The Path to the Academy

The unspoken pact forged in the Sky-Gazer's Spire shifted the very ground beneath the palace. The martial law was lifted, but a new, more intense order took its place. The King, galvanized by Amrit's terrifying ambition, began to rule with a newfound ruthlessness and efficiency. He initiated a quiet but thorough purge of his court, using the information Amrit had subtly provided to root out not just Kavi's network, but every other pocket of corruption and disloyalty he could find. Kshirapura was being reforged, tempered from a peaceful, pastoral kingdom into the hardened steel foundation Amrit required.

Grand Steward Kavi, languishing in the Sky-Piercing dungeon, was never formally executed. One morning, he was simply found dead in his cell, his face a mask of ultimate terror, his heart having apparently given out. There were no marks on his body, but every spiritual master who sensed his corpse could feel that his soul had been utterly extinguished, as if consumed by a nameless dread. The message to any other would-be conspirators was clear and absolute.

Arjun, given a new, grim purpose, threw himself into his duties, assisting his father with the purge. The work was bloody and thankless, and it seemed to scour the last of his youthful arrogance from him, replacing it with a cold, hard cynicism. He avoided Amrit, their interactions limited to stiff, formal nods when they passed in the corridors. The fire of his hatred had not been extinguished, but it was now banked, buried under a heavy layer of duty and fear.

Amrit, meanwhile, enjoyed a period of unprecedented freedom and resources. His declaration of intent had redefined his relationship with the King from one of son-to-father to one of ally-to-ally. The Royal Treasury, the armory, the library—all were truly open to him without question. He was no longer a curious variable to be scrutinized, but a strategic partner whose power needed to be nurtured.

He spent the remaining two months before the Academy selections in a state of focused, explosive growth. He did not seek another cultivation breakthrough. His foundation in the Spirit Sea Realm was already monstrously vast. Instead, he worked on depth and application.

He mastered every sword and spear technique in the royal archives, not by practicing them, but by absorbing their core principles with his system and integrating them into his own perfect style. He could now wield a spear with the same conceptual perfection as his sword.

He had Vaidya Bhaskar, now his most devoted follower, concoct dozens of different pills, not to consume, but to study. A [1000x Crit] on analyzing a Spirit-Gathering Pill gave him a level of alchemical knowledge that surpassed the old physician's entirely. He began designing his own, more potent formulas, using the Royal Treasury's resources to procure rare herbs.

Most of his time was spent in quiet meditation, not to cultivate, but to explore the boundless potential of the [Infinite Crit System]. He began to experiment with more abstract concepts.

He focused on a withered plant in the garden and applied his intent: Restore Vitality.

[Abstract Action: Life Force Transference.]

[…Triggering a 500x Crit!]

A stream of pure life energy from his Spirit-Tempered Body flowed into the plant. The withered stalk straightened, dead leaves greened, and a new, vibrant blossom unfurled in a matter of seconds. He had mastered a form of healing that went beyond medicine.

He was becoming less of a cultivator and more of a reality-warper, testing the limits of the new laws that governed his existence.

The day of departure finally arrived. The Sky-Piercing Academy was located in a neutral territory, a vast city-state nestled in a mountain range a thousand miles to the west. It was a journey that would take a conventional caravan weeks.

The King had arranged a tribute befitting Amrit's new status. A magnificent sky-barge, a large, ship-like vessel powered by spirit stones that could sail through the air, was waiting in the main courtyard. It was one of the kingdom's greatest treasures, usually reserved only for the King himself.

A small retinue was to accompany him. Bhim, in his new role as personal guard, stood by the ramp of the sky-barge, his massive frame clad in dark, functional armor, his battle axe strapped to his back. His presence was a silent, reassuring mountain. Sword Master Jian was also there, having requested to serve as Amrit's martial advisor on the journey. The one-armed master's loyalty was now absolute; he saw serving Amrit as the continuation of his own path of the sword. A dozen of the King's most elite Royal Guards completed the escort.

As Amrit prepared to board, his father met him at the bottom of the ramp. There were no grand speeches, no public farewells. It was a quiet, private moment between the two most powerful men in the kingdom.

"The Academy is more than a school," the King said, his voice a low rumble. "It is a microcosm of the world. It is rife with politics, ancient rivalries, and the arrogant pride of geniuses. You will not just be representing Kshirapura. You will be announcing yourself to the world. Be cautious."

"Caution is a shield for those who are unprepared," Amrit replied calmly. "I am prepared."

The King nodded, a flicker of something—pride? fear? ambition?—in his eyes. He handed Amrit a small, intricately carved wooden token. It was his personal seal as King. "If you find yourself in a situation where the name 'Amrit' is not enough, perhaps the name 'Kshirapura' will be. This seal gives you the authority to act as my direct envoy. Use it as you see fit."

It was the ultimate symbol of trust, an abdication of a piece of his own sovereignty to his son. Amrit accepted the seal and gave a slight bow. "Thank you, Father."

He turned and walked up the ramp, his simple dark robes a stark contrast to the opulence of the sky-barge. He did not look back.

The great vessel hummed to life, the spirit stones in its core glowing with a powerful blue light. It lifted silently from the ground, rising above the palace walls. From the deck, Amrit looked down at his home. He saw the city, the palace, the spire where he had declared his intent. It was his foundation, his anchor point. But it was also his cage, a place whose destiny he was now inextricably linked to. To save it, he had to leave it.

As the sky-barge turned west and began to pick up speed, sailing towards the distant mountains, Bhim came to stand beside him at the railing.

"The world is vast," Bhim said, his voice filled with a rare sense of awe as he looked at the receding landscape.

"It is," Amrit agreed. "And filled with both opportunity and danger."

He extended his spiritual sense, a silent net cast out into the world. He could feel the thrum of the earth, the flow of the wind, the distant life forces of forests and rivers. But he also felt other things. He felt the arrogant, blazing auras of other powerful cultivators, likely other young geniuses also making their way to the Academy from their own kingdoms. He felt ancient, slumbering presences in the deep mountains, beings of immense power that had slept for centuries. And he felt the thin, almost imperceptible threads of fate that crisscrossed the entire continent, all seeming to converge on a single, momentous event in the distant future: the War of the Crimson Twilight.

His journey had truly begun. It was a path that would lead him away from the relative safety of his small kingdom and into the heart of a world teeming with rivals, monsters, gods, and demons. He was a single, unknown player stepping onto a celestial chessboard of immense scale.

He placed a hand on the hilt of the Obsidian Kiss, the cool metal a comforting, familiar presence. He felt the boundless Divine Ocean within him, a universe of power waiting to be unleashed. He was ready.

Let the world see what happens when a pawn decides to become a king. No, not a king. Something more. Let the world see what happens when a piece decides to become the player. The path to the Academy was not just a journey through physical space; it was his first, bold step onto the stage of the world. And he had no intention of being a minor character in someone else's epic. He would write his own.