"Close the door behind you," Defying Sun said, sighing as he gathered a stack of papers from a side table. He settled behind a broad desk of the same flawless marble.
"Do I have to sign these?" Lyn asked.
"Yes. Sect policy." Milen took a quick glance at the top page, as if refreshing his memory.
"But let me tell you what you're agreeing to first. Right. First, you'll abide by Morninglight's rules. They're simple. Showing up to class isn't mandatory, but attending the monthly trials is."
He shuffled a paper aside. "You'll be assigned quarters and a key. To get anything from food, gear, shards, you need Merit Points. You get them by attending class, completing assigned tasks, passing trials, or by dueling another student. The only rule: if possible, don't kill anyone. It leads to a massive point deduction. Stealing is also… not tolerated. We are still a 'virtuous sect,' after all."
He scoffed, the sound dry and humorless.
"Shards can be exchanged or bought with materials or points. Oh, and you'll be assigned a class based on your initial assessment."
He glanced at the back of a page.
"Yep. That's it. Wait outside my office when you're done. And don't wander off." He pushed the stack toward Lyn. "Oh, right. Sign."
A knife? Lyn thought, looking at the blank space.
"Oh, yeah," Milen said, noticing his hesitation. "Cut your finger. Just a bit. Blood print on the signature line."
Inwardly, Milen sighed. These commoners.
Lyn did not hesitate. He nicked his fingertip and pressed the welling blood to the paper. The moment his print touched the page, the entire contract dissolved into motes of light that spiraled and vanished into the air.
"That's that," Milen said, already looking past him. "Wait outside. A disciple will come with your quarters key, a map, and further instructions. Do what they say."
Lyn nodded and left, the heavy marble door whispering shut behind him.
The hallway outside was a stark contrast to the chaotic courtyard—a hushed, polished artery of power. Several corridors branched off, leading to other offices marked with obscure titles. Scholars in elegant golden robes moved with silent purpose, their eyes fixed on scrolls or distant thoughts. No one spoke. The only sound was the soft whisper of fabric and the faint hum of formations within the walls.
Lyn spotted a marble bench against the wall near Defying Sun's door and sat.
Who exactly is Milen? The question circled in his mind like a wary bird. Is this place his, or the sect's? The soldiers called him General. He has an office in the administration building. He operates under sect policy, but with obvious contempt for it. A man with a private army, a personal vendetta against a Rank 15, and the authority to run a lethal training ground inside sect territory.
He didn't have the full picture, but he had pieces. A personality to map. Habits, likes, dislikes, a profile. That was a resource. In a world where power was law, understanding the powerful was a currency just as vital.
A commoner can rise to a noble simply by knowing people, he mused, settling into a patient stillness.
Heaven holds no grudges. It used to, long ago. But forget that for now.
After waiting about ten minutes, a disciple with a fatigued expression approached, glancing between a document in his hand and Lyn. His voice was flat. "Ryn?"
"Yes."
Without another word, the disciple opened a Shard Gate and let a small object clatter onto the floor between them. It was a miniature bag made of glass, about the size of a coin. Lyn stared at it.
Just like that? I guess this is a storage shard. Rank 1?
He reached down, picked it up, and tried to place it directly into his Vessel Realm. The moment it passed through the gate, his Sea erupted into violent, churning waves. A sharp, stabbing pain lanced through his core. He yanked the shard back out, gasping, his hand trembling slightly.
This guy didn't even retract his Essence. This has to be against the rules.
He cursed inwardly, but with a sudden, cold understanding. This was the unspoken test, the first filter. It wasn't a gift; it was an obstacle. You needed to either have the skill to purge the foreign Essence yourself, or you needed enough Merit Points to pay someone to do it for you.
Naturally, Lyn had no Merit Points to spare as a newcommer, and he was far too smart to even consider going into debt. Debt in a place like this wouldn't be measured in points; it would be measured in blood and servitude.
