On the seventh day of training, something extraordinary happened. As Jasper moved through the sword technique, he felt a surge of energy well up inside him. It was a warm, pulsating force that flowed through his veins, bringing with it a rush of power. Jasper stood in the courtyard, his heart pounding, as he experienced the awakening of his aura.

It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. This energy was raw, untamed, it coursed through him like a wild river. His body felt lighter, stronger.

As the realization dawned on him, Jasper could barely contain his excitement. He had awakened his aura. He had taken the first step on his path as a martial artist. His joy was immeasurable, his heart filled with triumph. This was only the beginning, and he couldn't wait to see what the future held.

Overwhelmed by his success, Jasper dropped his sword and sprinted towards the house. He wanted to share this moment with Grant, to tell him about the incredible feeling coursing through him. Bursting into the room, he found Grant sitting at the wooden table, sipping on a cup of tea.

Jasper burst into the room, breathless and giddy, his eyes alight with uncontained excitement. "Grant!" he exclaimed, his young voice echoing throughout the room. He could hardly contain his joy, his heart pounded in his chest, matching the rhythm of his newfound power coursing through his veins.

"I did it, Grant! I awakened my aura!" The words tumbled out in a rush, each syllable imbued with exhilaration. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, and his entire body was vibrating with energy, the tangible evidence of his breakthrough.

Grant, who had been calmly enjoying his tea, froze midway through lifting his cup to his lips. Slowly, he placed the cup back onto the table, the gentle clink of ceramic on wood the only sound breaking the silence that followed Jasper's announcement.

His gaze turned to meet Jasper's, eyes widening ever so slightly. There was a moment of stunned silence, as he registered the words and their implications. Then, as the reality of it all sank in, his surprise melted away, replaced by a broad smile that lit up his entire face.

"Young master Jasper," he breathed out, his voice imbued with a depth of pride and emotion that made the air around them thrum with intensity. "You've done well. Very well indeed."

He rose from his seat and walked over to Jasper, his gaze soft yet piercing, like a warm blade. He reached out, resting a firm hand on the boy's shoulder, grounding him amidst the whirlpool of exhilaration.

"But remember," he added, his voice turning stern, "This is just the beginning. The path of a martial artist is a long and challenging one. Awakening your aura is your first step, but many more await."

Jasper, still riding the high of his achievement, nodded fervently. He knew that the road ahead of him was long, filled with trials and tribulations. He had to refine his technique, learn to control his newfound power, and master the art of aura manipulation. But in this moment, none of that mattered. He had awakened his aura. He had taken the first step, and for now, that was more than enough.

"Yes, Grant, I understand. I'm ready for whatever comes next," he declared, his words echoing through the room, an unspoken promise to himself and to his mentor. He was ready to face the challenges ahead, to forge his path in the world of martial arts, and to make his father proud.

Grant gave a nod of approval, the pride in his eyes evident. He could see the spark in Jasper's eyes, the unyielding determination that marked the making of a great martial artist. "With that spirit, you're sure to do great things, Jasper," he said, a hint of a smile.

Grant looked down at the eager young boy, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Alright, young master Jasper," he began, his voice carrying the undercurrent of authority that Jasper had come to associate with his training. "It's important to keep your momentum, especially after such a breakthrough. I want you to go back to the courtyard and continue your practice."

Jasper nodded fervently, his small body still pulsing with the awakened aura. "Okay, Grant," he responded, his voice holding a sense of newfound determination. He gripped the hilt of his bronze Rapier tighter, his young mind already replaying the movements he had been practicing.

"Good. Now, I have a few errands to run for your father. I will check on you later," Grant added, giving Jasper an encouraging pat on the shoulder before turning on his heel and heading out of the room.

Grant exited the manor and strolled towards the center of the village. The morning was in full swing, the village coming alive with the bustle of daily activities. Villagers were out and about, children running around playing, while the adults were busy with their work. The air was filled with the mixed aroma of fresh bread from the bakery, the earthy scent of wet soil, and the lingering fragrance of morning dew on the grass.

As he moved through the village, some of the villagers who recognized him offered him nods and greetings. While Grant might not be a central figure in the village politics, his reputation as a proficient martial artist in the Practitioner Realm was well-known. Moreover, his close relationship with the village chief's son, Jasper, was no secret either.

***

At the heart of the village, the Village Hall towered over its surroundings, standing as a testament to the order and organization that ruled the community. This multi-storied structure was the bustling epicenter of village life, serving as a nexus where the villagers could interact with the governing bodies and get assistance for a myriad of needs.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The ground floor of the Village Hall was designed as an open reception area. Five counters, each serving a different function, were set up, the organized chaos of the place reflecting the village's bustling life.

The central counter was dedicated to general inquiries. This was where newcomers to the village or long-time residents with questions could find answers. The receptionist here was usually a veteran villager, well-versed in the goings-on of the village, and able to provide guidance on a broad range of topics.

The second counter was designated as the mission hub. Basic tasks and assignments pertaining to village affairs or surrounding areas were posted here, open for anyone to take up. To prevent sensitive information from falling into the wrong hands, ensuring the village's security, only general tasks were posted here and nothing of importance.

