On the third morning after Xuan Mei left, Orion learned that cultivation training was considerably less romantic without her.
“Again!”
A wooden staff struck his ribs.
Orion stumbled.
“Again!”
He raised his sword.
His uncle attacked.
Orion blocked the first strike.
The second hit his shoulder.
The third swept his legs.
He hit the ground.
Rowan looked down at him.
“Dead.”
Orion stared at the sky.
“I liked her better.”
“Xuan Mei?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t she beat you worse than this?”
“She was prettier.”
Rowan’s staff struck Orion’s thigh.
“Ow!”
“Again.”
Orion climbed to his feet.
Three days.
That was how long Rowan had been handling his martial training.
Orion had quickly discovered something unpleasant.
Cultivation did not equal combat ability.
He could now reinforce his body with Essence.
His senses had sharpened.
His strength had increased.
His speed was improving every day.
None of that mattered if he telegraphed every attack like a man mailing advance notice.
“Your shoulders.”
Rowan tapped him.
“Too tense.”
Orion adjusted.
“Your stance.”
Another tap.
“Too wide.”
Orion corrected.
“Stop watching my weapon.”
Rowan struck him.
Orion blocked.
“Better.”
Another strike.
Orion twisted.
Blocked again.
“Good.”
A third came.
Orion ducked.
Rowan smiled.
Then kicked him in the chest.
Orion rolled across the platform.
“…I hate cultivators.”
His uncle laughed.
“You are one.”
“Recent development.”
⸻
The Radiant Daybreak Sect had given Orion access to its foundational martial library.
Cassian had been very clear.
“You do not need an immortal technique.”
Orion had frowned.
“I didn’t ask for one.”
“I’m telling you before you do.”
“Do we have an immortal technique?”
“No.”
“Then this conversation seems unnecessary.”
Cassian had ignored him.
His grandfather’s point was simple.
The Solar Absorption Cultivation Art was already far beyond anything the sect could provide for cultivation.
But Orion lacked combat fundamentals.
Footwork.
Swordsmanship.
Fist techniques.
Essence control.
Attempting to learn some legendary solar killing art before understanding how to properly throw a punch would be idiotic.
So Orion started at the beginning.
[Radiant Step]
[Seven Dawn Sword Forms]
[Daybreak Foundation Fist]
All Mortal-tier.
All basic.
All extremely useful.
Orion practiced until his palms blistered.
Then Rao’s Immortal Body healed them.
So he practiced again.
⸻
Days developed a rhythm.
At sunrise—
Cultivation.
The Primordial Solar Spiritual Roots absorbed Essence at a terrifying rate, but Orion deliberately restricted himself.
Xuan Mei’s warning remained in his mind.
You need strength.
Not numbers beside your name.
He compressed every thread of Essence.
Circulated it repeatedly.
Allowed Rao’s Immortal Body to refine his flesh alongside his cultivation.
On the fifth day—
Second-stage Body Tempering.
Not because he forced it.
Because the barrier gave way naturally.
Cassian inspected his foundation afterward.
Then inspected it again.
Then accused the appraisal formation of lying.
Orion considered that progress.
At midday—
Combat.
Rowan beat him.
Constantly.
The only measurable improvement was that Orion was becoming increasingly difficult to beat quickly.
His uncle considered this excellent.
Orion considered his bruises.
In the evenings—
Tournament records.
Combat styles.
Common elemental affinities.
Rules.
The Hundred Sect Concord Tournament allowed participants twenty-one years old or younger.
That was the only good news.
The bad news was almost everything else.
Hundreds of sects would attend.
Every major righteous power sent talented disciples.
Some participants would already have reached Essence Gathering.
A handful might even stand at Meridian Foundation.
Orion stared at the list of previous finalists.
“So top ten is insane.”
Cassian sat across from him.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t being pessimistic.”
His grandfather snorted.
“The Wind Resonant elders know exactly what they asked.”
Orion leaned back.
“Xuan Mei is already Meridian Foundation.”
“Xuan Mei is exceptional even among supreme-sect disciples.”
“How exceptional?”
Cassian gave him a look.
“Do you truly want me to answer that?”
Orion considered it.
“No.”
“Wise.”
There was another issue.
Tournament participants were not sorted by cultivation.
A weaker cultivator could face a stronger opponent immediately.
Luck mattered.
Strategy mattered.
Endurance mattered.
And eventually—
Power mattered most.
Orion looked toward the setting sun.
Fifty-seven days.
He had no intention of becoming stronger than Xuan Mei in fifty-seven days.
He had no intention of becoming stronger than every genius attending.
He needed one thing.
A path into the top ten.
And somehow—
He would find it.
⸻
Xuan Mei’s first letter arrived that evening.
Not a transmission talisman.
An actual letter.
Orion found that strangely charming.
