Chapter 16 - The Weight of Selection

The sun begins its slow descent, streaking the sky in hues of burnt orange and deep indigo. Long shadows stretch across the village square, where the remnants of the day's trials linger—scattered dust, faint imprints of battles fought, and the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing against the air.

Five contenders stand in a loose semicircle before the wooden platform. At its center, the overseer sits, posture relaxed yet commanding, a single wooden box resting beside him—unassuming in appearance yet containing the future of those who have endured.

The sect selection tokens.

No guarantee of ascension lies within them. They are merely a door, one that can be stepped through, but only by those willing to fight for what lies beyond.

De stands among them, silent, unreadable. The aftermath of his clash with the overseer still hums in his limbs, muscles sore but steady. The healing pill remains untouched inside his cloak—his wounds are minor, endurance having long since been ingrained into his bones. By his side, Solar watches, her lion-like form unmistakable in the fading light. The glowing violet qi lines tracing her black fur pulse in sync with each breath, a slow and measured rhythm. A single flick of her tail sends dust curling into the air.

Joran stands rigid a few feet away, tension wound into his stance. The humiliation of the trials burns hotter than the pain searing through his body. He had survived, but barely. Arms crossed over his broad chest, he says nothing, but his gaze carries weight—sharp, simmering with unspoken challenge. It locks onto De more often than not.

Kalia, by contrast, wears her usual composure like armor. No sign of tension betrays her thoughts. Fingers rest lightly against her belt, shoulders relaxed, but behind dark eyes, sharp awareness lingers. The day had revealed something unexpected, not just in De but in the overseer's reaction to him. What are you, really? The question flickers through her mind like a candle's flame.

Ren, the competitor from the neighboring village, watches in measured silence. The bandages wrapped around his forearm remain stained with the remnants of his effort, a reminder of the toll the trials have taken. Unlike Joran, frustration does not manifest as anger. Instead, his instincts tell him something is off. De is not like the others. And instincts, especially in cultivation, are rarely wrong.

Jiang Di, lean and quiet, shifts his weight. A token may soon rest in his hands, yet the gap between himself and those like De and Kalia feels insurmountable. Survival was narrow. Standing beside them now, uncertainty coils in his stomach.

Elder Faen watches from the sidelines, expression neutral, thoughts anything but. He has seen talent rise and fall through the years, yet something about De unsettles him. Not just in skill, but in presence. The others fought to prove themselves—De moved as though it was simply inevitable. That kind of assurance cannot be faked. Nor can it be ignored.

At the far edge of the crowd, Belar lingers, lips pressed into a thin line. Fingers twitch, aching to record observations, to weave together the tangled puzzle of the young man before him. The duel with the overseer had not just confirmed suspicions—it had deepened them. Assumptions of self-taught skill had crumbled the moment Ren met De's fist. That kind of refinement… was not learned in a village forge.

The overseer finally stands, cutting through the thick air of anticipation. His gaze sweeps over the five before him, unreadable as ever.

"You have endured." The words carry easily, even in the quiet that follows. "Through trial and challenge, you have proven yourselves worthy of advancement."

A hand moves to the wooden box. Slowly, he lifts the lid, revealing five circular jade tokens, each etched with intricate inscriptions—symbols of potential, not promise.

A ripple passes through the gathered onlookers.

"You will each take a token." The overseer's voice does not waver. "This does not grant you entry into any sect. It grants you the right to stand among the hopefuls and prove yourselves before the sects. What happens beyond that will depend solely on your ability to seize the opportunities ahead."

A silent warning lingers beneath his words.

One by one, the competitors step forward.

Joran moves first, fingers tightening around the token as though it might slip from his grasp. When he steps back, his expression remains taut, avoiding De's gaze entirely, yet his presence brims with tension.

Kalia follows, her approach effortless. Fingers brush against the cool jade, a slight nod given in acknowledgment before she steps away, composed.

Ren and Jiang Di accept theirs in quiet succession, unreadable in their emotions.

Then, De steps forward.

The overseer holds his gaze for a fraction longer than necessary before extending the token. Their fingers brush in the exchange—a faint pulse of qi, subtle yet undeniable. A final test. A confirmation.

"You fight not like one seeking entry," the overseer murmurs, voice quieter now, meant only for him. "But like one who has already walked the path."

De meets his gaze evenly, offering no response.

A ghost of a smile flickers across the overseer's lips. Then, he releases the token.

The trial is over.

And the true journey begins.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows through the village square. The air, thick with lingering tension, hums with the weight of unspoken words. The selection tokens have been distributed. In three months, the contenders will step onto a greater stage. But before that, there are those who will seek answers. And they will not wait.

Jiang Di sits on the worn steps of the gathering hall, idly turning the jade token in his palm. As De passes, his gaze lifts.

"You impressed him."

De slows. "The overseer?"

Jiang Di nods. "I don't think I've ever seen him react that way before. He came once to test my older brother."

De remains silent.

A pause. Then, quieter, "Elder Faen is interested in you."

That catches his attention.

"He's been asking questions. He doesn't care about the selection. He wants something else." Jiang Di's gaze darkens. "Be careful."

De inclines his head, then moves on.

The scent of burning herbs lingers as De walks along the dimly lit path. The village has quieted, yet watchful figures remain just beyond sight. Their gazes press against him—suspicion, curiosity. Expected.

One does not bother with shadows.

At the crossroads leading to the village outskirts, Belar waits. His stance is easy, but his eyes gleam with calculation. Of course, he had been expecting De.

"You must be tired," Belar muses, voice carrying an edge of amusement. "Trials like this push one's limits, after all."

De says nothing. Solar moves at his side, black fur illuminated faintly by the moonlight, the pulsing qi lines along her body a quiet warning.

Belar chuckles under his breath. "I wonder how much of today was a test for you."

De regards him impassively. "I could say the same to you."

The alchemist exhales through his nose, then, in a deliberate motion, pulls a parchment from his sleeve—yellowed, marked with intricate symbols. He lets it unfurl between his fingers, allowing a glimpse before tucking it away.

"Interesting thing, isn't it?" Belar muses. "A remnant of a time before the sects consolidated power. A map, perhaps? A contract? Or something more?"

He lets the words settle.

De remains impassive. Inside, calculations shift.

Belar's gaze flickers to Solar. "Do you think such a master would take an apprentice? Leave behind teachings in secret? A few lost notes, or perhaps… a disciple no one expected?"

A slight curl of fingers at De's side. A measured response.

"And if such a master existed?"

Belar's lips twitch. "Then his knowledge wouldn't just be valuable. It would be dangerous."

A test.

De lets the silence stretch, then answers. "If you ever find him, let me know."

Belar chuckles, satisfied. "Oh, I will."

As De walks away, Solar pacing at his side, the alchemist remains where he stands, fingers brushing over the parchment.

Whatever De is hiding, he will uncover it.

And soon.