The gates of the Azure Cloud Sect closed with a sound that echoed longer than it should have.
Ashen stood just inside the outer grounds, surrounded by dozens of other youths who had passed the aptitude test. Some looked excited, some terrified, others wore expressions of quiet arrogance—as if the world had finally acknowledged what they had always believed about themselves.
Ashen felt none of that.
Only awareness.
The sect grounds were larger than Stonebrook itself. White stone paths stretched between courtyards and training fields, bordered by trimmed spirit grass that glowed faintly under the sun. Tall pillars engraved with cloud motifs lined the main road, each radiating a subtle pressure that made Ashen's skin prickle.
Formation arrays.
Weak ones—but still dangerous to mortals.
"So this is a sect," Ashen thought. "A cage with prettier walls."
A sharp clap cut through the murmuring crowd.
"Silence."
The voice was calm, but it carried authority.
A man in pale blue robes stood at the front of the group. His hair was tied neatly behind his head, and a jade badge hung at his waist. Spiritual pressure rolled off him in steady waves—not aggressive, but unmistakable.
A Foundation Establishment cultivator.
Ashen lowered his gaze slightly, masking his presence.
"I am Elder Disciple Liang Wen," the man said. "From this moment on, you are outer disciples of the Azure Cloud Sect."
A ripple of excitement spread through the group.
Liang Wen raised a finger.
"Do not misunderstand," he continued. "You are not chosen. You are not special. You are resources."
The excitement died instantly.
"Your value will be decided by obedience, effort, and survival," Liang Wen said calmly. "Those who fall behind will be discarded. Those who cause trouble will disappear."
Ashen's lips curved faintly.
Honest.
He preferred that.
"You will be assigned dormitories, training schedules, and labor duties," Liang Wen continued. "Cultivation manuals will be distributed according to merit. Pills will be earned, not given."
His gaze swept across the group and paused—just for a fraction of a second—on Ashen.
Ashen felt it.
Not suspicion.
Interest.
"Follow," Liang Wen said.
The outer disciple compound lay on the lower slopes of the mountain.
Cramped.
Functional.
Rows of stone dormitories housed six disciples per room. No formations. No privacy. Only the faintest trickle of spiritual energy drifting down from higher elevations.
Ashen was assigned to Dormitory Twelve.
Inside, five others were already there.
A broad-shouldered boy with a shaved head glanced at Ashen and snorted. "Another weak-looking one."
Ashen ignored him.
A thin youth with sharp eyes studied Ashen carefully, saying nothing.
The others barely looked up.
Ashen chose the bed closest to the wall and set his bundle down. He sat and closed his eyes briefly—not to cultivate, but to listen.
Voices outside. Footsteps. Distant shouts from training grounds.
A living system.
Predatory.
Good.
That night, Ashen didn't cultivate much.
He observed.
He memorized.
He learned names without asking.
The shaved-head boy was Han Ruo—loud, aggressive, Body Tempering second stage.
The thin one was Wei Lin—quiet, cautious, watching everything.
The others didn't matter.
Yet.
Training began at dawn.
Outer disciples gathered on a wide stone field, divided into groups. Wooden dummies lined the edges, many cracked and broken.
An instructor with a scarred face walked among them, hands behind his back.
"Outer disciples cultivate the Azure Cloud Body Method," he said. "It strengthens flesh and meridians. Simple. Crude. Effective."
Scrolls were thrown onto the ground.
Ashen picked one up.
The method was basic. Inefficient. Wasteful.
But stable.
"Better than nothing," he thought.
They began practice immediately.
Punches. Kicks. Stances.
Han Ruo showed off, striking dummies hard enough to crack wood. A few disciples cheered.
The instructor didn't react.
Ashen practiced slowly.
Deliberately.
Every movement precise.
He adjusted his breathing to circulate energy subtly—not according to the manual, but his own refined rhythm. The Immortal Tree's leaf warmed slightly against his chest, stabilizing the flow.
By midday, sweat soaked everyone.
Han Ruo glanced at Ashen and scoffed. "You're moving like an old man."
Ashen didn't respond.
During sparring, Han Ruo volunteered immediately.
"I'll take him," he said, pointing at Ashen.
The instructor nodded.
They faced each other.
Han Ruo grinned. "Don't cry."
Ashen met his gaze.
No expression.
The signal was given.
Han Ruo charged.
Ashen stepped aside.
One movement.
Clean.
Han Ruo overextended, balance broken. Ashen struck—not hard, not flashy—precise blow to the ribs.
Han Ruo collapsed, gasping.
Silence fell.
The instructor raised an eyebrow.
"Technique over strength," he muttered. "Not bad."
Han Ruo was helped away, face red with rage.
Ashen felt eyes on him now.
Good.
That night, Wei Lin approached him.
"You're hiding your strength," Wei Lin said quietly.
Ashen looked at him. "So are you."
Wei Lin smiled thinly. "Fair."
They said nothing more.
But an understanding formed.
Days passed.
Ashen adapted.
He worked harder than most—but never enough to stand out too much. He completed labor duties efficiently. He cultivated late at night, refining energy with painful patience.
His Body Tempering stabilized.
Not advancing.
Not slipping.
Perfect.
Then came the pills.
Low-grade Body Refinement Pills were distributed weekly.
Limited supply.
Competition began.
Arguments. Fights. Alliances.
Ashen stayed out of it.
Until someone forced him in.
One evening, three outer disciples blocked his path.
Han Ruo stood behind them, arm bandaged.
"Hand over your pills," Han Ruo said. "You don't need them."
Ashen looked at them.
Measured distance.
Angles.
Escape routes.
"I do," he replied.
One rushed him.
Ashen moved.
Fast.
Efficient.
The fight ended quickly.
Two unconscious. One broken arm.
Han Ruo backed away, fear finally breaking through his arrogance.
"This isn't over," he spat.
Ashen stepped closer.
"It is," he said softly.
Han Ruo ran.
From that day on, Ashen was left alone.
Mostly.
High above, on the inner peaks, someone watched.
A woman stood on a balcony of white jade, long black hair flowing freely down her back. Her eyes were sharp, calculating.
"A stable foundation," she murmured. "Unusual for an outer disciple."
Beside her, an elder stroked his beard.
"Too early to tell," he said.
The woman smiled faintly.
"I disagree."
Far below, Ashen sat cross-legged in the dark, eyes open, breathing steady.
He felt it.
A thread of fate tightening.
The Azure Cloud Sect believed they were shaping him.
They were wrong.
He was sharpening himself.
And soon—
They would notice.