The morning of the month-end evaluation arrived with a sky the color of bruised plums.
Jin woke before the fourth bell, his body anticipating the day's importance before his mind caught up. He lay in the darkness of the dormitory, listening to the quiet breathing of the other disciples, and tried to calm the nervous flutter in his stomach.
One month. Thirty days of labor, struggle, and slow improvement. Today would determine whether he remained in the agricultural division or was sent to the dreaded compost pits that Old Shen loved to threaten him with.
The efficiency tracker pulsed gently in his mind:
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 41%]
Forty-one percent. Nearly triple where he'd started. Jin still didn't fully understand what the numbers meant in practical terms, but he knew they represented real progress. His cultivation sessions yielded more refined qi than before. His meridians felt clearer, more defined. And while he remained firmly in the early stages of Qi Condensation, he could sense himself advancing—slowly, steadily, like water wearing away stone.
He rose quietly, dressed in his cleanest robes (washed two days ago in preparation for today), and made his way to the fields before any of the others stirred.
The spirit rice greeted him in the pre-dawn darkness.
His hectare had transformed over the past month. The yellowed, dying plants he'd inherited were gone, replaced by healthy stalks that glowed with soft silver luminescence. The water levels were properly maintained, the irrigation channels clear and flowing. Even the beetle damage had decreased significantly—his pest ward, now fed with stronger qi infusions, protected most of the crop from the nighttime feeders.
Jin picked up his spirit hoe and began the morning's work.
The tool felt like an extension of his arm now. Qi flowed through the handle without conscious effort, a steady stream that kept the blade responsive and sharp. He moved through the rows with efficiency that would have seemed impossible a month ago—checking plants, clearing debris, adjusting water flow, all with movements that had become automatic through endless repetition.
He still made mistakes. Just yesterday, he'd accidentally severed a healthy root cluster while digging out a stubborn weed. But the mistakes were fewer now, and he recovered from them faster. His hands knew what to do even when his mind wandered.
"You've improved."
Jin looked up to find Overseer Huang standing at the edge of his field. He hadn't heard her approach—a reminder that no matter how much he progressed, there were always those far beyond his level.
The overseer studied his work with her usual critical eye. Her steel-gray hair was pulled back in its severe bun, and her practical robes bore their customary mud stains at the hem. Behind her, the assistant Jin had seen before waited with jade slip in hand, ready to record her assessments.
Jin bowed, trying to hide his nervousness. "Thank you, Overseer Huang. I have worked hard to improve."
"Hard work means nothing without results." She stepped into his field, her experienced gaze moving over the plants with professional assessment. "Your water management is acceptable. Your energy patterns are crude but functional. Pest damage is within tolerable limits." She paused at a section where Jin had experimented with a different planting arrangement. "This is unconventional."
Jin's heart stuttered. "I thought—the energy flow seemed more natural if the rows curved slightly instead of running straight. I observed that the healthiest plants in Lin Mei's field grew where the irrigation channels bent, so I tried to—"
"I didn't ask for an explanation." Overseer Huang's voice was flat, but when Jin dared to meet her eyes, he saw something that might have been interest. "The results speak for themselves. This section shows twelve percent better growth than the standard arrangement."
She turned to her assistant. "Note that disciple Wei Jin has shown satisfactory progress in his first month. His field management meets minimum standards, and his experimental techniques warrant observation."
Satisfactory. Minimum standards. The words were hardly glowing praise, but Jin felt relief wash through him like warm water. He wasn't being sent to the compost pits.
Overseer Huang reached into her sleeve and produced something small that glinted in the growing dawn light. She held it out to Jin—a stone perhaps the size of his thumbnail, translucent white with swirls of pale blue running through its depths. Even from a foot away, Jin could feel the spiritual energy radiating from it.
"A spirit stone," Overseer Huang said. "Low-grade, but useful for a disciple at your level. Consider it recognition for exceeding the typical first-month progress."
Jin accepted the stone with trembling hands. It was warm against his palm, pulsing with contained power that made his newly awakened qi-sense tingle.
"Thank you, Overseer Huang." He bowed deeply, struggling to find words adequate to the moment. "I will continue to work hard."
"See that you do. Satisfactory progress in one month means nothing if you stagnate in the second." She turned away, already moving toward the next field. "The sect values consistent improvement. Remember that."
