Dawn arrived before Dhiraj had finished deciding.
The bell outside the inn rang three times.
Once for the opening of the eastern gate.
Once for the beginning of the recruitment examination.
The third bell was followed by the sound of hundreds of footsteps filling the streets.
Dhiraj sat beside the small window of his room, watching the first sunlight spread across Rivermarket.
The fractured jade tablet rested on the table.
Its blue glow had disappeared sometime during the night.
It looked like an ordinary piece of broken jade again.
Dhiraj had not slept much.
He had spent most of the night comparing the two possibilities in his mind.
The ancient path offered something he could not yet define.
The sects offered something much more concrete.
Knowledge.
That settled it.
For now.
Dhiraj wrapped the jade tablet in cloth and placed it inside his innermost pocket.
He would not follow the eastern signal yet.
First, he needed to understand cultivation from people who had spent their entire lives practicing it.
The decision was not heroic.
It was practical.
He left the room before sunrise had fully reached the streets.
Rivermarket was already awake.
Vendors were opening shutters.
Steam rose from food stalls.
Porters dragged carts through the narrow streets while shopkeepers shouted at them to move faster.
The smell of fried grain and spices filled the air.
Dhiraj followed the crowd toward the eastern square.
As he walked, he observed the people around him.
Young men and women wearing ordinary clothes.
Children accompanied by parents.
Travelers carrying bags.
A few wealthy families arrived in covered carriages.
And among them were cultivators.
Their presence changed the behavior of everyone nearby.
People unconsciously moved aside.
Conversations became quieter.
Even children seemed to understand that certain people should not be disturbed.
Dhiraj had seen this before at the mine.
But Rivermarket revealed another side of it.
Cultivation was not merely power.
It was social position.
A cultivator didn’t need to threaten anyone.
Their existence was enough.
The eastern square was enormous.
A temporary wooden platform had been constructed at the far end.
Several banners hung above it.
Black Fang Sect.
Green River Sect.
A smaller white banner carried the emblem of another organization Dhiraj did not recognize.
Perhaps an academy.
Perhaps a clan.
Hundreds of people had gathered.
Dhiraj stayed near the back.
He had no intention of attracting attention.
A young man beside him whispered to his friend.
“How many will they take?”
“Maybe twenty.”
“Twenty?”
“From this many?”
His friend laughed nervously.
“That’s why most people come every year.”
Dhiraj listened.
Another conversation nearby.
“Black Fang only accepts people with strong spiritual roots.”
“Green River takes weaker ones.”
“That’s because Green River trains more.”
“Or because they have fewer resources.”
“Keep your voice down.”
The second speaker glanced toward the sect platforms.
Dhiraj stored the information.
Competition existed between the sects.
Recruitment was limited.
Resources were scarce.
That meant sect membership had value.
It also meant rejection was normal.
A cultivator in gray robes stepped onto the platform.
The crowd slowly quieted.
“Recruitment will proceed in three stages.”
His voice carried easily across the square.
“Spiritual root examination.
Meridian assessment.
Basic qi sensitivity.”
Dhiraj’s attention sharpened.
The first two made sense.
The third interested him more.
The examiner continued.
“Those who fail the first stage will leave immediately.
Those who pass will proceed to the second.
Do not attempt to conceal injuries or alter your cultivation during examination.”
Dhiraj looked toward the testing table.
A translucent stone sat upon it.
Several smaller crystals surrounded the stone.
He had seen nothing like them before.
The first candidates stepped forward.
One by one.
A young woman placed her hand on the translucent stone.
Green light spread through it.
The examiner nodded.
“Wood affinity.
Moderate.”
She was directed toward Green River Sect.
The next candidate produced faint red light.
“Fire affinity.
Weak.”
Rejected.
The third produced two colors.
“Dual affinity.
Low purity.”
Rejected again.
Dhiraj watched carefully.
There was no humiliation.
No dramatic reaction.
People simply stepped away.
Some disappointed.
Some relieved.
Some angry.
A boy near Dhiraj muttered after being rejected.
“My father said I had talent.”
His older brother pulled him away.
“Come on.”
The boy looked back at the platform.
“I thought—”
“I know.”
They disappeared into the crowd.
Dhiraj looked at the testing stone.
The process was brutal in its simplicity.
Potential was measured.
Resources were allocated.
Those who failed were sent back into ordinary life.
Those who passed entered a different world.
Eventually, his name was called.
“Dhiraj.”
He stepped forward.
A few people glanced at his miner’s clothes.
One of the examiners frowned.
“Occupation?”
“Miner.”
“From where?”
Dhiraj hesitated.
“Graystone region.”
The examiner looked up.
“Graystone?”
A murmur spread through the nearby candidates.
The recent rumors had already reached Rivermarket.
“Don’t waste time,” another examiner said.
The first nodded.
“Place your hand on the stone.”
Dhiraj did.
Coldness spread into his palm.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the stone glowed.
