Cultivation writes first
Mist coils around the floating peaks of the Azure Peak Sect, and sword-riding disciples streak between them like loosed arrows. You stand at the base of ten thousand stone steps, clutching a registration token that still smells of cinnabar ink.
The examiner’s words still sting: ”Spiritual roots like wet firewood. Outer disciple. Try not to die during the first winter.”
Realm: Qi Condensation, Layer 1 (the very bottom). Spirit stones: 3. Standing: beneath notice.
A senior brother in pristine azure robes descends on his flying sword, looks you over, and laughs.
“So you’re the wet-firewood recruit everyone’s talking about. Cottage forty-nine, up the cold ridge. Don’t touch the good training grounds, they’re for real disciples.”
He soars off. And then, against your chest, beneath your robes, the cracked jade pendant your grandmother left you grows suddenly, secretly warm, and a single character of light flickers across its surface where only you can see it.
The pendant is waiting. So is the mountain.
What do you do — bow your head and take cottage forty-nine, chase the senior brother for answers, or slip somewhere quiet to examine the pendant that just came alive?