Jin watched her go, the spirit stone clutched to his chest like a treasure.
—————
The dormitory buzzed with nervous energy when Jin returned that evening.
The month-end evaluations had concluded, and the results were spreading through the agricultural terrace like ripples in a pond. Most disciples had received passing marks—adequate progress, acceptable results, permission to continue. A few had been praised for exceptional work. And a handful had been reassigned.
"Did you hear about Wang Liang from the western section?" Lin Mei asked, her eyes bright with the gleam of fresh gossip. "Failed his evaluation completely. Three consecutive crop failures, and Overseer Huang caught him trying to hide the damage. He's being sent to the compost pits tomorrow."
Jin winced. He'd never met Wang Liang, but the fate seemed harsh. "What happens after the compost pits?"
"Depends. Some disciples work there for a few months, learn their lesson, and get reassigned to easier fields. Others…" Lin Mei shrugged. "Others never leave. The work breaks them. They give up cultivation entirely and live out their days shoveling rot."
The casual way she described this potential future sent a chill down Jin's spine. He touched the spirit stone in his pocket, reassured by its warmth.
"I heard you got a reward," Lin Mei continued, her tone shifting to pointed curiosity. "A spirit stone. For a first-month disciple, that's almost unheard of."
"I got lucky," Jin said carefully. "My experimental planting technique showed good results."
"Lucky." Lin Mei's expression suggested she didn't entirely believe him. "Well, lucky or not, you should use it soon. Spirit stones lose potency over time if they're not either absorbed or stored properly. And you definitely don't have a proper storage container."
Jin pulled the stone from his pocket, examining it more closely. The blue swirls within seemed to move slightly, like smoke trapped in glass. "How do I use it?"
"Hold it while you cultivate. The stone will release its energy gradually, and you can absorb it through your circulation technique. One low-grade stone like that should boost your cultivation speed significantly for a day or so." Lin Mei paused. "Some disciples save their stones for important breakthroughs. Others use them immediately for consistent progress. There's no wrong answer, really. Depends on your strategy."
Jin thought about this. He had no imminent breakthrough—he was still in the earliest stages of Qi Condensation, months or years away from any significant advancement. Using the stone now for steady progress seemed like the wiser choice.
That night, after the simple dinner of rice and vegetables, Jin sat on his bed with the spirit stone cradled in his palms. He closed his eyes and began his usual cultivation routine.
The difference was immediate and profound.
Spiritual energy flooded into him, not the thin trickle he was accustomed to but a steady stream that filled his meridians with warmth. His efficiency tracker pulsed:
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 41%][Spirit Stone Enhancement: Active][Effective Cultivation Rate: Significantly Increased]
The sensation was almost overwhelming. Jin had to focus carefully to maintain his circulation patterns, to guide the influx of energy rather than be swept away by it. But as he adapted, he felt his cultivation progressing faster than ever before—hours of normal practice compressed into minutes.
By the time the stone's energy was exhausted, leaving only an empty gray shell in his hands, Jin felt genuinely different. His qi reserves had expanded noticeably. His meridians felt clearer, more defined. He was still in the early stages of Qi Condensation, but he'd taken a significant step forward.
He tucked the depleted stone into his trunk—Old Shen had mentioned that empty spirit stones could be sold for a few copper coins to the sect recycling division—and lay back on his bed with a smile.
One month down. A lifetime of cultivation ahead.
—————
News of the alchemy competition spread through the sect the following morning.
Jin first heard about it from Lin Mei, naturally, who had somehow obtained information before the official announcement reached the agricultural terraces.
"Inner sect competition," she explained as they walked to their fields together. "The alchemy division holds one every six months to identify promising disciples. They compete to refine specific pills, and the winners get access to advanced resources, personal instruction from alchemy elders, things like that."
"Why does this matter to us?" Jin asked. "We're agricultural disciples."
"Because alchemy disciples need ingredients, and guess who grows most of those ingredients?" Lin Mei gestured at the fields around them. "When competitions approach, demand for high-quality spirit herbs increases. Disciples who can provide premium materials get better compensation. It's one of the few ways agricultural workers can earn significant spirit stones."