He sat beneath the tree behind his residence and opened it.
Orion,
I arrived safely.
High Elder Mo Xuesha is every bit as pleased about our continued engagement as expected.
Orion laughed.
My master has agreed to allow me to compete.
I began secluded training this morning.
Do not interpret this as permission to neglect yours.
He smiled.
Also, Elder Shen informed me you attempted to resume training immediately after I left.
I told you not to chase breakthroughs.
Orion looked around suspiciously.
“How does she know everything?”
A nearby outer disciple suddenly walked faster.
Orion narrowed his eyes.
Traitors.
He continued reading.
The Moonheart Cleansing Dew was… more effective than expected.
There was a small gap.
Thank you.
Another gap.
I still intend to bring you something.
Do not argue with the letter.
Orion opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
“That’s unfair.”
The letter concluded—
Train well.
And don’t let Uncle Rowan break anything important.
—Xuan Mei
Orion reread the last line.
Then again.
His eyes settled on the way she’d written her name.
For some reason—
He smiled.
The Binding System appeared.
[Affection: 29%]
Orion blinked.
“She’s not even here.”
[Bonded targets may develop affection independently.]
Orion stared.
“You can answer questions?”
Silence.
“System?”
Nothing.
“Was that a one-time thing?”
Nothing.
Orion sighed.
“Rude.”
He folded the letter carefully.
Then placed it inside his spatial pouch.
Not system storage.
His own.
⸻
At Wind Resonant Sect, Xuan Mei sat beneath a waterfall of silver Essence.
Moonheart Cleansing Dew circulated through her meridians.
Impurities burned away.
Her Pure Moon Sacred Physique radiated soft silver light.
Her master stood nearby.
An elegant middle-aged woman named Yue Ling watched in silence.
Finally—
“You like him.”
Xuan Mei’s eyes opened.
Water exploded.
Her master did not move.
“You didn’t need to.”
“Master.”
Yue Ling smiled.
“I was wondering why my famously composed disciple returned home smiling at pieces of paper.”
“I was writing a letter.”
“I know.”
Xuan Mei closed her eyes again.
Her master continued.
“Is he handsome?”
“Master.”
“I’ll take that as yes.”
“Please leave.”
Yue Ling laughed.
Xuan Mei concentrated on her cultivation.
For approximately six seconds.
Then—
“His eyes are unusual.”
Her master stopped walking.
Xuan Mei immediately regretted speaking.
Yue Ling turned around with terrifying slowness.
“Oh?”
Xuan Mei’s face warmed.
“I meant his constitution.”
“Of course.”
“Master.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You said that before.”
This time Yue Ling actually left.
Her laughter could still be heard halfway down the mountain.
Xuan Mei covered her face with one hand.
She had made a terrible mistake.
⸻
Far from both sects—
A man dressed in gray entered a roadside inn.
Nobody noticed him.
That was intentional.
He ordered tea.
Sat in the corner.
Waited.
Eventually, another man sat across from him.
“You received the request?”
The gray-clothed man drank.
“Orion Atlas.”
“Correct.”
“Radiant Daybreak Sect.”
“Correct.”
“Participant in the Concord Tournament.”
“If he survives long enough to enter.”
The gray-clothed man’s eyes lifted.
His irises were almost colorless.
“And the restriction?”
“No obvious assassination.”
“Naturally.”
“His death must resemble an accident.”
The man smiled faintly.
“Accidents are expensive.”
A spatial ring slid across the table.
He inspected it.
His smile grew.
“Apparently this young man is very unlucky.”
The messenger stood.
“High Elder Mo expects results.”
The gray-clothed man watched him leave.
Then looked down at the information jade.
A portrait appeared.
Dirty-blonde hair.
Blue eyes.
A calm smile.
Orion Atlas.
The assassin tapped one finger against the table.
“Two months.”
He crushed the jade.
“Let’s see if you’re worth the price.”
⸻
Back at Radiant Daybreak—
Orion stood alone beneath the rising sun.
His sword moved.
First Form.
Dawn Breaks the Horizon.
Step.
Slash.
Turn.
Second Form.
Morning Light Crosses the Valley.
His foot slipped.
The sword angle collapsed.
Orion stopped.
Exhaled.
Started over.
First Form.
Again.
Wrong.
Again.
Better.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Sweat covered his face.
His hands ached.
His robes clung to his back.
Golden sunlight stretched across the training platform.
Orion raised his sword.
Fifty-seven days remained.
He didn’t need to become invincible.
He didn’t need to become the strongest genius beneath the heavens.
He didn’t need to win first place.
He needed to improve tomorrow.
Then improve the day after.
And the day after that.
One sunrise at a time.
Orion stepped forward.
His sword cut through the morning light.
And somewhere inside the quiet rhythm of steel—
The path toward the tournament finally began.