of fights, his posture unremarkable.

    He reached into his pouch, pulled out one of the herbs, along with a dagger and let it slip from his grip.

    The metallic clang cut through the air A few disciples turned, eyes flickering with interest.

    He stepped back, shoulders slightly hunched¡ªjust enough to seem uncertain.

    Let them believe I was careless.

    Let them assume I am not worth their time."

    As two disciples lunged for the dropped weapon, Aaryan slipped away, blending into the shifting battlefield. He observed, stepping when he needed to, watching when he didn¡¯t. Some disciples fought in groups, others alone. Some hid. Some hunted.

    By the time he reached the outer area where fighting was minimal, his breathing was still calm. He hadn''t spent energy fighting. He hadn''t taken any hits.

    And then there were those who took too much.

    He watched as a particularly strong disciple, already hoarding three satchels, was quickly surrounded by five others. Arrogance had made him a target.

    "The ones who fight first don¡¯t last long."

    Aaryan saw another disciple¡ªa sharp-eyed boy with quick reflexes¡ªgrabbing resources, but never too much. He never fully engaged in a fight, only stepping in when he was certain he could win.

    "The ones who fight too late get nothing."

    There were also those who ran. Hiding in corners, cowering in the shadows, hoping to be ignored.

    "The ones who run without a plan will be found."

    His eyes traced the landscape.

    The center of the terrace, near the lakes, had become a warzone. Disciples fought viciously for resources, their clashes echoing into the night.

    The stone pathways leading toward the inner dwellings were no better¡ªthe ones who had fled there had only delayed their fights, not avoided them.

    But the outer edges? The caves?

    "No one is fighting for those."

    Aaryan moved. Not out of fear, but because he understood the game.

    He adjusted his posture, slumping slightly, making himself appear unremarkable as he walked toward the less desirable dwellings. He passed by several disciples who barely glanced at him¡ªthey were too fixated on the ongoing battles.

    He chose a small, unlit cave, tucking himself inside. His satchel was still full, untouched.

    "No one values what they do not see."

    Aaryan ran his fingers over the rough stone wall, feeling the cold surface. This was not a place of comfort. But it was a place where he would be left alone.

    And that was enough.

    As the night stretched on, the chaos continued.

    Aaryan sat in the shadows, still, quiet.

    He had seen it before¡ªpeople who acted too soon, people who acted too late, people who never acted at all.

    And he?

    He had acted exactly when he needed to.

    "At sunrise, the trial ends. One last desperate rush is coming."

    He knew the pattern. The weakest would come out now, making one final attempt to steal what they could.

    And sure enough¡ªhe heard soft footsteps approaching the cave.

    A small figure crept inside, moving carefully, scanning the area.

    A survivor.

    Someone who had failed to claim anything and now had no choice but to steal from those who still had something left.

    Aaryan remained still, breathing steady, eyes half-lidded as if asleep.

    The intruder''s eyes landed on Aaryan¡¯s satchel.

    A step closer.

    A hand reaching out.

    Aaryan¡¯s voice, low and even.

    "Touch it, and you¡¯ll regret it."

    The intruder froze, his breathing sharp. His eyes flickered between the satchel and Aaryan¡¯s face, calculating the risk.

    Aaryan did not move. Did not blink.

    ¡°If I move, I validate his courage. If I speak, I give him time to think. But silence? Silence is where doubt festers.¡±

    The tension hung thick in the air¡ªa moment stretched thin by the weight of an unseen threat.

    For a moment, neither moved.

    The boy¡¯s breath stilled. His fingers hesitated, a flicker of indecision before they curled back.

    "I¡ªI have nothing left," he whispered, eyes darting to Aaryan¡¯s unreadable face. "I need it."

    Aaryan leaned forward ever so slightly, his voice colder than the night air.

    "Then you should have taken it from someone weaker."

    The boy¡¯s breath hitched. His fingers twitched. He shifted his weight, but his knees refused to move forward.

    Aaryan just watched. Waiting. Measuring.

    The boy felt it then¡ªthat creeping certainty that no matter what he did, this disciple was not afraid of him.

    Then, Aaryan leaned forward just slightly¡ªonly enough to make him flinch.

    "Do it," Aaryan said, voice soft, daring him.

    The boy jerked backward as if burned, his courage collapsing..

    Aaryan¡¯s voice, a whisper: "Now run."

    the intruder took a sharp breath and fled.

    Aaryan exhaled, untouched. He hadn''t needed to fight. He only needed to make it clear that he wasn''t an easy target.

    "Fear can be more effective than strength."

    <hr>

    The first light of dawn bled into the sky, painting Evernight Pavilion in hues of deep violet and cold silver. The surviving disciples stood in silence on the stone terrace, their expressions ranging from exhausted triumph to bitter defeat.

    Some leaned against broken pillars, their bodies bruised and bloodied. Others stood hunched, clutching what few resources they had left. Many bore the scars of the long night¡ªcuts from stolen daggers, swollen knuckles from desperate fights, and eyes rimmed with fatigue.

    But Aaryan?

    He stood at the edge of the group, completely unscathed.

    No torn robes. No bruises. No signs of battle. His satchel, still full, hung at his side.

    And people noticed.

    Eyes flickered toward him¡ªsome curious, some resentful. Whispers stirred among the more battered disciples.

    How had he walked away untouched?

    Aaryan met their gazes with a quiet, unreadable expression. He neither shrank nor asserted himself.

    A battered disciple, his eye swollen shut, spat blood onto the stone as he glared at Aaryan. "You¡ªyou didn¡¯t fight, did you?" he growled.

    "I survived," Aaryan said simply.

    "Coward," another muttered, his lip split open, teeth tinged red.

    "No," an older disciple Ravi interjected, studying Aaryan with something like curiosity. "He¡¯s just smarter than you." This was the same disciple who had accompanied Varun that Day

    Then, the Overseer Dharun arrived.

    Dharun stepped forward, his expression unreadable, his presence commanding absolute silence. His eyes swept over the group, assessing each survivor in a single glance.

    The moment stretched judgment hanging in the air like a blade poised to drop.

    Finally, He spoke.

    "What you hold now belongs to you."

    "But possessions do not make you strong. Only fools hoard without understanding the cost."

    A few disciples stiffened, realizing the meaning behind his words. Those who had fought greedily, taken too much, and then lost everything paled under his gaze.

    Dharun''s eyes flickered toward the more injured disciples.

    "Those who fought without thinking have already shown their weakness."

    Some flinched. Some clenched their fists. Others lowered their heads, knowing they had wasted their strength for nothing.

    Then, his gaze moved to those who had hidden away in fear, avoiding the conflict entirely.

    "Those who hid without a plan have already shown their fear."

    A few disciples visibly shrank, their shoulders tightening in shame. They had survived¡ªbut not because of any strength of their own.

    Finally, the Dharun¡¯s gaze stopped on Aaryan.

    A slow pause.

    Then¡ª

    "And those who failed to understand the nature of control..."

    The air grew heavy.

    "...will never belong here."

    Silence.

    Then, He took a step forward, eyes locked onto Aaryan¡¯s.

    "Not a single mark on you," Dharun observed, his gaze cutting through the silence like a blade.

    Murmurs stirred among the disciples. Suspicious. Resentful. Confused.

    "Explain."

    The weight of the Dharun¡¯s demand pressed down on him. This was not a compliment. This was a test.

    Aaryan met the Dharun¡¯s gaze, his face calm, unreadable.

    He could feel the eyes of the other disciples on him¡ªsome waiting for him to fail, others hoping for an answer they could exploit.

    But he wasn¡¯t interested in proving himself to them.

    The truth was simple.

    A lesser disciple might stammer, try to justify, or shrink under pressure. Aaryan did none of these.

    Instead, he spoke evenly, his voice carrying across the terrace.

    "I chose my battles."

    Dharun¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, waiting.

    Aaryan continued.

    "Fighting is not survival. Survival is not fighting. The ones who fought for everything are barely standing. The ones who ran without a plan lost everything."

    He let his words settle. Some disciples tensed, knowing he spoke the truth.

    "I did not hide. I did not run. I did not waste my strength on unnecessary conflict."

    The murmurs grew louder. Some were angry whispers. Others were thoughtful silences.

    Dharun tilted his head slightly, studying him.

    A long moment passed.

    Then, unexpectedly¡ªhe smiled.

    It wasn¡¯t a warm expression. It was sharp. Amused. Intrigued.

    "Then tell me, disciple¡ªif you understand survival so well, what do you believe strength is?"

    Another test.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, considering his words.

    He didn¡¯t rush his answer. Didn¡¯t try to impress.

    Finally, he said:

    "Strength is not about proving something to others. It is about having the power to decide your own fate."

    Dharun¡¯s smile deepened.

    Some disciples looked confused. Others angry.

    One of the stronger disciples¡ªan older boy with a bruised face¡ªscoffed.

    "Sounds like an excuse to avoid a fight."

    Aaryan barely spared him a glance.

    "If I had fought blindly, would I have anything left?"

    The boy went silent.

    The Dharun nodded, as if entertained.

    He turned slightly, addressing the group.

    "All of you have survived. But surviving is only the beginning. If you do not grow, you will be discarded like the ones who have already fallen."

    He raised a hand, gesturing toward the distant mountains.

    "Your true training begins now."

    Then, his gaze flickered back to Aaryan.

    " Your tongue is sharp, but steel does not yield to words alone.¡± Dharun mused.

    His voice dropped lower, quieter¡ªjust enough for Aaryan to hear.

    "You can only avoid a blade for so long before you must wield one."

    Aaryan inclined his head, his expression unreadable.

    "We shall see."

    He let out a soft chuckle before turning away.

    The first trial was over.

    He had survived.

    Strategy had kept him alive. But if he wanted to dictate his fate, survival was not enough.

    He needed power.

 Chapter 24 : Strength in Stillness

    The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting long, pale shadows over the sect grounds. The morning air carried a crisp chill, but Aaryan¡¯s world was heat and motion. Sweat clung to his skin, his muscles burned, and each breath felt heavier than the last.

    But he did not stop.

    His training had changed. He had changed.

    Before him stood a training dummy¡ªthick wooden frame, weighted metal joints, counterbalanced arms designed to strike back the moment they were triggered. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was better than a tree. Unlike a still target, this one punished hesitation.

    Before, Coiling Serpent Bind had felt like a sequence of steps¡ªa technique he was trying to master, not something instinctive.

    Now?

    It flowed.

    The dummy¡¯s arm lashed toward him¡ªsudden, forceful, unpredictable. Aaryan didn¡¯t block. He didn¡¯t resist.

    He stepped into the motion, feeling the shift of air against his skin as the weighted limb hurtled past. His muscles coiled, tension balanced at the edge of movement. The moment the counterweights snapped back, he let them pull¡ªguiding rather than resisting, twisting his body like a serpent shedding its skin. The force dispersed, harmless, leaving him untouched.

    His body twisted, his arms wrapping around the incoming strike just enough to control its force without stopping it.

    Then¡ªa sudden recoil.

    The counterweights snapped back, sending a sharp jolt through his arm. The wooden limb struck with a dull thud, vibrations running up his forearm. He staggered slightly, but his body adjusted before his mind even caught up¡ªredirecting the force as if it were second nature.

    Had this been a real opponent, they would have been caught in their own motion.

    Again.

    Step. Shift. Redirect.

    Each repetition refined his control¡ªa sharper angle, a smoother transition, a more efficient counter.

    His movements were no longer conscious choices. They were a response to force, a seamless adaptation.

    "I never fought in that battle. But I was in the middle of it. I felt the force of attacks, saw how people moved, understood what worked and what didn¡¯t.

    That¡¯s why Coiling Serpent Bind is improving. I adapted without fighting.

    But what about the Purification Sutra?"

    Aaryan exhaled, stepping away from the dummy. His body was ready to collapse from exhaustion¡ªbut his mind wasn¡¯t done.

    <hr>

    Aaryan lowered himself onto the ground, legs crossed, spine straight. The morning air felt colder now, sweat cooling against his skin. His body throbbed from training, but this was not about movement.

    This was about stillness.

    He closed his eyes, steadying his breath. Before, his recovery had been slow¡ªhis muscles tense even when resting, his exhaustion lingering too long.

    Now?

    He focused on Internal Flow Regulation, the key to the Purification Sutra.

    Not Urrja. Not external power.

    Just his own vitality, his own physical balance.

    His breath deepened, a slow expansion and contraction of his chest. Tension uncoiled from his limbs, but the ache in his muscles was stubborn¡ªclinging to him, resisting release. His heartbeat was slower now, but his blood still thrummed beneath his skin, reminding him that his body was far from fully aligned.

    At first, his pulse resisted¡ªhis breath uneven, his body struggling to settle. The exhaustion clung to him like chains, tightening with each attempt to relax.

    The more he tried to force stillness, the more his body fought against it.

    He exhaled slowly.

    He had no battle to sharpen this technique. No resistance to shape its growth.

    Coiling Serpent Bind had adapted to pressure, shaped by conflict.

    The Purification Sutra had no such trial.

    He let his breath sync naturally, his muscles loosening at their own pace, rather than demanding relaxation.

    The sharp aches in his limbs didn¡¯t disappear¡ªbut they shifted.

    Less resistance. Less strain. A smoother flow of energy within his own body.

    It wasn¡¯t instant. It wasn¡¯t a grand breakthrough.

    But it was progress.

    "If an opponent came at me now, I could dodge, counter, control their movements. But if my body fails when I need it most? No technique will save me."

    He opened his eyes, watching as the golden hues of dawn spread across the sky.

    " Coiling Serpent Bind had refined itself through battle, through the chaos of conflict forcing his body to adapt. But this? This was different. There was no resistance but himself. No enemy to react to, no force to guide. Just silence. And silence did not teach."

    But he couldn¡¯t rush this.

    Unlike techniques that relied on movement and reaction, this was a battle against himself.

    A test of patience, endurance, and control.

    He flexed his fingers slightly, feeling the remnants of strain in his muscles. Would this truly be enough? Would he realize too late that his body wasn¡¯t ready when it mattered most?

    He exhaled slowly.

    No. He would make sure it was enough.

    For now, he would keep training. Because when the next battle came, he wouldn¡¯t just survive it. He would dictate how it unfolded. He would control the battlefield itself.

    Sweat still clung to his skin as he finally exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His muscles ached, but it was a familiar sensation now¡ªprogress, not exhaustion. He gathered his belongings, dousing the small training lantern, running a damp cloth over his face before stepping out into the crisp morning air. The cold wind met his heated skin as he made his way toward the training grounds, where the sect was already awake.

    Aaryan stood at the same vantage point where he had once watched the disciples before the trial¡ªthe elevated walkway near the outer training grounds. From here, the entire sparring area stretched before him, a wide, open expanse of worn stone, bordered by low walls and training dummies that bore the scars of countless strikes. The scent of dust, sweat, and damp earth from the previous night¡¯s cold clung to the morning air.

    But the sect felt different now.

    The trial had left its mark¡ªnot just on the bodies of the disciples but on the way they moved, the way they fought.

    The sect itself had changed. The weak moved with wariness, avoiding unwanted attention. The strong carried themselves differently¡ªsome with quiet confidence, others with the arrogance of newfound power. The balance had shifted.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Aaryan''s gaze travelled over the sparring pairs scattered across the grounds. Some trained with partners, exchanging sharp blows with measured intensity. Others clashed in heated duels, their eyes locked in silent battles of patience and control. A few stood alone, refining their techniques against dummies or empty air, their focus unshaken.

    The air buzzed with the sharp rhythm of combat¡ªboots scraping against stone, wooden weapons cracking against each other, the occasional dull thud of a body hitting the ground. A gust of wind carried the scent of sweat and iron, a reminder that these battles, though training, had consequences.

    And in those battles, Aaryan saw the difference.

    Some had grown sharper. Their stances were more stable, their strikes precise. They conserved energy rather than wasting it on unnecessary movements. They knew when to strike and, more importantly, when to wait. Their eyes were no longer filled with hesitation¡ªthey studied their opponents, watching for weaknesses, adapting mid-fight.

    Some had learned, shaping themselves into something more. Others¡­ had squandered the opportunity, clinging to old habits.

    Aaryan felt neither pity nor pride in them. He simply watched, absorbing what he needed.

    Aaryan''s gaze landed on one such disciple¡ªhis attacks were wild, desperate, driven more by frustration than skill. He lunged forward, his blade slicing through empty air. His opponent, a calmer fighter, barely had to do anything. Each reckless swing was sidestepped with minimal effort, each wasted movement only leaving him more vulnerable. It didn¡¯t take long before a single well-placed counter sent the reckless one stumbling, gasping for breath.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers curled slightly at his sides.

    Strength wasn¡¯t just about force.

    The disciples who had learned from the trial understood this. They knew that power without control was nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

    They had changed.

    He had seen arrogance turn to wisdom and reckless confidence crumble into nothing. Some had adapted, others had fallen behind.

    And him?

    He wasn¡¯t watching these battles just for amusement. He was watching because he was learning.

    Coiling Serpent Bind had improved because of the trial, even though he had never truly fought. The force of attacks, the way bodies moved under stress, the patterns of combat¡ªhe had absorbed it all. His technique had adapted because he had experienced battle, even if he had never thrown a single strike.

    But the Purification Sutra was different. It had no opponent to refine it. No outside force to sharpen its edge.

    He had never fought in the trial, yet he had gained from it. If a single night of conflict had reshaped them, what would true battles do to him?

    Aaryan exhaled, watching as another match concluded. One fighter remained standing, their breath controlled, their balance intact. The other knelt on the ground, panting, drained from wasted effort.

    It wasn¡¯t the strongest who won. It was the one who understood how to last.

    His golden eyes flickered as he turned away.

    He had no intention of jumping into these battles.

    But one day, they would all step onto the same battlefield.

    And by then, he would be ready.

    As Aaryan turned to leave, a figure stepped into his path.

    A senior disciple.

    Not one of the strongest but experienced enough to have survived in the sect longer than most. His smirk was relaxed, but his stance was deliberate¡ªcasual, yet unmistakably in Aaryan¡¯s way.

    " Not many walk away from a trial without a scratch. You? No injuries, no struggle. That¡¯s... interesting..." His tone carried amusement, as if he had already figured Aaryan out.

    Aaryan remained silent, his expression neutral.

    "You walked away from the trial untouched. That¡¯s rare. Makes people wonder how."

    He took a slow step forward, eyeing Aaryan closely. "Luck, maybe?"

    Aaryan met his gaze but said nothing. If he had a coin for every time someone assumed he was lucky, he might actually have enough resources to cultivate properly.

    The senior clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "No response? I wonder¡­"

    Then, without warning, his hand flicked forward in a quick feint¡ªnot a real strike, just a test to see if Aaryan would flinch.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t.

    Instead of dodging or reacting, he shifted his weight ever so slightly¡ªjust enough for the motion to pass harmlessly by. The movement was so fluid and effortless that it almost seemed accidental.

    The senior¡¯s smirk faltered¡ªjust for a fraction of a second, but something in his stance shifted¡ªsubtle, almost imperceptible. A tensing of fingers, a slight adjustment of weight. Aaryan had seen it before. The moment before someone decided whether to push further or walk away.

    For a brief second, the senior¡¯s fingers curled, the beginnings of a choice forming in his mind. Confrontation or dismissal? Aaryan met his gaze, unreadable, waiting. Then, just as quickly, his grip loosened, and the tension in his shoulders faded.

    Not worth it. Not today.

    Aaryan finally sighed, shaking his head. "If I was lucky, I¡¯d be rich, well-rested, and somewhere far more comfortable than this."

    The senior blinked. That was¡­ not the answer he expected.

    Aaryan continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I¡¯d probably be eating something nice right now. Maybe a warm meal, good tea¡ª" He sighed dramatically. "Instead, I¡¯m here. Training. Watching people fight. So no, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m lucky."

    The senior disciple was thrown off for just a second before chuckling. "Hah. You¡¯re a slippery one, aren¡¯t you?"

    Aaryan shrugged. "I just prefer not to waste energy where I don¡¯t need to."

    There was no arrogance in his voice, no challenge¡ªjust a calm, almost bored statement. A response that neither confirmed nor denied anything, yet somehow left the senior with nothing to push against.

    The senior disciple opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with a grin. " I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re careful or just lazy."

    He stepped aside, letting Aaryan pass.

    Aaryan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and walked away.

    No hostility. No unnecessary conflict. Just a conversation where Aaryan somehow walked out as the winner¡ªwithout actually doing anything.

    "If I played along, he¡¯d push further. If I challenged him, I¡¯d make an unnecessary enemy. But this? This left him with nothing to grab onto."

    Behind him, a few observing disciples exchanged glances.

    "Did he just¡­ win that without even trying?" one muttered.

    "Forget that. I kinda want tea now," another mumbled.

    Aaryan smirked to himself but kept walking. Tea does sound nice.

    The cave was silent except for the distant whisper of the wind threading through the narrow passageways. Aaryan sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor, his breathing slow and steady, his focus turned inward. The dim glow of a small lantern flickered against the uneven rock walls, casting shifting shadows that danced with every subtle movement of the flame.

    Then¡ªthree measured knocks at the entrance.

    Aaryan¡¯s eyes opened. He didn¡¯t need to guess.

    Ravi.

    "Not bad," Ravi''s voice carried easily into the cave. "Most don¡¯t even hear me coming."

    Aaryan remained still, his expression unreadable. "You knocked."

    Ravi chuckled. "Would¡¯ve been rude otherwise."

    He stepped inside; his arms crossed as he leaned against the rough stone wall. " You didn¡¯t just survive that trial. You made people curious. And that¡¯s dangerous"

    Aaryan tilted his head slightly but said nothing.

    His eyes lingered on Aaryan, gauging his reaction. "Last time, Varun asked us to look after you. Not many cared." His fingers drummed idly against his forearm before he shook his head. "But now?"

    He let the words hang.

    "Now, things will be different."

    Aaryan leaned back against the rough wooden frame of his cot, the edges pressing into his back. the corners of his lips barely shifting into something that wasn¡¯t quite a smile.

    ¡± People will think what they want. That¡¯s their problem, not mine."

    Ravi snorted. "Clever answer. Won¡¯t stop them from coming at you, though."

    Aaryan exhaled, stretching his legs slightly. "Then I¡¯ll do what I always do."

    "And that is?"

    Aaryan met his gaze, calm and unreadable. "What¡¯s necessary."

    Ravi studied him for a long moment before shaking his head. "You have ability. People with ability either hide it deep or use it to rise to the top." His voice lowered just slightly. "But you did neither."

    Aaryan shrugged. "Maybe I just don¡¯t see the need to rush."

    Ravi narrowed his eyes. " You can¡¯t just drift forever. At some point, you¡¯ll have to decide."

    Aaryan didn¡¯t answer immediately. He glanced up at the darkened sky, the moonlight stretching across the courtyard, before turning back to Ravi.

    " I¡¯ll know when it matters."

    A cryptic response. Not dismissive, not arrogant¡ªjust enough to give nothing away.

    Ravi finally pushed off the wall, shaking his head. " You really don¡¯t play by anyone¡¯s rules, do you?" He turned toward the entrance, the sound of his steps echoing softly against the stone.

    The cave felt colder as the draft from outside slipped through the narrow opening.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t watch him leave. He simply closed his eyes.

    The conversation was over.

    The wind whispered through the passageways once more, and the cave returned to silence.

    The next morning, Aaryan stepped out of his cave, the crisp morning air brushing against his skin as he made his way through the sect grounds. The chill of the morning air lingered, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and incense drifting from the meditation halls. The familiar sounds of disciples training, the rhythmic clashing of wooden weapons, and the distant murmur of conversations filled the air. The sect was as it had always been.

    But something was different.

    Eyes followed him now.

    It wasn¡¯t blatant¡ªnot yet¡ªbut it was there. A shift in the way people looked at him. Before, he had been a ghost, slipping unnoticed through the sect, just another nameless disciple among many. Now, that anonymity had cracked.

    Some glances held curiosity¡ªsilent questions lingering behind measured stares. Others were sharper, assessing, weighing him like a piece on the board. A few were wary, suspicious, as if unsure whether he was an obstacle or an opportunity.

    He passed a group of disciples sparring near the training grounds. One of them hesitated mid-step, his stance faltering as his gaze flickered toward Aaryan. His partner didn¡¯t miss the opportunity¡ªa swift strike nearly caught him in the ribs, earning a sharp grunt and a muttered curse. Aaryan ignored it and kept walking.

    Further ahead, a pair of senior disciples leaned casually against a stone railing. Their conversation was quiet, but their attention lingered on him. One smirked slightly, as if entertained by the shift in atmosphere.

