By the third day after the Spiritual Tide, the world had stopped pretending it was temporary.
No more "isolated atmospheric anomalies." No more panels of experts blinking under studio lights. Every channel said the word cultivator now. Some said it confidently. Some said it like they didn't believe it yet.
Emergency broadcasts repeated the same instructions until they started to blur together—what awakening meant, how mutations might present, who to call if your neighbor's dog started speaking in full sentences.
Then the announcement shifted the mood entirely.
The Huaxia Federation would be forming something called the Cultivator Registration Bureau.
Mandatory reporting.
Evaluation.
Ability documentation.
Ranking.
Ranking.
That word lingered longer than the others.
Lin Xuanye watched from a cramped restaurant with a television bolted too high on the wall. The image leaned slightly blue. He had to tilt his head to see it properly, but he didn't move his seat.
His noodles had gone soft. He ate them anyway.
Around him, conversation kept breaking and reforming.
"I swear the car door just folded. Like paper."
"My cousin almost set the couch on fire. My aunt slapped him."
"They're already drafting people. Special teams or something. My brother tried to sign up."
Someone laughed too loudly. Someone else muttered that this was the end of everything.
Fear sat in the room, but it wasn't alone. There was something sharper mixed into it. Anticipation, maybe. People straightened when they talked about abilities. Shoulders lifted.
Lin Xuanye finished eating and stood. No rush. No hesitation either.
Outside, the air felt thinner than it had three days ago.
The nearest registration center had been set up in the city's main sports stadium. From a distance it looked almost normal, lights on, gates open, but the crowd gathered outside gave it away.
Thousands.
Lines tried to form and failed and formed again. Some people clutched documents like they were lining up for visas. Others were smiling too much.
Spiritual fluctuations rippled unevenly through the mass. Some subtle. Some careless. One man's aura flared suddenly and someone behind him swore.
Military trucks ringed the perimeter. Soldiers stood at measured intervals, posture rigid, eyes scanning.
Order was present. But it felt newly assembled.
Lin Xuanye slipped into a line without announcing himself.
A young man a few places ahead kept shifting his weight, glancing around to see who was watching. His spiritual aura rolled off him in uneven waves. Not refined. Not disciplined.
But strong enough to matter here.
Low-level Qi Gathering, maybe.
He let it flare deliberately. People nearby gave him space.
In another life, Lin Xuanye had watched men like this climb quickly. Loud reputations. Fast promotions. Faster downfalls once deeper realms demanded more than confidence.
The line moved in small, irregular bursts.
Inside the stadium, the field had been cleared. Platforms stood in rows across the track, cables snaking between machines that hummed faintly.
Metal detectors were gone. In their place stood curved resonance frames that pulsed softly when someone stepped near.
Names were called.
Some people walked confidently. Some nearly tripped on the way up.
A woman raised trembling hands and thin flames flickered to life. They wavered, nearly guttered out, then steadied.
Gasps scattered across the stands.
Numbers appeared overhead, shifting before settling.
Twelve.
Low control.
B potential.
Applause came in pieces, not unified.
She looked startled, like she hadn't expected anything to happen at all.
Next.
A broad man cracked a reinforced slab with a punch. The sound echoed sharply and someone flinched.
Eighteen.
A.
The crowd liked that one.
The young man in front of Lin Xuanye was called soon after. He rolled his shoulders once before stepping up, like an athlete before a sprint.
Wind curled faintly around him. Not dramatic. Just enough to stir his shirt.
He compressed the air into a trembling sphere between his palms. It almost slipped once, then tightened.
The machine buzzed louder.
Mid-twenties.
Moderate control.
A plus.
A ripple went through the stadium. Highest so far.
He stepped down smiling, but his jaw was a little tight.
Then Lin Xuanye's name was called.
He walked up without adjusting his pace.
An official motioned impatiently. "Release your energy."
Lin Xuanye exhaled once.
He allowed his aura to rise, not all of it. Just enough to answer the question.
The machine reacted immediately. A sharper vibration this time. The screen flickered longer than it had for the others.
Thirty-four.
A pause.
Thirty-seven.
The recalibration wasn't smooth. The numbers jumped, recalculated, stabilized.
Thirty-eight.
The silence wasn't clean. It fractured. Someone whispered. Someone laughed in disbelief.
"S rank?"
"That's day three."
The young man who had scored in the twenties was staring openly now.
Lin Xuanye stood still.
He was holding the rest back.
If he let it rise fully, the reading would cross forty. That would be remembered. Too clearly.
Movement near the observation area drew his attention.
An older man in a dark uniform stepped forward. His presence wasn't loud. It was steady. Dense.
Foundation Establishment.
Early elite.
He looked at Lin Xuanye not like a spectacle, but like a variable.
"What cultivation method?" the man asked.
"Self-taught."
Not entirely false.
The man's gaze lingered, searching for something unsaid. He didn't press.
"You are classified as Priority Talent. Expect contact."
It sounded less like an offer and more like a statement.
Lin Xuanye stepped down.
The crowd parted without meaning to. Conversations bent around him.
Outside, a massive digital board had begun listing provisional rankings. Names shifted as more data fed in.
The screen flickered once. Then again.
Canglan City: Initial Combat Ranking.
Number Three.
Lin Xuanye.
Thirty-eight.
Noise swelled behind him.
"Who is that?"
"He wasn't here yesterday."
"He just appeared."
The wind user's name hovered lower on the list.
Six.
Lin Xuanye glanced at the board briefly.
In his previous life, he hadn't seen his name there until much later. Forty-seven. He remembered the way it felt to scroll and scroll before finding it.
Now he stood near the top.
It didn't feel triumphant.
It felt early.
His phone vibrated.
Han Tianyu.
Lin Xuanye answered.
"I saw the ranking," Han Tianyu said. His voice was controlled, but something restless moved beneath it. "Number three."
"Yes."
A small pause.
"Looks like we both changed."
Both.
Lin Xuanye's gaze shifted back to the screen.
"What is your rank?"
Wind hissed faintly through the speaker.
"Number one."
The board refreshed almost immediately.
Han Tianyu.
Forty-two.
S Plus.
The crowd reacted louder this time. That number was different. Sharp.
Forty-two on day three.
That hadn't happened before.
In his previous life, Han Tianyu had been strong. But not like this. Not this fast.
The call ended without ceremony.
Lin Xuanye stood there a moment longer, watching names reshuffle beneath the two at the top.
One.
Three.
Same city.
Same starting line.
Only one summit.
He turned and left the stadium without looking back again.
In three days, the river district deposit would form.
In seven, the Black Moon Ruins would stir.
The race had begun.
And this time, he wasn't arriving late.