The morning after the attack, the aftermath of the bandit raid was still raw and fresh. Soldiers gathered what remained of the supplies, their faces hardened by the loss of comrades. Merchants, shaken but determined, helped bury the bodies of both the fallen bandits and the guards. The forest had become their battlefield, a temporary resting place for those who wouldn’t see Silverbrook City.
Wuji watched in silence as the bodies were laid to rest. He felt the weight of the past year pressing down on him, but not in a way that made him falter. It was a reminder of the path he had chosen. Death was a constant companion on the road. He had long accepted that, but he still showed respect for the dead—no matter their past.
Once the graves were covered, the caravan slowly started to reform. The remaining wagons were fewer now, and the group was smaller, but their resolve to reach their destination remained intact. Wuji helped pack the remaining supplies into the carts, securing them tightly with ropes. With everything prepared, they set off once again on the long road toward Silverbrook City.
The wheels of the caravan creaked as they rolled over uneven terrain. Wuji sat near the back of the lead cart, his sword resting beside him. The cool breeze rustled the leaves, and the rhythmic clopping of hooves on the dirt path filled the otherwise quiet air. He allowed his mind to wander, reflecting on the past several months of travel.
The journey had opened his eyes in ways he hadn’t expected. His time in Green Willow City had been an important stepping stone, a place where he could lay the foundation for his cultivation journey. But staying in one place had its limits. Traveling the world had given him new perspectives, not only on cultivation but also on the people who inhabited this world.
He had learned a lot from those he encountered on the road. The information he gained while traveling was invaluable, much of which he would never have gotten if he had remained in Green Willow City. One of the most significant things he had learned was the precarious position of rogue cultivators.
While rogue cultivators were numerous, they were far from powerful compared to the noble families and the sects. Most rogue cultivators practiced incomplete or flawed cultivation techniques. Some had techniques that could only be cultivated to a certain realm, rendering them useless once the cultivator reached their limit. These techniques were often passed down through generations or scavenged from the remnants of old sects. Many rogue cultivators fought and died for the chance to obtain a better technique, but it was always a gamble. Even those who possessed a decent technique were often limited by their lack of resources. The sects had access to spirit stones, medicinal herbs, and Qi-rich environments that rogue cultivators could only dream of.
Wuji had met several rogue cultivators along his journey, each of them struggling to survive in a world where power dictated one’s fate. They were often looked down upon by disciples of sects and noble families, seen as unrefined or unworthy. The more he traveled, the clearer it became—rogue cultivators, despite their numbers, were often destined to live in the shadow of the powerful. Many had accepted their fate, while others continued to fight against it, hoping that one day they might rise above their limitations.
It made sense now why the sects were held in such high regard. Their cultivation techniques were not only complete but aligned with the spiritual roots of the disciples they took in. Spiritual roots were the foundation of a cultivator’s talent and potential. They were awakened at the age of 13, and a person’s future in cultivation depended on the quality and type of their spiritual root.
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Now, as Wuji neared his 14th birthday, he was eager to discover what spiritual roots he possessed, if any at all. He knew that the sects only accepted disciples between the ages of 13 and 17 for this very reason. By the time a person turned 13, their spiritual roots would have developed fully, and by 17, those roots would have stabilized, limiting further growth in potential. The sects sought out young, promising talents who could be molded and trained from an early age.
Wuji clenched his fist, feeling the weight of his future pressing on him. He didn’t know what kind of spiritual roots he had, and without knowing that, he couldn’t even begin to cultivate Qi. Unlike some of the other travelers he had met on the road, Wuji had never come across a cultivation technique that could help him, nor had he sought one out. He knew that cultivating with a technique that didn’t align with his spiritual roots would only hinder his growth. For now, he had to wait until the sect exams.
While there were cultivation techniques that focused on all the elements—fire, water, earth, wood, and metal—it was a common practice for cultivators to align their cultivation technique with their spiritual root. A fire root would benefit most from a fire-based technique, just as a water root would from a water-based one. Cultivating a technique that clashed with one’s spiritual root could lead to disastrous results, including Qi deviation, which could cripple or even kill a cultivator.
Wuji had no desire to take that risk.
The sect exams would provide him the opportunity to not only learn what spiritual roots he had but also to access the best techniques and resources available. It was his only path forward.
He wasn’t a rogue cultivator. His journey was different. He was traveling the world not out of desperation, but out of curiosity. He had come from another world—a world governed by logic, science, and reason. In his past life, he had been a scholar, an engineer, and a man of reason. But here, in this cultivation world, reason could only take him so far. To survive, to grow stronger, he needed to embrace the rules of this world. And that meant cultivation.
Wuji glanced up at the sky. Only two months remained until the sect exams, and it would take him about a month to reach Silverbrook City. That left him little time to prepare. The exams were held once every decade, and only a select few passed. The competition would be fierce, with prodigies from noble families and sects all vying for a limited number of spots. But Wuji wasn’t afraid. He had come too far to turn back now.
As the caravan continued its slow march through the forest, Wuji focused on his breathing, clearing his mind. He had learned a rudimentary form of meditation from his time with Master Zhang, a technique that allowed him to focus his mind and sharpen his senses. While it wasn’t true cultivation, it helped him remain calm and collected in stressful situations.
He closed his eyes and let the rhythm of the road lull him into a state of focus. The world around him faded, and all that remained was the steady rise and fall of his breath. He could feel the subtle energies of the world around him—the wind, the trees, the life that surrounded him. It was faint, barely perceptible, but it was there. One day, when he could finally cultivate Qi, he would be able to harness that energy, channeling it into his body and using it to grow stronger.
But for now, he was content to wait. His time would come.
The journey to Silverbrook City passed in relative peace, with the caravan encountering only minor obstacles along the way. Wuji kept to himself for the most part, using the time to refine his swordsmanship and study the book Master Zhang had given him. He had come to understand that talisman crafting was not just about drawing symbols or channeling Qi—it was an art that required a deep understanding of the natural world and the elements that governed it.
As they neared the outskirts of Silverbrook City, Wuji’s anticipation grew. The capital city was vast, home to powerful sects, noble families, and countless cultivators. It was said that the Qi in the area was denser than anywhere else in the empire, making it an ideal place for cultivation.
But Silverbrook City was also a place of danger. The sect exams were fast approaching, and the city was already beginning to fill with young cultivators, each of them determined to secure a spot in one of the great sects. Wuji knew that the next few weeks would test him in ways he had never been tested before.
He wasn’t just here to participate in the exams. He was here to win.
And he would do whatever it took to succeed.