    He didn¡¯t slow his pace.

    "This was inevitable. The moment you¡¯re noticed, you become part of the game¡ªwhether you want to or not."

    Some would want to test him. Some would want to befriend him. Some would want him gone.

    None of it mattered¡ªnot yet.

    Aaryan moved as he always had¡ªunhurried, unconcerned. Whatever conclusions they were drawing, whatever whispers were being exchanged in his wake, they were their thoughts to entertain, not his burden to carry.

    He had always known his path.

    Survival had been his goal before. But now¡­ now, the path ahead was no longer just about survival. It was about choice. And whether he wanted to or not, choice meant stepping forward. Others had noticed him. Now, it was his turn to decide what they would see.

 Chapter 25 : Refining Instincts, Ruining Egos

    Aaryan¡¯s training had never been about talent¡ªit was built on effort, repetition, and sheer will. While others balanced cultivation with rest, he pushed himself to exhaustion, refining every movement until it became second nature. Every strike, every dodge, every adjustment was practiced until there was no hesitation left.

    And his body bore the proof.

    The familiar ache of fatigue still lingered, but it no longer slowed him. His muscles, once merely conditioned, had grown denser¡ªhoned by relentless strain. Calluses had hardened across his palms, the skin on his knuckles roughened from countless impacts. His arms, once lean, now carried a wiry strength, the veins subtly pronounced beneath the skin. The deep burn in his legs had dulled to something familiar, almost welcome. His body no longer resisted the demands he placed upon it¡ªit adapted, absorbed, became stronger.

    Where his movements had once been deliberate, now they were instinctive. He no longer thought about dodging¡ªhis feet adjusted before his mind processed the strike. He no longer hesitated before countering¡ªhis body reacted, refined by endless repetition.

    Yet, deep down, Aaryan knew¡ªit still wasn¡¯t enough.

    It was nearing the end of the second month, and besides practicing, Aaryan had done little else. His days blurred into a cycle of motion and stillness¡ªpushing his body to its limits, refining his techniques, and forcing himself to recover just enough to do it all over again.

    And it showed.

    Coiling Serpent Bind had transformed from a rigid technique into an instinctive response. What once felt like a memorized sequence now flowed effortlessly, his body reacting to force as naturally as breathing. His redirections were smoother, his counters sharper, and the gaps in his defense had nearly vanished.

    The Purification Sutra, however, was another matter. Progress was slow¡ªfrustratingly so. Unlike combat techniques, which sharpened through repetition, the Sutra required deep internal refinement, a process that couldn¡¯t be rushed. But Aaryan¡¯s dedication never wavered. Each day, he endured the slow, grinding process of aligning his breath, his body, and his inner flow.

    And in the end, it was working.

    His breath was steadier, his recovery faster, and the strain that once left him aching for days now faded in hours. He had yet to master it, but the difference from where he had started was undeniable.

    Stronger. Faster. Sharper.

    Yet, even as his body adapted, exhaustion still clawed at him¡ªa dull weight in his limbs, a tightness in his lungs, a stiffness that only faded when motion took over. No matter how much he improved, there was always another edge to hone, another weakness to eliminate.

    Which was why, as night fell, Aaryan wasn¡¯t resting.

    He was testing himself once more.

    <hr>

    A single lantern flickered in the cave, its dim glow casting restless shadows across the stone walls. Aaryan stood at the center, blindfolded, his breathing slow and steady. Above him, a weighted staff¡ªits ends heavy enough to mimic the force of an opponent¡ªhung suspended from a thin rope.

    With a small push, he set it swinging.

    The first pass was predictable¡ªa slow arc slicing through the air. He felt it before he heard it, the subtle displacement of air brushing against his skin. He barely moved, tilting his head just enough to let it pass harmlessly by.

    The second swing came faster, sharper. He ducked, his muscles responding a fraction of a second before his mind fully registered the motion.

    Good.

    Then, without warning, he struck the staff mid-swing, sending it into an erratic, unpredictable spin.

    Now, the real test began.

    Aaryan remained still as the weighted staff carved wild paths through the air around him. The force of its swings stirred the strands of his hair, the rush of displaced air his only warning.

    His heartbeat slowed, matching the rhythm of his breath¡ªnot rushed, not erratic, but controlled. He didn¡¯t rely on sound alone, nor the predictable hum of the spinning weapon.

    He felt it.

    His foot slid half an inch to the left¡ªjust enough to avoid a grazing strike. His spine curved at the last moment as the staff cut through empty space where his ribs had been. Each movement was precise. Subtle. Instinctive.

    A downward strike came next¡ªfast and punishing¡ªbut his body had already reacted. His weight shifted, knee bending, torso twisting, allowing the blow to pass harmlessly behind him. A sweeping arc followed, but he sidestepped, his balance unshaken, his breath unbroken.

    No wasted energy. No unnecessary tension.

    Every motion was fluid¡ªadapting without force, bending without breaking.

    The staff whirled faster, desperate to find an opening. Aaryan let it come. His awareness extended beyond the strikes¡ªhe felt the shift in momentum, the subtle drag as its speed slowed.

    And then¡ªsilence. The staff wobbled once, its final swing barely disturbing the air before it came to a stop.

    The staff lost its force, its momentum spent.

    Aaryan stood untouched. His breath steady. His body relaxed. Not a single drop of sweat marred his skin.

    He exhaled slowly, pulling off the blindfold.

    His golden eyes gleamed in the dim lantern light.

    This wasn¡¯t luck.

    It was control.

    Speed. Power. Brute force. He had seen them all. But this? This was something different.

    A battle is decided before the first strike lands.

    If he could read his opponent¡¯s intent before they moved, he wouldn¡¯t need to fight harder. He¡¯d fight smarter.

    Was this the result of discipline alone, or was something deeper¡ªsomething beyond his understanding¡ªguiding his movements?

    For now, it didn¡¯t matter.

    Control was everything.

    And soon, he would have to prove it.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The lantern¡¯s glow flickered one last time before Aaryan snuffed it out with a flick of his fingers. Darkness settled over the cave, but his mind remained sharp, his body still humming with quiet energy. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

    Enough for tonight.

    The morning air greeted him as he stepped outside¡ªcrisp, laced with the faint scent of damp stone and incense drifting from the distant meditation halls. The sect was already alive¡ªsharp sounds of wooden weapons clashing, the occasional grunt of impact, and the murmur of quiet conversations blending with the hum of training grounds.

    Like every morning, Aaryan found himself at his usual spot¡ªa vantage point overlooking the sparring area, where disciples tested their strength against each other. Some fought with purpose, their movements precise. Others wasted energy, swinging wildly, their footwork a mess.

    He had no plans to join them. He was content watching, learning.

    But, of course, someone had other plans for him.

    A loud, cocky voice cut through the air.

    ¡°Still just watching, huh?¡±

    Aaryan blinked and turned slightly. A disciple swaggered toward him, all muscle and arrogance. Jayan¡ªpeak third level of Anima¡ªgrinned like he had already won something.

    ¡°I was wondering when you¡¯d stop lurking in the shadows,¡± Jayan said. ¡°You ever plan to fight? Or is standing around looking deep your only technique?¡±

    Aaryan barely reacted.

    Ah. One of those guys.

    ¡°You know,¡± Jayan continued, stretching his arms, ¡°a lot of people think you¡¯re some hidden expert.¡± He smirked. ¡°I don¡¯t buy it.¡±

    Aaryan gave him a slow look. ¡°That¡¯s nice. Want a medal?¡±

    The crowd immediately stirred.

    ¡°Did he just¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Oh, this is gonna be good.¡±

    Jayan¡¯s smirk twitched. ¡°Cute. But jokes won¡¯t get you out of this. Fight me.¡±

    Aaryan sighed, rubbing his temple. ¡°Do I have to?¡±

    ¡°What, scared?¡±

    The murmurs started.

    ¡°Aaryan hasn¡¯t even reached the first level of Anima, right?¡±

    ¡°Jayan¡¯s peak third level. This is¡ªthis is actually insane.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but we¡¯ve never seen Aaryan fight. Maybe he¡¯s hiding something?¡±

    ¡°I mean, he has dodged every challenge so far¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, finally. Someone¡¯s calling him out.¡±

    Jayan cracked his knuckles. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s see what all the hype is about.¡±

    Aaryan exhaled. ¡°You¡¯re really not going to leave me alone, huh?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Fine.¡±

    The crowd buzzed with anticipation. Finally, Aaryan was fighting.

    Jayan grinned, rolling his shoulders. Then, with an air of supreme confidence, he gestured at himself.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a free hit. Go on, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±

    Aaryan didn¡¯t move at first. The crowd watched, waiting for a clever retort, some witty comeback.

    Aaryan gave Jayan a half-lidded stare, resisting the urge to yawn. This was going to be over in seconds, wasn¡¯t it?

    Then, without a word¡ª

    Punch.

    Aaryan casually stepped forward and drove his fist into Jayan¡¯s gut.

    The moment Aaryan¡¯s fist connected, a dull, sickening thud echoed across the training grounds. Jayan¡¯s body locked up, his breath catching in his throat as a delayed shockwave rippled through his spine.

    Jayan¡¯s face twisted. His entire body froze, mid-word, mid-breath. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the peak third-level disciple suddenly¡­ malfunctioned.

    For a solid two seconds, he just stood there, mouth open, making no sound.

    Then, like a sack of rice losing its balance, Jayan¡¯s knees buckled.

    His breath whooshed out of his lungs in a long, painful wheeze. His arms, once raised confidently, flopped to his sides like limp noodles. He tilted¡ªnot dramatically, not gracefully¡ªjust a slow, pathetic topple to the ground.

    ¡°¡­Mistakes were made.¡±

    Thud.

    The entire sparring ground froze.

    A disciple at the back dropped his wooden sword.

    Another whispered, ¡°Holy¡ª¡± but forgot to finish the sentence.

    ¡°Did¡­ did Jayan just die?¡±

    ¡°No, but his pride might¡¯ve.¡±

    The disbelief was palpable.

    The stunned silence stretched on. Nobody moved. Even the air itself seemed to pause, as if the entire sect was trying to process what had just happened.

    Aaryan rolled his shoulders, barely acknowledging the scene. He flexed his fingers¡ªno soreness, no resistance. Really? That was it?

    He had killed level one beasts in the selection trial before even stepping into the sect. Compared to that, knocking out an unprepared opponent without even showing his techniques?

    It wasn¡¯t much.

    If anything, Jayan should be grateful. Aaryan could¡¯ve actually fought back.

    Jayan¡¯s eyes were wide, his mouth moving but no words coming out. The sheer betrayal on his face was something Aaryan wished he could frame and hang in his cave.

    After a long pause, Aaryan sighed dramatically. ¡°What?¡± he said, tilting his head. ¡°Did you expect me to throw out some smart answer and walk away?¡±

    Jayan¡¯s breath hitched.

    Aaryan smirked. ¡°I can¡¯t become that predictable, can I?¡±

    Jayan tried to speak. He got as far as, ¡°You¡ª¡± before Aaryan patted his shoulder.

    ¡°There, there,¡± Aaryan said cheerfully. ¡°You did great.¡±

    The crowd exploded.

    Some were howling with laughter. Others were genuinely confused.

    ¡°I¡ªwhat¡ªHOW?!¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t even¡ªhow did Jayan not even last five seconds?!¡±

    ¡°WAIT, DID AARYAN JUST BECOME THE STRONGEST FIRST-LEVEL DISCIPLE WITHOUT EVEN REACHING FIRST LEVEL?!¡±

    Jayan groaned.

    Someone in the crowd very gently patted his back.

    ¡°There, there,¡± they whispered. ¡°At least you tried.¡±

    Aaryan stretched lazily. ¡°Welp, that was fun.¡± He turned and started walking off.

    Jayan, still lying on the ground, gasped, ¡°Wait¡ªwhat just happened?¡±

    Aaryan waved without looking back. ¡°Breakfast is calling me.¡±

    ¡°¡­What the hell does he eat?!¡± someone from the crowd blurted.

    The crowd erupted again.

    Jayan wheezed, rolling onto his side.

    ¡°I should have stayed in bed.¡±

    He lay there, staring at the sky, rethinking all his life choices.

    The night was deep, the sky a vast ocean of darkness speckled with cold stars. The sect lay silent, wrapped in stillness, but within a secluded cave, the air stirred¡ªnot with wind, but with motion.

    Aaryan stood at the center, blindfolded, breath steady, body poised. Sweat clung to his skin, a thin sheen catching the dim lantern glow, but he ignored it. Around him, three weighted staffs hung suspended by taut ropes, their metal-capped ends gleaming like waiting predators. Unlike before, where a single staff had tested his reflexes, now three spun and lashed through the air, weaving an unpredictable web of motion, seeking weakness.

    And he moved.

    The first staff sliced toward his ribs¡ªhe twisted, shoulder dipping just enough to let it pass. The wind of its motion whispered against his skin, but he was already shifting, already sensing the second strike. It came high, a sudden arc toward his temple. His spine bent, just enough for it to graze the tips of his hair as it whooshed past.

    The third came for his legs. Low, fast, merciless.

    He leapt.

    His feet barely skimmed the ground before he landed, weight fluid, never stiff. The rhythm continued¡ªstrike, evade, adjust, repeat. His breath followed the pattern, deep and measured, his muscles moving without thought, without hesitation.

    For the first time, he was getting it.

    But he wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªnot yet.

    A split-second miscalculation.

    One staff clipped his shoulder¡ªa dull, aching thud. Another brushed his ribs, the sting sharp enough to make him inhale through clenched teeth. He felt the impact radiate through him, but his feet never stopped. His body absorbed the force, adjusted mid-motion, continued as if nothing had happened.

    Pain meant nothing. Hesitation was the real enemy.

    Minutes bled into hours. The rhythm of swinging wood, sharp breaths, and near misses formed a symphony of instinct and endurance.

    His body paid the price.

    The grazes became raw welts, streaks of red where the metal edges had scraped him. The clipped shoulder throbbed, a deep pulse of discomfort. The weight on his legs grew heavier, his knees trembling under the repeated strain. His palms, slick with sweat, ached from reflexive clenching. A sharp sting on his forearm told him one of the staffs had left something behind¡ªa thin, burning cut.

    Maybe someone watching would think he was insane.

    Maybe he was.

    He trained past exhaustion, past reason, until his limbs felt like stone, his breath a ragged whisper in the still air. His muscles burned, the dull ache settling deep in his bones.

    And then¡ªhis body finally gave in.

    A sudden misstep. His knee buckled. His muscles locked.

    The next strike would land¡ª

    Except the staffs had already slowed, their momentum spent.

    Aaryan stood there, swaying slightly, barely holding himself upright. His entire body trembled, not in fear, but in exhaustion. His vision swam as he exhaled, letting the blindfold slip from his fingers.

    The flickering lantern glow greeted him, warm and distant. The sharp tang of sweat and blood filled the air, the faint sting of his wounds ignored.

    With no strength left to stand, he dragged himself toward his cot, each step a battle against gravity.

    His legs wobbled, nearly giving out beneath him. Each breath came shallow, his vision blurred at the edges. The cave walls seemed farther than before, but he kept moving.

    He collapsed onto the rough bedding with a heavy sigh, limbs sprawled, breath uneven. His back pressed against the firm fabric, the aches settling in, but his mind remained sharp.

    He was stronger than before.

    But still not enough.

    The day after tomorrow was resource distribution.

    And he had no intention of being weak when that time came.

    His breath slowed. His eyelids drooped, leaden and unmovable. His thoughts flickered, slipping away, until the world blurred into a haze of aching limbs and lingering heat.

    Then¡ªnothing.

    The lantern¡¯s glow wavered once, then went out.

    The cave fell into darkness.

 Chapter 26 : Talk Sh*t, Get Hitâ€¦ or Just Hand Over 30%

    The first thing Aaryan felt was pain.

    It wasn¡¯t sharp or unbearable, just a dull, ever-present ache woven into his muscles¡ªa gift from last night¡¯s training. His body protested as he shifted, every movement a reminder that he had pushed too hard, again.

    He lay there for a moment, eyes half-lidded, debating the merits of just staying in bed forever.

    Then he exhaled. Today was Resource Distribution.

    That meant food. That meant strength. That meant people were going to try and take what was his.

    And he had no intention of letting that happen.

    With a groan, he dragged himself upright. His legs felt like stone, his ribs were sore from where a staff had clipped him, and he was fairly certain there was a bruise forming somewhere on his back. He splashed some water on his face, shook off the stiffness, and stepped outside.

    The sect was already alive with activity, but Aaryan barely paid attention as he made his way toward the Resource Distribution Hall. The path was familiar now, the air thick with quiet tension. This wasn¡¯t just about receiving resources¡ªit was a battlefield before the real fight even began.

    Just like last time, disciples had gathered, some chatting, others eyeing potential targets. It was all the same.

    Then, like clockwork, Dharun arrived.

    The senior disciple¡¯s presence had the same effect as before¡ªthe murmuring quieted, the restless energy in the air shifting to wary anticipation. He didn¡¯t waste time with words. The moment the first name was called, the process began.

    One by one, disciples stepped forward, received their allotted resources, and moved back. Some left quickly, eager to escape the chaos that would follow. Others lingered, their gazes locked onto those they intended to rob.

    Aaryan stepped forward when his name was called, taking his sachet with the same measured calm as before.

    Dharun barely spared him a glance before moving on. To him, Aaryan was just another disciple.

    The last name was called. The final sachet was handed out.

    And then, without a word, Dharun left.

    And just like that, the fight began.

    The first disciple lunged forward, a wide, telegraphed swing aimed for Aaryan¡¯s head.

    Slow. Predictable. Weak.

    Aaryan stepped inside the attack, too fast for the opponent to react.

    His hand snaked out, catching the disciple¡¯s wrist.

    Then, with a vicious twist¡ªCRACK.

    A scream tore through the air as the attacker¡¯s wrist bent at an unnatural angle. He collapsed, clutching his arm, his voice raw with pain.

    The second disciple faltered. Fear.

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze snapped to him.

    Hesitation. A fatal mistake.

    Before the disciple could retreat, Aaryan closed the distance in a blink. His elbow drove straight into the man¡¯s sternum.

    A sickening thud.

    The impact sent the disciple reeling¡ªhis eyes wide, his mouth open in a silent scream. He gasped, his lungs refusing to pull in air. Then¡ªhe dropped.

    Two down.

    The third disciple staggered back. Fear radiated from his wide eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. His grip on his sachet tightened.

    Aaryan tilted his head.

    ¡°Go on,¡± he said softly. ¡°Run.¡±

    For a moment, the disciple seemed frozen between pride and survival.

    Then, he turned and bolted.

    The crowd shuddered.

    This wasn¡¯t just some strong disciple defending his resources.

    This was brutality.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t just win¡ªhe made them regret ever thinking of attacking him.

    He knelt, collecting the fallen sachets.

    Three down. More to go.

    More challengers came.

    Some alone, others in pairs.

    They thought numbers would help.

    They were wrong.

    The first disciple lunged¡ªa diagonal slash, reckless, full of power but no control.

    Aaryan stepped inside his guard, fast¡ªtoo fast.

    His fist hammered into the disciple¡¯s elbow. A wet pop. A scream.

    The sword clattered uselessly to the ground.

    One down.

    <hr>

    The second and third came together, flanking him.

    Smart. But not smart enough.

    One tried to grab him¡ªbad move.

    Aaryan seized his arm, twisted, and slammed him face-first into the ground. Teeth cracked. Blood splattered. The disciple groaned, barely conscious.

    The other hesitated. A second too long.

    Aaryan pivoted, sweeping his leg out in a vicious arc. A solid impact to the knee.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The snap echoed across the terrace.

    Two more down.

    <hr>

    The fights stacked up. So did the sachets.

    Six.

    Aaryan wasn¡¯t just defending his resources anymore.

    He was making an example.

    The crowd had noticed.

    The murmurs weren¡¯t about who would challenge him next.

    They were about who would dare.

    Blood dripped from a shallow cut on his arm. A dull bruise throbbed along his ribs from a mistimed dodge. Superficial wounds. Nothing serious.

    Then came someone different.

    This one didn¡¯t rush in blindly. He studied Aaryan, circling, waiting.

    A feint¡ªa sharp step forward. Aaryan didn¡¯t bite.

    Another step, a probing strike. Testing. Feeling him out.

    Aaryan met him in kind. No wasted movement, no openings given. A silent battle of patience.

    The fight stretched on. Unlike the others, this one didn¡¯t panic after a missed strike. He adjusted, adapted.

    Aaryan could respect that.

    But respect didn¡¯t mean mercy.

    <hr>

    A flicker of movement.

    Aaryan shifted, baiting him in. The moment his opponent lunged, Serpent Bind lashed out.

    A misstep. A stumble.

    That was all it took.

    Aaryan struck.

    A vicious elbow to the ribs. A sharp crack. The disciple gasped, staggering back, clutching his side.

    He looked like he wanted to continue.

    But he knew.

    He had lost.

    Aaryan reached down, picking up his seventh sachet.

    Aaryan exhaled, brushing dust off his sleeves. The crowd that had once seen him as a minor inconvenience now watched. The weak no longer dared to approach, and the strong had begun to take notice.

    Aaryan¡¯s breath came in short, sharp bursts. His ribs ached with every inhale, and his fingers trembled¡ªjust slightly¡ªas he flexed them.

    He could feel the stiffness setting in, his muscles burning from the relentless pace. Blood seeped from a gash on his arm, but he barely registered it over the throbbing in his ribs.

    That¡¯s when real trouble arrived.

    Three of them. Two at the third level of Anima, one at the fourth.

    They weren¡¯t opportunists. They weren¡¯t reckless. They were here to take.

    ¡°Hand them over,¡± one sneered. ¡°Or we¡¯ll take them off you.¡±

    Aaryan exhaled, rolling his neck. His body ached, his limbs were stiff. He had fought too many battles already.

    ¡°You guys should really come up with something original,¡± he muttered.

    The first one lunged.

    Aaryan caught him mid-motion, hooking his arm in a modified Serpent Bind. His opponent had strength, but Aaryan had leverage. A sharp twist, a shift in balance¡ª

    A dull crack.

    The disciple crashed down, his wrist bent at an ugly angle. A scream followed.

    Aaryan barely had time to breathe before the second was on him.

    A sharp kick.

    Aaryan raised his arms to block, but the impact felt different this time¡ªhis arms, leaden with fatigue, absorbed the blow poorly. His stance wavered, his balance faltering, and for the first time, doubt crept in.

    Enough time for the third to strike.

    Aaryan barely twisted in time. The impact hit his ribs like a hammer.

    He gritted his teeth. His breath was short, pained. But he retaliated immediately.

    A vicious elbow to the second disciple¡¯s ribs. He heard a wheeze, a gasp. But it wasn¡¯t enough.

    Because the fourth-level disciple was already moving again.

    This wasn¡¯t like before.

    Aaryan wasn¡¯t dictating the fight. He was in it.

    Aaryan dodged¡ªbarely. His vision blurred for half a second, his reaction slower than before.

    Pain exploded through his shoulder as a fist connected, knocking him back a step. His breath hitched, ribs screaming in protest. He was fast¡ªbut not fast enough anymore. His body wasn¡¯t keeping up with his instincts.

    The fourth-level disciple was relentless, forcing Aaryan back. He dodged, countered, absorbed the impact when he couldn¡¯t avoid it. But he was slower now, fatigue creeping in.

    He took a hit to his shoulder¡ªhard enough to make his arm go numb.

    Another to his side¡ªpain lancing through bruised ribs.

    His fingers curled into a tight fist, his knuckles white. He could feel his own exhaustion trying to drag him down, but he refused to let it. Not yet. Not here.

    The second attacker¡ªstill gasping for air¡ªmoved again. Too slow.

    Aaryan grabbed him by the collar and drove his knee into his ribs¡ªonce, twice, three times¡ªuntil something cracked. The disciple let out a choked gasp before crumpling, unmoving.

    A sharp yelp. Then silence.

    The last one standing hesitated.

    Aaryan looked at him, face half-shadowed, breathing steady despite the blood trickling down his lip.

    He tilted his head. ¡°Still want them?¡±

    The man froze.

    Then he turned and ran.

    The crowd erupted.

    Aaryan stood, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His arms felt like dead weight, his legs unsteady beneath him.

    Sweat trickled down his back, his vision swimming at the edges. If another fight came right now¡­

    No. He couldn¡¯t think like that. He wasn¡¯t done yet.

    But things were not over yet.

