Dawn's chill clung to the shadow of the Inner Gate arch. The air smelled of varnish and wet ink. Registry gongs sounded at measured intervals. Behind long tables, officials stamped forms—up, down, up, down—the rhythm a metronome for a hundred small nerves. Rope lines creaked as the queue flexed and settled.
Qin Ye stood in line, breath steady on a 4–4–2 cadence. The intake board listed stations in black strokes: Meridian Scan, Balance Track, Rule Comprehension, Endurance Loop. At his hip, Silent River rested perfectly sheathed; the wax seal unbroken, a simple statement of compliance. He chose an order without comment. Foundational first: Scan.
⸻
The counter's edge caught the light. A familiar prompt rose there, pale as frost.
[Daily Sign-In available.]
[Location: Inner Registry Desk.]
[Sign-In? Yes / No]
Yes.
[Ding! Sign-In successful!]
[Reward: Form Pack (auto-fill templates for 1 administrative queue) + Assessment Thread (Lv.1, 20 breaths — clarity during tests).]
A stack of prefilled templates slid into awareness; a thin, clear thread settled behind his eyes.
Ahead, a disciple in finer silk leaned to a clerk, voice pitched for privilege. "He-line favor—priority."
The clerk hesitated.
Qin Ye stepped to the next window, placed the Trial Pass face-up. The clerk checked a ledger, nodded once. "Fast channel confirmed."
The stamp fell hard. The pass vanished into the log. Qin Ye moved forward, past the sputter of silk without a word. Paperwork had sharper edges than pride.
He used the Form Pack just once—auto-filled line items for instrument declarations and station routing. The clerk's seal thudded down in quick succession. A quiet victory measured in ink.
⸻
Station 1: Meridian Scan.
The scan bay smelled faintly of crystal and lamp oil. An examiner with a ledger stood before a crystalline frame, its facets throwing soft light.
"Declare artifacts. Registry seal," the examiner said.
Qin Ye offered the stamped slip. "Sword: 'Silent River.' Seal intact."
"Enter," the examiner said, tone neutral.
Warm light moved across Qin Ye's skin. The crystal hummed, steady as a held note. Inside, the Supreme Immortal Body Fragment glowed like submerged sunlight. No flares. No flags. The frame's glow evened out and dimmed.
The examiner's pen scratched. A small pause. He looked up once, something like approval hidden in the lines of his face.
[Ding! Micro-Goal: "Zero Flag Scan."]
[Reward: +200,000 Spirit Stones; Examiner Impression +1.]
The ledger closed with a clean clap. Qin Ye stepped out, breath unchanged.
⸻
Station 2: Balance Track.
A wind corridor opened between stone walls. Narrow planks ran its length, suspended over a drop whose only purpose was to be noticed. Legal fan arrays waited in brackets, blades glinting. A previous candidate lurched on the third plank, recovered, and stumbled off red-faced.
Qin Ye's Micro-Perception found it—the faint tack on the first plank where resin had no business being.
"The parity clause requires uniform surface traction," he said to the attendant, voice flat.
Chastened, the attendant wiped the plank with a damp cloth, fanned it dry, and recorded the correction on a hanging slate. Parity logged. Wind picked up.
Qin Ye touched the Assessment Thread.
For twenty breaths, the world compressed to plank, gust, heel. He stepped onto wood without sound. Silent Step erased his feet; Quiet Pivot ate gusts and made them nutrition. Fans whined. Planks creaked. Sleeves snapped. He adjusted by degrees you could not teach—micro-turns that turned wind into agreement.
He never wobbled. He never gave the corridor anything to measure.
He stepped off the last plank as the thread released.
[Ding! Micro-Goal: "No Slip."]
[Reward: Grip Wrap Voucher (Inner Gate-legal) + Balance +2% (situational).]
The attendant tore a small voucher from a booklet and stamped it. "Pick-up window's on the west side," he said, suddenly respectful.
Qin Ye tucked it away and moved on.
⸻
Station 3: Rule Comprehension.
A lectern. A heavy compendium. An attendant with eyes like needles.
"Clause 7.12, sub-section B," the attendant fired. "Define 'acceptable qi resonance' during proctored scans."
Obscure. Designed to needle.
Qin Ye didn't blink. "Indexed under Artifact Interference, page 224. Public copy citation, please."
The attendant's mouth flattened. He dragged the compendium onto the lectern, flipped, found, and read aloud the exact sentence Qin Ye had implied. No points to argue. Only ink.
[Ding! Micro-Goal: "Cite the Clause."]
[Reward: Copy Permit Lv.2 (1 page, Inner Gate archives).]
He stamped the answer form harder than necessary and slid it across. The stamp still counted.
⸻
Station 4: Endurance Loop.
A timed loop around a broad courtyard. Markers glowed like banked embers along the route. A burly disciple drifted at the start, shouldering just enough to be deniable.
Qin Ye did not teach with warnings. He taught with absence.
He set off at a steady pace. When the first "accidental" drift came, his path simply wasn't there anymore—Silent Step carving an inside line that refused collision. The man's shoulder met nothing. The pace-block failed without a rule to cling to.
He held form. Breath in fours and fours and twos. No heroics. Efficiency wore its own shine.
He crossed the timer line clean.
[Ding! Optional Objective unlocked: "Clear Day 1 with 0 infractions." — Reward: Access Token: Study Pavilion (1 evening).]
A clerk at the finish glanced at the infraction slate, then at Qin Ye. "Zero. Signed." He pressed a small, bronze token into Qin Ye's palm.
[Ding! Optional Objective completed: Clear Day 1 with 0 infractions.]
[Reward delivered: Access Token — Study Pavilion (1 evening).]
The token was cool. It felt like permission quietly earned.
⸻
Lanterns blossomed along the Inner Gate route as dusk bled into the stone. Boards went up with fresh names, wax seals cooling in small, perfect circles.
Cohort 3. Qin Ye found his name, read one line down, and noted Yue Hong—a name with He-line gravity attached to it. Friction scheduled itself.
On the equipment balcony, Liu Shan's slate caught a lantern-glint. He wrote without changing his face: Intake: zero flags; parity invoked; no infractions; compliance perfect. He underlined nothing.
[Ding! Main Quest updated — Inner Gate Trial: 9 days.]
Qin Ye walked the path backward once, counting lanterns, hearing the queue ropes creak even after the lines had vanished. At a gatepost, a faint sigil glowed like a held breath. He touched it with a fingertip and let go.
He turned toward the dormitory assigned to Cohort 3, breath smooth in his chest.
The night burned quietly.