A thin pale-white light appeared.
The examiner leaned closer.
“Metal?”
The light shifted.
A faint blue joined it.
The examiner frowned.
“Metal and water?”
Dhiraj remained silent.
The colors were weak.
Very weak.
The examiner touched one of the smaller crystals.
The response barely changed.
He wrote something down.
“Mixed affinity.
“Pass or fail?” someone asked.
The examiner studied Dhiraj again.
“Pass.
Barely.”
Dhiraj removed his hand.
That was unexpected.
He had no idea what spiritual roots he possessed.
His cultivation had never involved any formal examination.
The examiner pointed toward another line.
“Second stage.”
Dhiraj moved.
A different cultivator waited there.
This one was older.
His hair was gray.
His eyes were sharp.
“Extend your arm.”
Dhiraj obeyed.
Two fingers touched his wrist.
Spiritual energy entered his body.
Dhiraj felt it immediately.
It was far stronger than his own qi.
Instinctively, his circulation tried to tighten.
He stopped it.
The examiner’s eyebrows moved slightly.
“Qi Refinement?”
“Yes.”
“Who taught you?”
Dhiraj’s mind worked quickly.
“No one.”
The old cultivator stared at him.
“No one?”
“I learned enough to survive.”
The man continued examining his meridians.
“You’ve been cultivating for some time.”
“Not long.”
“Your circulation is strange.”
Dhiraj said nothing.
The examiner’s spiritual sense moved deeper.
Dhiraj felt the pressure approach the layered circulation.
He almost reacted.
Instead, he allowed his normal rhythm to continue.
The examiner withdrew his fingers.
“Your meridians are not particularly strong.”
Dhiraj already knew that.
“But your qi circulation is unusually stable for someone without formal instruction.”
Dhiraj lowered his arm.
The examiner looked at him for another moment.
“Where did you learn the breathing method?”
“I experimented.”
The man laughed.
“Experimented?”
“Yes.”
“With your own meridians?”
“Mostly.”
The old cultivator shook his head.
“Either you’re reckless or fortunate.”
Dhiraj said nothing.
Probably both.
The examiner marked the sheet.
“Pass.”
Dhiraj stepped aside.
The final test was simpler.
He was given a small stone.
“Gather qi.”
Dhiraj held it.
He circulated.
The stone warmed slightly.
The examiner watched the response.
“Very low output.”
Dhiraj expected that.
“Still stable.”
The examiner looked toward the sect representatives.
“Candidate qualifies for basic outer disciple consideration.”
Dhiraj stepped away.
He had passed.
Barely.
That was exactly what he wanted.
He didn’t need admiration.
He needed access.
The candidates who had passed gathered near the three banners.
Black Fang Sect representatives stood on one side.
Green River Sect representatives stood on another.
The third group wore white and silver.
Dhiraj studied their emblem.
A circle containing a stylized mountain.
A young man standing beside the banner announced:
“Cloudridge Academy accepts candidates with moderate aptitude for foundational training.”
Academy.
That caught Dhiraj’s attention.
A sect might demand loyalty.
An academy might provide education.
He listened.
The academy accepted only ten candidates.
Green River accepted twelve.
Black Fang accepted eight.
The numbers were small.
Dhiraj considered his options.
Black Fang had powerful disciples.
He had already seen Han.
That meant resources and strong combat training.
It also meant greater danger.
Green River appeared more focused on training and internal cultivation.
Cloudridge Academy sounded more academic.
Dhiraj looked at the three groups.
He needed cultivation knowledge.
He also needed access to materials and people who understood formations, spiritual energy, and ancient artifacts.
The academy was tempting.
But the ancient ruins had attracted the sects.
Joining one might give him access to information about Graystone Mountain.
He moved toward Green River.
A sect disciple intercepted him.
“Why Green River?”
“Training.”
The disciple smiled.
“Honest answer.”
Dhiraj looked toward Black Fang.
“Black Fang appears focused on combat.”
The disciple laughed.
“You observed that?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He looked at Dhiraj’s registration sheet.
“Low root intensity.
Qi Refinement.
No formal teacher.”
“Correct.”
“You may not be accepted into the inner training group.”
“I understand.”
“You’ll start at the outer level.”
“I expected that.”
The disciple studied him.
“You don’t seem disappointed.”
“Would disappointment change the result?”
The disciple stared at him.
Then laughed.
“Maybe you’ll survive.”
Dhiraj returned a faint smile.
A clerk recorded his name.
“Final selection this afternoon.”
Dhiraj nodded.
He stepped away from the group.
His hand touched the pouch containing the jade tablet.
Nothing.
He frowned.
Earlier, the artifact had responded in the city.
Now it was silent.
He didn’t like that.
He moved toward a quieter alley.
Once alone, he removed the tablet.
Still nothing.
He placed it on his palm.
Then circulated qi.
A faint blue line appeared.
Dhiraj froze.
The line was pointing.