    After some time another group arrived.

    Five of them.

    Older, stronger, and smirking like they had already won.

    The leader cracked his knuckles, his smirk widening. ¡°You¡¯ve had a good run,¡± he said, voice casual. ¡°How about we make this easy? Just hand over the sachets, and we¡¯ll make this painless.¡±

    Aaryan rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. ¡°Painless for who? You?¡±

    The leader¡¯s smirk twitched.

    ¡°You know,¡± Aaryan continued, gesturing lazily at his bruises, ¡°I respect the confidence. But let¡¯s break this down, shall we?¡± He pointed at them. ¡°Five of you, one of me.¡± He pointed at himself. ¡°I¡¯m already injured, exhausted, and¡ªlet¡¯s be honest¡ªprobably one punch away from passing out.¡±

    Some of them chuckled.

    Aaryan smiled. ¡°But here¡¯s the problem: I don¡¯t pass out quietly.¡±

    The laughter faded.

    ¡°See, if you fight me, I will go down. But¡­¡± He raised a finger. ¡°One of you definitely goes down before I lose.¡± A second finger. ¡°One of you probably gets injured bad enough to need someone to carry you home.¡± A third finger. ¡°And the rest? You¡¯ll be so battered that even weaker disciples might decide you¡¯re an easy target.¡±

    The leader¡¯s smirk twitched. His lackeys exchanged glances.

    Aaryan tilted his head. ¡°I mean, I won¡¯t be around to see it, but I imagine it¡¯d be hilarious watching some half-starved first-level disciple suddenly jump you guys for scraps.¡± He sighed dramatically. ¡°Tragic, really.¡±

    One of the lackeys actually took a step back.

    The leader scowled. ¡°Tch. You talk too much.¡±

    Aaryan grinned. ¡°That¡¯s my best trait.¡±

    Another lackey muttered, ¡°Boss, he¡¯s kinda making sense¡­¡±

    Aaryan gasped. ¡°Oh? A rational decision? Rare in these parts.¡±

    Aaryan smiled. ¡°So, tell me¡ªare you really planning to risk getting ambushed over all my sachets, or are you smart enough to take a better deal?¡±

    The leader narrowed his eyes. ¡°What kind of deal?¡±

    Aaryan shrugged. ¡°I give you some of my sachets. Enough to make this worth your time. You walk away with a win, and I walk away in one piece. Everyone wins. No one gets stabbed in the back.¡±

    A beat of silence.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°Seventy percent.¡±

    Aaryan scoffed. ¡°What do I look like, a charity?¡±

    The leader smirked. ¡°Alright. Sixty.¡±

    Aaryan scoffed. ¡°Fifty.¡±

    The leader¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Fifty-five.¡±

    Aaryan put a hand over his heart, mock-affronted. ¡°I thought we were friends.¡±

    The leader sighed. ¡°Fine. Forty percent.¡±

    Aaryan gave him a slow, thoughtful nod. Then he smiled. "Deal."

    He handed over 30 percent of his sachets.

    The leader blinked. ¡°Wait. That¡¯s not what we¡ª¡±

    Aaryan clapped him on the shoulder. "Pleasure doing business."

    The leader opened his mouth to argue¡ªthen looked around. Too many people were watching. He exhaled through his nose and stomped off.

    The leader looked like he wanted to strangle him.

    Aaryan stretched, looking pleased. ¡°See? Look how reasonable we all are. This could¡¯ve been a bloodbath, but instead, we¡¯re making smart business decisions.¡±

    One of the lackeys muttered under his breath, ¡°I feel like we just got robbed.¡±

    Another nodded. ¡°We definitely got robbed.¡±

    But they still walked away.

    Aaryan watched them go.

    The crowd stared.

    And from a distance, Dharun watched too.

    He had seen plenty of disciples fight for their resources. But this¡­ this was different.

    He wasn¡¯t sure whether to laugh or be impressed.

    That kid is either a genius, a lunatic, or both.

    Probably both.

    Someone whispered, ¡°Did he just negotiate his way out of getting beaten?¡±

    Another disciple muttered, ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to be impressed or terrified.¡±

    Aaryan cracked his knuckles. Six sachets left. A loss, but a calculated one.

    He stretched, satisfied. ¡°Welp. Time for breakfast.¡±

    The crowd parted for him.

    Then¡ª

    ¡°WHAT THE HELL DO YOU EVEN EAT?!¡±

    Aaryan turned.

    Jayan, still bruised from their last fight, was gaping at him in sheer exasperation.

    Aaryan winked. ¡°High-quality protein.¡±

    Jayan clutched his head. ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t¡ªHOW DID YOU JUST NEGOTIATE MID-BATTLE? WHO DOES THAT?!¡±

    Aaryan sighed dramatically. ¡°Jayan, my friend, some people fight with strength. Others fight with skill. I¡ª¡± he gestured vaguely, ¡°¡ªprefer to fight with intelligence.¡±

    Jayan threw his arms in the air. ¡°BULLSHIT! THAT WAS A SCAM, NOT INTELLIGENCE!¡±

    Someone in the crowd muttered, ¡°I mean¡­ it worked.¡±

    Another disciple whispered, ¡°Honestly, at this point, I think he¡¯s a scam artist disguised as a martial artist.¡±

    Aaryan put a hand on his heart. ¡°I prefer the term ¡®strategic negotiator.¡¯¡±

    The crowd erupted in laughter.

    Aaryan, victorious, walked away like it was just another day.

    Dharun sighed. That kid is going to give someone a heart attack.

 Chapter 27 : Echoes of a Forgotten Storm

    The moment Aaryan stepped away from the Resource Hall, the weight of his injuries slammed into him.

    He had been running on sheer willpower¡ªfueled by adrenaline, battle, and sheer stubborn defiance. But now? Now, exhaustion clawed at him, sinking deep into his bones.

    His legs felt heavier with every step, each movement sending a dull, pulsing ache through his muscles. His ribs throbbed¡ªnot just bruised, but possibly cracked. A sharp, biting pain flared in his right shoulder, radiating down his arm like smoldering embers. The gash on his forearm burned raw, as if reminding him that dominance in battle had come at a price.

    The murmurs of the crowd faded behind him, but he barely registered them. Whether they whispered in fear or awe, it didn¡¯t matter. Right now, his only goal was reaching his cave without collapsing along the way.

    The stone path stretched ahead, its once-familiar terrain now feeling unnervingly distant. His breath came in slow, measured inhales, each one laced with the sharp sting of pain. The further he walked, the more the world seemed to narrow. The shifting silhouettes of trees blurred at the edges of his vision, his steps growing sluggish, his surroundings dulling into the background.

    Reckless.

    The thought crept into his mind, unwelcome but undeniable. He had pushed himself too far.

    He clenched his jaw. Had he truly been in control¡­ or just lucky? Would his strength always be enough? Or had today been a warning?

    Yes, he had won. Yes, he had fought smarter than the others. But what if there had been one more opponent? What if someone stronger had stepped in at the last moment?

    Would he have been able to walk away then?

    Or would he be sprawled on that bloodstained terrace, another nameless fool who reached too high and fell too hard?

    His pride told him he had played it well, but his body¡ªaching, battered, near its breaking point¡ªreminded him otherwise.

    By the time he reached his cave, the cool air inside felt like a distant comfort¡ªone he could barely grasp.

    His knees buckled slightly as he lowered himself onto the stone floor, his back pressing against the cave wall. The pain was no longer something he could ignore. His ribs screamed in protest, his limbs felt like dead weight. Even flexing his fingers took effort.

    Aaryan let his head rest against the rough surface behind him. His breath came in shorter gasps. The world around him felt¡­ distant. The cold cave wall at his back blurred into nothingness. His limbs no longer felt like they belonged to him¡ªjust a weight dragging him down, down¡ª

    And then, he fell¡ªdeeper than just unconsciousness.

    Aaryan wasn¡¯t sure where he was.

    He stood¡ªor maybe floated¡ªon uneven ground, surrounded by scattered debris. The scent of blood and scorched earth clung to the air.

    Before him, a man knelt on the ground.

    His form was shrouded in shadow, his face obscured¡ªAaryan couldn¡¯t see it. But everything else? The details were painfully clear.

    His robes were torn, drenched in crimson, ripped apart in places where deep gashes ran across his body. His shoulders trembled, his breath came in ragged gasps, but he refused to fall.

    Even as blood pooled beneath him.

    Even as his own body betrayed him.

    Because¡ª

    He was holding something.

    A child.

    ________________________________________

    Aaryan Sees the Child & the Man¡¯s Expression

    The man¡¯s arms cradled the boy carefully, as though even the slightest shift would shatter him. Protective. Desperate. His grip was firm yet gentle, the way one would hold something they refused to let go of, no matter what.

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze shifted.

    The child¡ªso small, fragile¡ªwas barely visible in his embrace. Blood¡ªhis blood¡ªstained the boy¡¯s cloth wrappings, but the child himself was unharmed. He breathed softly, unaware of the war around him.

    Then¡ªAaryan looked at the man¡¯s face.

    For a moment, his heart lurched.

    Because beneath the exhaustion, beneath the blood and battle scars, there was something raw in his expression.

    Pain.

    Not the kind that came from wounds or exhaustion.

    A deeper pain.

    One that settled in the eyes.

    A pain that didn¡¯t scream, didn¡¯t cry out.

    But instead¡ªjust existed.

    Carved into his very being.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t know why, but the sight of it made his chest feel unbearably tight.

    Who was this man?

    Why did it feel like he knew him?

    Why¡­ Why did this feel so familiar?

    The answer hovered at the edge of his mind¡ªso close he could almost grasp it. A name, a memory, a feeling¡ªit was there.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    For a fleeting moment, it was his. And then¡ªgone. Dissolving like mist, slipping between his fingers before he could hold on.

    Like waking from a dream only to find the details dissolving, leaving behind nothing but a hollow, aching certainty¡ªhe had known.

    Once.

    The vision wavered.

    The wind picked up, the storm¡¯s roar returning.

    And then¡ª

    Darkness.

    Aaryan was falling.

    The air was thick, suffocating, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn''t shake off.

    Then¡ªthunder.

    A blinding flash split the void apart, tearing across the sky. The storm raged, wild and relentless. The winds howled, lightning carved through the heavens, and amidst it all¡ªa man ran.

    His body was battered and bloodied, but he did not stop.

    Aaryan tried to focus, but his perspective felt... wrong. He wasn¡¯t standing. He wasn¡¯t fighting. He was being carried.

    A dull panic settled in his chest. His body wouldn¡¯t move, wouldn¡¯t react.

    The man¡¯s grip was firm yet desperate, as if he was holding onto something more precious than his own life. His breath was ragged, his voice barely audible above the storm.

    "Even after all the sacrifices, it seems fate will not spare us."

    Aaryan''s vision flickered.

    Something about those words tugged at him. They felt distant¡­ but familiar.

    ¡°No matter how far we run, we can¡¯t escape the consequences.¡±

    The wind howled louder, as if trying to drown out the voice. The figures in the distance were drawing closer.

    A sudden pulse of energy surged through the air. A dagger gleamed in the man¡¯s bloodstained hand.

    He raised it toward Aaryan.

    Fear jolted through him. What was happening?! His mind screamed at him to move, to react, but his body wouldn¡¯t listen.

    The man¡¯s voice was strained, filled with something that sounded almost like regret.

    ¡°I was meant to protect you¡­¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s heartbeat thundered.

    ¡°But the world has forced me to do this.¡±

    The dagger descended.

    And then¡ªlight.

    The vision fractured.

    The storm raged, but it felt further away now¡ªlike he was slipping out of its grasp.

    Then¡ª

    A desperate, heart-wrenching cry tore through the chaos.

    "Go!"

    It wasn¡¯t just a command. It was a final plea, raw and heavy with resignation.

    The voice was filled with finality, as if the one who spoke had already accepted his fate.

    The world blurred.

    The storm collapsed inward.

    And suddenly¡ª

    Pain.

    Crushing, suffocating pain.

    He wasn¡¯t being carried anymore.

    He was on the ground.

    The storm had quieted, Instead, the scent of wet earth and pine filled the air. Leaves rustled in the distance, and the faint call of insects hummed through the silence.

    But the air felt wrong.

    Heavy.

    Empty.

    The warmth had been stolen from his body, as if something vital had been ripped away.

    A low, endless hum filled the void. Not a sound, not a voice¡ªjust a deep, vibrating emptiness that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

    It felt like loss.

    Like something was missing.

    Something important.

    Aaryan''s fingers twitched, reaching for something¡ªbut what?

    What had he lost?

    Aaryan''s gaze wavered.

    Where¡­ was this?

    He didn¡¯t remember moving.

    The shift was too sudden¡ªone moment he was in the storm, the next he was here.

    The trees stretched high, their towering forms swaying gently. The scent of damp earth filled his lungs, the whisper of rustling leaves pressing against his ears.

    His chest tightened.

    Something wasn¡¯t right.

    Then he saw it.

    A small bundle lay nestled in the leaves. Wrapped in worn, faded cloth, barely shifting with the breeze.

    Why did his chest feel so tight? Why did the sight of the bundle stir something deep in him¡ªsomething just out of reach?

    Aaryan''s breath hitched.

    His fingers curled slightly, but he didn¡¯t know why. Something about this place¡­ about that bundle¡­ felt like an echo of something lost.

    His hand lifted¡ªhesitant. His fingers hovered over the worn cloth, close enough to touch, but something in him paused.

    A strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu gripped him, tightening around his chest like unseen hands. He had done this before.

    Hadn¡¯t he?

    The thought barely had time to form before¡ª

    The world lurched.

    Not a fall¡ªbut a pull.

    A sensation like being yanked through water, like stepping off solid ground only to find nothing beneath him.

    He didn¡¯t fall.

    He sank.

    And suddenly¡ª

    He wasn¡¯t looking at the bundle.

    He was inside it.

    The world was too big.

    The sky, the trees, the leaves¡ªthey stretched endlessly above him, towering, shifting, moving in ways he couldn¡¯t understand.

    His body felt small. Weak.

    He tried to move¡ªnothing.

    His limbs were too heavy, too clumsy. His fingers curled, but they barely responded.

    A dull, aching hunger gnawed at him. A chill seeped through his skin, making him instinctively curl into himself.

    Then¡ª

    A shadow passed over him.

    A figure loomed.

    His vision blurred, struggling to focus. He couldn¡¯t see his face, couldn¡¯t grasp who he was.

    But he was there.

    Something loomed over him¡ªvast, unknowable. A presence. A whisper. A hand reaching¡ª

    Then¡ª

    A touch.

    Barely there. Featherlight. A brush against his forehead¡ªwarm, fleeting, gone before he could register it.

    His breath hitched.

    A voice¡ªtoo distant, too quiet to understand. But it was there.

    Then¡ª

    Cold.

    The warmth vanished. A hollow emptiness took its place.

    And with it¡ªAaryan fell into the dark.

    Aaryan stirred.

    A faint awareness seeped into his body, dragging him out of the heavy, suffocating darkness.

    A sharp, shallow breath. His lungs ached, as if they had forgotten how to draw air. His skin prickled with cold. Something felt¡­ off. His fingers twitched against the stone floor, searching for warmth that wasn¡¯t there.

    A sudden shiver ran through him.

    His thoughts were sluggish. Fogged.

    Something had just happened¡ªsomething important.

    His eyelids fluttered open, but for a few moments, he just lay there, staring at the rough ceiling of his cave, his mind grasping at the remnants of a dream already slipping away.

    What¡­ had he seen?

    His brows furrowed as he sifted through the fragments.

    There had been¡ªa storm. Yes. A storm, raging wild and untamed. Thunder, loud enough to shake the heavens.

    And amidst it all¡­ a man.

    Aaryan inhaled sharply, his pulse kicking up. The image flickered¡ªtorn robes, a bloodstained grip, a figure kneeling on the ground, clutching something close.

    A child.

    His breath hitched. A strange pressure tightened in his chest.

    The man had been holding the child, guarding him as if he were the only thing left in the world that mattered.

    Aaryan squeezed his eyes shut, chasing the elusive details. The man¡¯s face¡ªhe had tried to see it, hadn¡¯t he? But it had been obscured, hidden just beyond his reach. Yet¡­ something about him had felt¡ªfamiliar.

    A slow, uneasy chill crept down his spine.

    Why?

    His fingers curled into a loose fist, pressing against the stone floor. His mind stretched further, reaching¡ªgrasping¡ª

    The storm. The dagger. A voice, hoarse with exhaustion.

    "Even after all the sacrifices, it seems fate will not spare us."

    Aaryan¡¯s breath shuddered as recognition stirred deep within him.

    It wasn¡¯t just a passing memory¡ªit was something he should know. Something he had heard before.

    His chest tightened. His body felt wound too tightly, coiled with something on the verge of breaking free.

    And then¡ªfor just a moment¡ªit was there.

    The knowledge pressed against his mind, sharp and certain. A name, a face, a truth he shouldn¡¯t have forgotten.

    A flicker¡ª

    A glimmer of recognition¡ª

    A face¡ª

    His breath caught. He had seen this before. He was sure of it.

    Then¡ª

    Gone.

    Like shattered glass slipping through his fingers, the images unravelled, dissolving into nothing.

    A sharp ache settled in his ribs, as though he had lost something¡ªsomething that had belonged to him.

    Aaryan sucked in a breath, his hands curling into the fabric of his clothes. The frustration burned beneath his skin, sharp and unrelenting.

    What was that?

    His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, but it wasn¡¯t enough to quiet the gnawing unease beneath his skin.

    Aaryan dragged a shaky hand down his face. His body still felt heavy, his mind slow, as if the dream had taken something from him¡ªleft him hollow.

    He swallowed, sitting up slowly. His muscles ached, his ribs protested, but none of that mattered.

    Not compared to the lingering sense of wrongness that clung to him.

    The cave was still. Silent. Unchanged.

    And yet¡­ Aaryan wasn¡¯t sure he was.

    Because even now, as he stared at the empty space before him, it wasn¡¯t the dream that unsettled him most¡ª

    It was the certainty that something had been taken.

 Chapter 28 : Unseen Threads

    Aaryan¡¯s consciousness drifted at the edges of wakefulness, caught between the fading grip of the dream and the cold reality pressing in around him. His breath came slow and shallow, each inhale tinged with something heavy¡ªsomething missing.

    He could still feel it.

    The storm. The weight of unseen hands. The echo of a voice, hoarse and final.

    But the more he reached for the details, the more they slipped away, dissolving like mist in the morning light.

    His chest tightened.

    What was it?

    The thought clawed at him, desperate and relentless, but no answer came. Only the lingering sense of loss, of something just out of reach. Something that should have mattered.

    Aaryan exhaled sharply, willing himself to push past it. He flexed his fingers against the cold stone beneath him, seeking an anchor to the present. But as he did, a strange unease crept up his spine. His skin prickled, as though something had just left him¡ªsome warmth that had no right to be there in the first place.

    He swallowed, staring blankly at the cave¡¯s ceiling. The dream still clung to him like a second skin, refusing to fade completely. A flickering sensation ghosted over his forehead¡ªso faint, so brief, he almost believed he imagined it.

    Had it really been just a dream? The storm, the voice, the weight of unseen hands¡ªit had felt real. Too real. As if some part of him had lived it, not just seen it.

    His fingers twitched against the stone. Would anything be different if he looked around?

    The thought unsettled him more than it should have. He clenched his jaw.

    No. It was just a dream. Nothing more.

    But was it? He had woken from dreams before¡ªthis felt different. More like a memory than a dream, a truth buried beneath layers of fog. He exhaled sharply. No. He couldn¡¯t let himself think like that.

    The sharp ache in his ribs flared as he shifted, pain lancing through his body. Every muscle screamed in protest, stiff and battered from the battle. The effort of sitting up made his breath come in short, controlled inhales. The wounds on his arm burned, his shoulder throbbed, and the bruises across his torso pulsed with dull agony.

    Reality had returned in full force.

    The cave was silent, save for the faint sound of his own breathing. The usual damp chill clung to the air, but tonight, it felt different. Stifling. Heavy.

    It wasn¡¯t just the quiet¡ªit was the way the air sat too still, as if something unseen lingered just beyond his senses. The walls felt closer than before, the darkness pressing in, thick and unmoving.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, his breath barely disturbing the space around him. The weight of the silence coiled around his chest, taut and expectant.

    He wasn¡¯t in danger. Not yet.

    But something was wrong. The air was too still, as if expecting something.

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze swept the dim interior, his instincts prickling.

    His body told him he was alone.

    And yet, some part of him¡ªsome quiet, lingering instinct¡ªwhispered that he wasn¡¯t.

    A faint sound.

    Soft. Barely there. Like the quiet drag of fabric against stone.

    Aaryan¡¯s breathing slowed.

    Then¡ªa shift. A shadow flickered near the entrance, just enough to be noticed. Not the wind. Not his imagination.

    A soft exhale. Not his own.

    His fingers twitched. The exhaustion in his body screamed at him to ignore it, but his mind had already sharpened.

    Aaryan stayed completely still, listening. The sound had stopped¡ªbut the air remained thick with presence. Then, the faintest flicker at the entrance¡ªa shadow shifting, breaking the stillness. Not the wind. Not his imagination. His fingers curled slightly. Someone was there.

    The instinct to move¡ªto act¡ªflared in him, but he crushed it. He was in no condition for another fight. Instead, he straightened, forcing his posture into something composed, impassive. His expression smoothed over, unreadable.

    If they expected to find him vulnerable, they would be disappointed.

    The steps slowed near the entrance. A shadow flickered against the cave wall, elongated by the dim moonlight.

    A moment later, a silhouette stepped inside, movements unhurried, deliberate. Unbothered. Familiar. It was only when the figure shifted closer, moonlight catching on his robes, that Aaryan recognized him.

    Ravi.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers twitched before he forced them still.

    Ravi¡¯s gaze swept the cave¡ªjust once, quick, assessing¡ªbut he wore his usual easy expression, unreadable in its own way. His hands were empty, posture relaxed, but Aaryan knew better than to take that at face value.

    A quiet moment stretched between them before Ravi broke it.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to pretend,¡± he said, voice smooth, almost amused. ¡°I know you¡¯re injured.¡±

    Aaryan didn¡¯t react.

    He simply met Ravi¡¯s gaze, cold and unyielding.

    Ravi sighed, stepping further inside. ¡°No need to look at me like that. I¡¯m not here to start trouble.¡± He pulled something from the folds of his robe¡ªa small bundle wrapped in cloth. ¡°Actually, I brought you something.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s eyes flicked to the bundle. He didn¡¯t recognize it immediately, but the faint, earthy scent that drifted from it told him enough. Herbs.

    The faint, earthy scent drifted toward him. His gaze sharpened. He didn¡¯t recognize them immediately, but something about them felt¡­ off. Too valuable for someone like Ravi to give away so casually.

    His gaze snapped back to Ravi, sharper now.

    Ravi must have noticed the hesitation because he let out a light chuckle. ¡°You don¡¯t trust gifts, do you?¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but edged with steel. ¡°I don¡¯t trust anything freely given.¡±

    Ravi tilted his head, as if considering the words. Then he took a step closer, crouching just enough to set the bundle on the ground between them.

    ¡°You fought hard today,¡± he said simply. ¡°You¡¯ll recover faster with these.¡±

    There was no obvious threat in the words, no immediate angle, but Aaryan wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to take them at face value. His mind turned over the possibilities. Ravi wasn¡¯t the type to waste effort. If he was helping, there was a reason.

    And yet, ignoring the herbs would mean dragging out his recovery¡ªmaybe for weeks.

    Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t look away from him. He could hear the easy sincerity in Ravi¡¯s tone¡ªbut that only made him more wary.

    ¡°You had no reason to bring this.¡±

    Ravi sighed. ¡°You always make things so complicated.¡± He stood up, dusting off his robes. ¡°Take it or don¡¯t. I¡¯m just passing by.¡±

    Aaryan glanced at the bundle again, his thoughts churning. The herbs were real. Useful.

    And yet¡ª

    Nothing in this world came free.

    He looked back at Ravi, who only smiled, as if amused by Aaryan¡¯s caution.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.

    Finally, Aaryan reached for the bundle. But he didn¡¯t take his eyes off Ravi.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers hovered over the bundle for a heartbeat longer than necessary. His instincts screamed at him¡ªnothing in this world came without cost. But right now, his body had no room for pride.

    Ravi¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter, but something unreadable flickered beneath it

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze lingered on the bundle of herbs, his fingers unmoving. His mind churned, weighing the choice before him.