He looked up at the disciple, really looking this time. The man's hands were wrapped in stained bandages. His uniform, once a pristine white and gold, was dirtied and frayed at the edges, likely from harsh training. He wasn't a clerk. He was a student, assigned a menial task. He didn't care if Lyn succeeded or failed; he was just delivering a package in order to get merit points for it.
The disciple met his gaze, his own eyes empty of any interest. He said nothing, waiting to see if Lyn would ask for help that wouldn't come.
Lyn closed his fingers around the contaminated shard, the glass cool against his skin.
Fine. I'll do it myself.
"Understood," Lyn said, his voice calm, giving nothing away.
The disciple gave a single, slow nod, then turned and walked away, his duty complete.
Lyn held the Storage shard in his left hand, focusing on invading the stubborn residue of foreign Essence within it. Two full hours passed in silent, grinding effort.
Refinement, he thought, a flicker of frustration cutting through his focus. From what I remember, this is just one of the ways. The slow way.
He let the shard rest on his knee, massaging his temples as he recalled the lessons he'd read.
First way: A naturally formed shard, untouched by any will, with no foreign Essence or Truth Carvings. Place it in your Vessel Realm, sacrifice a proportional number of your own Truth Carvings to bond with it, and it's instantly refined. A clean, painful transaction of the soul.
Second way: This. The grinding, external purge. Forcing your Essence into a contaminated shard in the physical world, hour by hour, day by day, until the foreign stain is scrubbed away. Only then could you bring it inside and make the Truth Carving sacrifice. The method of the poor and the patient.
Third way: For the truly rich. Using rare beast materials, elemental crystals, in a precise formula to catalyze the purification. Fast, expensive, and perilous...a miscalculation could ruin the shard or worse.
Most people, like him, were stuck with the second way. For this Rank 1 shard, it was merely tedious. For a higher-grade shard, it could take years.
A cold, sudden thought iced its way through his logic.
Wait.
He focused inward, not on the shard, but on his own history. Back in Hazelrun… when I bought that first Light Information Shard from the market stall… it was Rank 1. I put it straight into my Vessel Sea. I used it immediately. I never… I never sacrificed a Truth Carving for it.
His mind raced to the next data point. The Notion Shard. Defying Sun gave it to me. I took it into my Vessel Realm the moment I got it. I activated it instantly. There was no resistance, no lingering trace of his Essence. He must have purged it completely before handing it over… but even then, a "clean" shard requires a sacrifice to bond. I felt no loss. I paid no price.
The two data points collided, forming an undeniable pattern.
That wasn't how it was supposed to work. Even a "clean" shard required a sacrifice to bond. It was the universal law. A tax levied by Heaven on all power.
But he hadn't paid it. Not once. Not twice.
His mental gaze drifted up, past the cluster of his Light Path dwarf stars, to the silent, rogue golden star hanging alone in the vastness of his Vessel Sky.
Is this… your effect?
The star offered no answer, only its perpetual, enigmatic silence. But the evidence was now undeniable. It wasn't just concealing his Essence. It was circumventing a fundamental law of cultivation.
He looked down at the half-purified Storage shard in his hand, its progress suddenly seeming trivial. A wild, dangerous hope, colder and sharper than any ambition, began to take root.
What if the golden star didn't just ignore the law of sacrificial refinement… but consumed it? What if, for him, the "cost" of a shard wasn't a piece of his carvings, but… nothing at all?
He closed his hand around the shard, his knuckles white. This changed everything. This wasn't just an advantage.
It was a secret worth killing for. And a mystery that might just get him killed.
Before he knew it, another hour had passed as he lost himself in theories about the star.
99 percent… Soon I can get it into my vessel realm and instantly refine it. I should pay attention to what happens…
He focused, pushing the last stubborn trace of foreign Essence from the glass-like bag. It evaporated like mist in sunlight.
…and 100.
The foreign essence was gone. He placed the shard inside his Vessel Realm via his Shard Gate, and it was instantly saturated with his own Essence. High above, the golden star pulsed once, a silent, distant heartbeat. Nothing else happened. He felt the shard become an extension of his will, ready to be activated.
Damn it. This doesn't help me understand it at all. Hmph.
