The Spiritual Caravan rumbled across the vast plains, its enchanted wheels gliding smoothly over uneven terrain. Inside, the five youths from Ironclad Village found themselves in an oddly comfortable, spacious compartment. The air was thick with a mix of nervous anticipation and youthful bravado.
Theron, predictably, was the most boisterous. "You know, my family actually contributed quite a bit to these caravans," he boasted, polishing the hilt of his ornate, if somewhat dull, practice sword. "We have extensive trade routes, you see. Our connections ensure we get the best passage."
Anya and Lyra, perched silently by the window, merely exchanged a glance. They were identical twins, with keen, assessing eyes that seemed to take in everything while giving little away. Their spiritual auras, though not as flashy as Theron's, hummed with a quiet coordination that hinted at practiced teamwork. They were focused on the passing scenery, occasionally pointing out faint Qi Beast trails, their hushed conversations inaudible to the others.
Mei, Elder Jian's daughter, sat across from Eric, her posture graceful despite the carriage's gentle sway. She held a small, leather-bound book, occasionally looking up to observe her companions. Her spiritual energy, calm and steady, felt like a peaceful lake.
"Azure City is truly vast, isn't it?" Mei remarked, turning her serene gaze to Eric. "Father says it stretches for hundreds of miles, protected by the strongest formations in the entire Green Valley Province. It even has its own floating districts, powered by ancient spiritual arrays."
Eric nodded, offering a small, polite smile. "I've only seen sketches. It's hard to imagine." He kept his responses brief, maintaining his quiet, observant persona. The Dragon Spirit, a silent sentinel within him, approved. "Discretion is paramount, Eric. Observe. Learn. Absorb."
"Pah! Floating districts are for the truly powerful," Theron scoffed, overhearing their conversation. "My family aims to establish ourselves in the Inner City. That's where the real power players reside. The Monarchs of the Azure Dynasty, the heads of the Grand Clans, the Imperial Cultivators themselves!" He gestured grandly with his sword. "Once I break through to Foundation Establishment, they'll be clamoring for my attention!"
Mei's serene expression remained unchanged. "The path of cultivation is long, Theron. Rank and status are fleeting without true understanding."
"Easy for you to say, Mei, your father's an Elder," Theron countered, a touch of annoyance in his voice. "My family has worked for generations to build our wealth and influence. Once I'm a powerful cultivator, our name will truly shine!" He then turned to Eric. "So, Eric, still thinking about your 'lucky' streak? Azure City isn't like Ironclad Village. There won't be any wounded beasts for you to scavenge from here."
Eric merely shrugged, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. "We'll see."
The journey continued, punctuated by Theron's increasingly grand pronouncements about his future glory, the twins' quiet observations, and Mei's thoughtful, often philosophical, interjections. Eric mostly listened, his spiritual sense a constant scanner, mapping the varying Qi signatures of the passing landscape—wild Qi Beasts, ancient spiritual ley lines, even the faint, lingering Qi of long-dead battles.
After nearly three days of travel, a gasp from the twins drew everyone's attention. Through the thick, enchanted glass of the caravan's window, a sight unlike any they had ever witnessed emerged.
Azure City.
It was less a city and more a sprawling, living entity of stone, light, and power. Massive, towering walls, shimmering with intricate defensive formations, stretched endlessly into the horizon. Above them, impossibly, entire districts floated, suspended by arrays of glowing spiritual energy, connected by bridges of solidified light. Buildings of gleaming jade, dark obsidian, and radiant crystal pierced the sky, dwarfing anything in Ironclad Village. Spiritual energy flowed visibly through the air, vibrant and dense, creating a palpable pressure.
The ground-level city was a labyrinth of bustling streets, packed with cultivators of all stages, their spiritual auras radiating with varying degrees of power. Ornate carriages, far more luxurious than their own, glided silently on spiritual energy. Airships, akin to smaller floating districts, drifted gracefully between the colossal towers. Even the guards patrolling the gates were formidable cultivators, their armor subtly imbued with protective formations.
"By the Ancestors..." Theron breathed, his boastful facade crumbling, replaced by wide-eyed awe. His voice was hushed, almost reverent.
Mei's eyes gleamed with wonder. "It's even more magnificent than Father described."
Anya and Lyra were pressing their faces against the window, their usual stoic expressions replaced by open-mouthed astonishment.
Eric felt a profound shift. This wasn't just a bigger village. This was a different world entirely. Here, strength wasn't just a measure of survival; it was the very currency of existence. He could sense the vast disparity in Qi levels, the palpable difference in power. Cultivators in the early stages of Foundation Establishment walked amongst the throngs like commoners, while those in Core Formation occasionally swept past, their auras resonating with authority, drawing admiring or fearful glances.
The caravan pulled into a massive, bustling station. Disembarking, they were immediately hit by the cacophony of the city: the shouts of vendors, the rush of spiritual carriages, the hum of powerful formations. The air was alive with diverse Qi signatures, some powerful, some weak, a complex tapestry of human and spiritual energy.
A stern-faced, middle-aged cultivator in the Academy's uniform approached them. "You must be the new intake from Ironclad Village," he stated, his voice flat, his gaze sweeping over them with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. He was at Foundation Establishment Stage 7, a formidable power Eric could clearly discern. "I am Senior Instructor Borin. Follow me."