    The scent of damp stone and faint traces of blood still clung to the air. His body ached with the aftermath of battle, each breath scraping against his ribs like a dull blade. His shoulder throbbed in protest, a relentless reminder of the blows he had taken. He had forced himself through worse, but forcing himself through this would cost him precious time¡ªtime he couldn¡¯t afford to waste.

    Without treatment, his injuries would fester. Recovery would take weeks. That was a luxury he didn¡¯t have.

    But accepting these herbs meant stepping into an unknown game¡ªone where Ravi had already made the first move.

    His jaw tightened.

    Nothing came free. Aaryan knew this better than anyone. No matter how easily Ravi had handed the bundle over, no matter how casual his words had been, there was always an angle. A price yet to be named.

    Still, he had no choice.

    Exhaling slowly, he reached for the herbs. His fingers worked with practiced precision, unwrapping the bundle and sorting through the leaves. The sharp, earthy scent filled the air as he rubbed them between his fingers, feeling the fine powder break apart.

    They were real. Good quality.

    That, at least, wasn¡¯t a lie.

    But as he sifted through the bundle, his fingers brushed against something¡­ off.

    A different texture. A different scent.

    His brows furrowed as he picked out a single, slender stalk wrapped in a separate fold of cloth. Unlike the rest, this wasn¡¯t for healing.

    This was for training.

    His grip tightened slightly.

    This wasn¡¯t something the sect handed out every month¡ªnot even to outer disciples. Even inner disciples wouldn¡¯t have easy access to a herb like this. It wasn¡¯t the kind of resource one simply ¡°found.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s jaw clenched.

    Was this a mistake? Had Ravi slipped it in without thinking? No, that wasn¡¯t his style. Ravi was careful. Smooth. He didn¡¯t do things without reason.

    So why?

    Aaryan turned the stalk between his fingers, rolling it absently. The faintest tinge of bitterness clung to his skin, but underneath it, something lingered¡ªsomething raw. Not heat, not cold, but a weight. A presence. It settled deep into his fingertips, not fading as quickly as it should have.. If he used it, even a small amount would push his training forward.

    His instincts screamed at him that this wasn¡¯t normal. That it was too much. Too convenient.

    But he was already at his limit.

    If he refused to use it out of sheer suspicion, he¡¯d only be harming himself.

    Exhaling slowly, he ground the leaves into a coarse paste, pressing it against his wounds. The moment the paste touched his skin, a cooling numbness spread through his flesh, dulling the fire of torn muscle and battered ribs. The ache deep in his bones lightened, tension unwinding from his muscles.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, relief settling over him like a tide pulling back from shore.

    Then¡ª

    His stomach twisted, the sensation too sudden, too unnatural. For a fleeting second, his body felt weightless¡ªnot in a way that signaled rest, but in a way that mirrored the hollow absence from his dream. Like warmth leaving him. Like something being taken.

    His fingers twitched against the stone. The weight of unseen hands. The hoarse echo of a voice.

    He clenched his jaw, forcing his thoughts away. This was real. The pain, the medicine, the cave.

    The dream¡ªwhatever it had been¡ªdidn¡¯t belong here.

    Even as his body welcomed the healing, his thoughts remained tangled.

    Why?

    His fingers brushed the rare herb again.

    Why would Ravi give him something this valuable? Even if he had found it, he shouldn¡¯t have handed it over so casually.

    A mistake? No. Ravi didn¡¯t do things without reason. But what reason?

    Aaryan turned the stalk between his fingers, rolling it absently. The faint bitterness clung to his fingertips, a sign of its potency. The sect controlled herbs like these tightly.

    For a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind¡ªhad Ravi given this to him because he expected something in return?

    Not a favor. Not a trade.

    A test.

    And that made it more dangerous than anything else.

    Aaryan exhaled through his nose.

    ¡°If there¡¯s a debt to be paid,¡± he murmured to himself, voice barely above a whisper, ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it later.¡±

    His mind didn¡¯t rest, even as he leaned back against the cave wall, allowing the medicine to take effect.

    Strength always came at a price.

    If Ravi thought, he was buying something with this¡­

    Then Aaryan would make sure the one paying wasn¡¯t him.

    Aaryan¡¯s steps were slow, deliberate, his body still protesting each movement despite the medicine¡¯s effects. The dull ache in his ribs remained, a constant reminder that while the herbs had helped, he wasn¡¯t fully recovered. But right now, his injuries weren¡¯t his concern.

    He needed answers.

    The Hall of Echoing Arts loomed ahead, its towering stone pillars etched with worn patterns, their grooves deepened by time and touch. The air carried the faint scent of aged parchment and ink, laced with the musty stillness of a place more often abandoned than used. The torches flickered low, their light barely pushing back the dim hush of the chamber. It wasn¡¯t a true library¡ªnot in the way scholars might envision¡ªbut it held records, manuals, and texts on various topics, including alchemy and herbs.

    He stepped inside, keeping to the edges. The hall was mostly empty, as expected. Most disciples preferred training their bodies over expanding their knowledge. That suited him just fine.

    His fingers brushed the aged wood as he moved past cultivation techniques, bestiaries, and forging manuals. Alchemy and Herbology¡ªthat was what he needed. He scanned the titles, selecting a well-worn scroll titled ¡°Compendium of Medicinal Flora¡±. It was thick with knowledge, the ink slightly faded from years of handling.

    Settling into a secluded corner, he unfurled the scroll and let his eyes trace the careful illustrations, the meticulous notes.

    He skimmed the scroll, eyes flicking over entries. For a moment, nothing stood out. Then¡ªa familiar shape. Thin, silver-veined leaves, curling slightly at the edges. His breath slowed as recognition settled. Silverleaf Balm.

    His eyes moved over the description:

    "A rare wild herb found in shaded, damp environments. Known for its potent regenerative properties, it is often sought after by healers and alchemists. Silverleaf Balm accelerates the recovery of external injuries, numbing pain while strengthening damaged tissue. It does not grow in abundance, and successful cultivation requires precise conditions."

    Aaryan frowned slightly.

    So Ravi hadn¡¯t just stumbled across this. Even if it was not the rarest herb, it was certainly not something one could pick up casually. A controlled environment was needed to grow it properly, meaning it had to come from a cultivated supply.

    But from where?

    His fingers pressed against the parchment as his thoughts turned. The sect had its own herb gardens, but access was regulated. This wasn¡¯t something an outer disciple could easily obtain.

    Why did Ravi have it?

    And why had he given it away so freely?

    Aaryan exhaled, forcing himself to keep his posture neutral. The Hall was still empty. No eyes watched him from the towering shelves, no shadows moved between the columns. And yet, the quiet felt heavier now, pressing in around him.

    He shifted slightly, intending to turn the page, but a sharp pull in his ribs stopped him short. A faint wince flickered across his face before he stifled it. Even now, his body reminded him of its limits.

    He let his eyes linger on the entry for a moment longer before turning the scroll, searching for the second herb.

    The silence had weight. Not the ordinary stillness of an empty hall, but something thicker¡ªsomething expectant. As if the air itself was waiting for him to piece together what he wasn¡¯t meant to know.

    He resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder. No one was here. No one was watching.

    And yet, for the first time since stepping inside, he wished someone was.

    This one took longer to find.

    The pages detailed numerous medicinal and cultivation-enhancing plants, most of which he skimmed over. Then¡ªa familiar name.

    The name sat on the page like a warning. Aaryan¡¯s breath slowed, his fingers curling slightly, nails pressing into the parchment¡¯s edge. His mind pulled taut, something beneath his skin telling him¡ªthis was wrong.

    His chest tightened¡ªnot from pain this time, but from recognition. The faint throb in his ribs barely registered now, drowned beneath the rising tide of unease.

    Emberthorn Root.

    A carefully drawn sketch showed a wiry, deep-red root covered in fine, sharp spines. Unlike Silverleaf Balm, this wasn¡¯t for healing¡ªit was for strengthening. His eyes flicked over the text:

    "A rare and highly valued root, known to stimulate qi refinement in the early stages of cultivation. Its properties allow for greater energy absorption and endurance, making it particularly sought after by young cultivators looking to temper their foundation. Due to its scarcity, it is typically reserved for those with sect backing or significant personal wealth."

    His grip on the scroll tightened, the parchment crinkling slightly under his fingers. For a moment, the hall around him felt too small, the walls pressing in just enough for him to notice.

    His fingers brushed the dried herbs on his sleeve again. This time, they felt different¡ªless like medicine, more like a message.

    This wasn¡¯t something any outer disciple should have access to.

    Even inner disciples wouldn¡¯t acquire this easily unless they had earned it¡ªor bought it.

    The sect controlled resources like this too tightly. It wasn¡¯t something handed out in monthly distributions, nor something that could be stolen without consequence. Even disciples with backing had to fight for a share.

    And yet, Ravi had it. Not just had it¡ªgave it away.

    A resource this rare wasn¡¯t meant to be discarded so casually. Either Ravi had more of it than he needed¡­ or he had never needed it in the first place.

    He closed the scroll, his grip on the edges tightening slightly.

    This wasn¡¯t luck. It wasn¡¯t coincidence.

    Silverleaf Balm was already a strange thing to give away. But Emberthorn Root? That was something else entirely.

    Aaryan slowly placed the scroll back onto the shelf, the questions circling in his mind like vultures over a fresh kill.

    Why?

    Even if Ravi had a reason for this, it wasn¡¯t just him acting on a whim. A move like this¡ªit wasn¡¯t the kind of thing done lightly. This wasn¡¯t Ravi¡¯s play. He didn¡¯t need this herb. He didn¡¯t need to hand it over. Which meant¡­ someone else did.

    And if that was the case, then Aaryan wasn¡¯t just a recipient of someone¡¯s generosity.

    He was a piece being moved across the board.

    Aaryan exhaled, but the unease remained. It wasn¡¯t just suspicion¡ªit was something deeper. Like warmth leaving him. Like something slipping away before he even knew to grasp it.

    The sensation from his dream ghosted over him, unshaken even by wakefulness. His fingers flexed involuntarily, as if expecting to feel something there¡ªbut there was nothing. Only the parchment beneath his fingertips, thin and crinkling under his grip.

    He clenched his jaw. No. This was real. This was tangible. The dream¡ªwhatever it had been¡ªwas not.

    And yet, the cold feeling in his chest remained."

    The quiet hum of the Hall pressed against him as he stepped back out into the night air. His fingers brushed absently against his sleeve, where traces of dried blood still clung to his skin.

    This wasn¡¯t generosity. It was a move. And no move came without consequence.

    And until he knew whose game he had stepped into, he would treat it as a threat.

 Chapter 29 : First Ascent

    Aaryan rolled the Emberthorn Root between his fingers, its wiry, deep-red stalk rough against his skin. A rare treasure for cultivation¡ªone that most would never even see, let alone hold.

    His grip tightened slightly.

    He had been cautious until now, resisting the urge to recklessly chase power. But for the first time, the thought of advancing stirred something close to excitement within him.

    He had fought, struggled, endured¡ªalways at a disadvantage. But what if, just once, he could move ahead instead of merely keeping up?

    Aaryan exhaled slowly.

    He knew the cost of strength better than anyone

    But If it could push him forward¡ªwhy should he refuse?

    His hesitation wavered. His decision solidified.

    Without further delay, he broke off a small piece of the Emberthorn Root and placed it on his tongue.

    Bitterness spread across his tongue, followed by a sharp, tingling heat that coiled in his chest. For a brief second¡ªnothing. Then¡ªa pulse. A tremor. His muscles tightened instinctively, his breath hitching as the heat pressed against him¡ªnot scorching, but invasive, testing. His vision wavered slightly, his heartbeat slowing for a fraction too long before¡ªanother pulse. This time, steadier. Expanding.

    Warmth unfurled beneath his skin¡ªnot scorching, but controlled, like embers stirred to life by a single breath. His pulse steadied, his breath deepened, his body felt more present than it ever had before.

    It¡¯s working.

    Aaryan flexed his fingers, noting the way the usual stiffness faded into something fluid, effortless. His awareness expanded¡ªhe could feel the faintest shift of air against his skin, the tension in his muscles loosening ever so slightly.

    And this was only from a small portion.

    He glanced at the rest of the root in his hand.

    A smirk ghosted across his lips. If this much had an effect¡­ what would the rest do?

    With a decisive motion, he ground the rest of the Emberthorn Root into a coarse paste, mixed it with water, and swallowed it in one go.

    The heat surged¡ªsharp, coiling, unbearable for a breathless moment. His pulse hammered, vision swam¡ªthen, slowly, his body adapted, the chaos settling into order, adjusting as if something within had unlocked.

    The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest felt different¡ªmore controlled, more deliberate. It wasn¡¯t just deeper; it filled him completely, as though every inhale carried power, and every exhale refined it.

    His senses expanded in unison, the dim cave sharpening¡ªevery crack in the stone, every shimmer of moisture suddenly distinct. He clenched his fists, marvelling at the power humming beneath his skin, the faint dripping of water deeper within the cave, the subtle shift in the air¡ªas if the world itself had opened to him.

    A shift. A realization.

    He wasn¡¯t just recovering. He had crossed the threshold.

    Anima¡ª1st Level.

    A slow breath. A slow smirk.

    Finally.

    For the first time since entering the sect, he felt truly different¡ªnot just recovering from battle, not just surviving, but gaining ground.

    But then¡­

    His fingers brushed the empty space where the Emberthorn Root had been. Gone, just like that. Power consumed. Irreversible.

    For a moment, a rare smile touched his lips. He had taken a gamble, and it had paid off. But his wariness returned just as quickly. This wasn¡¯t just a breakthrough¡ªthis was a move on the board.

    He just didn¡¯t know the cost yet.

    Aaryan flexed his fingers, testing the newfound strength in his grip. His body felt lighter yet more solid, his breath deeper, steadier. Every movement carried a sense of precision¡ªlike his body had finally caught up to his mind.

    The breakthrough had changed him.

    But how much?

    He crouched, pressing a hand to the rough stone floor of the cave. His senses stretched outward, picking up details he would have missed before¡ªthe faintest tremor in the earth, the cool condensation forming along the cave walls, the distant murmur of wind outside. His awareness had expanded.

    This was the power of advancing.

    And yet¡­ what if he had more resources like this?

    The Emberthorn Root had given him a clear path forward. It was fast, efficient. How much more could he grow if he had more?

    The idea wasn¡¯t unreasonable. He had entered the sect with nothing¡ªno family name, no powerful backers, no stockpile of cultivation resources. If he wanted to keep up, he needed to take every opportunity he could find.

    And right now, he had one.

    His fingers brushed against his sleeve, where the last remnants of dried Emberthorn Root clung to the fabric. But that wasn¡¯t the only thing he had.

    The beast core.

    he Scorpion-Tail Wolf¡¯s core was still in his possession. It was valuable, something cultivators and alchemists alike would pay well for. He had originally planned to keep it, but now¡­

    Selling it should give him enough to buy something useful.

    Something to strengthen himself further.

    He exhaled, fingers tapping lightly against his knee.

    Then what?

    For once, he hesitated¡ªnot from weakness, but from the unfamiliar chance to choose something more. Survival had always been his only concern. Yet now¡­ what was he chasing?

    A brief chuckle left his lips, almost self-mocking.

    A break wouldn¡¯t kill him.

    As his eyes flickered toward the cave entrance, where morning light filtered in through the mist. A name surfaced in his mind, unbidden yet steady.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Kalyani.

    A rare flicker of warmth settled in his chest.

    She had been one of the few constants in his life before he came here. Stern, yes¡ªbut never unkind. In a world where strength dictated worth, she had treated him as something more than just another nameless orphan.

    He hadn¡¯t seen her since entering the sect.

    Maybe it was time.

    And if he was visiting, he wouldn¡¯t go empty-handed.

    A small smirk played on his lips. He might as well put his earnings to good use. Cultivation resources were important, but not everything had to be about getting stronger. Some things were worth more.

    With that thought, his plan took shape.

    Sell the beast core. Get her something worthwhile¡ªperhaps something to aid longevity or enhance vitality, things mortals valued.

    Then, see what else the area had to offer.

    And if luck was on his side, he might gain more than just a moment of rest.

    Aaryan adjusted the cloth wrapping around the Beast Core, feeling the smooth, hardened surface beneath his fingertips. It was warm, pulsing with a faint energy that only a cultivator could perceive. He exhaled slowly.

    The choice lingered. Selling the core could fund his advancement, give him access to resources that would push him further. But it could also afford something else¡ªsomething that didn¡¯t revolve around survival and strength.

    For once, he let the uncertainty settle.

    He stepped out of the cave, the morning mist curling around his feet as he moved toward the sect¡¯s Exchange Hall. Unlike the open marketplaces of the outer world, the sect handled trade with careful regulation. The hall was the only sanctioned place to sell to the sect itself or barter with other disciples who had set up stalls. For most, it was a necessity. For him, it was unfamiliar terrain.

    The path wound through the sect grounds, past towering stone pillars engraved with ancient scripts. Aaryan kept his pace measured, his senses still adjusting to the Emberthorn Root¡¯s effects. Every breath felt deeper, his awareness sharpened. He caught the distant scent of burning incense from the cultivation chambers, the crisp morning air tinged with damp stone and earth.

    The Exchange Hall loomed ahead¡ªan imposing structure of dark wood and slate, its entrance marked by a wide threshold where disciples moved in and out, some carrying small pouches, others inspecting scrolls and trinkets.

    Inside, the air was thick with the scent of herbs, parchment, and ink. Disciples moved between stalls, some browsing with practiced ease, others hesitating before making their inquiries. Vendors sat behind their tables, some leaning back with confidence, others calling out occasional offers, eager to make a sale. The atmosphere was subdued but busy¡ªa quiet hum of trade and exchange.

    Aaryan¡¯s steps slowed as he reached the herb vendor¡¯s stall, his gaze flickering over the neatly arranged rows of powdered roots, dried petals, and vials of shimmering liquid. The sharp, earthy scent of medicinal herbs curled in the air, familiar yet foreign in this moment.

    His fingers twitched at his side, reaching¡ªalmost¡ªbefore curling away. He exhaled through his nose, tension shifting from his grip to his shoulders.

    Strength.

    Security.

    The logical path. Yet¡­

    Just across from this stall, tucked between the busier vendors, sat a stand that barely drew glances. No rare elixirs, no high-grade pills¡ªjust a modest display of everyday trinkets. The vendor, an older disciple with an air of quiet patience, didn¡¯t call out like the others. His wares lay neatly arranged: silk pouches embroidered with care, polished wooden combs, and a row of hairpins inlaid with small jade stones. Simple things. Ordinary things A reminder of a life beyond cultivation.

    His fingers tightened around the Beast Core. He had never allowed himself a choice like this before.

    His thumb brushed over the cloth-wrapped surface, the warmth of the core grounding him. It had always been simple before¡ªtake what was needed, leave the rest. No wasted effort, no pointless desires.

    And yet, he couldn¡¯t step away.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, forcing his grip to loosen as he stepped toward the merchant¡¯s stall. The vendor was a thin man with narrow eyes and an ever-present calculating smile, his fingers deftly arranging the goods on display¡ªvarious elixirs, beast materials, and low-grade spirit stones. At Aaryan¡¯s approach, his gaze flickered to the cloth-wrapped object in his hand, and his smile widened.

    ¡°Ah, a rare customer,¡± the merchant said smoothly. ¡°You¡¯ve got something interesting there. Let me take a look.¡±

    Aaryan unwrapped the Beast Core just enough for its faint glow to peek through. The merchant¡¯s expression barely shifted, but his fingers drummed against the wooden counter in a practiced rhythm¡ªa sign of interest, but also of calculation.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± the merchant mused, rubbing his chin. ¡°Of course, cores like this aren¡¯t too rare, and the market is saturated right now. I¡¯d say¡­ thirty Essence Stones. A fair deal, considering demand.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s jaw tightened. He wasn¡¯t a seasoned trader, but he wasn¡¯t a fool either. ¡°That¡¯s less than half its worth.¡±

    The merchant sighed, spreading his hands. ¡°You¡¯re young. New to this, aren¡¯t you? Trust me, I¡¯m doing you a favor. I could say twenty-five.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s response was cut short by a subtle shift in the air. A ripple of silence spread through the Exchange Hall. Merchants straightened their backs, disciples stiffened mid-trade. Even those who had been haggling moments before fell into hushed murmurs.

    Footsteps. Steady, measured.

    Overseer Dharun entered the marketplace.

    Aaryan recognized him immediately. The man¡¯s presence alone was enough to change the air in a room. Draped in a dark robe with the sect¡¯s insignia embroidered in silver, Dharun¡¯s gaze swept over the market, assessing without hurry, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn¡¯t an elder, but his authority was unquestioned.

    Aaryan turned back to the merchant, who was now visibly tenser, his fingers stilling against the counter. A moment ago, he had been prepared to swindle Aaryan with confidence. Now, his gaze darted toward Dharun, then back to Aaryan, as if recalculating the risk.

    Aaryan allowed the silence to stretch, watching the merchant squirm. Then, he exhaled and tilted his head slightly. ¡°I wonder,¡± he mused, voice deliberately casual, ¡°what the overseer thinks of merchants undercutting disciples in the sect market.¡±

    The merchant¡¯s face twitched. ¡°I¡ªunderstand the value of fairness, of course.¡±

    Dharun¡¯s sharp gaze flicked toward them, interest piqued but expression unreadable. He studied the Beast Core in Aaryan¡¯s hand before arching a brow. ¡°Selling something valuable?¡±

    Aaryan met his gaze evenly. ¡°I was considering it.¡±

    Dharun hummed, a thoughtful sound that did little to ease the tension. ¡°A Beast Core like that can be useful in the right hands.¡± His eyes flicked to the merchant, who swallowed hard and kept his head down.

    Aaryan let his grip shift slightly, tapping his fingers against the cloth-wrapped surface, as if reconsidering. ¡°Of course, I could always find another buyer. Someone willing to make a fair offer.¡±

    The merchant¡¯s fingers twitched. ¡°Wait, now¡ª¡±

    Dharun said nothing, merely watching. The silence stretched just long enough to force the merchant into action.

    ¡°Seventy,¡± the merchant blurted. ¡°A¡ªA more accurate valuation.¡±

    Aaryan raised a brow. He made a show of considering, watching the merchant sweat under Dharun¡¯s silent observation. Then, he smiled faintly. ¡°Eighty.¡±

    The merchant hesitated, but with Dharun standing nearby, there was no room to argue. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°Eighty Essence Stones.¡±

    Aaryan slid the Beast Core across the counter, watching as the merchant hastily counted out the stones, eager to end the exchange.

    He picked them up, weighing them in his palm. They felt right¡ªno tricks. Only then did he glance at Dharun. ¡°Thank you, Overseer.¡±

    Dharun barely glanced at him, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± His tone was indifferent, his attention seemingly elsewhere.

    Aaryan lingered between two stalls¡ªone overflowing with rare herbs, the other displaying simple trinkets. The sharp scent of crushed leaves and dried roots filled the air, a reminder of what he should be prioritizing.

    Yet his gaze flickered to the other stall.

    Dharun, noticing, smirked. ¡°Planning to invest in yourself?¡±

    Aaryan didn¡¯t answer. The jade pins caught the light, glinting with a subtle green sheen. Among them, a single comb stood out¡ªpolished wood with delicate carvings along its spine. The scent of perfumed oil drifted faintly from a row of vials, something warm, familiar. Not home¡ªhe had none¡ªbut it reminded him of Kalyani. A trace of oil she once wore, or maybe just the way she carried warmth in a place that had never truly been his.

    His fingers grazed the jade pin.

    I should be.

    And yet, his hand closed around it, slipping it into the pile of purchases without hesitation.

    Dharun watched, at first unimpressed. A few cheap gifts, then? Something to ease his conscience while keeping the bulk for himself. He had seen it before.

    But then¡ªAaryan kept going.

    Instead of stopping after selecting the jade pin, the comb, and the perfumed oil, he turned toward a pill shop. Dharun¡¯s interest flickered back. Finally prioritizing cultivation? But no¡ªthe pills he chose were not for himself. Mortal-use restoratives. Strength, vitality¡­ longevity. Thoughtful choices, meant for someone else.

    And this time, he spent nearly everything.

    Dharun¡¯s fingers, idly tapping his sleeve, finally stilled.

    Only a few Essence Stones remained in Aaryan¡¯s pouch. With those, he returned to the herb stall¡ªnot for an expensive breakthrough elixir, but for a single plant. Soma Root. A steady, nourishing herb, strengthening one¡¯s foundation over time.

    Dharun exhaled silently, watching with quiet amusement.