With a thought, he activated the shard from within his Vessel Realm. A moment later, he went still, a new realization dawning.
This… this is another thing.
He could activate shards directly from his Vessel Realm without having to summon them into the physical world to hold or orbit him. This could be done by others, yes.. but only by those at the very peak of the mortal world, masters with profound control and immense spiritual strength. For a Rank 3 cultivator, it should have been impossible.
He forced himself to calm down, smoothing the mild surprise from his features. Another anomaly. Another advantage to conceal.
He turned his attention to the information now flowing from the shard into his mind: a detailed map of the Morninglight fortress complex, a numerical key code for his quarters, and several marked legends. The primary instruction glowed with priority: proceed to the Trial Area. There, he would be tested, and on the spot, assigned a class and issued a new uniform.
Lyn stood, the map imprinting itself behind his eyes. The grace period was over. The first trial, it seemed, began now.
He sighed and stepped outside.
The world had transformed. The air was now thick with loud, overlapping voices. The defensive formations had reactivated; the dark stone walls were now veined with pulsing lines of silver light. Disciples streamed past in every direction, a river of purposeful chaos. He ignored them all, fixing the map's path in his mind.
The fortress, he now understood, was the administrative and defensive heart. The actual training grounds and living quarters for students were carved into the mountainside nearly ten kilometers below.
Lyn passed through the fortress's huge, now-open main gate. The two guards in their light-masks didn't speak, but their combined Rank 5 auras pressed down on him like a physical weight. He stepped out onto a wide path that switchbacked down the colossal mountain.
The environment was unnaturally altered. The peak was a snow-capped giant, but here, within the formation's sphere of influence, the snow had melted away, revealing hardy, faintly glowing grass. The air carried the scent of mountain flowers, and the temperature was held in a perfect, spring-like equilibrium. A formation to tame a mountain's climate, he mused. The expenditure of power is staggering.
He began the descent, jogging at a steady pace to cover the distance.
Trial? I wonder how they'll test us. I'm Rank 3, Stage 1. What else is there to test?
The answer was obvious. If one didn't conceal their Essence, it leaked faintly, broadcasting one's rank and path like a beacon.
Forty minutes later, he reached another checkpoint: a high grey stone wall blocking the path, manned by two more impassive guards. He explained his purpose and was let through a heavy side door.
A faint, automatic deduction pinged in his mind, accessed through his ledger stone.
Ah this must be from the information Shard, right I can't throw this shard away.
Merit Points: 98.
So even coming and going from the fortress costs points, he realized with a cold curl of annoyance. Nothing is free here. Not even passage.
Not long after, a second, far larger grey wall appeared, this one featuring massive, castle-like open gates. Through them, Lyn saw a sprawling basin carved into the mountain—the true heart of Morninglight.
A small city of stone buildings, training rings, obstacle courses, and meditation pavilions spread out before him. Hundreds of students, most around his age, filled the space. Some meditated in eerie stillness, others trained with brutal intensity, their blows cracking the air. Many simply clustered, their chatter a constant hum beneath the mountain wind that swept down, stirring his hair.
He snapped his focus back, passing through the great gates. The energy here was different, less rigidly militaristic than the fortress above, but throbbing with a raw, competitive hunger. He followed the map through the bustling lanes, past sparring matches and quiet debates, until he saw it: a long, low building of dark granite. A small line of new arrivals, faces etched with varying degrees of anxiety and arrogance, snaked out from its door.
Lyn took his place at the end of the line, his expression settling into a mask of calm patience.
--
Milen opened his door in a hurry."Kid—my Pegasus Shard—" He stopped, looking dumbfounded.
He did it that quickly? People usually need six hours to refine that shard…
He clicked his tongue.
Sigh. He already left? How long ago?
A passing elder answered casually, "Oh, you must be looking for that new kid right? I saw him about four hours ago. He refined the shard and left."
The elder didn't think much of it and continued down the corridor, documents tucked under his arm.
Inwardly, Milen was stunned.
Four hours ago? That meant the boy had taken only two maybe three hours to refine it.
"…Damn."