In the slums of the Republic's western border, the air was thick with the scent of sweat, smoke, and despair. Children dashed barefoot through the narrow streets, their faces smeared with grime, chasing after scraps of food thrown from passing carriages. Among them was a young boy, barely fourteen years old, whose life had been a constant struggle since the day he could remember.
His name was Wei Lian.
For as long as Wei Lian could recall, the only constants in his life were hunger and solitude. Orphaned at birth, he had spent his days scavenging the bustling market streets, doing odd jobs for meager coppers, and dreaming of escape. Escape from the filth, from the endless cycle of survival, and into something greater—though he had no idea what that something was.
Today, however, something unusual had happened. The streets were buzzing with excitement, the kind that made even the most downtrodden peasants stand a little straighter. Posters, plastered on every crumbling wall, bore a single, bold message:
The Seven Peaks Sect Is Recruiting.
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Wei Lian stopped before one of the posters, his eyes wide. The Seven Peaks Sect, one of the great sects that ruled the land. Legends of their cultivators were told in every tavern and marketplace. They were said to possess powers beyond mortal comprehension—able to split mountains and summon storms with a mere flick of their hands.
Wei’s heart raced as he read the announcement. The sect was sending out recruiters to the farthest reaches of the Republic, seeking talent among the common folk. The trials would be held in the nearby town of Red River in three days' time. Only the strongest, smartest, or luckiest would be chosen.
"You're wasting your time." A rough voice snapped Wei out of his thoughts. An older boy, a local bully, sneered at him. "You're nothing but street trash. The sect doesn’t want your kind."
Wei said nothing. He was used to insults, but today, for the first time, they didn't sting as much. His gaze lingered on the poster. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe he didn’t stand a chance, but deep down, something stirred—a desire, a fire he had never felt before.
Three days. That was all the time he had to prepare. He didn’t know what the trials would entail, but he would be there. This could be his only chance to leave the slums behind.
As the sun set behind the crooked rooftops, Wei hurried back to the small shed he called home. He didn't own much—a few ragged clothes, a rusty knife he used for protection, and a tattered blanket. But in his mind, he now possessed something far more valuable: hope.