    Not entirely selfish. Not entirely selfless.

    As Aaryan turned, Dharun spoke again, softer this time. ¡°Interesting choice.¡±

    Aaryan met his gaze evenly. ¡°Some things are worth more than cultivation.¡±

    Dharun studied him for a long moment before letting out a quiet hum. ¡°A rare perspective.¡±

    The sounds of trade and quiet murmurs surrounded them, but neither moved to leave.

 Chapter 30 : When in Doubt, Assume Betrayal

    Dharun¡¯s gaze flickered to the small pouch in Aaryan¡¯s hand¡ªthe one weighed down by more than just cultivation resources. His voice was casual, almost idle, but Aaryan had already learned that the man rarely spoke without purpose.

    ¡°You spent quite a bit on those.¡± Dharun¡¯s fingers tapped lightly against his sleeve. ¡°Not the usual priorities for someone desperate to grow stronger.¡±

    Aaryan met his gaze without hesitation. ¡°Some debts can¡¯t be repaid with strength.¡± His fingers curled slightly around the pouch. ¡°She saved my life once.¡±

    Dharun hummed, considering. ¡°She?¡±

    Aaryan exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. ¡°Kalyani. She lives alone.¡± His voice was steady, but there was something unreadable in his expression. ¡°I don¡¯t know how she is now.¡±

    Dharun absorbed that information without reaction. Then, as if it was the next logical question, he asked, ¡°You¡¯re leaving the sect?¡±

    Aaryan nodded. ¡°For a short while.¡±

    ¡°To Green Veil City?¡± Dharun¡¯s tone remained neutral, but Aaryan caught the shift in weight behind his words. ¡°And how exactly do you plan on traveling?¡±

    That gave Aaryan pause.

    He had assumed leaving would be simple¡ªwalk out, find a path, and make his way there. But now that he thought about it, he didn¡¯t know the exact route, nor the procedure for requesting leave.

    He frowned slightly. ¡°Huh. That¡¯s¡­ a great question. Next question?¡±

    ¡°Disciples are permitted to visit home twice a year,¡± Dharun explained, just short of disapproval. ¡°But most don¡¯t waste months traveling on foot. They use teleportation tokens¡ªone-time use, expensive, but efficient.¡± He glanced at Aaryan, his smirk almost amused. ¡°I assume you don¡¯t have one.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s grip on the pouch tightened, the weight of his earlier purchases settling differently now. He had spent everything.

    Dharun¡¯s eyes flickered with something¡ªmild amusement, perhaps, but also something more difficult to place. With an almost lazy motion, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out two smooth, jade-like tokens. They gleamed faintly with inscriptions carved into their surface.

    ¡°One to go, one to return.¡± He tossed them toward Aaryan.

    Aaryan caught them instinctively but hesitated. ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t waste time arguing.¡± Dharun¡¯s tone was dismissive, but there was no irritation in it. ¡°You¡¯ll pay back the favor eventually.¡±

    Aaryan took them, though something felt¡­ off. This wasn¡¯t the first time someone had handed him something valuable.

    First Ravi with the herbs. Now Dharun.

    His brow furrowed slightly. ¡°¡­Why am I getting so much free stuff?¡±

    Dharun remained still. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°This is the second time,¡± Aaryan said, eyeing him. ¡°First Ravi, now you. Either I¡¯m secretly some lost prince, or everyone¡¯s got a plan for me.¡±

    ¡°You think too much.¡± Dharun¡¯s tone was clipped.

    Aaryan wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°That¡¯s what someone trying to manipulate me would say.¡±

    Dharun didn¡¯t bother responding, already turning, but then hesitated. After a moment¡¯s thought, he retrieved a small, palm-sized device from his robes¡ªtwo intricate, dark metal emblems inlaid with delicate rune patterns. He studied it briefly before handing it over.

    Aaryan turned the emblem over in his hand, eyeing it warily.

    ¡°¡­You just had this lying around too?¡±

    ¡°It''s better than you making unnecessary trips.¡± Dharun¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t fade. ¡°Considering you don¡¯t even know how she¡¯s doing, it¡¯s a practical solution. This way, she can contact you if needed, and you¡ª¡± his gaze sharpened slightly ¡°¡ªcan focus on cultivation instead of worrying about a place you can¡¯t return to easily.¡±

    Aaryan glanced down at the device, then back at Dharun. There was no mockery in the man¡¯s expression, only a practical sort of understanding.

    He exhaled, then nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure she has it.¡±

    Dharun waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Good. Try not to make it a habit.¡± Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Aaryan standing there.

    Aaryan looked down at the talisman in his hand, then at the teleportation tokens.

    Then he squinted at Dharun¡¯s retreating figure.

    ¡°¡­Either I have the world¡¯s most generous well-wishers, or I¡¯m walking straight into an elaborate scheme.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Probably the second one.¡±

    The Mission Hall was quieter than usual when Aaryan stepped inside. A few disciples browsed through mission listings, some discussing plans in hushed voices. The attendant at the counter barely looked up as Aaryan approached.

    ¡°Name?¡±

    ¡°Aaryan.¡±

    The attendant¡¯s hand paused¡ªjust for a fraction of a second. A glance, brief but searching, flicked over him. Expectant? Measuring? But whatever thought crossed the attendant¡¯s mind, it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by practiced indifference.

    ¡°Reason for departure?¡±

    ¡°Personal matter.¡±

    That earned him a sharper look, but nothing more. Outer Disciples were allowed limited leaves¡ªmost used them to visit home or hunt for resources. As long as they returned within the sect¡¯s time limits, no one cared.

    ¡°Maximum leave time is three months. If you don¡¯t return by then, your status as a disciple will be revoked.¡± The words were spoken mechanically, as if recited a hundred times before.

    Aaryan nodded. ¡°Understood.¡±

    The attendant tapped the tablet, marking his departure. ¡°You may go.¡±

    That was it. No questions, no suspicions. Just another disciple leaving the sect.

    Aaryan returned to his cave, packing only the essentials¡ªspare robes, a few herbs, and the teleportation tokens Dharun had given him. He wasn¡¯t planning to stay long, but there was no harm in being prepared.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Stepping out of the sect¡¯s gates felt¡­ different.

    The towering cliffs, the high walls of Evernight Pavilion¡ªonce an unreachable place¡ªwere now behind him.

    He walked through the dense wilderness that once seemed too ethereal. The same forest he had crossed when arriving, the same towering trees, the same damp earth. Yet, everything felt smaller now.

    Before, this place had loomed over him. Now, he moved through it with purpose, confidence.

    His senses picked up the faint rustling of distant beasts, the hidden trails he hadn¡¯t noticed before. His awareness had expanded.

    ¡°I really have changed.¡±

    The thought didn¡¯t bring arrogance¡ªjust quiet acknowledgment. Growth wasn¡¯t always about power. Sometimes, it was about how you saw the world.

    Activating the Teleportation Token

    Reaching a clearing, Aaryan retrieved the jade-like token from his sleeve. It was smooth and cool to the touch, its surface engraved with intricate runes that pulsed faintly, as if holding a slumbering power. The inscriptions weren¡¯t just decorative¡ªthey were the key to its function, carefully carved by expert hands.

    One to go. One to return.

    Holding it firmly, he pressed the center of the token¡ªjust as Dharun had instructed. The moment his fingers made contact, the engravings flared to life, casting an eerie silver glow.

    The air around him tensed, charged with unseen forces. A pulse rippled outward, distorting the space around him. The familiar world of the forest blurred at the edges¡ªjust for a moment.

    The silver glow deepened, but then¡ªa flicker.

    A pause. A hesitation.

    The energy wavered, and an unnatural weight settled in the air. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it made his breath hitch. The pull wasn¡¯t smooth. There was a faint jerk, as if something had caught on the edges of his existence.

    Aaryan barely had time to react before something stretched. The space around him warped, bending in ways it shouldn¡¯t. A flicker of nausea curled in his gut¡ªnot overwhelming, but wrong, like stepping onto unstable ground.

    Then¡ª

    Darkness.

    Not a slow transition. No fading, no slipping through space.

    Just an abrupt cut.

    As if something had severed him from where he was meant to go.

    Aaryan¡¯s breath came sharp as the darkness lifted.

    He stumbled forward, feet meeting solid ground. The world around him settled¡ªnot into the familiar streets of Green Veil City, but¡­ somewhere else.

    A dim sky stretched above, tinged with deep blues and muted golds, as if caught between dusk and dawn. The air was thick¡ªcool, yet oddly weightless. Towering trees lined the horizon, their trunks dark and unfamiliar, their leaves whispering too softly against a breeze he couldn¡¯t feel.

    His grip tightened around the now-dull teleportation token.

    ¡°¡­This isn¡¯t Green Veil.¡±

    Cautiously, he took a step, then another. The earth beneath him felt real, but something in the air¡ªan undercurrent of wrongness¡ªkept his pulse quickened. His eyes scanned for landmarks, signs of life, anything.

    Nothing but the quiet rustle of unseen movement.

    Had the teleportation gone wrong? Or had he simply landed in the wrong place?

    Aaryan wandered through the strange space, his steps slow and measured. The ground beneath him felt solid, yet the air shimmered unnaturally, as if reality itself was unsteady. He turned, scanning his surroundings. No city. No landmarks. No path.

    His jaw tightened. Where am I?

    Panic would do him no good. He measured his breaths, assessing rather than reacting

    He kept walking, testing his senses. The air was thick, charged with something unseen. The silence wasn¡¯t empty¡ª it pressed in, watchful.

    A faint prickle crawled up his spine, instinct stirring before reason could catch up. His breath shallowed for half a beat before he forced it steady.

    Something unseen wavered at the edges of perception. A presence. It did not rush toward him, did not lash out, but it was there¡ªsilent, observing.

    To kill or not to kill?

    Its instincts whispered the answer. Humans were not to be trusted. Its wounds, still etched into its being, were proof enough of their treachery. If this one left, if he spread word of this place, others would come.

    The simplest solution was to erase him.

    For a fleeting moment, something unseen coiled, the weight of intention sharpening like the edge of a blade. An execution held in pause.

    Then¡ªhesitation.

    Yet something within him¡ªneither fully known nor wholly foreign¡ªstayed the unseen hand. A flicker of familiarity¡ªunplaceable, distant¡ªsurfaced where there should have been nothing but cold certainty.

    A slow breath. The unseen presence coiled around the space.

    ¡°Strange.¡± The word slipped into the air, weightless, layered, as if carried by a passing breeze.

    The boy was not panicking. He was not scrambling for escape, nor blindly calling out into the void. He was thinking. Calculating.

    It studied him, its gaze piercing though unseen. Something about him stirred recognition¡ªa thread of the known tangled with the utterly foreign, slipping just beyond grasp.

    ¡°Do you wander, little traveller, or have the unseen threads of fate woven your path to me?¡±

    The question was not spoken. It was simply there, settling into the very air around Aaryan.

    And still, it remained unseen, its thoughts a silent tide beneath the fabric of this space¡ªwaiting, searching.

    Aaryan had just reached a very serious conclusion¡ªDharun was obviously trying to kill him. Maybe even Ravi was working for him. Oh, it made so much sense now. The token was sabotaged. His entire journey? A setup. He should have known!

    Then¡ª Shouting. Sharp and aggressive.

    Aaryan¡¯s thoughts screeched to a halt. His heart pounded.

    Wait. Trees?

    When had he ended up here? One moment, he was in that weird, unstable space; the next, he was surrounded by towering trees, thick vines, and the humid scent of damp earth. He frowned. Hadn¡¯t he been somewhere else just now? The transition felt too smooth, too unnatural¡ªlike a page turned in a book without him realizing. But something felt¡­ off. The jungle had that odd too-still quality, like a painting where nothing quite moved unless you looked away. Even the air hung thick and unmoving, as if holding its breath.

    He hadn¡¯t even noticed the shift¡ªgreat, now reality itself was messing with him.

    Before he could dwell on it, a group of menacing figures burst through the foliage. Evil-looking didn¡¯t even begin to describe them¡ªscarred faces, dramatic, unnecessary capes, and an overall vibe that screamed "professional villainy."

    ¡°¡­Dramatic capes? Who even wears those in this heat? Wait¡ªNO, FOCUS! Assassins first, fashion critique later!¡±

    His brain stalled for a fraction of a second, caught between confusion and survival instinct. Then his instincts won.

    He panicked. He screamed.

    ¡°I KNEW IT! HE WANTS ME DEAD!¡±

    He spun on his heel and bolted, crashing through the undergrowth. Branches clawed at him as if the entire jungle had been bribed to slow him down.

    Between gulps of air, he risked a glance back.

    The group wasn¡¯t chasing him.

    They were fanning out, scanning the area. One of them crouched, inspecting the ground. ¡°It¡¯s still bleeding. Can¡¯t have gone far.¡±

    ¡°Boss said it¡¯s worth a fortune. Even wounded, it¡¯ll fetch a price,¡± another growled. ¡°Creatures like this don¡¯t just appear. Even wounded, it¡¯s priceless.¡±

    Aaryan barely registered the words, too busy running for his life. Some tiny, rational part of his brain did wonder why they talked like they were auditioning for the role of ¡®generic thug #3¡¯ in a bad play, but the much louder, screaming part of his brain was more concerned with NOT DYING.

    Aaryan ducked behind a boulder, heart pounding. He waited, straining to hear any orders barked in his direction.

    ¡­Wait. If they were after me, shouldn¡¯t they have already started yelling things like ¡®Get him!¡¯ or ¡®Don¡¯t let him escape!¡¯?

    He frowned. The lines in his head sounded about as deep as what these guys were actually saying. Were mercenaries always this predictable?

    ¡­Eh, maybe it was just a hiring trend. He had bigger things to worry about.

    He peeked out¡ªjust in time to see one dramatically toss their cape over a shoulder.

    The jungle around him was eerily silent. Too silent. Aaryan frowned. The last time he¡¯d run like this, his own ragged breaths had been drowned out by chirping insects and rustling leaves. But now? Nothing. It was as if the whole place was holding its breath, waiting.

    Carefully, he crept forward, curiosity warring with self-preservation. The men were focused on something else. They weren¡¯t just tracking¡ªthey were hunting.

    Aaryan strained his ears. A sound¡ªsoft, uneven. Breathing? His muscles tensed.

    A branch cracked somewhere nearby. Not from the men¡ªtoo light, too close. Aaryan stiffened. He barely breathed, listening. Another sound¡ªlike something shifting against the ground, slow and uneven. His pulse picked up. Whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t moving fast. Was it even moving at all?

    He swallowed hard and peered through the underbrush and then¡ªhe saw it.

    Half-hidden among the thick underbrush, a shadowy figure lay curled against the roots of a tree. Small. Wounded. Its shallow breaths barely stirred the leaves beneath it.

    Aaryan¡¯s instincts screamed walk away. The group was literally moving in the opposite direction. This was perfect! A great opportunity to NOT get stabbed today.

    But then the hiding figure shifted, and for a split second, their eyes met.

    Aaryan froze.

    The look in its eyes¡­ that helpless, cornered expression¡­

    For a second, he wasn¡¯t looking at a stranger. He was looking at himself, curled up in the dark, counting heartbeats, hoping no one would find him. His fingers twitched.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. His fingers curled into a fist. He should leave. He really, really should. Just walk away.

    But...

    He groaned under his breath. ¡°Oh, come on.¡±

    Fleeing with caution had just turned into terrible life choices¡ªwith a side of unwanted heroism

 Chapter 31 : A Thread Pulled by Fate

    Aaryan moved cautiously through the shadows, his breath steady, his senses sharp. The creature lay curled against a rock, its body shimmering with iridescent hues that shifted like liquid moonlight. Even wounded, it was mesmerizing¡ªan exotic thing of undeniable allure. Aaryan felt an instinctive pull, something deeper than curiosity urging him to act.

    He crouched beside it, noting the gash along its side. Whatever had wounded it had done so with precision. He hesitated, then reached out. The creature tensed but did not resist as he carefully lifted it.

    A distant shout. Aaryan''s head snapped up.

    Mercenaries.

    Cursing under his breath, he bolted. The weight of the creature slowed him, but his movements were swift, weaving through the dense underbrush. He heard the pounding of boots behind him, voices calling orders. Arrows hissed through the air, barely missing their mark. His heartbeat thundered, but his mind remained clear.

    A narrow passage between jagged rocks¡ªhis opportunity. He slid through, squeezing just enough to slip away before the mercenaries could follow. A few moments of silence. Then, finally, a deep exhale of relief.

    Aaryan was about to catch his breath when¡ª

    A blade glinted in the moonlight.

    He froze.

    The mercenaries were suddenly in front of him. No sound, no warning, just there. It was impossible, absurd even¡ªbut here they stood, blades drawn, faces twisted with smug amusement.

    He had lost them. He was sure of it. But here they were. Waiting.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡± he groaned.

    "Hand over the creature, boy," one of them sneered.

    Aaryan blinked, then frowned. "Oh, of course. You nearly scared me to death just to ask nicely. Here, let me gift wrap it for you too."

    The mercenary¡¯s scowl deepened.

    "Not in the mood? Fine, let''s skip to the part where you try to take it and I make your day significantly worse."

    But Then¡ªhe ran again.

    Aaryan bolted, weaving through ruins, vaulting broken walls. Behind him, the mercenaries¡¯ shouts closed in.

    He ducked into a narrow alley, heart pounding. Silence. He allowed himself a smirk, ready to exhale in relief¡ª

    something gnawed at him. Hadn¡¯t he just run down this path? No¡­ this was different. It had to be.¡± He pushed the thought aside¡ªno time to dwell.

    Thinking He turned the corner¡ªand stopped dead. The mercenaries were there. Again. Same stance, same expressions. Even the scuff marks on their boots were identical. His pulse hammered. Had they circled around?

    No¡ªimpossible. he muttered before bolting again.

    The same scene, played over and over, like a stage performance stuck on repeat. Every movement too measured. Every reaction too rehearsed. And he was the only one who hadn¡¯t memorized the script.

    His stomach twisted. Something was deeply, fundamentally wrong.

    At one point, he flattened himself against a wall, barely breathing. A shadow loomed over him. "Hand it over," one of the mercenaries ordered.

    Aaryan, panting, looked up. "Oh sure, let me just¡ª" He hurled a handful of dirt at the mercenary¡¯s face and bolted.

    He fought when he had to, dodging, striking back, but they were stronger. Faster. Each escape led him right back into their grasp. Cuts formed along his arms, his side. His breath came ragged, but he never loosened his grip on the creature.

    He zigzagged through the trees, climbed halfway up a rock wall, then dropped down on the other side, ducking behind a crumbling wall, catching his breath.

    Nothing. No voices. No movement. Just silence.

    Then a breath. Right next to his ear.

    He spun¡ªempty air. But when he turned forward again¡ª

    The mercenaries stood there, waiting. Again.

    Aaryan nearly choked. "Okay, now this is getting ridiculous."

    One mercenary, the same one as before, stepped forward. The exact same words. "Hand over the creature."

    The other two stood completely still. No shifting of weight, no glancing between each other. Just waiting. Too still.

    Aaryan hesitated. Was it¡­ the same guy? No, that was impossible. They had been scattered. He should¡¯ve seen different faces. But now that he looked, their postures, their stances¡ªthey were too identical.

    ¡°Yeah, sure. Here, take it.¡± Aaryan made a show of pretending to extend the creature forward, then immediately yanked it back. ¡°Oops. Slipped.¡±

    The mercenary¡¯s face twitched. ¡°You think you¡¯re funny?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hilarious.¡±

    The first attack came fast. Aaryan barely dodged, rolling aside with the creature clutched against his chest. He lashed out, sweeping a leg under one opponent¡¯s feet, but another caught him mid-motion with a brutal kick. Pain flared through his ribs. He staggered but didn¡¯t fall.

    More blows followed. He fought, relentless and desperate, but they were too strong. A cut sliced across his arm, another along his side. The weight of the creature never left his grasp, though his strength waned.

    No matter what he did, no matter how many times he ran, they were always waiting. As if the world itself conspired to keep him trapped.

    Still, he refused to let go.

    Above, unseen, someone observed in silence.

    The glint of steel¡ªthe final strike aimed straight for Aaryan¡¯s chest.

    In that instant, the Observer assessed.

    Even now, he clings to it. Despite pain. Despite certainty of loss. How strange... how interesting.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The silent figure watching from the void tilted its head, unseen. This one was¡­ different.

    The blade descended¡ª

    And the world stuttered. A flicker, like a candle fighting the wind. The mercenaries blurred, their edges warping, as if they were ink bleeding into water. The pain in Aaryan¡¯s ribs pulsed, then vanished, then returned. The moment stretched, distorted¡ª

    Then¡ªnothing.

    Aaryan gasped, eyes darting around. He was somewhere else now. Whole. Unharmed. The creature¡ªgone.

    The mercenaries, the battlefield, the pain¡ªall dissolved like mist in the morning sun.

    One second, a blade was about to pierce his chest. The next¡ªstillness. No pain, no wounds, not even the taste of blood in his mouth. Like the universe had flipped a page, and he had landed in the wrong story.

    His body still braced for the next hit, his breath ragged as if the fight had been real. He clenched his fist, half expecting blood, but there was none. His mind reeled. How could something that felt so real be... not?

    Something was wrong. The men weren¡¯t just moving in sync¡ªthey were too in sync. Their voices, their pacing, even the way they gestured¡­ it was like a script. Aaryan¡¯s breath hitched as realization slammed into him.

    ¡°¡­Oh, come on. I got tricked by badly written illusions?!¡±

    Aaryan blinked rapidly, his mind still reeling from the abrupt shift in reality. His breaths came steady now, but his thoughts lagged behind, tangled in the impossibility of what had just happened. The mercenaries, the endless chase, the final strike¡ªnone of it had been real. And yet, his body still felt the phantom weight of exhaustion.

    His chest still heaved, expecting a pain that never came. He flexed his fingers, waiting for blood, but his skin remained unbroken.

    The world around him¡ªthe distant murmur of merchants, the flicker of lanterns¡ªfelt too real. But then again, so had the mercenaries.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly. He needed something real. Something familiar.

    Kalyani.

    He took a deep breath, letting the weight of reality settle over him. This was real. The cool air against his skin, the distant scent of cooking fires, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on stone¡ªGreen Veil City.

    The outskirts of Green Veil City stretched before him¡ªworn cobbled streets, distant merchant chatter. No illusions. No tricks. Just the quiet hum of the city¡¯s edge.

    He exhaled, shaking off the lingering unease, and made his way to the only place that ever felt the same. The old wooden structure stood just as he remembered¡ªsilent, unassuming, and eerily still. His steps slowed as he approached.

    He pushed open the door. The air inside was thick with dust, the kind that settled when no one had the energy to sweep it away. The dim light barely fought against the heavy stillness. Aaryan¡¯s eyes flicked over the room, catching the thin layer of dust that hadn¡¯t been there before. Something was off.

    A faint shuffling from the bedroom made him tense. He stepped in and found Kalyani struggling to sit up on her bed.

    Aaryan frowned. She looked weaker than the last time he had seen her¡ªher already frail form now almost swallowed by the blankets. It took him a moment to register just how sickly she appeared. Her hair was thinner, the shadows beneath her eyes deeper. Even the usual sharpness in her gaze seemed dulled by fatigue.

    But before concern could fully take hold, Kalyani''s sharp eyes met his, and she smiled¡ªjust for a second. Then, just as quickly, her expression hardened back into its usual sternness.

    ¡°You¡¯re back,¡± she said flatly. ¡°What happened? Did they throw you out?¡±

    Aaryan folded his arms, lips twitching. ¡°Yeah, figured I¡¯d come back to freeload off you. I hear scolding builds character.¡±

    Kalyani exhaled through her nose¡ªsomething like a snort, but quieter, like even that took effort. ¡°Hmph. Should¡¯ve known you wouldn¡¯t last.¡±

    Aaryan tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully. ¡°Damn, grandma. Either time¡¯s finally winning, or you¡¯ve been rationing your meals just to keep me out of your kitchen.¡±

    Kalyani shot him a glare, but before she could fire back, he clicked his tongue. ¡°Tch. Should¡¯ve known you¡¯d be stubborn about it. Fine, fine¡ªjust let me know if I should start planning the mourning rites in advance.¡±

    She snorted¡ªweak, but still sharp. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your time. I plan to haunt you first.¡±

    Aaryan sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. ¡°Great. Even in death, you¡¯ll still be nagging me.¡±

    Kalyani smirked faintly. ¡°Damn right.¡±

    Aaryan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. ¡°At least leave me your cooking pot in the will. You know, so I can eat my grief away.¡±

    Kalyani scoffed. ¡°I¡¯d rather curse it before I go.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s smirk softened slightly. For all his teasing, the concern lingered in his eyes. ¡°Seriously though¡­ you should be resting.¡±

    ¡°I was resting. Until a certain loudmouth barged in.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± He crossed his arms. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to stick around and make sure you don¡¯t keel over.¡±

    Kalyani sighed, breaking the silence. ¡°If you¡¯re going to stand there being useless, at least make yourself useful.¡±

    Aaryan smirked, straightening up. ¡°Ah, there she is. I was starting to think you¡¯d gone soft.¡±

    Kalyani huffed, but Aaryan caught the small, almost imperceptible smile she tried to hide.