East.
Again.
He rotated the tablet.
The line remained fixed.
He turned his body.
The direction changed relative to him.
Dhiraj stared.
It was acting like a crude directional instrument.
Not a map.
A pointer.
He closed his fingers around it.
Following the signal now would mean abandoning the recruitment process.
He wasn’t going to do that.
Not yet.
He returned the tablet to his pouch.
Then he noticed something else.
The resonance had changed.
Previously the tablet responded weakly whenever he circulated qi.
Now the response appeared only when his circulation entered the synchronized rhythm he had developed beneath Graystone Mountain.
That meant the artifact was not merely detecting qi.
It was detecting a specific pattern.
Dhiraj’s mind immediately returned to the ancient network.
Three layers.
Timing.
Resonance.
Synchronization.
The pieces were beginning to connect.
He needed controlled testing.
Unfortunately, he was standing in the middle of a city filled with cultivators.
So he waited.
By afternoon, the recruitment selection was complete.
Dhiraj’s name was accepted by Green River Sect.
Outer disciple.
Basic cultivation resources.
Access to foundational manuals.
Food.
Lodging.
A path toward stronger cultivation.
The sect representative handed him a small wooden token.
“Report at Green River’s outer station in three days.”
Dhiraj accepted it.
“Where?”
The disciple pointed toward the southern road.
“Three days from Rivermarket.”
Dhiraj looked at the token.
His first real connection to the cultivation world.
It was smaller than he had imagined.
A simple piece of wood.
Yet it represented access.
Knowledge.
Opportunity.
Risk.
He returned to the inn before evening.
The room felt different now.
He placed the Green River token on the table beside the cultivation manual.
Then the jade tablet.
Three objects.
Three futures.
Dhiraj sat down.
He opened the cultivation manual again.
This time he read it differently.
He wasn’t searching for instructions.
He was searching for principles.
Why did the standard method use fixed circulation?
Why did it stabilize weak meridians?
Why did the breathing pattern reduce turbulence?
Why did spiritual roots influence absorption?
He wrote notes.
Then compared them with his own circulation.
Several hours passed.
He discovered two incompatibilities.
One could be corrected.
The other could not.
The standard technique assumed a particular meridian structure.
His own circulation had already adapted beyond it.
Trying to force the standard method into his body would create instability.
That was useful information.
He marked the section.
Then began developing a hybrid.
Not a new cultivation technique.
A small adjustment.
The breathing pattern from the manual.
His own circulation.
The resonance timing he had discovered.
He tested it.
The first cycle failed.
Qi accumulated near the chest.
He stopped.
Second attempt.
Less qi.
Better.
Third.
Adjusted breathing.
Better again.
Fourth.
The second circulation layer entered too early.
Pain.
He stopped immediately.
Fifth.
He delayed it.
The flow stabilized.
Dhiraj continued.
Ten cycles.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The result held.
His qi moved more smoothly.
The improvement was modest.
But measurable.
He sat quietly after finishing.
His dantian was almost empty.
His meridians were tired.
Yet the circulation felt cleaner than it had that morning.
ASTRA spoke.
“Current circulation stability has improved.”
“Compared with?”
“Compared with your pre-adjustment baseline.”
“How much?”
“Approximately four percent.”
Dhiraj leaned back.
Four percent.
He looked at the notes.
A standard cultivation manual had given him a missing reference.
The ancient ruins had given him resonance principles.
His own experimentation had connected them.
That was the process.
No miracle.
No gift.
Just one small improvement built on another.
He closed the manual.
Outside, Rivermarket was beginning to quiet.
Tomorrow he would purchase food, basic clothing, and whatever supplies he could afford.
Then he would leave for Green River Sect.
But before that, he had one final question.
He took out the jade tablet.
“ASTRA.”
“Listening.”
“Can you determine whether the eastern signal is getting stronger?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Dhiraj looked at the tablet.
“How much?”
“The signal has increased.”
His expression tightened.
“Since when?”
“Approximately twenty-three minutes ago.”
Dhiraj looked toward the window.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Then the tablet pulsed.
Once.
A faint blue line emerged.
East.
Then another pulse.
The line shifted.
Slightly.
Not toward the distant mountains.
Toward Rivermarket itself.
Dhiraj stood.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
He walked to the window.
The city below looked normal.
Lanterns.
People.
Merchants closing stalls.
Cultivators returning to their lodgings.
Nothing seemed wrong.
Then, far across the city, one of the ancient stone wells in the eastern district flickered with pale blue light.
Dhiraj stared.
The light disappeared almost immediately.
No one around it seemed to notice.
He slowly closed the curtains.
The ancient network had followed him farther than he had expected.
And now something inside Rivermarket was responding.
Dhiraj looked at the Green River token.
Three days until he had to report.
The eastern signal was active tonight.
He had wanted knowledge.
Now knowledge had begun moving toward him.
The problem was that he had no idea what it would bring with it.