The third counter was where villagers could post requests to the higher-ups. Whether it was a farmer seeking help for dying crops or other similar concerns, this was the place to go. While most requests were resolved by the lower-level staff, significant matters were escalated up the hierarchy, ensuring every villager's voice was heard.

The fourth counter was exclusively reserved for matters concerning the Spring Martial Hall. Whether it was villagers hoping to join or foreigners seeking information, all inquiries regarding the Hall were addressed here.

Lastly, the fifth counter functioned as a recruitment center. Job postings filled the board, offering a multitude of opportunities for villagers seeking work. This counter was perpetually crowded, with people either scanning the postings or waiting in line to apply for a job or submit a job offer.

The second floor of the Village Hall was largely dedicated to administrative work. Rows of seats along a large desk were populated by diligent staff members, the rooms lit by the warm light emitted through the windows, as they busily maintained records, compiled reports, and carried out their assigned duties. The hum of focused work and the rustle of papers filled the air, underscoring the importance of their contributions to the smooth running of the village. Alongside the workstations, rooms filled with rows of wooden shelves with files housing important documents, serving as a tangible memory bank for the village's operations.

A level above, on the third floor, was where the higher-ups and department leaders convened. Here, key decisions were made, and important village matters were discussed. The atmosphere was significantly more formal than the floors below, an air of authority pervading the space. Different village departments maintained offices here, staffed by their respective representatives. They served as the nexus of information flow, gathering updates from their departments and disseminating relevant information back.

The various department leaders would often be seen engrossed in discussion around the large conference table in the center of the floor, strategizing, planning, and making decisions that would affect the future of the village.

The fourth floor was a stark contrast to the floors below. It was significantly quieter, the atmosphere more solemn and reserved. This floor was the nerve center of the village, the place where the most crucial decisions were made, and it was reflected in its design and layout.

Individual offices lined the outer edge of the floor, each one assigned to a village elder or the village chief. The doors to these rooms were often closed, shielding the high-stakes discussions and strategic planning taking place within from the prying eyes of the outside world. The large windows that adorned these offices provided a panoramic view of the village, a visual reminder of the responsibilities that rested on their shoulders.

At the center of the floor was the grand meeting hall. High ceilings, a large polished wooden table, and high-backed chairs all contributed to its imposing atmosphere. This was where the village elders and chief held their larger meetings, inviting department heads to present their updates and proposals, or hosting foreign dignitaries during their visits.

Toward the back of the floor was a smaller, more intimate meeting room. This was a private space, reserved only for the village elders and the chief. It was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where they could meet, discuss, and debate the village's future, away from the eyes and ears of others. It was in this room that the course of the village was charted, one meeting at a time.

***

As he approached the Village Hall, Grant's eyes automatically swept over the two guards flanking the entrance. Both were martial artists at the practitioner realm. This might not seem extraordinary in the grand scheme of things, but Grant knew that in the context of their world, it was quite an achievement.

The practitioner realm was a high level in martial arts, typically only attained by the elite within a village. Even in larger cities, practitioners were few and far between, forming the upper echelon of the martial world. Yet, here in this village, two practitioner realm martial artists were assigned the duty of guarding the Village Hall. It was a testament to how far the Spring Village had come.

Grant couldn't help but let out a soft sigh as he recalled his first visit to the village. Back then, the village probably had no more than ten practitioners in total. Seeing the changes that had taken place over the years filled him with a sense of pride and nostalgia.

Shaking off these thoughts, Grant steeled his expression and stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the Village Hall.

Upon entering the Hall, Grant made his way towards a lesser counter situated at the base of the stairs leading to the upper floors. This was the checkpoint - a place where those who wished to ascend to the higher levels had to register first. A young woman in the village uniform sat behind it, busily shuffling through a stack of papers.

Grant greeted her with a polite nod. "I'm here to see Chief Cline," he announced, presenting his identification. The woman quickly scanned it, her eyes flickering over the document that confirmed Grant's position as a Practitioner Realm martial artist, Cline's servant, and Jasper's guardian.

With respect the young woman said "Very well, Sir. Grant," making a note in the registry. "The Chief is currently in his office on the fourth floor."

With a brief word of thanks, Grant proceeded to ascend the stairs. He moved with purpose, each step echoing in the spacious interior of the Village Hall.

Grant swiftly ascended the stairs, arriving on the fourth floor. He chose to navigate the left side of the three-way split hallway, a habit born from his martial training to always position himself for potential threats. He walked with his right side towards the wall, ready to swiftly draw his sword without interference from the adjacent walls.

Navigating the long corridors swiftly, Grant soon reached Cline's room located near the end of the hall. Pausing outside the closed door, Grant detected the faint murmurs of conversation from within. By the sound, he discerned that two people were currently inside the room. His brows furrowed in contemplation as he tried to make out the identities of the voices.

Finally, it clicked. One of the voices undoubtedly belonged to Cline but the other... recognition dawned on him. It was unmistakably one of the Mountain Village's elders, a burly man known for his ambitious attempts to extend his influence. Recently the mountain village also joined the fray of foreigners trying to take the piece of the pie.

A sigh escaped from Grant's lips as he whispered under his breath, "It seems the Mountain Village is making their move..."