    He said nothing more, just shook his head with a half-smile and moved to help. The usual teasing was still there, but this time, it lingered a little longer¡ªsomething quieter, something closer to home.

    Aaryan stayed.

    At first, it was just to make sure Kalyani didn¡¯t suddenly keel over, but as the days stretched on, it became something more. He slipped into an unspoken routine¡ªcooking meals, airing out the house, making sure she ate properly.

    Not that she made it easy.

    ¡°Are you trying to poison me?¡± Kalyani muttered one evening, eyeing the bowl of congee he placed in front of her.

    Aaryan scoffed, dropping into the chair across from her. ¡°Yeah, because slow-cooked rice and broth are deadly weapons. Just eat.¡±

    She took a bite, chewed slowly, then sighed. ¡°Hmph. Still bland.¡±

    He raised a brow. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    Kalyani finished the bowl despite her complaints, setting it down with a tired huff. Aaryan took the empty dish, muttering about how she was probably just pretending to be sick to get out of chores. In return, she insulted his cooking at every meal, but she never left a single bite uneaten.

    When she slept, he cultivated.

    The Soma Root burned through his system, settling deep into his bones, refining his foundation in ways he hadn¡¯t expected. His body felt lighter yet stronger, steadier with each passing day. Even the exhaustion from the illusions faded faster than it should have. The progress was subtle but undeniable¡ªslow, steady, real.

    Sometimes, when he finished his cultivation, he would sit on the porch, letting the cool night air chase away the lingering heat in his veins. The village was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional distant murmur of passing merchants or a lone dog barking somewhere down the road. For the first time in a long while, he wasn¡¯t running, fighting, or planning his next move.

    It was¡­ different.

    By the end of the week, Kalyani was back on her feet. Her movements were steadier, the color returning to her face. She no longer looked like she would crumple under a strong breeze, and her sharp tongue had regained its usual bite.

    One morning, Aaryan caught her lifting a heavy pot from the stove without the slight tremble in her fingers that had been there before. Another time, he noticed she didn¡¯t pause to steady herself after standing for too long. It was small, but it was there¡ªthe weight of frailty slowly lifting.

    Aaryan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching her move about the kitchen. ¡°Well, look at that. Back from the dead.¡±

    Kalyani shot him a glare as she inspected the state of her cooking utensils. ¡°And yet, you¡¯re still here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thoughtful like that.¡± He smirked and pulled out a small bundle from his bag. ¡°Speaking of, I got you something.¡±

    She eyed the bundle warily. ¡°If it¡¯s another excuse for you to dump extra work on me¡ª¡±

    ¡°Relax, grandma. I actually bought these for you back at the sect.¡± He unwrapped the bundle with an exaggerated flourish, revealing the carefully selected items¡ªmortal-use restorative pills for strength and vitality, a delicate jade pin, a fine wooden comb, a small vial of perfumed oil, and a fresh set of kitchen knives.

    Kalyani reached for the jade pin first, turning it between her fingers. It was simple but elegant, the smooth green surface catching the dim light. ¡°Fancy,¡± she muttered.

    She ran a thumb over the wooden comb, tested the weight of the kitchen knives with a practiced eye, and sniffed the vial of perfumed oil, raising a brow.

    Then, before she could get too suspicious, Aaryan casually slid the small bottle of pills toward her. ¡°Here. Take one.¡±

    She narrowed her eyes. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Something to keep you from dropping dead every time I look away.¡±

    Kalyani scoffed but took the pill anyway, swallowing it with a sip of water. She didn¡¯t say anything at first, but as the days passed, the effects became undeniable. Her complexion brightened, the hollowness in her cheeks softened, and her steps carried more strength than before.

    One afternoon, as she sat combing her hair with the wooden comb he had bought, Aaryan smirked. ¡°So? Feeling immortal yet?¡±

    Kalyani shot him a look. ¡°Still mortal enough to smack you if you get cocky.¡±

    Aaryan chuckled, shaking his head.

    The days blurred into a quiet rhythm¡ªmeals, scoldings, cultivation. He didn¡¯t think about leaving. Not because he couldn¡¯t. Just because¡­ he didn¡¯t.

    For once, he wasn¡¯t planning his next step. Not because he was stuck. Just because¡­ he didn¡¯t want to.

 Chapter 32 : Grandma Says Go, The Universe Says No

    The noon sun hung high, spilling golden light through the open window, casting restless patterns across the wooden floor. Aaryan sat cross-legged, unmoving, yet his mind churned. Outside, the distant hum of Green Veil City carried through the warm breeze, blending with the herbal aroma from the clay pot on the stove. The soft creak of wood echoed in the silence¡ªstillness outside, a storm within.

    Two weeks.

    It had been nearly two weeks since he had arrived, and in that time, the quiet had become familiar¡ªthough never comfortable. His days were spent caring for Kalyani, tending to small tasks, and ensuring she took the medicines he had brought, whether she liked it or not. But his nights¡­ his nights belonged to cultivation.

    Even now, his hands twitched at the thought of training, but space was limited, and Coiling Serpent Bind was impossible to practice here. That didn¡¯t mean he had abandoned it. If anything, these past weeks had given him time to dissect the technique in a way he couldn¡¯t before.

    The moment an opponent shifts their weight¡­

    Redirect their momentum¡­ Coil instead of resist¡­ Let them defeat themselves¡­

    His understanding of Coiling Serpent Bind had once been pure visualization. But after real battles, the raw unpredictability of combat had shown him how flawed that approach was. It was one thing to imagine a strike¡ªit was another to be seconds away from getting hit.

    His fingers tapped against his knee as he reviewed the fights he had experienced. The feints, the overextensions, the wasted movements¡ªweaknesses disguised as attacks. He could use those. The technique wasn¡¯t just about execution but about reading an enemy¡¯s flow. And now, he had experience to draw from.

    With real battle experience, the openings were clearer. That opponent¡ªRen¡ªhad overcommitted, his center of gravity unguarded for a fraction of a second. Aaryan had dodged at the time, instinctively avoiding the attack. But now he knew better.

    Dodging wasn¡¯t necessary. Instead, he should have coiled around Ren¡¯s strike, letting the force work against him.

    This realization solidified what he had suspected¡ª Coiling Serpent Bind wasn¡¯t just about movement. It was about timing, precision, and reading an opponent¡¯s flow in battle. He hadn¡¯t been able to practice it in Kalyani¡¯s home, but the next time he fought, he would see the technique differently.

    A slow breath escaped him as he shifted his focus inward. While Coiling Serpent Bind had stalled, his progress with the Purification Sutra had exceeded expectations.

    He could still recall the sensation¡ªa slow-burning heat coiled deep beneath his skin, lingering long after the training had ended. It wasn¡¯t just warmth; it was a fire woven into his very blood, purging every impurity it touched.

    At first, it had been just another attempt¡ªanother night spent pushing his body to refine itself. The first stage, Internal Flow Regulation, had once been an uphill battle, but now, it was instinctive. The real challenge had been Blood Purification¡ªa process that wasn¡¯t just about circulating energy but about burning away every hidden flaw in his body.

    When he activated the sutra, he felt it immediately.

    A deep, searing heat spread through his veins, like molten iron flowing beneath his skin. His heartbeat slowed, his breath turned shallow, but the wildfire remained, consuming every impurity it found. It was as if his own blood was fighting against itself, purging anything that didn¡¯t belong.

    His jaw clenched, fingers digging into his knees as the heat surged¡ªbut he endured.

    This wasn¡¯t the first time I tried this, he had thought, but it¡¯s the first time something is actually happening.

    That was when he noticed it¡ªthe flicker of something foreign stirring in his bloodstream. A hidden energy, buried so deep he had almost forgotten it was there.

    The residual medicinal effects from his breakthrough to Anima¡ª1st Level.

    At the time, he hadn¡¯t fully absorbed all the medicinal energy that had surged through his body. Some of it had remained locked away, trapped, wasted. But with the help of Soma Root, it had been drawn out, slowly refined, finally used.

    He had flexed his fingers, testing the newfound lightness in his limbs. His body felt sharper, more refined¡ªas if a weight he hadn¡¯t noticed before had finally lifted.

    Now, as he sat in the warmth of noon, his fingers instinctively curled into a loose fist. He could still feel it¡ªthe difference. The refined strength humming beneath his skin, the smoother circulation of Urrja, the lingering sense of clarity that came with it.

    I hadn¡¯t expected it to be this effective.

    But it wasn¡¯t just the Soma Root. The resources he had won during Resource Distribution Day had played an equally crucial role. For the first time, he had cultivated without restrictions, without clawing desperately for every ounce of progress.

    And that realization had settled deep inside him.

    Resources determine everything.

    Without them, he would have stagnated. He would have fought for scraps while others surged ahead. But with the right resources, progress had come smoothly, almost effortlessly.

    Resources weren¡¯t just about progress¡ªthey were about survival. In the sect, they were taken, stolen, fought over. Stronger disciples didn¡¯t just cultivate faster¡ªthey made sure others didn¡¯t cultivate at all. If Aaryan wanted to keep what was his, he couldn¡¯t rely solely on his growing strength. He had to outthink the battlefield itself.

    The warm noon light flickered against the walls, but Aaryan¡¯s thoughts were already turning toward the future.

    He had rested long enough.

    It was time to move again.

    The afternoon sun poured through the open window, casting a warm golden hue on the worn wooden floors. Aaryan had just finished preparing another round of congee¡ªa dish Kalyani would likely insult, but he made it anyway, knowing she''d finish it regardless. His hands still carried the lingering heat from his cultivation session, but he couldn''t help but pause for a moment, staring out the window. There was a shift in the air¡ªsomething subtle, but undeniable.

    As he stepped outside to stretch his legs, he spotted Kalyani talking to the neighbor again. The woman had always been friendly enough, but today, there was something different. Kalyani was standing straighter, her posture no longer as hunched as it had been days ago. And her face¡­ her face seemed fuller, healthier, with a faint glow that had been missing before. The pills were working.

    The neighbour was staring at Kalyani with wide eyes. ¡°Kalyani, is that really you?¡± she exclaimed, a touch of awe in her voice. ¡°You look¡­ you look ten years younger!¡±

    Kalyani¡¯s usual stoic expression didn¡¯t waver, but Aaryan could see the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips. She shifted uncomfortably, though she masked it quickly. ¡°It¡¯s just a trick of the light,¡± she muttered, waving her hand dismissively. ¡°Nothing special.¡±

    The neighbour didn¡¯t seem convinced. ¡°No trick of the light can do that. You¡¯re glowing, Kalyani! I¡¯ve never seen you look this strong before. What¡¯s your secret?¡±

    Aaryan, standing just out of earshot, couldn¡¯t help but grin. He was just about to step forward when Kalyani shot him a warning glance. He raised an eyebrow, then decided to play along.

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s glowing alright,¡± Aaryan said, striding toward them with his usual cocky grin. ¡°It¡¯s all thanks to my miracle tonic. A little something I whipped up for her at the sect.¡± He wagged his eyebrows dramatically. ¡°I call it ¡®Aaryan¡¯s Special Rejuvenation Elixir.¡¯ Works wonders!¡±

    Kalyani¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I swear, if you tell them one more thing about those pills, I¡¯ll make you eat every single one of them.¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The neighbour raised an amused eyebrow. ¡°Is that so? Well, if you¡¯re handing them out, I wouldn¡¯t mind a few.¡±

    Aaryan smirked, flicking his fingers toward Kalyani. ¡°See? Even the neighbours want some. You¡¯re missing out, grandma.¡±

    Kalyani glared at him, but Aaryan could see the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him,¡± she said to the neighbour, her tone sharp but softer than usual. ¡°He¡¯s insufferable.¡±

    Aaryan, feeling the shift in her mood, drops his grin slightly and leans against the doorframe, watching her with an almost contemplative look. He couldn¡¯t help but notice how strong she seemed, how different she looked from the first time he¡¯d arrived. And how that gave him satisfaction in the depths of his heart.

    The neighbour laughed, shaking her head. ¡°You¡¯re looking better, Kalyani. I¡¯m glad to see you up and about.¡±

    Kalyani gave her a brisk nod, though her eyes softened for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Go back to whatever it is you were doing.¡±

    The neighbour hesitated but nodded, giving Aaryan a final curious glance before walking away.

    As the neighbor walked away, the playful tension between Aaryan and Kalyani seemed to dissolve, leaving a more subdued air between them. Aaryan lingered in the quiet, his thoughts slowing as he took in the change he had been too distracted to fully notice before. The way Kalyani held herself now¡ªit wasn¡¯t just about the pills, though they certainly had their effect. No, there was something deeper. Something beneath the surface that she wasn''t willing to show.

    He leaned against the doorframe, his smirk softening as he studied her. She stood taller, more assured than she had when he first arrived¡ªwhen her steps had been slower, her voice weaker. Back then, he had wondered how much time she had left.

    Now? She looked like she might just outlive him out of pure spite. And honestly? He wouldn¡¯t even be surprised.

    The change in her wasn''t just physical¡ªit felt like a shift inside her too. Aaryan found himself standing still, almost caught off guard by how much he was noticing. He quickly masked the feeling, but for a brief moment, he let his grin fade.

    ¡°You know, you looked pretty young there for a second. I thought you might start doing some cartwheels or something.¡±

    Kalyani shot him a look that could slice through steel. ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me. I¡¯ll show you what¡¯s really youthful.¡±

    Aaryan chuckled, unbothered. ¡°Ooh, scary. Guess I¡¯d better behave then.¡± He crossed his arms. ¡°But seriously, you¡¯re looking good. The pills worked, didn¡¯t they?¡±

    Kalyani scoffed, though there was a twinkle of something in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve told you a thousand times, I don¡¯t need your help. But fine, I suppose they¡¯ve made a difference. Just don¡¯t get any funny ideas about being my savior.¡±

    Aaryan smirked. ¡°Not my intention, grandma. Just here for the free meals and your eternal gratitude.¡±

    Her gaze softened for just a moment before she turned away, heading back into the house. ¡°You¡¯re impossible,¡± she muttered under her breath, but there was no bite in her tone.

    Aaryan followed her inside, still grinning. ¡°Maybe. But I¡¯m your impossible, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    Kalyani didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, she walked over to the stove, busied herself with preparing another meal, and then glanced back at him. ¡°You¡¯re still here, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Aaryan raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. ¡°Yeah. What¡¯s your point?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine now. You don¡¯t need to stay,¡± Kalyani said, her voice almost soft, though it carried the same authority as always.

    Aaryan hesitated. The words stung more than they should have, and for a moment, his gaze flickered to the worn walls of the house, the quiet air of the afternoon, the scent of the meal Kalyani was preparing. He hadn¡¯t realized how much he had come to enjoy this little routine¡ªhow the house, the very space between them, had shifted from being a place to simply fill time to one that held... something else.

    Aaryan lingered, watching the way Kalyani moved with newfound ease, strength in her posture. Hadn''t she seemed weaker, less sure, only days ago? Now, she stood tall, even as she was quick to brush off any sign of help. He didn¡¯t want to admit it¡ªdidn¡¯t want to admit he¡¯d gotten attached¡ªbut there was a pull here. And for some reason, he wasn¡¯t ready to leave.

    He smirked, masking the turmoil that threatened to bubble up. ¡°Well, someone¡¯s gotta keep you from scaring off the neighbours. And, you know¡­ the food¡¯s decent.¡±

    Kalyani rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t answer immediately. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh. ¡°Fine. Stay, then. But don¡¯t think you¡¯re getting off easy. I still expect you to do your share.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s grin returned. ¡°Of course. I wouldn¡¯t dream of it any other way.¡±

    The scent of simmering broth filled the small house, mingling with the lingering warmth of the afternoon sun. Aaryan stood at the table, absently stirring a pot of congee, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

    Tomorrow, he would leave.

    It had been almost a month since he arrived, and despite how comfortable the days had become¡ªdespite the small routines that had started to feel¡­ familiar¡ªhe knew it was time to move on. He had a path to walk, and it wasn¡¯t within these walls.

    Not that Grandma was making his departure easy.

    ¡°Don¡¯t eat anything you haven¡¯t seen someone else eat first,¡± she muttered from across the room, arms crossed as she watched him.

    Aaryan quirked an eyebrow. ¡°Ah, yes, because watching someone else die from poison first is a fantastic survival strategy.¡±

    Kalyani scowled. ¡°I¡¯m serious. People will try to get rid of you, and I¡¯d rather not have my idiot grandson drop dead because he trusted the wrong meal.¡±

    Aaryan gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. ¡°So you do care.¡±

    ¡°I care about not having to deal with the headache of someone dragging your corpse back to my doorstep,¡± she shot back.

    He chuckled, placing the ladle down before turning to face her. ¡°Alright, what other wisdom do you have for me, oh wise and definitely not sentimental Grandma?¡±

    Kalyani didn¡¯t even hesitate. ¡°Don¡¯t get involved with sect politics.¡±

    ¡°Too late.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t provoke people stronger than you.¡±

    ¡°Way too late.¡±

    She exhaled sharply through her nose. ¡°At least don¡¯t go fighting over every stupid thing.¡±

    Aaryan tilted his head, pretending to think. ¡°Define ¡®stupid.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Unnecessary.¡±

    ¡°¡­Define ¡®unnecessary.¡¯¡±

    She rubbed her temples. ¡°I swear, boy, if you come back here half-dead, I¡¯m throwing you back out.¡±

    ¡°Duly noted,¡± Aaryan said cheerfully. ¡°Anything else? Should I avoid mysterious old men with long beards too?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Wait, that was a joke¡ª¡±

    ¡°And don¡¯t waste your time chasing after every pretty girl that smiles at you,¡± Kalyani added, narrowing her eyes.

    Aaryan gasped dramatically. ¡°Grandma, I am shocked¡ªshocked¡ªthat you would suggest I, a humble and upright disciple, would ever¡ª¡±

    Kalyani waved a hand. ¡°Spare me your nonsense. Just don¡¯t be stupid.¡±

    ¡°I make no promises.¡±

    She let out a sharp sigh, muttering something under her breath before stepping forward and smacking him lightly on the back of his head. ¡°Just watch yourself, fool.¡±

    Aaryan grinned but, for once, didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he reached into his robes and pulled out a small palm sized device, placing it on the table between them. Kalyani eyed it suspiciously.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°One of the elders from the sect gave it to me,¡± Aaryan said, his voice turning more serious. ¡°It¡¯s a communication device. It¡¯s linked to mine, so if you ever need anything¡ªanything¡ªjust activate it, and I¡¯ll come back.¡±

    Kalyani stiffened, her fingers hesitating over the device.

    ¡°Hmph. What makes you think I¡¯ll ever need to call you?¡± she muttered.

    Aaryan smirked. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. Maybe if you miss me too much?¡±

    Kalyani scoffed, snatching the device up and stuffing it into her robes. ¡°Keep dreaming, brat.¡±

    But she didn¡¯t meet his eyes.

    Aaryan saw the way her hand lingered over the spot where she had tucked the device away, the way her lips pressed into a thin line.

    For just a second¡ªa brief, fleeting second¡ªhe thought she might actually say something sentimental.

    Instead, she turned on her heel. ¡°Now finish stirring that congee before it burns, idiot.¡±

    Aaryan snorted. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡±

    And just like that, the moment was gone.

    he sky was still dark when Aaryan tied his travel pack over his shoulder, slipping soundlessly through the quiet house.

    Kalyani was still asleep¡ªor at least, she was pretending to be.

    He hesitated for a moment, glancing toward her room. A part of him wanted to say something. Maybe another joke, another teasing remark about how she was going to miss him.

    But somehow, that felt¡­ unnecessary.

    Instead, he simply smiled, shaking his head before stepping out into the cool pre-dawn air.

    What he didn¡¯t see¡ªwhat he couldn¡¯t see¡ªwas the faint gleam of slightly misty eyes peeking from the shadows of her room.

    Kalyani lay still, her hands clenched beneath the covers. She watched as Aaryan lingered at the doorway, hesitating just long enough for her to know.

    Her lips pressed together.

    "Brat¡­ don¡¯t die out there."

    She wanted to say it. The words burned at the tip of her tongue. But by the time she found the will to open her mouth, Aaryan was already stepping out into the cold pre-dawn air.

    She let out a breath she hadn¡¯t realized she was holding.

    "Come back safely, idiot."

    Then, just as quickly, she closed her eyes, letting the house fall back into silence.

    The crisp morning air bit at Aaryan¡¯s skin as he stood at the edge of a small clearing just beyond the city¡¯s walls.

    The first thing Aaryan did after leaving the city? Find a clearing. A nice, wide, nothing-to-interfere clearing.

    Not because he was feeling sentimental about the sunrise.

    No. Because he absolutely, completely, did not trust this damned teleportation token.

    He held it up, eyeing the innocent-looking stone like it was a venomous snake. His last teleportation had dumped him in a mess he still hadn¡¯t fully wrapped his head around¡ªso forgive him if he was a little paranoid.

    He turned it over in his hands. No visible cracks. No ominous glow. No eerie whispers of doom.

    That¡¯s what makes it even more suspicious.

    Every instinct screamed at him to just walk. Take the long way. Maybe even hire a carriage¡ªa slow, safe, non-reality-warping carriage. But that would take weeks. And effort. And patience. And, quite frankly, Aaryan wasn¡¯t in the mood for any of those things.

    He sighed. ¡°I swear, if this thing kills me, at least I won¡¯t have to hear Grandma say, ¡®I told you so.¡¯¡±

    He let out a deep breath. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go over this logically.¡±

    Step one: Activate the token.

    Step two: Pray.

    Step three: Try not to die.

    After a moment of profound hesitation and one last glance back at Green Veil City, he reluctantly activated the token.

    Instantly, the familiar sensation of energy wrapping around his body took hold.

    The air crackled.

    The ground beneath his feet wobbled dangerously.

    Aaryan tensed. ¡°Alright, so far, so¡ª¡±

    The sky spun.

    His stomach lurched.

    A sudden realization struck him like a hammer.

    The universe folded in on itself.

    Aaryan had just enough time to regret every decision leading up to this moment.

    ¡°OH, COME ON¡ªNOT AGAIN¡ª¡±

    And then, with a violent snap, he was gone.

 Chapter 33 : I Knew It! Betrayal!

    Aaryan landed in the dense forest outside the sect. The moment his feet touched the ground, his mind immediately rejected what his senses were telling him.

    Smooth teleportation? No nausea? No sudden disorienting shift?

    ¡°Wait¡­?¡± His brows furrowed. ¡°That was too easy.¡±

    His head snapped up, scanning his surroundings with sharp precision. The towering trees stood unmoving, their branches unnaturally still. The air held no disturbances¡ªno distant murmurs of disciples, no subtle ripple of a concealed formation activating. Even the mist threading through the roots moved too naturally, too seamlessly.

    This had to be a trap.

    He stood still for a moment, waiting¡ªexpecting something to go wrong. Nothing did. That only made it worse.

    Aaryan flexed his fingers, pressing them into the cool, damp soil. It crumbled between his fingers, textured just right. The temperature, the weight of the air, even the faint lingering spiritual energy in the environment¡ªit was flawless.

    ¡°¡­Damn it,¡± he muttered. ¡°The illusion got smarter.¡±

    The last one had been tricky¡ªbut at least it had felt like something was wrong. This? This was worse. No glaring inconsistencies. No obvious signs.

    ¡°How detailed is this?¡±

    Aaryan took a slow step forward, hyper-aware of the ground beneath him. He placed his foot down deliberately, testing if the illusion would subtly correct itself¡ªnothing. Just a natural shift of weight against the earth.

    His lips pressed into a thin line.

    Then, after a long pause, he sighed and muttered,

    ¡°¡­At least the writing quality improved. Last time, I was thrown into chaos immediately.¡±

    Silence.

    No response. No cracks forming in reality. No amused voice mocking him from the void.

