The morning sun had barely risen when the town square came alive with murmurs and footsteps. Dozens of young men and women, some dressed in rough travel clothes, others in ornate robes, gathered around a stone platform just outside the eastern gate. The banner of Ethereal Bloom Valley fluttered in the breeze—its white and lavender petals etched in silk, elegant and serene.
Kahel stood near the edge of the crowd, Velka curled at his feet. He wore a freshly washed tunic, though the cloth was worn and patched. His face was calm, but his hands were clenched behind his back.
Arla stood beside him, arms crossed, her crimson robe catching the morning light.
"Stay quiet," she said. "Observe. Don't try to prove anything unless you're invited to."
Kahel nodded, but his eyes scanned the field. He saw more than a few cultivators already in Qi Gathering realm. Their postures were sharp, confident. Many carried blades or spirit talismans. He recognized one of them immediately—the same young man from the other day, the one who had insulted him. He wore his smugness like armor.
A woman stepped onto the raised platform, her presence commanding. She wore flowing robes the color of moonlight, and her hair was woven with silver threads. She looked no older than thirty, but her eyes held centuries.
"Welcome to the outer recruitment of Ethereal Bloom Valley," she said. Her voice carried effortlessly. "I am Elder Seirin. You may call me Instructor for today."
Silence fell instantly.
"There are three trials," she continued. "The first is a test of spirit—measuring your potential through your affinity with the natural world. The second, a test of strength. The third, a test of perception and control."
Kahel straightened. He hadn't trained for anything like this. The ember in his chest stirred slightly, reacting to his tension.
"You may fail one and continue," Seirin said. "Fail two, and you are dismissed. Those who pass all three may earn a place as outer disciples of the Valley."
With a flick of her wrist, she summoned three stone pillars. Each glowed faintly, etched with ancient runes.
"First trial begins now. Place your hand on the pillar and concentrate."
A line began to form. Some went up confidently. Others hesitated. One by one, the stones pulsed—red for poor potential, yellow for average, and green for high affinity. A rare few lit blue, to murmurs of envy.
Kahel watched carefully. When his turn came, he stepped forward without a word, Velka waiting behind.
He placed his hand on the cold stone.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the ember pulsed.
Not wildly, not with fire, but with quiet pressure, like a wave passing through his hand into the stone. The runes lit softly—yellow, with a faint trace of green on the edges. Whispers rose from nearby.
"Not bad..."
"Average, maybe slightly above."
Kahel stepped back silently, jaw clenched. Arla stood watching from the side, expression unreadable.
Next came the second trial. A block of stone was placed on the ground. They were told to strike it—no techniques, just raw strength, to show the depth of their body tempering.
Cultivators ahead of him broke chips off the stone, some cracking its surface. A few caused no damage at all.
When Kahel's turn came, he stepped up, narrowed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He felt the ember respond, not flaring wildly, but centering in his core. He drove his fist forward, clean and fast.
The sound cracked.
A deep fracture split across the block's side. Some in the crowd gasped.
Arla's mouth curved slightly into a smirk.
Kahel stepped back, hand shaking but intact. The instructor nodded once in approval.
Then came the third trial: a table covered in small glass vials, each containing swirling threads of spiritual mist.
"In this test," Seirin explained, "you must transfer the mist from one vial to another using only your will. This tests your control, your perception, and your capacity to handle raw Qi."
One by one, cultivators tried—and most failed. The mist would shatter, scatter, or refuse to move at all.
Kahel's turn arrived.
He sat before the vials, took a breath, and reached inside himself. The ember responded cautiously, not with force but a low, flickering heat.
He focused.
The mist in the vial stirred.
Then—it moved.
Slowly, haltingly, the thread of energy drifted from one vial into the other. Not perfect, not smooth, but it completed.
There was silence.
Seirin's voice followed. "Crude, but successful. Pass."
Kahel exhaled and stepped away.
Arla met him as he returned to the crowd.
"You passed," she said.
"Barely," Kahel muttered.
"No. Cleanly." She paused. "You don't realize it yet, but the fact you're here, alone, without training, and still passed three trials—that's not normal."
Kahel looked back toward the instructor.
A group was forming—those who passed. They were being led to a separate tent. Among them, the arrogant youth from earlier smirked at Kahel as he passed.
Kahel didn't return the look.
He didn't need to.
He had made it.