Other's POV:

A few days later, in another part of the Frostfire Sect.

A large classroom bustled with children standing silently, maintaining careful distances from one another. They wore the plain training clothes distributed by the sect, marking them as newly recruited disciples.

The children ranged in age from seven to eighteen, divided across six classrooms, each with roughly fifty students. In this particular room, the atmosphere was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet.

At the front of the room stood a stocky, middle-aged man named Namhil, the instructor for this group. As a cultivator at the Foundation Establishment stage, it was his responsibility to guide these children through their earliest steps in the world of cultivation.

“When the sun rises, life awakens. Morning is the best time to absorb natural energy and strengthen your body. Same rules as always! Legs apart—shoulder-width! Knees slightly bent, hands pressed down at your waist. Assume the Spirit Building Stance!”

Namhil barked, his voice echoed through the hall, carrying a weight of discipline. He paced back and forth, observing the children’s movements with a sharp eye. His stern gaze swept over the class as he addressed them.

“Focus your mind. Stay calm. Breathe naturally. Remember what you learned in the theory class!”

The students immediately shuffled into position, doing their best to replicate the stance.

The Spirit Building Stance was deceptively simple, yet highly effective, perfected over generations of Frostfire cultivators to train the body and prepare it for the rigors of cultivation.

In an ideal situation, the stance would be practiced outdoors, where students could directly absorb the natural energy in the environment. However, the harsh climate of the Frostfire Sect made that impossible for beginners—their bodies weren’t ready to withstand the cold for long. Until they reached a higher level of cultivation, they had to train indoors.

As Namhil walked through the rows, he observed the children with a critical eye. The older teens in the back row were calm, their stances steady and breath controlled—evidence of at least some proficiency. They seemed to have understood the basics.

But among the younger ones, it was a different story. Some stood awkwardly, their knees wobbling, waists twisted at odd angles. Their muscles were relaxed when they should be taut, making it clear that they lacked strength and discipline. It was easy to tell which students had potential—and which ones didn’t.

Namhil paused mid-step, letting out a small sigh in his mind.

‘These kids are still too young. Their minds are tender, and their bodies weak. It’s too early to expect too much from them.’

It was no surprise that most of these children didn’t exhibit high talent. Those who did would have already caught the attention of the sect elders and been recruited directly into the inner disciple ranks. Namhil knew the children before him were likely the less promising candidates.

Still, it wasn’t entirely hopeless.

'It's good to get them moving early,'

Namhil thought, adjusting his expectations.

In the harsh world of cultivation, survival often depended less on talent and more on effort and perseverance. Beyond the safety of the sect’s walls, countless dangers lurked—monsters roamed the wilderness, and even nature itself could be unforgiving.

On top of that, the endless competition among cultivators for resources made life precarious.

‘At the very least, if they could reach Foundation stage, they might live long enough to see the battlefield... and survive it.’

He believed that talent wasn’t everything. Hard work could often bridge the gap where natural aptitude failed. With discipline and training, even an ordinary child could achieve something meaningful. The upcoming annual assessment would be a chance for these children to show their growth—if they applied themselves.

Namhil straightened his back, hands clasped behind him, and called out,

“All of you, stand firm! Hold your stance!”

He strode through the class, stopping now and then to correct their postures. When he found a child’s legs too loose, he tapped their knees with the blunt end of a wooden rod. "Bend it more. Don’t slouch."

He adjusted another’s hands. “Press your palms to your waist—don’t let them float. Feel the tension.”

For each correction, his tone was patient but firm. With every mistake fixed, the class gradually began to stabilize. After some time, Namhil stepped back and surveyed the room. Satisfied, he gave a brief nod.

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“That’s enough for today. From now on, I want you to practice this stance every morning and every evening. No excuses.”

As soon as Namhil left the room, the rigid atmosphere dissolved, and the disciples slumped out of their stances, groaning and stretching their sore muscles.

A few of the younger children rubbed their knees and waists where the instructor had tapped them with his rod, wincing dramatically. One boy muttered, his face scrunched with annoyance as he massaged his leg.

"Ugh, does he have to hit so hard? It hurts very much..."

A handful of others murmured in agreement, their complaints spilling out as they shuffled toward the door in small groups. Despite the sour moods, the children slowly filtered out of the classroom, their voices growing softer as they disappeared down the corridors, already dreading the next morning's training.

One of the disciples, was Kael.

As the remaining disciples gradually left the classroom, Kael stood still, lost in thought. He scanned the faces passing by, hoping for a glimpse of that familiar figure—just one sign that Rin was somewhere in this sea of new recruits. But once again, there was nothing.