Jin considered this. His field was devoted to spirit rice, not herbs, but the information was valuable nonetheless. Understanding the sect's economy seemed important for long-term survival.
"There's more," Lin Mei continued, her voice dropping. "I heard that Elder Feng reached Core Formation last night. The whole inner sect is celebrating."
"Core Formation?" Jin recognized the term from the cultivation method's theoretical sections, but the details were hazy.
"The stage after Foundation Establishment. It's… significant. Most cultivators never reach it. Elder Feng has been at the peak of Foundation Establishment for thirty years, apparently. Everyone thought he'd reached his limit." Lin Mei's eyes held unusual seriousness. "When an elder advances, the whole sect benefits. Their increased power strengthens the sect's protections, improves our reputation, and sometimes they share insights that help other disciples progress."
The conversation was interrupted by their arrival at the fields. Jin split off toward his hectare, his mind churning with new information. Alchemy competitions. Elder advancements. The complex web of sect politics and economics that he was only beginning to understand.
He had so much to learn.
—————
The incident with the bully happened three days after the evaluation.
Jin was returning from the eastern storage building, where he'd gone to collect a new pest ward pot (his old one had cracked after he'd accidentally overfilled it with qi-infused water). The path wound between terraces, offering views of the various agricultural fields in different states of cultivation.
He heard the confrontation before he saw it.
"—think you can just ignore me, twitchy?" The voice was harsh, mocking, carried on the cold afternoon air. "I asked you a question."
Jin rounded a corner and found a scene that made his stomach clench.
Twitchy Fan stood with his back against a stone retaining wall, his nervous hands clasped before him in an unsuccessful attempt to still their trembling. His face was pale, his eyes fixed on the ground, his entire body radiating the submissive posture of someone trying desperately to avoid conflict.
Before him stood a cultivator Jin didn't recognize.
The stranger was perhaps seventeen or eighteen, tall and broad-shouldered with the kind of athletic build that suggested combat training. His robes were purple-black like all sect members, but the cut was finer than anything worn on the agricultural terraces, and silver thread at his cuffs indicated a status Jin couldn't identify. His face was handsome in a cruel way—sharp features, thin lips curled in a sneer, and eyes that held the casual contempt of someone accustomed to power over others.
"I asked," the stranger repeated, taking a step closer to Fan, "why your pathetic field is taking water from the channel that feeds my cousin's section. Are you stealing from the combat division, twitchy? Is that how trash like you survives?"
"I'm not stealing," Fan said quietly, his voice barely audible. "The water allocation was assigned by Overseer Huang. I only use what I'm given."
"Are you calling my cousin a liar?" The stranger's hand shot out and grabbed Fan's collar, yanking him forward. "She says her water levels dropped after you arrived. Someone has to be responsible."
"Please," Fan whispered. "I didn't—I would never—"
"Pathetic." The stranger shoved Fan backward, sending him stumbling against the wall. "Can't even defend yourself properly. What kind of cultivator are you? No wonder you're stuck farming dirt."
Jin should have walked away. He was a first-month disciple, small and weak and utterly outmatched by someone who was clearly more advanced. Getting involved would only make things worse—for him and probably for Fan as well.
But his feet carried him forward anyway.
"Leave him alone."
The words came out before Jin could stop them. His voice cracked slightly on the last syllable, undermining any authority the statement might have carried.
The stranger turned, his contemptuous gaze falling on Jin like a physical weight. "And what do we have here? Another dirt farmer coming to the rescue?"
"He didn't steal anyone's water," Jin said, fighting to keep his voice steady. "The channels are regulated by the overseers. If there's a problem with allocation, it should be reported to them, not—not handled like this."
The stranger released Fan and turned fully toward Jin. Up close, he was even more intimidating—a head taller than Jin, with the coiled energy of someone who knew exactly how to hurt people.
"Reported to them," the stranger repeated mockingly. "Listen to this one, speaking like he knows how the sect works. How long have you been here, little farmer? A month? Two?"
"One month," Jin admitted.
"One month." The stranger laughed. "And already you think you can lecture your betters about proper procedure. Do they teach arrogance in the agricultural division now?"
He moved toward Jin with the slow, deliberate pace of a predator approaching prey. Jin's legs screamed at him to run, but he forced himself to stand his ground.