    Which meant one of two things: Either this illusion was absurdly advanced, reacting to his awareness without breaking¡­ or this was actually real.

    Aaryan scowled.

    ¡°Tch. Clever trick.¡±

    Just to be sure, he turned and smacked the nearest tree.

    Aaryan strode toward the sect like a man utterly convinced he was trapped in a dream.

    He moved like a man waiting for reality to betray him.

    He reached out and rapped his knuckles against the nearest wall. Solid. He pressed his palm flat against it, then gave it a suspicious shove. Still solid.

    ¡°Huh.¡±

    Narrowing his eyes, he crouched down and ran his fingers over the stone pavement, feeling its texture. Cold. Rough. Completely normal. Too normal.

    Taking a step back, he turned and walked backward¡ªslowly, deliberately¡ªwatching over his shoulder for any glitches in the matrix. The path remained unchanged. No sudden corrections. No distortions. No suspicious shifts in perspective.

    He narrowed his eyes. "Sneaky."

    Tilting his head, he muttered, "Maybe I need to break the script¡­"

    Then, without warning, he threw his hands up and bellowed,

    ¡°I KNOW YOU¡¯RE WATCHING! THIS IS WAY TOO DETAILED. IS THIS A FULL-BUDGET ILLUSION OR WHAT?!¡±

    The sect disciples in the distance tensed. Conversations halted. Training exercises slowed to a crawl. Several people exchanged wary glances.

    One disciple, whispering urgently: "What in the hells is he doing?"

    Another, stroking his chin, muttered, "Could be enlightenment. Or madness. Same difference, really."

    A younger disciple leaned toward his friend and whispered, "Should we¡­ report this?"

    His friend shook his head sagely. "No need. The universe will correct itself. Probably."

    A third disciple scoffed. "Tch. Classic cultivation deviation. Tragic."

    Another disciple, slightly more invested, whispered, ¡°You think he¡¯s possessed? Or maybe he unlocked some secret technique?¡±

    His companion squinted at Aaryan¡¯s strange movements. ¡°No, no. This looks like a bottleneck-induced breakdown.¡±

    Nearby, an elder walking past spared Aaryan a glance, frowned, and deliberately walked the other way.

    Aaryan, completely oblivious to the growing concern around him, continued testing reality by lightly kicking a rock. It rolled away normally.

    He rubbed his chin.

    ¡°Damn. They even got the physics right.¡±

    For good measure, he grabbed a random sect banner, gave it a firm tug, and watched as it fluttered in the wind, reacting exactly as it should.

    Still suspicious, he suddenly leaped onto a passing disciple''s back.

    The unfortunate disciple let out a strangled yelp. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

    Aaryan, arms crossed as he perched on the man''s shoulders: "Testing inertia."

    The disciple buckled under his weight, staggering before collapsing entirely. "GET OFF ME, YOU LUNATIC!"

    Aaryan rolled to his feet, brushing off his robes, and nodded to himself. "Hmm. Even simulated weight distribution. Impressive."

    By now, the sect grounds had declared an impromptu Aaryan-watching session.

    A disciple turned to his senior. "Brother, should we stop him?"

    The senior disciple watched as Aaryan poked a random man¡¯s forehead like he was testing for a projection glitch and sighed.

    "No. If we get involved, we acknowledge it."

    "And once we acknowledge it¡­ we¡¯re in it."

    Aaryan, still thoroughly convinced he was trapped in a high-budget illusion, continued his reality checks¡ªthis time by flicking a disciple¡¯s sleeve just to see if the fabric reacted properly.

    ¡°Damn,¡± he muttered. ¡°They even got the weight distribution of loose silk right.¡±

    Then a voice cut through the murmuring crowd, laced with amusement and something sharper beneath.

    ¡°Well, well, look who finally crawled back after hiding for a month.¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    Aaryan turned.

    Varun.

    Of course, he wasn¡¯t alone. He never was. His usual group of followers stood behind him, arms crossed, expressions ranging from amused to outright mocking.

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze swept over them. Not a single rendering error. Impressive.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he mused, nodding to himself. ¡°They even programmed you in? How much effort went into this illusion?¡±

    Varun¡¯s smirk faltered. His head tilted slightly, like a predator confused by prey acting out of character.

    ¡°¡­What the hell is that supposed to mean?¡± His amusement sharpened into something colder. ¡°You mocking me?!¡±

    Aaryan, utterly convinced none of this was real, barely paid attention.

    ¡°No, no, just thinking out loud,¡± he muttered. ¡°Your responses are surprisingly natural. I wonder¡­¡± He squinted at Varun, as if examining him under a lens. ¡°Do you even have free will in here?¡±

    Then he snapped his fingers. ¡°Say ¡®potato.¡¯¡±

    A tense pause.

    ¡°¡­Pota¡ª¡± Varun started, then froze.

    Aaryan nodded in approval. ¡°Nice. Response time is fast. But why would an illusion obey so easily? Suspicious.¡±

    His own lackeys turned to stare at him, their expressions shifting between confusion and barely-contained laughter.

    Varun blinked. ¡°Wait. What the¡ª¡± His face twisted in rage. ¡°YOU¡ª¡±

    He lunged.

    Aaryan, more occupied with how smooth the attack animation looked, barely dodged in time. The wind from the strike ruffled his robes.

    ¡°Oho,¡± he mused. ¡°Attack patterns are seamless, too. Didn¡¯t even stutter.¡±

    One of Varun¡¯s lackeys muttered, ¡°Is he¡­ narrating a fight with himself?¡±

    ¡°Shh,¡± another whispered. ¡°I wanna see where this goes.¡±

    ¡°STOP TALKING LIKE THAT!¡± Varun snarled, already swinging again. His friends didn¡¯t step in¡ªyet¡ªbut they were watching, waiting.

    Aaryan, still refusing to take this seriously, leaned back instead of dodging properly, letting Varun¡¯s fist graze past his cheek.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± he muttered. ¡°Pain sensitivity intact. Didn¡¯t cut corners, huh?¡±

    That was the last straw.

    ¡°Hold him,¡± Varun barked.

    Before Aaryan could react, two of Varun¡¯s lackeys moved in¡ªone grabbing his arm, the other reaching for his collar.

    Aaryan immediately concluded it was a scripted event.

    ¡°Wonder if I can break the sequence? Maybe if I refuse to engage, they¡¯ll glitch.¡± He deliberately went slack, not resisting in the slightest, as if expecting them to freeze up.

    One of the lackeys, already used to Aaryan¡¯s antics, sighed. ¡°This idiot¡¯s about to do something stupid again, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    Another chuckled. ¡°I dunno, but I like where this is going.¡±

    Varun cracked his knuckles. ¡°Let¡¯s see if your script holds up under pressure.¡±

    He lunged, his fist rocketing toward Aaryan¡¯s face.

    Aaryan tilted his head slightly, watching the incoming strike with mild curiosity. Hah, let¡¯s see how the illusion reacts when I break the rules.

    At the last second, he took a lazy step to the side. Varun¡¯s punch whiffed entirely, sending him stumbling forward from his own momentum. Aaryan frowned, unimpressed.

    ¡°Really? That was the attack pattern? I¡¯ve seen drunken farmers throw better punches.¡±

    Varun growled and spun, throwing another punch, faster this time. Aaryan yawned¡ªactually yawned¡ªbefore ducking under it with the barest effort. The wind from the swing barely ruffled his hair.

    ¡°Damn,¡± he muttered. ¡°This illusion really wants me to feel superior, huh?¡±

    Varun snarled and unleashed a flurry of strikes, each more aggressive than the last. But Aaryan moved through them like water, sidestepping, ducking, even absentmindedly stretching his arms at one point.

    One of the lackeys still holding him hesitated. ¡°Uh¡­ should we¡ª¡±

    Before he could finish, Aaryan twisted his wrist, slipping from their grasp with ridiculous ease. With a flick of his foot, he kicked one lackey¡¯s knee out from under him. The poor guy let out a strangled yelp before crashing to the ground.

    The second lackey instinctively grabbed for Aaryan¡¯s collar. Bad move.

    Alright, if this is an illusion, then what happens if I break the rules completely?

    He barely glanced at him before flicking his fingers. A whip-like force lashed out¡ªSerpent Bind.

    The spectral coils snapped around the lackey¡¯s arm, but instead of instantly pulling him in, they tightened the moment he tried to yank free. His eyes widened in panic as he struggled, only for the bind to constrict further, snaking up his wrist like a living thing.

    "H-Hey¡ªwhat the hell is this?!" he sputtered, thrashing.

    "Stop flailing, you idiot!" another disciple hissed, but it was too late.

    The more he fought, the stronger the technique responded¡ªuntil, with a sudden, vicious whip, the lackey was ripped off balance and sent hurtling forward. His body collided hard into Varun just as he was mid-swing.

    Thud!

    Varun¡¯s own punch, meant for Aaryan, instead sank into the lackey¡¯s gut. The disciple let out a strangled wheeze before crumpling like a dropped rag doll.

    Varun barely had time to register what happened before Aaryan stepped in, body close, one hand raised.

    His fingers snapped forward¡ªnot as a simple tap, but as a precise strike to Varun¡¯s solar plexus, where the breath and strength of a fighter were centered. His movement was sharp and controlled, exploiting a gap in Varun¡¯s stance.

    The impact wasn¡¯t flashy, but the result was instant. Varun¡¯s breath hitched¡ªthen completely cut off. His body locked up, eyes bulging as his diaphragm spasmed. He staggered, gasping, a desperate hand reaching toward Aaryan¡¯s sleeve as if to hold himself up.

    For a brief moment, his body fought against the collapse. His legs wobbled, muscles straining as he tried to stay upright. But his lungs refused to draw in air, and his vision blurred at the edges. The fight drained from his stance, his grip on Aaryan¡¯s sleeve barely more than a twitch.

    Then, his knees finally gave out. He hit the ground hard, a choked wheeze escaping as he crumpled into a heap.

    Silence.

    Aaryan tilted his head. ¡°Weird. No vanishing effect? Not even a flicker in the environment?¡± He prodded Varun¡¯s arm with his foot, frowning. ¡°Hah. Finally making this illusion work properly, huh?¡±

    The surrounding disciples, who had been watching with barely-contained amusement before, now stood frozen, their faces drained of color.

    ¡°What was that technique?!¡±

    ¡°He just casually knocked out Varun like he was a fly?!¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t even a full strike¡ªhe just touched his chest, and Varun collapsed?!¡±

    Aaryan glanced at them, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You guys are really committing to this script, huh?¡±

    The disciples shared uneasy glances. This wasn¡¯t normal. Aaryan had always been competent, sure, but not this monstrous. Varun was no pushover, yet he had been swatted aside like a bug.

    Meanwhile, Aaryan, utterly convinced he had just broken the illusion¡¯s mechanics, folded his arms, nodding in satisfaction.

    The stunned silence stretched on, thick with disbelief. The disciples still hadn¡¯t moved, most still staring at Varun¡¯s crumpled form like he might suddenly jump back up. Aaryan, on the other hand, folded his arms and gave a satisfied nod.

    ¡°Hah, classic illusion-breaking technique. Bet if I push it further, the whole thing will unravel.¡±

    But just as he was considering his next ¡°test,¡± movement at the edge of his vision made him stiffen. A familiar figure strolled into view, hands tucked lazily behind his back, expression unreadable.

    Dharun.

    Aaryan¡¯s thoughts screeched to a halt before flipping into absolute, undeniable certainty.

    Oh, look! The mastermind behind the teleportation disaster!

    His paranoia spiked like a blade through his skull. It was all coming together now.

    His eyes narrowed. Dharun¡¯s presence here? Too convenient. The illusion was trying too hard. It was testing him, throwing in its final boss, seeing if he¡¯d fold under the pressure.

    Aaryan¡¯s lips curled into a snarl.

    Dharun stopped mid-step. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his expression¡ªamusement? Curiosity? It was gone just as quickly, smoothed into careful neutrality.

    ¡°OI, YOU!¡± He jabbed a furious finger in Dharun¡¯s direction. ¡°YOU THINK I FORGOT ABOUT THE TELEPORTATION TOKEN, YOU SLY OLD BASTARD?!¡±

    The disciples stiffened. A ripple of unease spread through the group, eyes darting between Aaryan and Dharun like they were witnessing an oncoming catastrophe. One even took a hesitant step back, as if expecting an explosion.

    The entire group of disciples flinched. Dharun remained still, his expression once again unreadable¡ªthough now, a trace of something else lingered. Calculation? Exasperation?

    "The¡­ teleportation token?" Dharun repeated, his brows knitting together. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to recall something. A pause. Then, with mild curiosity, he added, "Why are you saying it like that?"

    Aaryan didn¡¯t wait. He charged.

    The surrounding disciples scattered as he bolted forward, his mind running faster than his feet. Of course, it made sense now!

    <ul>

    <li>The illusion wasn¡¯t breaking because Dharun was its anchor.</li>

    <li>He was here to reset everything.</li>

    <li>The moment Aaryan lost focus, he¡¯d be back at square one, trapped in this damn hallucination!</li>

    </ul>

    No chance in hell.

    ¡°DON¡¯T ¡®WHY?¡¯ ME, YOU BACKSTABBING GOAT! YOU THINK I DIDN¡¯T NOTICE?!¡±

    Aaryan practically flew across the training grounds, fists clenched, his entire presence radiating unchecked hostility. Dharun, for his part, merely watched him approach, eyes cool, stance utterly relaxed.

    ¡°¡­Should I be concerned?¡± Dharun mused aloud. He half-turned to one of the frozen disciples. ¡°What exactly is happening?¡±

    The disciple could only gape in horror. ¡°O-Oversear Dharun, I¡ªI think he¡¯s lost his mind¡ª¡±

    ¡°LIES!¡± Aaryan bellowed. ¡°You corrupted the teleportation array, didn¡¯t you?! And now you¡¯re here to tie up loose ends!¡±

    He swung.

    Dharun stared at the charging idiot, exhaled through his nose, and briefly closed his eyes. There was no saving this situation.

    He didn¡¯t even move at first. He just blinked¡ªslowly. Then, with all the urgency of swatting a drifting leaf, he shifted.

    Aaryan¡¯s fist met empty air. He barely had a second to register it before Dharun pivoted, one hand snapping out. A single, light tap to Aaryan¡¯s wrist.

    The next thing he knew, his entire momentum flipped against him.

    With a startled grunt, Aaryan felt his balance shift violently, his body tilting forward¡ª

    ¡ªand suddenly, he was face-first in the dirt.

    A beat of stunned silence.

    Aaryan blinked.

    The dirt was real.

    He could feel the individual grains against his skin. The faint ache of impact vibrated through his bones. The scent of dust filled his nose. It wasn¡¯t some flickering illusion effect. It wasn¡¯t fake.

    It was real.

    Slowly, horrifyingly, the realization crept up his spine.

    ¡°¡­Oh,¡± Aaryan muttered into the ground. ¡°Oh no.¡±

    A soft, almost imperceptible chuckle drifted through the air, like the whisper of silk against stone. Amusement, deep and unfathomable, coiled around the unseen edges of the world.

    "How... entertaining."

 Chapter 34 : Defying Odds, Logic, and Probably Medical Advice

    Aaryan sat cross-legged in the dim cave, watching the last embers of his fire fade into nothing. The warmth had long since disappeared, leaving only the scent of burnt wood and the faint chill creeping into his bones. His stomach twisted, empty and demanding, but he ignored it. Hunger was easier to endure than the humiliation still gnawing at him.

    ¡°Tch.¡± He clicked his tongue, rubbing his face. ¡°That damn illusion¡­¡±

    No matter how much he wanted to forget, his mind kept dragging him back¡ªto the absurdity of it all. The ridiculous chase. The sheer desperation with which he had thrown himself into danger, convinced he was some noble hero protecting a creature that didn¡¯t even exist.

    And the worst part? He had suspected Dharun of betrayal.

    Aaryan exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if that could erase the memory. ¡°Not thinking about it,¡± he muttered. ¡°Side effects. Just illusions messing with my head.¡±

    The words felt empty, but he forced himself to move on. He focused on his body instead, flexing his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists. The Blood Purification stage had always been a slow, grinding process. Every step forward had felt like dragging a boulder uphill. But now?

    Now, power settled into his bones, thick and steady. His muscles were denser. His breath smoother. The Soma Root had done its job, but more than that, the resource sachets he had taken had fueled his cultivation like never before.

    Testing his strength, he pulled back his fist and slammed it into the cave wall. A sharp crack echoed through the small space, bits of stone crumbling away. His knuckles stung, but he barely noticed. The impact left a small indentation in the rock.

    Not bad.

    But his smirk faded as his gaze drifted to the nearly empty sachet beside him. He upturned it, letting the last dried medicinal herbs spill into his palm. A few pitiful scraps¡ªbarely enough for a single meditation session.

    Aaryan sighed, rubbing his temples. He had stretched his resources as far as they would go, rationed every last scrap of energy, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Staying here wasn¡¯t an option anymore.

    Tomorrow was the monthly resource distribution.

    And that meant stepping out. Facing people. Facing Dharun.

    He ran a hand through his hair, clicking his tongue again. ¡°This is going to be annoying.¡±

    Still, there was no choice. Straightening, he dusted off his robes and stepped toward the entrance of the cave. The past few days had been a quiet, temporary retreat. But outside, the world had been waiting¡ªand it wouldn¡¯t be kind.

    Aaryan stepped into the open, blinking against the harsh daylight. The stale air of his cave still clung to him, and his limbs ached from days of stillness. But he pushed forward, ignoring the unease curling in his gut.

    The resource hall loomed ahead. A familiar, crowded space filled with disciples who had come to claim their share. He didn¡¯t slow his steps, but his gaze remained sharp, watching, assessing.

    And then, at the front of the hall, he saw him.

    Dharun.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers twitched, an old habit he had yet to shake. Just his luck.

    Dharun stood at the head of the distribution table, overseeing the process with his usual detached efficiency. His sharp eyes flickered over the disciples, dispensing resources with practiced ease, his expression unreadable.

    Aaryan exhaled slowly, forcing himself to act natural as he moved forward in line. But with each step closer, a sinking feeling pooled in his gut. There was no way Dharun had forgotten.

    And sure enough, the moment their eyes met, Dharun¡¯s brows lifted ever so slightly. Not quite a smirk, but something dangerously close.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Dharun mused as he handed a sachet to the disciple before Aaryan. ¡°Still alive.¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s jaw tightened. He willed his expression to remain neutral. ¡°Just here for my share.¡±

    Dharun didn¡¯t move immediately. Instead, he studied Aaryan, gaze unreadable, assessing something only he could see. Then, in the same measured tone, he said, ¡°No sudden charges today? No wild accusations? Should I be concerned?¡±

    Aaryan stiffened. His ears burned. The whispers had already started, disciples murmuring among themselves, their gazes flickering toward him before darting away. His nails dug into his palms.

    ¡°That was¡ª¡± He started, then shut his mouth. Excuses wouldn¡¯t help.

    Dharun exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. ¡°If you¡¯re about to blame illusions, don¡¯t. I¡¯ve heard worse excuses, but never from someone who hit the ground that fast.¡±

    Aaryan scowled, snatching his resource sachet the moment Dharun set it down. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you kept track of my schedule.¡±

    Dharun glanced at him¡ªhalf amused, half indifferent¡ªthen dismissed him with a shift of his gaze. Aaryan had already ceased to exist.

    ¡°Tch.¡± Aaryan turned away, biting back the urge to say something else. Letting Dharun get the last word was irritating, but dragging this out would just make it worse.

    He had his resources. That was all that mattered.

    But as he walked away, something about the encounter stuck with him. Dharun had looked at him just a little too long. His words had been too precise.

    It wasn¡¯t just mockery.

    He was thinking something.

    Aaryan frowned, gripping the sachet tighter. He didn¡¯t like it.

    And he hated even more that, for the first time in days, his mind had something new to dwell on.

    As the last disciple stepped away, their hands tightening around their newly acquired resources, Dharun finished his task with the same unhurried pace, as if none of this had ever been urgent in the first place. Then, without ceremony, he turned and strolled out of the hall, not sparing a single backward glance.

    Aaryan exhaled sharply.

    "Next time, I leave first. Before he gets the last word."

    The moment Dharun''s figure disappeared beyond the entrance, the hall shifted. The invisible tension that had simmered beneath the surface finally snapped. The weight of unspoken intentions came crashing down, breaking into chaos.

    Aaryan had barely taken a step before the first attack came.

    A shadow lunged from his left¡ªa flicker of movement just inside his periphery. His instincts surged. His body reacted before his mind had fully processed it.

    He pivoted, just in time to see the disciple''s fist flying toward his face.

    Sloppy.

    Aaryan sidestepped, fingers closing around the attacker''s wrist in one fluid motion. A sharp twist sent the disciple stumbling forward¡ªoff-balance, exposed. Pathetic.

    His free hand shot forward, striking with ruthless precision. His fist sank into the disciple''s gut, knocking the breath from his lungs. The body folded, crumpling inward. Aaryan had already torn the sachet from his waist before he hit the ground, his movements seamless, efficient.

    The second attacker had yet to move¡ªbut Aaryan felt it. The shift in weight. The sharp inhale. The heartbeat of hesitation just before a decision.

    The moment the disciple lunged, Aaryan was already turning. His elbow snapped out, meeting flesh with bone-cracking force. Blood sprayed. The disciple staggered back, hands flying to his shattered nose, eyes wide with shock.

    Before his body hit the ground, Aaryan¡¯s foot lashed out. A precise strike. Legs swept out from under him. He crashed down, dazed.

    The third hesitated.

    ¡°Y-You¡ª!¡±

    Aaryan¡¯s gaze snapped to him, cold and unreadable. The disciple flinched. For a split second, he considered running.

    Too late.

    Aaryan lunged.

    A sharp strike to the solar plexus. A rough yank at his belt. A harsh shove backward. Breath stolen. Resources stolen. Fight over.

    The three lay sprawled, gasping, empty-handed. Around them, murmurs stirred¡ªlow, uncertain. A few disciples, previously preoccupied with their own struggles, took a step back. Some rethought their targets. Someone swallowed audibly.

    Aaryan rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers. He hadn¡¯t even broken a sweat.

    Silence spread around him.

    Good.

    Let them think twice.

    He tightened his grip on the stolen sachets and turned, stepping away without sparing the fallen a second glance.

    Then, he felt it.

    A shift in the air. A change in presence. A weight settling onto him¡ªtoo many eyes, too focused.

    He turned.

    There they were.

    Varun stood at the entrance, flanked by his group. The same ones from before. The ones he had negotiated with. Now standing beside Varun, their glares sharp and calculating.

    Varun¡¯s grin was slow, deliberate, laced with something just shy of amusement.

    ¡°You¡¯re a lucky one, aren¡¯t you?¡± he mused. ¡°First, you think you can walk away without a scratch. Then, you get bold enough to rob others in plain sight. You really think you¡¯re untouchable?¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Aaryan¡¯s grip on the sachets remained firm, his expression neutral. He scanned the group, assessing, calculating.

    ¡°We¡¯re not here for your little game,¡± Varun continued, his voice casual, almost conversational. ¡°We¡¯ve had enough of your luck. It¡¯s time to teach you a lesson.¡±

    Aaryan exhaled slowly. The group was closing in, their hostility palpable. This wasn¡¯t just about resources anymore.

    This was personal.

    ¡°Come on,¡± one of the disciples muttered from behind Varun, impatient. ¡°Let¡¯s finish him already.¡±

    Varun nodded, smirk unwavering. ¡°You think you can just walk away after what you did to us? Now it¡¯s your turn.¡±

    And just like that, they moved.

    Aaryan didn¡¯t.

    His gaze flicked across them, cataloguing their movements, their formation, their openings. Fighting all of them? Doable. But effort.

    He exhaled slowly, shifting his weight, loosening his grip on the sachets.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he said, voice even. ¡°Before we all commit to a questionable life decision¡ªlet¡¯s talk.¡±

    Varun¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t waver. His arms remained crossed, his stance that of a man already entertained.

    Aaryan¡¯s lips curled slightly. Yeah, this wasn¡¯t going to work, was it?

    Still, for the sake of due diligence¡­

    ¡°Look,¡± he started, his tone as if stating something obvious, ¡°last time? I thought that it was an illusion. I wasn¡¯t trying to embarrass you¡ªI was just checking if my hallucination budget had increased.¡±

    A muscle in Varun¡¯s jaw ticked.

    Aaryan mentally gave himself a point. Progress.

