The bell for the fourth training period tolled, its sound hollow across the terraces. In Dormitory 13, the air hummed. The Spirit-Gathering Talisman spun slowly, a nexus of swirling silver qi. Qin Ye sat on his bunk, the System's blue interface painting cool light on the rough walls.
The Main Quest pulsed.
[Main Quest: Outer Sect Ranking Trial — 6 days, 23 hours remaining.]
Then a new prompt snapped into view.
[Side Quest: Clear the Ledger — Reduce contribution debt to 0 within 24 hours.]
[Reward: Reputation — Pill Hall +1; Deacon Negotiation +5% (stacking).]
Qin Ye's gaze fell to the debt slip still pinned to his robe. A triviality now. But a loose thread. He plucked the coarse paper free; the splinter of bamboo dropped to the floor. He stood. The thread would be cut now.
He walked out, the artifact sword a comfortable weight at his hip. The path to the Pill Hall wound through stone dust and the sharp scent of pine. Incense grew thicker on the air.
⸻
Deacon Wei was polishing the already-gleaming counter. His eyes flicked up as Qin Ye entered, and a practiced, oily smile spread across his face.
"Disciple Qin! A pleasure so soon." His voice was too loud. A junior attendant stacking vials fumbled, nearly dropping one.
Qin Ye said nothing. He placed the crumpled debt slip on the counter.
"Ah, this old matter." Deacon Wei chuckled nervously. "Two points remaining. A pittance for a disciple of your… means."
Qin Ye reached into his vault. A modest handful of spirit stones clattered onto the wood—enough to settle the debt and signal casual wealth, not the terrifying bulk of his fortune.
The abacus clicked with efficient haste. "Debt cleared! A clean slate." He stamped the slip with a final, authoritative thud.
[Ding! Side Quest completed: Clear the Ledger.]
[Reward: Reputation — Pill Hall +1; Deacon Negotiation +5% (total +10%).]
[Perk unlocked: Price Memory (Lv. 1) — Auto-recall of item prices and grades viewed.]
A new layer of clarity slotted into place. The prices of every vial and manual he had seen earlier were now etched in his memory.
"Disciple Qin," Deacon Wei leaned forward, voice dropping. "The Pill Hall has… higher-grade options. Not on display. For discerning clients. I could reserve a batch of Peak-Realm Pills for you next week?"
Qin Ye gave a noncommittal nod, his eyes already looking past the deacon. He turned and left. As the door closed behind him, the junior attendant hissed, "He paid cash. Who is he backed by?"
The deacon's reply was a sharp, nervous shush.
⸻
The training yard was quieter now, between scheduled periods. Qin Ye found an empty space near the edge. Micro-Perception picked details out of the air: the scuff of his own footfalls on the tamped earth, the distant, steady breath of a disciple meditating under a tree, the fine grain of the wooden practice dummies.
He drew his sword. The low-grade artifact blade felt different now—an extension of intent. He ran through basic drills, not the flashy forms of outer-sect manuals but efficient movements. Thrust, parry, slash. Each motion economical and clean. The edge cut the air with a crisp, bright sound.
[Ding! Sword Familiarity +5%.]
Understanding of balance and weight settled into his muscles.
A worn stone stele stood at the yard's perimeter—the Training Monument, names of long-gone masters carved shallow by time. As he approached, the UI shimmered.
[Daily Sign-In available.]
[Location Bonus: Training Monument.]
[Sign-In? Yes / No]
He focused. Yes.
[Ding! Sign-In successful!]
[Reward: Wind-Trace Footwork (Basic Manual) + Swift-Step Talismans ×3.]
A simple manual and three talismans etched with feather-light symbols slid into his storage. Mobility. Synergy.
⸻
"You. Qin Ye."
The voice was gruff, official. A man in the crisp uniform of the Patrol Hall approached, a bronze badge marking him Captain Chen. His expression was stern; his eyes were calculating.
"There was a… disturbance earlier. An unsanctioned altercation." His gaze lingered on Qin Ye's sword. "The Patrol Hall takes a dim view of disorder. A fine of ten contribution points should suffice. Or we could… confiscate the instrument of disruption."
Qin Ye met his look. Price Memory surfaced a rule—number and line exact.
"Section Four, Clause Twelve," he said, voice flat. "Unscheduled sparring is permitted if no property is damaged and no serious injury occurs. No property was damaged."
Captain Chen's mask flickered. He had not expected a citation. "A technicality! The spirit of the law—"
"I will pay the standard processing fee for an incident report," Qin Ye said, setting a single spirit stone on the fence post. "One point. As per the schedule."
The man stared at the stone, then at Qin Ye. Pill Hall reputation and unnerving calm beat out greed. He snatched the stone.
"See that it doesn't happen again," he muttered, turning on his heel.
[Ding! Social Check passed — Bureaucratic Pressure resisted.]
[Reward: +2% Resist: Intimidation (situational).]
⸻
As Qin Ye sheathed his sword, a new presence arrived. Instructor Ma, a senior outer-sect instructor with a weathered face and sharp eyes, stopped a few paces away. The yard had begun to fill again; whispers followed him.
"Qin Ye." Instructor Ma's voice was neutral. "Rumors travel. The Ranking Trial is in six days. I need to place you for preliminaries. A simple evaluation. Public record."
Qin Ye nodded.
The instructor gestured to a thick wooden stake driven into the ground. "Strike it. Full force."
Qin Ye didn't wind up. He stepped in; body coiled and uncoiled in one motion. His fist struck center. Thump. A deep, solid sound. The wood spidered with cracks but did not break—power held in check.
Instructor Ma's eyebrow twitched. "Weight plate." He pointed to a heavy iron disc.
Qin Ye lifted it one-handed, forearm corded but not straining. He held for a three-count and set it down without a sound.
"Finally, three moves. Senior Disciple Hong."
A calm, solid-looking disciple stepped forward and bowed.
Qin Ye moved. The first step blurred—Wind-Trace's principle in the ankles. He didn't punch. His palm tapped Hong's shoulder, unbalancing him. The second move slid low; Hong barely recovered. On the third, Qin Ye feinted high, then swept the standing leg. Hong landed on his back with a controlled thud, unharmed and beaten.
Clean. Efficient. Ceiling hidden.
Instructor Ma gave a slow, measured nod. The whispers shifted from disbelief to recalculation.
[Ding! Micro-Goal: "Demonstrate Control under Observation."]
[Reward: +500,000 Spirit Stones; Control Calibration +5%.]
⸻
From the balcony of the equipment shed, Inner-Sect Attendant Liu Shan watched. He made a fresh chalk mark on his slate, expression unreadable, then turned and disappeared into the shadows. A messenger bird lifted from a shed window, a tiny scroll tied to its leg, bound for the Records Hall:
Qin Ye, Dorm 13. Body Tempering 2. Control exceeds stated realm. Observe.
⸻
A thud echoed by the main gate. An attendant pinned fresh notices to the announcement board: the schedule for the Outer Sect Ranking Trial. A list of seeded names—He Rulong, Fang Min, others at the top of the outer sect.
Qin Ye scanned once, expression unchanged.
[Main Quest updated — Countdown: 6 days.]
[Optional Objective unlocked: "Enter Top 50" — Reward: Mystery Chest (locked).]
Night sank into violet. Back in Dormitory 13, the Spirit-Gathering Talisman brightened; its hum threaded the quiet. Qin Ye unrolled Wind-Trace Footwork. He didn't read deeply. He absorbed the core principle—economy of motion.
Then he moved. A simple, repetitive pattern of steps across the small room. A metronome of motion. The candle flame danced, but did not gutter.
Control first. Power later.