The convoy creaked southward until mountains peeled back into open plains. At dawn, the horizon shattered with stone.
A fortress wall stretched farther than Kai's eyes could follow. Jade-black stones gleamed beneath incense smoke, statues of guardians staring down in eternal judgment. Even the air felt older here, as if the wall still remembered wars long past.
Kai leaned out of the carriage, wide-eyed. "It just keeps going... like it never ends."
Mushi, riding ahead, spoke without turning. "It doesn't. Chun built this to remind the world that no gate opens without their consent. Rajistan's armies once broke here. Others too. Still, the wall remains."
Captain Darius laughed around the neck of his flask. Loose voice, sharp eyes. "Too sober for this."
The gates yawned open, swallowing the convoy into Chun's heartland.
By noon, the capital rose from the plains like a vision. Zhushen's walls stacked in crimson and obsidian tiers, each higher than the last. Gold-tiled palaces glittered at the center, curved roofs rising above canals and wide avenues cut in perfect symmetry.
Kai pressed against the window, trying to soak it all in. Compared to New Relhi's markets or the silence of Bodhira, this was overwhelming — not chaos but order carved into stone and water.
Merchants shouted from stalls along the canals, trading Tola not as coins but strings of jade bars and glowing scrolls. Robed officials burned dark stones over braziers, chanting as smoke curled skyward.
Mushi noticed his stare. "Phantom Tola. Counterfeit aura. Illegal here. Chun burns it in Soulfire Cleansing. Only Tola earned through sanctioned trials carries honor."
Guards in obsidian armor patrolled in lockstep. Shrines marked each district, bells timed to the city's rhythm. Street scribes etched aura formulas onto parchment that glowed faintly, traded like tools. The smell of ink and incense mingled with roasted food and the metallic bite of aura-steel.
To Kai, it felt less like a city and more like a living ritual.
He whispered, "How can people build something like this?"
Darius stumbled closer, grin wide, thoughts heavier. The boy doesn't know Janoah from Britannia. Maybe that's good. To him, this isn't politics. It's wonderful. But wonder won't save him when Chun shows its teeth.
The convoy rolled deeper. Life moved with precision: water-carriers in rhythm, spirit-scribes filling ledgers with glowing sigils, nobles in Sun-Gold threads borne past in palanquins. Even laughter here seemed measured, fitting the flow.
Kai gripped his staff tighter. He didn't know who ruled beyond his mountains, or which nation held power. All he knew was this—
Chun was alive, and it was watching.
By sunset, the convoy wound through Zhushen's inner gates. Instead of market districts, the carriages turned down a lantern-lit avenue. At its end stood a building unlike any Kai had seen.
Its wall rose high, tiled with green glazed shingles that caught the light. A carved plaque hung above the gate, glowing faintly with aura-script. Within, lantern gardens shimmered, and koi drifted beneath the moon's reflection.
Mushi spoke as they dismounted. "Zhushen's International Inn. Sanctioned by the Guild and the court. Only caravans recognized by Chun or the Association enter here."
Inside, the air shifted—cooler, quieter—as if stone corridors imposed silence. Wooden floors gleamed. Paper screens slid open as attendants bowed in robes of white and silver thread.
They crossed a courtyard where incense drifted from a shrine. Rajistani and Janoan merchants knelt at benches, sipping tea. Armored Seekers carried weapons across their laps. Each table held a story—maps unrolled, contracts whispered, wagers made in strings of jade beads.
Kai breathed, "It feels like... everyone in the world is here."
Darius swayed, flask tucked in his robe. "That's the point, boy. The empire likes to watch how the world behaves under its roof." His grin slipped, just a fraction. And to remind them whose roof it is.
At the counter, an attendant measured each convoy member with a brush of silver ink. Aura shimmered, transcribed onto parchment in neat lines. In Chun, even a soul was recorded.
Kai tensed as the brush touched his wrist. The attendant's brow furrowed a moment, then smoothed. "Room assigned," he said flatly, handing over a spirit-scroll.