"Rin’s not here today either..."

Ever since he’d disembarked from the boat of the Frostfire Sect, Kael had searched for Rin at every opportunity, but without success. Whenever he asked his newly made friends, they only shook their heads, puzzled.

None of them had ever heard of anyone named Rin.

A few of the more well-connected disciples had even used their influence to search the records, but no trace of Rin could be found. It was as if Rin had vanished into thin air.

"Where did you go, Rin...?"

Kael clenched his fists, frustration gnawing at him.

He had thought they might reunite here at the sect, but every day without a sign of his friend only deepened the mystery. Despite his efforts, Rin remained elusive—a ghost lost somewhere within the vastness of the Frostfire Sect.

"Still searching for that mysterious friend of yours?"

Kael turned to find Arven strolling over, a teasing grin on his face. Arven, the son of the 8th branch of the Tylan Clan, had become Kael’s closest friend in the sect. Their shared background in talisman crafting created a bond that formed quickly, one forged over late-night conversations and mutual grumbles about sect training.

Kael let out a frustrated sigh.

"Yeah, as usual."

Arven gave him a playful shake of the head.

"Are you sure this Rin of yours even exists? Maybe he’s just your imaginary friend."

Kael's eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t fully blame Arven for being skeptical.

The story he told—of a beggar-turned-hidden-scion, someone so remarkable yet utterly unnoticed—sounded far-fetched, even to himself at times. And Arven had done his part to help search for Rin, going as far as consulting his clan’s connections to check the Frostfire Sect's registration records. But no one named Rin had enrolled.

There were multiple explanations for this situation. One possibility was that Rin had not yet registered his name, similar to children from impoverished backgrounds who had not yet connected with spiritual energy. As a result, they were unable to activate the sect token, which was necessary for registering their names as disciples.

However, that doesn't seem logical. If Rin truly came from a powerful family, he would have likely received a fundamental education in cultivation prior to attending the recruitment ceremony.

The second possibility was that Rin does not exist. No one aware of Rin's presence except for Kael, and this Rin may simply be a figment of his imagination.

Kael’s patience frayed under the weight of doubt.

"That's not true! I know Rin exists!"

He snapped, his voice sharp and raw with frustration.

Rin, in Kael's memory, appeared mysteriously detached, possessing eyes filled with wisdom that contrasted sharply with his small stature. There was something inexplicable that captivated Kael's attention towards Rin.

However, after being separated with Rin and finding no leads in his search, and upon hearing Arven's words, Kael couldn't help but begin to doubt himself and question Rin's existence.

The outburst startled a few lingering disciples, who turned to stare at him in surprise. Arven raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Whoa, easy! I didn’t mean to push you that hard... There’s still one more possibility. If Rin does exist, maybe he didn’t come in as an outer disciple. Maybe some elder saw his talent and brought him in as an inner disciple or a personal disciple. That would explain why he’s not on the outer disciple list."

He tried to calm Kael down, speaking carefully.

Fortunately his efforts paid off, Kael’s expression shifted, brightening at the thought.

"That’s it! Rin’s so powerful—of course he’d catch the attention of an elder. He must’ve been made an inner disciple!"

A surge of determination welled up within Kael, replacing the earlier frustration.

If Rin was already an inner disciple, then Kael knew what he had to do. All he needed was to get promoted during the annual assessment. It might be quite challenging due to the limited resources available to an outer disciple. However, he was fortunate to be a member of the Verin clan. As it happened, he had bought a basic talisman introduction book from his clan.

The issue of getting promoted to an inner disciple didn't seem too hard. Currently, he had sufficient resources, and if he were to run low, he could have learned to draw talismans and sell them to support himself.

Watching the renewed fire in Kael’s eyes, Arven let out a weary sigh. Kael’s obsession with Rin was deeper than he had realized. Even with the most optimistic assumption—that Rin had become an inner disciple—something still didn’t sit right with Arven.

Even if the third assumption were accurate, then as Kael's close friend, there would be no reason for Rin not to have come to see Kael or to have left any messages.

Arven exhaled slowly, a flicker of unease tightening his chest.

"Is this what they call an inner demon?"

Arven often heard about inner demons. It was said that a cultivator with obsessions could give rise to inner demons that could obstruct their practice or, even worse, drive them to madness.

The notion that this Rin had been Kael's closest friend was likely true. However, it was possible that Rin had perished for some reason, and Kael couldn't come to terms with that reality, leading to his obsession.

Reflecting on this, Arven could only feel sympathy.