"I'm not trying to lecture anyone," Jin said. "I just—"
The stranger's hand caught Jin's shoulder and shoved. The push wasn't particularly hard, but Jin was unprepared for it. He stumbled backward, his feet tangling together in the familiar clumsiness that he'd never quite overcome, and fell hard on his backside.
"Know your place," the stranger said, looking down at him with cold amusement. "Outer disciples don't interfere in matters that don't concern them. Especially not first-month trash who can't even stand properly."
He turned and walked away, apparently satisfied that his point had been made. His footsteps faded down the path, leaving Jin sitting in the dirt with bruised pride and aching tailbone.
Fan hurried over, extending a trembling hand to help Jin up. "Are you alright? You shouldn't have done that. Wen Changpu is from a connected family. His cousin is a core disciple in the combat division. He could make your life very difficult."
Jin accepted the help, brushing dirt from his robes. "He was hurting you."
"He wasn't, really. Just threatening." Fan's twitch was more pronounced than usual, his nervous energy almost visible. "Wen Changpu likes to feel powerful. He picks on agricultural disciples because we can't fight back. If you ignore him, he eventually gets bored and leaves."
"That's not right," Jin said. "Someone should—"
"Should what?" Fan's voice was gentle but firm. "Report him? To whom? His family has influence throughout the sect. Any complaint would be buried, and we'd be marked as troublemakers." He sighed. "This is how the sect works, Wei Jin. Power matters more than fairness. The weak survive by avoiding the attention of the strong."
Jin wanted to argue, but he could see the resigned acceptance in Fan's eyes. This wasn't Fan's first encounter with bullies like Wen Changpu. It wouldn't be his last.
"What should I have done?" Jin asked quietly.
"Nothing," Fan said. "Or if you couldn't do nothing, then something smarter than direct confrontation. Wen Changpu will remember you now. He'll remember that you challenged him, that you embarrassed him in front of someone he was tormenting. He might come back for you specifically."
Jin felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold air. "So I made things worse."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Some bullies respect those who stand up to them. Others see it as a challenge they must answer." Fan shrugged, his shoulders jerking with the motion. "You'll learn which type he is soon enough."
They walked back toward the dormitories in silence. Jin's mind churned with the encounter, replaying it endlessly, searching for what he could have done differently.
"You're naive," Fan said as they reached the entrance. "That's not entirely a bad thing—it means you still believe the world can be fair. But you need to learn how to deal with bullies if you're going to survive here. When to fight, when to flee, when to simply endure. It's a skill like any other."
"Will you teach me?" Jin asked.
Fan's nervous laugh was not reassuring. "I'm hardly an expert. I've been enduring Wen Changpu's attention for three years now, and the best I've managed is to become boring enough that he only bothers me occasionally." He paused at the dormitory door. "But I can share what I've learned, for what it's worth. The main thing is to never give them what they want—reaction, fear, entertainment. Be boring. Be forgettable. Be beneath their notice."
"And if they don't forget you?"
Fan's expression was complicated—sympathy mixed with hard-earned wisdom. "Then you find other ways to survive. Build alliances. Improve your skills. Become useful to people more powerful than your tormentors. The sect is full of hierarchies within hierarchies. Learn to navigate them."
He pushed open the door and disappeared inside, leaving Jin standing alone in the gathering dusk.
The efficiency tracker pulsed in Jin's mind:
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 41%]
Forty-one percent. A number that had seemed so impressive this morning now felt painfully inadequate. What good was cultivation progress when he couldn't even stand up to a single bully without ending up in the dirt?
But Fan's words echoed in his thoughts. Learn to navigate. Build alliances. Become useful.
Jin had been focused entirely on his own cultivation, his own field, his own survival. He hadn't considered the larger political landscape of the sect, the power structures that determined who thrived and who suffered.
That had to change.
He entered the dormitory with new determination. There was so much more to learn than just farming and cultivation. And the month-end evaluation had proven that he could learn, could adapt, could improve.
Wen Changpu might come for him. Might make his life difficult. But Jin would not make it easy.
He would become someone worth noticing—not as a target, but as an asset. Someone that powerful people wanted to protect rather than persecute.
It would take time. It would take effort. It would require skills he didn't yet possess.
But Jin had never been afraid of hard work.
—————
End of Chapter Four