He led them through a bustling plaza, where other cultivators, dressed in finer Academy robes, strolled with an air of casual superiority. They cast disdainful glances at the Ironclad Village contingent, their simple robes and wide-eyed expressions marking them as 'bumpkins'.
"Look at those village brats," a haughty voice sneered from a passing group of students, their robes subtly embroidered with symbols of powerful clans. "They still smell of dirt and desperation."
Theron, who had been silenced by the city's grandeur, bristled. "Who are you calling brats?!"
"Silence, boy!" Instructor Borin snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the din. "This is Azure City, not your rustic village. Learn to hold your tongue, or you'll find yourself sweeping latrines."
Theron visibly shrunk, his face flushing. He was no longer the big fish in a small pond.
Instructor Borin led them deeper into the Academy grounds, past impressive training arenas, grand lecture halls, and elegant dormitories. The buildings grew progressively shabbier as they went, until they reached a section of cramped, unadorned stone structures, distinctly lacking the spiritual luminosity of the main campus.
"This," Borin announced, stopping before a particularly dilapidated building, its plaster peeling, "is the Outer Court Dormitory. Your quarters are on the third floor. Two to a room. Your cultivation resources will be allocated according to your entrance examination results, which you will take tomorrow morning. Do not cause trouble. Do not waste the Academy's resources. You are fortunate to be here. Prove yourselves worthy."
He handed them a small, crudely drawn map. "Food hall is marked here. Training grounds there. Classes begin in two days. Any questions?" His tone made it clear he expected none.
"But... this isn't what we expected!" Theron blurted out, looking horrified at the shabby dormitory. "My family paid good spiritual stones! We should be in the Inner Court!"
Instructor Borin fixed him with a cold stare, his Qi faintly flaring. "Your family's wealth means nothing here without personal cultivation. The Inner Court is for disciples who have proven their strength through rigorous trials, or those from the Imperial Family or the Grand Clans whose innate talent and backing are undeniable. You are a mere Qi Condensation Stage 6 cultivator. In Ironclad Village, perhaps you were a prodigy. Here, you are barely average among the new intake. Do you understand, boy?"
Theron's face paled. He visibly swallowed, completely deflated. "Yes, Instructor."
"Good," Borin said, turning his attention to the others. "Your roommates will be assigned. Your assigned room numbers are on this slip." He handed a single piece of parchment to Mei, then turned and walked away without another word, his powerful spiritual aura receding into the distance.
They stood in stunned silence, the reality of their new world crashing down on them. This wasn't home. Here, their village status, their family names, meant little. Strength was the only currency.
Mei looked at the slip, then at her companions. "It says I'm with Lyra. Anya, you're with another girl from the Southern Hills. Theron, you're with a boy named Kael from Red River City." She paused, her gaze settling on Eric. "Eric, you're alone. Room 317."
Eric felt a flicker of surprise. Alone? This was even better. It meant he had complete privacy for his true cultivation.
"Alone?!" Theron cried out. "That's unfair! I'm the strongest among us!"
A cold voice cut through his complaint. "Strongest, you say?"
They turned to see a young man, barely older than themselves, leaning against the doorframe of the shabby dormitory. He had a lean, muscular build, and his Academy robes, though plain, seemed to fit him with an air of understated power. His spiritual energy, Eric noted, was at Foundation Establishment Stage 2. Not incredibly high, but far beyond any of them.
"You're making quite a racket, village bumpkins," the young man drawled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "And you, you pathetic little Qi Condensation Stage 6, daring to call yourself 'strongest' here?" He took a step forward, his spiritual energy subtly pressing down on Theron. It wasn't hostile, but it was a clear display of power. Theron visibly flinched, instinctively recoiling.
"You think you're strong because you pushed around some weaklings in your little village?" the young man continued, a sneer forming on his lips. "Here, your Qi Condensation Stage 6 is no better than a common grunt. There are Outer Court disciples younger than you who are already in Foundation Establishment. And if you think that's impressive, wait till you see the Inner Court. Cultivators from the Northern Wastes who specialize in brutal physical training, the Elementalists from the Cloud Peak Sect, the Soul Weavers from the Mystic Isles... they could break you with a single breath."
He looked Theron up and down, his eyes filled with contempt. "You want to be 'strongest'? Then earn it, boy. Don't prattle about it. Now, quiet down. Some of us actually train here, instead of blathering like uncultivated swine." He straightened up, adjusted his robes, and then, with a final, dismissive glance, pushed off the doorframe and walked away, disappearing into the depths of the dormitory.
Theron stood rooted to the spot, his face a mottled mix of anger and profound humiliation. His previous boasts seemed to echo in the silent, oppressive air of the shabby dormitory. He was no longer the village's strongest. Here, he was nothing.
Eric, watching the scene unfold, felt a profound sense of validation. This was the reality of the cultivation world. Rank, status, and livelihood were all decided by one thing: strength. And he, with his hidden Dragon Spirit, was on the path to truly understanding what that meant. He walked towards Room 317, a small smile playing on his lips. The shabby dormitory was merely a starting point. His true cultivation would begin now, in earnest.