The city streets were alive with motion, but in a quiet courtyard at the edge of town, silence had weight.
Lin Chen and Yun Qiao followed the spearman and his companions into the training grounds of a small minor sect. The walls were low, but the air inside carried the strange, tangible heaviness of cultivation energy. Even from the outside, Lin Chen could feel it pressing against his chest, tugging faintly at the mark that had appeared months ago.
"This is where beginners spar," the spearman explained. "Low-level cultivators mostly, but it's enough to show you how different the world is."
A dozen young cultivators practiced under the watchful eyes of a few instructors. Each strike sent faint shocks rippling through the courtyard. Some wielded swords, others staffs, and one—near the center—carried a spear.
Lin Chen's gaze froze.
The spear moved differently.
Not faster, not heavier—but every thrust and sweep seemed to carve its own space. It left trails in the air, almost imperceptible, but Lin Chen could feel them. A pulse of energy brushed his chest, and the mark flared slightly.
That… can't be a coincidence, he thought.
The spearman, noticing Lin Chen's stare, smirked. "You're reacting. That's your path calling."
Lin Chen swallowed. His fingers itched. A path… mine? I've never even held a proper spear.
Before he could think further, a commotion erupted at the far side of the courtyard.
Two young cultivators—one wielding a saber, the other a pair of daggers—were arguing.
Their voices rose, drawing the attention of instructors and students alike.
"Enough!" one of the instructors barked.
"Resolve it with a duel in the courtyard, or leave!"
Lin Chen's heart skipped a beat. This was his first encounter with real cultivation politics, and he felt the tension in the air prickling at his skin.
"Beginners sometimes underestimate each other," Yun Qiao whispered. "Even in minor sects, pride can be dangerous."
The saber wielder, taller and leaner, stepped forward. He spat on the ground. "Let's see if your skill matches your mouth."
The daggers' wielder grinned. "Oh, it will. I'll make sure you remember this day."
The courtyard fell silent. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Lin Chen instinctively moved closer, drawn to the energy radiating from the duel. He felt a faint resonance, as though the air itself were vibrating. And then—the pulse he had felt before—the subtle, insistent tug at his chest—strengthened.
He blinked.
The spear from earlier seemed to shimmer.
He realized, with a jolt, that he could sense the flow of its movement—the intent behind it, the pattern, the rhythm.
I don't understand this… but it feels… right.
The duel began. The saber struck, cutting a visible trail through the air. The daggers danced around it, weaving to avoid, thrusting in response. Sparks of energy collided with each strike, sending tremors through the stone courtyard.
Lin Chen watched, his mind racing. Each motion, each decision, seemed connected to something deeper—an invisible path that shaped the fight. He felt the pull again, stronger this time, like a thread extending from his chest to the spear's path.
Without thinking, he stepped forward.
The spearman from earlier caught his arm.
"Not yet! Observe, learn. You're feeling it, but your body isn't ready."
Lin Chen froze, but he could not stop the pulse in his chest. The mark flared again, warm and insistent.
The duel escalated. The saber struck high, the daggers responded low. One misstep, and the courtyard stone would crack. Lin Chen could feel the weight of possibility—the energy of the fight brushing against him like invisible winds.
I can do this… I think I can.
For the first time, Lin Chen felt the faintest taste of what it meant to walk a cultivation path. The energy, the rhythm, the awareness—it was like a song he had never heard but somehow knew the words to.
The duel ended with both fighters exhausted and bruised. The instructors intervened, shaking their heads at the foolish pride of youth.
The spearman glanced at Lin Chen. "See?
Even at the lowest level, the world isn't simple. It pushes, it tests… it rewards awareness more than strength. And you—you're already reacting to it."
Lin Chen's chest ached from the mark pulsing again. His lips trembled slightly. "I don't understand… but I want to."
The spearman's eyes gleamed faintly. "Good. That's all you need to start."
For the first time, Lin Chen realized: he was not merely an observer anymore. The world had noticed him. The mark on his chest had drawn attention—from forces seen and unseen. And the path of the spear, faint though it was, had begun to awaken within him.
The city beyond the valley waited, alive with dangers, mysteries, and opportunities. And Lin Chen had just taken the first step into a world where every choice could carve his future—or erase it.