The rooms were ordered and spare. Tatami mats on the floor. A low table with steaming tea. Paper doors opened to a veranda over the canal, lantern light rippling on water.
Kai sat cross-legged, scroll in hand, the city still ringing in his head. He had trained in Bodhira, fought in Rajistan, and faced a wall that split continents. But nothing made him feel smaller than this inn, where every word and breath seemed measured against the empire's rule.
Outside, Zhushen's bells tolled in ritual rhythm, echoing across the canals.
This was only the beginning.
Night deepened, but the Inn did not sleep. Lanterns glowed in courtyards. Steam curled from teapots, and voices from every land carried through the walls.
Kai sat by the veranda, doors cracked to the night. He hadn't meant to listen, but the inn carried voices clear as running water.
From the next room, a voice grumbled, "Exams start in three days. Chun wants blood. Foreigners will be pushed harder."
Another laughed, bitter. "Foreigners should be grateful they're allowed in. Half won't survive the first round."
Kai's fists tightened on his knees.
Further down, a Rajistani merchant argued with a Chun scribe. "Your banks reject our Tola because it is not 'pure'? What of our caravans, our relics?"
The scribe's reply was flat. "In Chun, Tola proves trial. Anything less is ash."
In the courtyard, young Seekers laughed. Kai leaned to glimpse them—three boys, weapons propped nearby.
One, scar-jawed, smirked. "I heard they're letting Rajistani strays in. Mountain monks with no idea how the world works. Easy prey."
His companions chuckled. "Let them come. The arena will teach order."
Kai's chest tightened, but he looked away. Being underestimated only stoked his fire.
By the shrine, two older men murmured over tea. "They say the Black Clan's shadow lingers. If a Kairo enters the exams, the empire will not sit idle."
The other shook his head. "The Viatra eyes were purged long ago. If one survived... the trials won't be the only blood spilled."
Kai didn't know the name, but the hushed tone set him uneasy.
Footsteps creaked. Darius shuffled past, flask in hand, humming. He paused at Kai's door, gave a sidelong glance, then moved on with a lopsided grin. Behind it, his aura pressed heavily, as if to say: You're hearing too much. Be careful.
Kai exhaled slowly.
Zhushen was beautiful, yes. But beneath incense and lanterns, every word carried weight. Every whisper felt like the start of a storm.
And in three days, he would step into it.
The inn's hall buzzed with young voices, bowls of rice, and nervous laughter. Tomorrow was orientation, and the weight hung over every table.
Darius leaned back in his chair, flask in hand, posture loose, eyes sharp.
"Listen close, rookies." His voice carried. "Tomorrow, orientation splits you into teams. That's where your Seeker life begins. Show up looking like beggars, and you won't last a day."
Chatter died. Darius grinned at their faces.
"You need to look and carry the part. Battle-ready clothes. A weapon you can use. Potions, maybe a scroll. If you can't afford the best, buy what you can. Show up empty-handed, and the clans will mark you weak. Don't be late, don't look sloppy, and don't come crying when you get laughed out the door."
Whispers spread—panic and excitement. Some counted Tola, others planned market runs.
Darius waved them off. "Go on. Get what you need. You'll thank me when you're still breathing."
The hall was scattered, eager, and anxious.
Darius's flask hit the table with a soft thud. He eyed Kai, still seated, calm.
"You. With me." He jerked his head.
Kai rose without hesitation. Others shot jealous looks as they passed.
Outside, the night air was cool, with the scent of incense and chestnuts on the breeze. City lights stretched far, larger than anything Kai had known. He followed Darius, thoughts drifting.
Where was Aria? Had she gone shopping? Would they be on the same team? The thought tightened his chest.
Darius's flask swung at his side. "Forget them. You're with me. Potions, gear, a lesson or two. You've got that look."
Kai tilted his head. "What look?"
Darius smirked, eyes narrowing. This kid's more dangerous than he knows. Better keep him close.
