The rankings were posted at first light.
A single massive jade tablet stood in the central plaza of Riverstone Regional Academy, its surface glowing with pale azure light. Faint lines of inscription pulsed beneath the surface, stabilizing the formation as names appeared one by one in descending order—outer disciples first, then inner prospects, then the rare few marked for direct recommendation.
Hundreds gathered in the pre-dawn chill, breath fogging the air, voices hushed, as if speaking too loudly might alter the outcome.
Lin Wei stood near the back of the crowd, hood up, expression unreadable.
The cold did not bother him. His breathing was steady, measured.
He did not push forward.
He waited.
When his name finally appeared, it was not at the very top.
There was no flare of light. No dramatic pause.
It was seventh.
Above him: several inner disciples' favorites, a handful of Zhao-affiliated outer talents, and one violet-grade talent who had been quietly dominant since the assessment pillar incident—someone most had already expected to see near the peak.
Seventh.
Not first. Not last.
Precisely where it could be noticed without being challenged immediately.
A ripple moved through the assembled students—subtle, but unmistakable.
Whispers passed like wind through dry leaves.
Glances.
A few surprised exhales.
A few narrowed eyes.
Chen Yu found him moments after the list stabilized, slipping through the dispersing crowd with practiced ease.
"Seventh," he said quietly, falling into step beside Lin Wei as they left the plaza. "Not bad for someone who barely showed anything."
"Not bad at all," Lin Wei replied.
Chen Yu glanced sideways, searching his face. "You expected this?"
"I expected to be seen," Lin Wei said. "The exact position matters less than the fact that they chose to place me."
They walked in silence toward the herb pavilion. The morning mist had burned off, leaving the stone paths damp and shining faintly under the rising sun. Somewhere behind them, arguments had already begun.
Mu Xueyi was already there when they arrived, standing beside a row of newly bloomed Starlight Orchids. Their petals caught the light, faintly luminescent. She looked up as they approached, her expression calm but her eyes sharp.
"Seventh," she said simply.
Lin Wei nodded.
She returned to tending the flowers, fingers careful, precise. "They could have buried you lower. They didn't."
"Or placed you higher to provoke jealousy," Chen Yu added. "Seventh is… safe. Visible, but not threatening."
"Yet," Lin Wei said.
Mu Xueyi's fingers paused over a petal, just briefly. "The Zhao family requested three private meetings after the evaluation last night. All with disciples ranked in the top ten."
Chen Yu's brow lifted. "Including?"
"Including you," she confirmed, looking at Lin Wei.
Lin Wei exhaled slowly, the breath steady.
The threads had not snapped.
They had tightened.
By midday, the academy buzzed with the usual post-ranking energy—celebrations in small groups, quiet disappointment in others, alliances shifting like sand underfoot. Smiles were weighed carefully. Congratulations carried hidden calculations.
Lin Wei avoided the main paths.
He did not need to hear what was being said.
He found a secluded corner of the eastern garden, a small stone bench half-hidden by overhanging willow branches. He sat, retrieved the Celestial Frost Fox Egg from storage, and held it in his palms, letting his presence settle around it.
The shell was warmer today. The pulse steadier. Not urgent, not impatient—just present, like a quiet heartbeat responding to his own.
[Bond Stability: Steadily Increasing]
[Growth State: Dormant]
[External Interference: None Detected]
He traced the curve of the egg once, then returned it to the storage space.
Careful. Respectful.
The system remained silent.
No new missions. No warnings. Only quiet observation, as if watching how he would move next.
A soft footstep on the gravel path.
Measured. Intentional.
Lin Wei did not turn.
Zhao Feng stepped into view, hands behind his back, posture relaxed, robes immaculate despite the morning activity.
"Congratulations," he said, voice carrying no mockery. "Seventh. Respectable."
Lin Wei met his gaze evenly.
Zhao Feng stopped a respectful distance away. "My family is… impressed. The elder who observed your demonstration last night believes you possess rare control. He wishes to extend an offer of sponsorship. Direct recommendation to one of the five great sects after your time here."
The offer hung between them, heavy despite the calm delivery.
Lin Wei said nothing.
Zhao Feng's expression did not change. "The offer comes with conditions, of course. Transparency. Loyalty. Sharing of… methods that have allowed such rapid, clean progress."
Lin Wei remained silent.
Zhao Feng studied him for several long moments, as if measuring the silence itself.
"You do not need to answer now," he said at last. "Consider it. The rankings are only the beginning. The greater sects will soon send scouts. Those who stand alone rarely receive the best invitations."
He bowed slightly—polite, not subservient—then turned and walked away, his footsteps fading along the path.
Lin Wei watched him go until the willow branches hid him from sight.
Only then did he release a breath.
The offer was generous on the surface.
Beneath it lay expectation.
And expectation, unchecked, became chains.
He rose from the bench and walked back toward the outer grounds, posture unchanged.
The afternoon passed in quiet routine—drills, lectures, herb tending. Movements practiced. Words minimal.
But the atmosphere had changed.
Eyes followed him more openly now.
Not with hostility.
With curiosity.
With calculation.
As evening fell, Lin Wei returned to his quarters. Lantern light spilled across the corridor stones as doors closed one by one.
He sat cross-legged on the mat, closed his eyes, and allowed his qi to circulate naturally, smoothly, without forcing pace or direction.
Middle Qi Refining was close.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
But soon.
And when it arrived—
The sealed technique would awaken.
The system would evolve.
And the quiet patience he had cultivated so carefully would be tested in ways the academy could not yet imagine.
For now, though, he simply waited.
Because the storm was not here yet.
It was only gathering.