    He lifted his hands slightly, sachets still in them. ¡°I don¡¯t have a grudge against any of you. If this is about resources, take them. These, and mine.¡± His voice remained level. ¡°No need to waste time.¡±

    Murmurs rippled through the group. Some exchanged uneasy glances. Aaryan wasn¡¯t pleading. He wasn¡¯t cowering. He was offering a choice.

    Still, Varun laughed.

    ¡°You think this is about resources?¡± he scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°You made a fool of me. In front of everyone.¡±

    Aaryan fought the urge to sigh.

    Ah. The wounded ego arc.

    The other leader¡ªone he had made a trade with earlier¡ªstepped forward, arms crossed. ¡°And you humiliated us by forcing a deal. You think some sachets make up for that?¡±

    Aaryan stared at them for a beat, then nodded like a man solving a grand mystery.

    ¡°Ah,¡± he said, as if the universe had finally clicked into place. ¡°I get it now.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°You all want to beat me up.¡±

    More silence.

    Someone coughed.

    Aaryan exhaled, like a man putting way more effort into a conversation than it deserved.

    Aaryan exhaled, glancing between the group closing in on him. He raised his hands in what could almost be mistaken for surrender, though his posture remained loose, fluid ready. "Okay. Fine. Look¡ªmaybe we started off wrong. Maybe¡ª" he waved a hand vaguely between them "¡ªwe should all just take a breath. I mean, technically, I could¡¯ve made sure you weren¡¯t getting up for a while, but I was feeling generous."

    Varun¡¯s nostrils flared.

    Aaryan took that as an important point to acknowledge.

    He pressed on. "And sure, maybe I mocked you a little. But is that really worth all this? Wouldn¡¯t it be so much easier if we just¡ª"

    Varun¡¯s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as his fingers curled into fists.

    "No, Aaryan," he said flatly. "You don¡¯t get to walk away this time."

    The group moved as one.

    Aaryan sighed the sigh of a man who truly, deeply wanted to be anywhere else.

    Then he moved.

    The first strike came fast¡ªtoo fast for the attacker¡¯s own good. Aaryan shifted, not resisting, but flowing¡ªhis body coiling just enough to let the blow skim past. His arm lashed out, grasping the attacker¡¯s wrist, twisting with a flick of his own momentum.

    A startled yelp. Aaryan barely had to exert strength before the man crashed into the dirt.

    A ripple. A reaction. A shift.

    The others hesitated, but only for a breath. Then they surged forward.

    Aaryan moved like water, twisting, redirecting, turning their own weight against them. A palm strike aimed for his ribs¡ªhe didn¡¯t block. He flowed with it, twisting just enough to evade, then hooked his leg behind the attacker¡¯s knee and sent them sprawling.

    Another came from behind, aiming to grab him¡ªAaryan bent low, spun his arm around theirs, and let the momentum hurl them into another incoming fighter.

    Varun¡¯s face twisted as two of his men crashed into each other like sacks of grain.

    "Stop messing around and hit him!"

    And they did.

    Aaryan felt the first fist slam into his side¡ªhe absorbed the force, twisted just enough to weaken the impact, then let himself whip back into motion.

    Someone tried to grab him again¡ªbad idea. Aaryan coiled his arm around theirs like a serpent, twisting at just the right angle. A wrist popped. A scream followed.

    Another attacker went for his legs¡ªAaryan leapt, twisting midair, kicking off a shoulder to vault himself over the next incoming strike.

    He landed smoothly, catching his breath, heart hammering. Four were down. But more were coming.

    Too many.

    A blow cracked against his back¡ªanother slammed into his ribs. He twisted, tried to slip free, but another strike found him. Then another. A sharp knee crashed into his side, forcing a gasp from his lips.

    They were adapting. Swarming him like a pack.

    He kept moving. He had to.

    He twisted, slipped, bent, but even the perfect flow can be drowned by sheer numbers.

    A palm strike. A punch. A kick.

    Another hit¡ªhis vision reeled.

    A heavy fist crashed into his gut. His knee buckled.

    Kneel.

    Aaryan spat blood onto the ground.

    Not happening.

    He forced himself up immediately.

    A curse slipped through the crowd. "Why is he still standing?"

    Varun¡¯s smirk twitched¡ªjust slightly. A crack in his certainty.

    They had expected him to break.

    Instead, he was still here.

    And if Aaryan knew one thing about noble brats like Varun?

    It wasn¡¯t just that they hated being defied.

    They hated the reminder that some people couldn¡¯t be broken.

    The fight should¡¯ve ended minutes ago.

    Yet, it hadn''t.

    Aaryan still stood, worn down but unbroken, moving through the chaos with sheer instinct. His technique was sound¡ªfluid, precise, relentless¡ªbut no amount of skill could erase the simple truth:

    Numbers win fights.

    The disciples pressed in, their attacks coming harder, faster, more coordinated. Aaryan twisted, redirected, countered¡ªbut even the best flow could be overwhelmed.

    A sharp blow slammed into his ribs. Another cracked against his shoulder. His footing faltered.

    And still¡ªhe refused to kneel.

    Beyond the fight, unseen and unmoved, a pair of sharp eyes tracked his every movement.

    Aaryan took another hit¡ªa brutal strike to the ribs that should have dropped him.

    Dharun¡¯s fingers twitched.

    Decision made.

    A voice cut through the chaos, low and unreadable.

    A voice that only Aaryan would hear.

    ¡ª ¡°Kneel.¡±

    Aaryan, still locked in combat, barely reacted at first. Then his eyes flickered. His shoulders tensed for just a fraction of a second. He had heard him.

    Dharun continued, his voice even. Unmoved. The voice of logic.

    ¡ª ¡°End this fight. They¡¯ve made their point. You¡¯re outnumbered, worn down. If you kneel, it¡¯ll be over.¡±

    Aaryan barely dodged a punch, twisting away at the last moment. Dharun couldn¡¯t see his expression, but he didn¡¯t need to. He already knew the answer.

    ¡ª ¡°Kneeling isn¡¯t so bad, Aaryan.¡± There was the faintest hint of amusement in Dharun¡¯s tone. Not mockery¡ªjust curiosity. ¡°It¡¯s a small price to pay to keep fighting another day.¡±

    For a brief moment, Aaryan hesitated.

    A breath. A heartbeat.

    Then, slowly¡ª**deliberately¡ª**he raised his head, ignoring the pain, standing just a little straighter.

    Dharun¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly.

    Then, through the haze of pain, Aaryan¡¯s voice came¡ªlow, steady, and utterly unshaken.

    ¡ª "Not happening."

    Dharun exhaled¡ªnot quite a sigh, not quite a chuckle.

    He leaned back, amusement flickering in his gaze like a candle barely lit.

    ¡°Very well.¡±

    Then, as if nothing had changed, he continued watching.

    Aaryan¡¯s breaths were uneven, each inhale a struggle, every exhale a battle against the crushing weight of exhaustion. His body no longer moved with instinct but with sheer defiance, forcing itself forward despite the agony coursing through his veins. His ribs burned, the sharp, splintering pain of deep bruises and hairline fractures sending fire through his chest with every movement. His right shoulder throbbed, the dull ache of overuse bordering on unbearable. Blood dripped down his temple, warm and sticky, blurring his vision as it trailed past his brow. He didn¡¯t bother wiping it away. There was no point.

    The world around him wavered, edges blurring, sounds distorting. His balance teetered on the edge of collapse, yet he remained upright¡ªbarely. The circle around him tightened, closing in, every disciple watching, waiting for the inevitable. Their patience was cruel, their silence heavier than any taunt. They thought it was over.

    But they didn¡¯t understand.

    Aaryan wasn¡¯t like them.

    A shift in the air. A step forward. A familiar presence.

    Varun.

    Even through the haze, Aaryan registered the movement, his senses honing in on the smug figure approaching. The weight of amusement hung in the air, thick with condescension, pressing against his already strained resolve.

    ¡°Had enough yet, Aaryan?¡±

    Varun¡¯s voice was infuriatingly casual, his confidence so absolute that he didn¡¯t even raise his guard. He didn¡¯t need to. He was convinced this was the end. The finale. Aaryan was supposed to collapse now, to crumple like so many before him, to kneel, to accept.

    Aaryan¡¯s fingers curled into fists.

    Varun stopped just within reach, head tilting slightly as he studied Aaryan¡¯s wrecked form, the smirk widening. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be more entertaining.¡±

    Aaryan said nothing. His breaths were fire, his limbs heavy, his body one wrong step from shutting down completely. But his will¡ªhis will remained.

    Varun sighed, dramatic, bored. ¡°It¡¯s a shame, really. I almost thought¡ª¡±

    Aaryan moved.

    There was no thought, no hesitation. Only instinct. Only resolve. Only the single, unyielding truth that had burned in him since the first strike landed: he would not break.

    His fist lashed out, raw and unrestrained, a last act of defiance given form.

    Varun barely saw it coming.

    The impact cracked through the silence, knuckles slamming into jaw, the force of the blow reverberating up Aaryan¡¯s arm. It was not clean. Not precise. Not controlled. It was desperation and fury, an unrelenting refusal to submit.

    Varun¡¯s head snapped to the side. His smirk vanished, replaced by something empty, something lost. The breath was stolen from his lungs, his footing stripped away in an instant. His body staggered, knees buckling. A half-step backward. A second of disorientation.

    Then he collapsed.

    Not gracefully. Not with dignity. His body hit the ground like a marionette with its strings violently severed, limbs limp, consciousness ripped away before he even understood what had happened.

    The moment hung in the air, frozen, stretched thin between disbelief and the slow crawl of reality sinking in.

    Aaryan wavered, the last remnants of strength slipping from his grasp. His body had nothing left to give. The edges of his vision darkened, the sound of his own ragged breaths drowned beneath the sharp ringing in his ears.

    He had won.

    But victory meant nothing when there was no strength left to stand.

    His knees buckled.

    And this time, there was no stopping the fall.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª--------------------------------------------------------------------

    Dharun watched without a word.

    The scene unfolded precisely as he had anticipated. The fight had lasted longer than expected, but the conclusion had never been in doubt. Not to him.

    And yet.

    As Aaryan crumpled to the ground, Dharun¡¯s eyes lingered, sharp, unreadable. There was no surprise in his expression¡ªhe had known the boy would push beyond his limits. He had known he would refuse to break. That was expected.

    What interested him was not the outcome.

    It was the way Aaryan had stood. The way he had endured.

    The way he had chosen to strike, even when surrender was the easier path.

    The way he had looked at Varun¡ªnot with fear, not even with rage, but with something colder. Something sharper. A refusal so deeply ingrained that it had driven him beyond exhaustion, beyond reason.

    Dharun exhaled slowly, his gaze sweeping over the fallen. The broken. The ones who would never reach beyond what was handed to them.

    Then, finally, his eyes returned to the one who had refused to bow.

    A faint shift. The barest flicker of something neither approval nor amusement.

    Just recognition.

    ¡°Interesting.¡±

 Chapter 35 : Familiar Strangers

    The mountain-top was eerily silent. The only sounds were the labored breaths of the fallen and the faint rustle of robes as stunned disciples shifted in place.

    Aaryan lay still, unmoving. Blood darkened the earth beneath him, his robes torn, his body battered¡ªbut even in silence, he cast a long shadow over those who stood around him. The once-roaring battlefield had fallen into uneasy quiet. The victors should have been gloating, but no one spoke. No one moved.

    A disciple, the leader of the group Aaryan had negotiated with, finally stepped forward. His breath was uneven, his fingers curling into a fist as he loomed over the fallen figure. This wasn¡¯t about resources anymore¡ªit was about pride. About making sure Aaryan stayed down.

    Slowly, he raised his foot, aiming for Aaryan¡¯s ribs¡ª

    And stopped.

    Because someone was already there.

    The air shifted. The weight of the atmosphere deepened. A figure appeared beside Aaryan so smoothly, so seamlessly, that no one even saw him arrive.

    Dharun.

    The attacker stumbled back immediately, paling. The rest of the crowd tensed, their earlier arrogance now a fragile thing in the presence of the sect¡¯s most unpredictable force.

    Dharun doesn''t even spare the attacker a glance. His attention is solely on Aaryan, his sharp eyes sweeping over him¡ªtaking in every bruise, every torn fiber of his robes, the blood staining the ground.

    Then, wordlessly, he kneels.

    For a brief moment, the disciples believe he¡¯s helping Aaryan.

    Instead, he removes the resource sachet from Aaryan¡¯s belt and sets it on the ground. A silent offering.

    A statement.

    "If this is all you wanted, then take it and be done with it."

    The words were never spoken, but the message was clear. Aaryan never fought for this¡ªthey did.

    The attackers don¡¯t dare to move at first. Dharun straightens, dusts off his sleeves, then looks at them. His gaze is unreadable, but his voice is light¡ªtoo light.

    "Resources are one thing. Killing your own sect members is another." His tone carries no particular threat, but something in the way he says it makes the disciples shift uneasily.

    No one needed Dharun to say more. The silence carried its own weight, heavier than any spoken threat.

    The sachet lay untouched on the ground, a single object holding the weight of a decision none of them wanted to make.

    The leader¡¯s fingers twitched. His pride screamed at him to stand firm, but the weight of Dharun¡¯s presence pressed down like an unseen hand at his throat. His breath hitched. Even now, Dharun wasn¡¯t looking at him. He didn¡¯t need to.

    Then Dharun turned, walking away, as if the outcome had never been in question.

    The silence stretched¡ªtoo long, too suffocating. Then, finally, someone¡¯s resolve shattered. A shaky hand snatched the sachet. The others exhaled, as if they had just been freed from a noose

    Aaryan wakes up to the scent of something faintly herbal, mixed with an unfamiliar crispness in the air.

    Am I dead? He stares at the ceiling.

    It¡¯s¡­ nice. Too nice. Not the damp, cracked stone of his cave.

    Slowly, his gaze drifts down to the luxurious bedding beneath him.

    Oh.

    He has to be dead.

    "Never thought the afterlife would have such high thread count," he mutters.

    The moment he shifts, pain lances through his ribs, his limbs like dead weight. He groans, surrendering to gravity.

    "Hell is just a more expensive cave. Good to know."

    A soft chuckle interrupts his thoughts.

    Aaryan freezes.

    Someone is here.

    He turns his head¡ªslowly, painfully¡ªand spots a figure standing near a small table, pouring tea into a cup. His movements are measured, as if the actions themselves are deliberate and timed, the kind of careful precision Aaryan had only seen in people who¡¯ve spent decades perfecting their craft.

    The man¡¯s immaculate robes and the meticulously arranged room give off an air of authority, a far cry from anything Aaryan¡¯s used to.

    Aaryan shifts, wincing. The way the man moves¡ªcalm, deliberate¡ªtells him this wasn¡¯t just some wanderer. There¡¯s real authority here.

    The man sets the cup down with practiced ease before finally turning his gaze toward Aaryan. His eyes are sharp, but his expression remains neutral.

    "You¡¯re awake," he states simply.

    Aaryan doesn¡¯t respond immediately. His brain is still catching up.

    "...I think so," He eyes the room, then mutters, "If this is a hallucination, I need a refund."

    The man hums, taking his time. "Three days unconscious, and you''re questioning reality?"

    "I¡¯ve had my share," Aaryan grunts.

    The man sets the first cup down with practiced ease, then pours another one, the sound of porcelain against wood punctuating the quiet.

    ¡°You¡¯re in Dharun¡¯s chambers,¡± he says as he turns back to Aaryan, voice steady and precise. ¡°He brought you here after your¡­ display.¡±

    Aaryan''s eyebrows twitch. "Display? That was an award-worthy one-man collapse act, thank you very much."

    The elder doesn¡¯t humor him with a smile. Instead, he takes a slow sip of tea.

    He paused, eyes scanning Aaryan. ¡°Not everyone gets his attention.¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Aaryan winced, eyes narrowing. Dharun, involved? For him? The man barely knew his name, let alone cared about his well-being. This wasn¡¯t concern; it was probably just another way to pass the time or test someone else¡¯s limits. After all, Dharun didn¡¯t go out of his way to make disciples feel special.

    This was probably just some amusement to him. Or maybe an experiment. There was no actual reason for him to get involved¡ª

    The elder watches him, unreadable. " Rest. It would be unwise to leave now.¡±

    With that, he turns, exiting the room.

    Aaryan watches him leave with the same quiet efficiency he arrived with.

    Dharun¡¯s chambers. Three days unconscious. And now, apparently, he was special enough to warrant attention.

    How unexpected. How annoying.

    He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the sharp throb of his injuries. Even if he wanted to move, his body wasn¡¯t having it.

    Still, he knew one thing for certain.

    He couldn¡¯t stay here¡ªnot like this. The last thing he needed was to be someone¡¯s charity case. He¡¯d rather crawl out of here with broken legs than let them think he couldn¡¯t handle this on his own.

    The next time Aaryan wakes up, it''s to the quiet shuffle of movement. The faint rustle of fabric, the soft tread of steps on the floor¡ªhe doesn¡¯t need to turn his head to know who it is. He can feel the presence of that calm, calculated authority in the air.

    "You¡¯re alive," Dharun¡¯s voice breaks the silence, its usual unreadable edge sharper this time. "Impressive."

    Aaryan grunts, still half-dazed from his injuries. "You sound so thrilled about it."

    Dharun doesn¡¯t respond right away, as if his attention is elsewhere. Instead, Aaryan hears him step toward the window, his silhouette framed by the soft light spilling from the outside world. The air in the room feels heavy, the kind of silence that accompanies the presence of someone who doesn''t need to speak often to command attention.

    Aaryan grits his teeth and forces himself to sit up slightly, ignoring the flare of pain in his ribs. The ache feels like an old companion now. "I appreciate the hospitality, but I should probably¡ª" He winces as he shifts his weight. "¡ªget going."

    Dharun remains where he stands, his back to Aaryan. The silence stretches out longer than Aaryan would¡¯ve liked, and for a moment, he wonders if Dharun is even listening. Then, the man¡¯s voice cuts through the stillness, as cold and detached as ever.

    Aaryan shifts slightly, gritting his teeth against the pain. A part of him wonders if Dharun is just indifferent, another part wondering if there¡¯s something else in play here. The man always had a way of making Aaryan feel like a piece in a larger game, but what was the end goal? His mind races, but he shakes off the thoughts. No time to dwell on this now. He needs to leave.

    Dharun doesn¡¯t respond immediately, but then¡ª

    ¡°Should you?¡±

    Aaryan rolls his shoulders, the movement stiff and pained, but he pushes through it. He¡¯s used to ignoring his body¡¯s protests. "Can¡¯t stay here forever. I have a cave to get back to."

    Dharun hums, his gaze still fixed on the sky outside. He doesn¡¯t make a move to stop Aaryan, doesn¡¯t argue. There¡¯s something about the stillness in his response that makes Aaryan pause.

    As Aaryan finally manages to pull himself onto unsteady feet, wincing with each shift of weight, Dharun doesn¡¯t budge. But then, without warning, something small and light is tossed toward him.

    The sachet lands in Aaryan¡¯s hands, and for a split second, his fingers freeze around the small bundle. Gratitude flickers in his chest¡ªafter all, Dharun has helped him. But that doesn¡¯t erase the question lurking at the back of his mind: What does this really mean? A payment for his suffering, or just another test in Dharun''s game? He could feel the weight of Dharun¡¯s gaze¡ªsharp, calculating¡ªbut Aaryan quickly pushes the thought aside. No matter the motive, it was still an offer. He wasn¡¯t in a position to reject it outright.

    "What¡¯s this?" he asks, his voice dry.

    Dharun¡¯s tone remains as neutral as ever. "Use it or don¡¯t. It¡¯s yours now."

    Aaryan¡¯s lips curl into a half-smile, though it¡¯s devoid of humor. He snorts, shaking his head. "You¡¯re so generous."

    He doesn¡¯t open the sachet. The gesture feels more like a mockery than a gift, but still, he tucks it away¡ªpressing the sharp sting of bitterness deep into his chest where it won¡¯t be seen. He doesn¡¯t need Dharun¡¯s charity. Not now. Not ever.

    He limps toward the exit, his body still weak but his steps firm. His mind is already moving ahead, considering what comes next. Dharun¡¯s silence has always spoken volumes, but Aaryan doesn¡¯t need to hear it now.

    Just as Aaryan¡¯s hand reaches for the doorframe, Dharun speaks again, his voice softer now, almost like a shadow in the room. ¡°Luck got you this far. Next time, it won¡¯t be enough.¡±

    Aaryan hesitated, the words settling in his chest like an unspoken warning. Dharun didn¡¯t deal in empty statements. And for once, Aaryan didn¡¯t have a comeback.

    The silence stretched.

    Then, with forced ease, he exhaled. ¡°Noted.¡± His voice was light, but the smile never reached his eyes.

    With that, he steps out, leaving the room and Dharun behind him.

    Five days had passed since the incident, and Aaryan¡¯s body was still a map of aches and bruises, the tender spots a constant reminder of how far he had pushed himself¡ªhow far others had pushed him. He sat in his cave, the only comfort being the rough stone beneath him, but even that didn¡¯t make up for the gnawing frustration that grew within him.

    The simplest movements, like shifting his weight or stretching a leg, sent a jolt of pain through his body. His ribs ached with every breath, his muscles screamed in protest, and his head felt like it was constantly being gripped by an invisible vice. Training was out of the question. Even attempting a form, let alone trying any kind of strenuous practice, seemed absurd.

    Aaryan clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as he slowly, carefully shifted his weight. Just a small movement. Just one proper stance.

    His leg wobbled, his muscles screamed, and before he knew it¡ª

    He crashed onto the cave floor, pain shooting through his ribs like white-hot needles.

    For a moment, he just lay there, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling. He wanted to curse. Instead, he exhaled slowly, frustration sinking into his bones.

    "Fine," he muttered. "Slower it is."

    The thought of forcing his body into a strenuous position was both laughable and painful. He hated the helplessness of it, the way his body had become his enemy, forcing him to rest and recover when all he could think of was getting stronger, faster, better.

    He tried to cultivate. He had to. It was the only thing he could do, slow though it was. His progress crawled¡ªbarely any forward movement despite his efforts. Every time he tried to draw in the power, his body protested.

    His body fought him at every turn. Each breath of cultivation felt like trying to light a soaked lantern wick¡ªflickering, unstable, frustrating

    With each passing day, the silence around him grew heavier. There was no sign of retaliation, not from Varun or anyone else. And that¡­ that unsettled him. If they had wanted to make an example of him, why hadn¡¯t they already?

    Was Dharun really helping? Or was this just another form of manipulation, some silent test to see how far Aaryan would go before he broke?

    His mind wandered to moments that still didn¡¯t sit right¡ªlike when Dharun had stepped in to save him at the resource hall, or when he handed him that sachet. Was it pity, or something more calculated?

    Dharun had a way of making it seem like nothing was ever personal, but what if it was all part of a larger game? What if Aaryan was just a piece to be moved in ways he couldn¡¯t see yet?

    But even as the suspicion gnawed at him, something else began to take root. He couldn¡¯t keep spiraling like this. The fear of being manipulated, of being tested again, kept eating at him, but was that really the path he needed to follow? Dwelling on others¡¯ actions¡ªon their motives¡ªwasn¡¯t helping. It was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. It only gave them more power over him, more control.

    The answers he sought wouldn¡¯t come by questioning them. What mattered now was what he could control¡ªand that was himself.

    This wasn¡¯t just about surviving it. It was about not letting anyone push him into another corner. Not letting them dictate his fate. His thoughts sharpened. Strength¡ªtrue strength¡ªwasn¡¯t about responding to the tests others set for him. It was about being ready, being unbreakable when the world tried to crush him.

    Even as doubts swirled in his head¡ªabout Dharun, Varun, and anyone else who might see him as a pawn¡ªone thought remained clear: his own inadequacy. Every time he fought back, every moment he tried to defy the invisible forces shaping his fate, he was reminded of how far his strength fell short. The distance between his determination and his strength had never seemed greater.

    The thought of being put through another test, another game where he was at the mercy of others, made his stomach turn. But it wasn¡¯t about surviving the next test. It was about not letting them happen at all. He had no control over whether or not someone would come at him, but he could control how ready he would be when they did.

    So, he could only train, even if it was slow, even if it made him want to scream. Every inch of progress felt like a victory.

    Every inch of progress felt like a stolen breath in a drowning sea. But no matter how far he pushed, the gap between him and real strength only seemed to stretch wider. It was a constant, grinding struggle¡ªone that left him bruised, sore, and exhausted¡ªbut it was all he had.

    This was the only path left to him, and he would follow it, no matter how slow or painful.