The lane smelled of smoke and lotus oil. Darius stopped at a crooked sign—Wonder's Draughts, painted flask glowing faint with aura-light.
He pushed the door open. A bell chimed. "Alex! Your favorite customer's back, sober enough to spend coin."
Shelves glowed with bottles of every color—emerald, cobalt, blood-red—each humming with aura threads. The air was sharp, sweet, and medicinal.
Behind the counter, a pale girl in dark lace sleeves looked up. Silver streaks in her black hair caught the lamplight, her eyes rimmed with sharpness. She sighed at Darius.
"You again. Didn't drain the last batch already?"
Darius set his flask on the counter. "Emergencies. And lessons." He smirked at Kai.
Alex's gaze slid past him, narrowing. She leaned forward. "So you're the boy."
Kai blinked. "What?"
"My sister Alice wrote from Rajistan. She said she met a monk who was asking too many questions about potions. Told me to watch for you."
Kai stiffened, remembering New Relhi's potion-seller. "Alice is your sister?"
Alex nodded. "If she marked you worth warning me about, you'll need more than one vial." She tapped the counter. "Healing, stamina, clarity. Don't argue."
Darius chuckled. "Family package, kid."
Kai slid coins across. Alex counted with brisk precision, pushing three vials forward—green for vitality, amber for stamina, blue for clarity. The liquids glowed as if alive.
"Potion-making isn't luck," Alex said, softer now. "It's craft. Every drop has intent. Heal, strengthen, clear. Respect them, and they'll answer."
Kai held the vials carefully. "Thank you."
Alex faintly smirked. "Don't thank me yet. Wait until one keeps you breathing."
Darius reclaimed his flask. "And that's why I keep coming back."
Alex rolled her eyes but said nothing.
As they left, her voice followed. "Try not to die. Alice said you've got curiosity enough for trouble. Trouble needs potions."
Kai paused at the door, nodded once, then stepped into the cold night.
Near Chun's Inner Market, lanterns blazed. Fabric stalls lined the avenues, silks and spirit-threads billowing. Hawkers waved embroidered cloth, dye, and roasted food thick in the air.
Darius turned down a quieter street to a shop marked by a gold-thread sigil. "Time to make you look less like a temple dropout, more like a Seeker."
Inside, fabric rolls shimmered with aura-thread. Armor-padded jackets hung beside ceremonial robes. A seamstress in silver sleeves bowed.
"Gold Seeker Darius," she said. "Another commission?"
"Not for me." He nodded toward Kai. "For him. Needs to look Rajistani but not fresh off the mountain. Belong on a Seeker's stage, not a monastery wall."
Kai touched his old robe. "What's wrong with this?"
Darius grinned. "Nothing if you're begging for rice. But in Chun's exam, people judge before you fight. Clothes matter."
The seamstress measured quickly, eyes sharp. "Broad shoulders. Too much cloth will be clumsy, too little and he'll look stray." She unfolded a black gi-like set. "Reinforced cotton with aura-thread. Breathes. Moves well."
Kai took the outfit: black trousers, a wrapped tunic, and a sash. Simple. Functional. Dignified.
When he stepped out, Darius whistled low. "There it is. Mountain boy looks like a fighter now."
The lotus-stitched cuffs and hem marked Rajistani roots. The sash was tied monk-style, but the cut was Seeker gear—sharp and practical.
Kai adjusted the sleeves, eyeing the reflection in the mirror. For the first time, he didn't look foreign. He looked like he belonged.
The seamstress nodded. "Durable, flexible. Wash in lotus oil monthly."
Darius dropped a pouch of Tola. "Put it on my tab."
She smirked. "Your tab is thick."
"Make it thicker." He clapped Kai's shoulder. "Get used to it, kid. This won't be your only uniform, but it'll be the one you return to."
Kai nodded, warmth rising. As if he were stepping from Bodhira's shadow into the world, carrying a face of his own.