Chen Mo followed Master Lian through a section of the martial hall he had never visited before. Trainees were forbidden to wander beyond the outer yard, so every step into this area carried a sense of novelty and quiet awe. They stopped in front of a tall, imposing building, the characters above the doorway reading “external Affairs.”

  Master Lian turned to him, his expression serious but approving. “First, we need to register you as a formal disciple. Inside, you will meet Master Lui. He will handle your contract, fees, and all other formal details. Once you receive your token, return to me in my office so we can discuss the next steps. I can see your potential—mastering qi and blood in just fourteen days is no trivial feat.”

  Chen Mo bowed slightly. “I understand, Master Lian. I will visit you as soon as I have my token.”

  Master Lian nodded, satisfied, and handed the document he had carried to Chen Mo. “Go on,” he said. “Master Lui is expecting you.”

  After Chen Mo entered, he was met by a wave of attendants moving through the hall in hurried efficiency. Some carried stacks of documents bound with twine, others spoke in low voices as they compared ledgers, while a few moved swiftly between offices, knocking briefly before slipping inside. The air was filled with the soft rustle of paper, the scratch of brushes, and the faint scent of ink.

  This place was nothing like the outer courtyard. There was no shouting, no clashing of weapons, only an orderly tension that spoke of authority and structure. Chen Mo stood aside instinctively, observing in silence. It was clear that this building handled matters far more important than daily training—contracts, resources, and the invisible threads that kept the Silver Crane Martial Hall functioning.

  An attendant noticed Chen Mo lingering near the entrance and approached him with a measured glance. Without asking unnecessary questions, the man gestured for him to follow. They passed through several corridors lined with wooden doors, each marked with neatly written labels, before stopping in front of a quieter office.

  The attendant knocked twice and pushed the door open.

  Inside, a middle-aged man sat behind a wide desk piled high with scrolls and registers. His robes were plain, his posture relaxed, yet his presence carried a subtle weight. This was not the pressure of a battlefield veteran, but that of someone accustomed to managing people, resources, and consequences.

  “Master Lui,” the attendant said respectfully, “this one was sent by Master Lian for formal disciple registration.”

  Master Lui lifted his head, his eyes settling on Chen Mo with calm scrutiny. There was no surprise in his gaze, only practiced assessment, as if he had already seen countless youths stand in this very spot.

  “Leave us,” Master Lui said.

  Once the door closed, he extended a hand. “The document.”

  Chen Mo stepped forward and presented the paper with both hands.

  Master Lui scanned it quickly, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. “Chen Mo… outer courtyard, fourteen days.” He paused for a brief moment before looking up again. “Qi and blood sensed already?”

  Chen Mo lowered his head slightly. “Yes, Master.”

  Master Lui nodded, neither impressed nor dismissive. “Talent opens the door. Discipline decides how far you walk.” He reached for a ledger, dipped his brush in ink, and began writing. “From today onward, you are registered as a formal disciple of the Silver Crane Martial Hall.”

  He slid a small bronze token across the desk. Etched upon it was a crane with wings spread, far more detailed than the wooden plaques used in the outer courtyard.

  “This is your identity token,” Master Lui said evenly. “With it comes access to formal disciple resources, restricted areas, and assigned guidance. Lose it, and the consequences will not be light.”

  Chen Mo accepted the token, his fingers tightening slightly around the cool metal.

  “Once you are done here,” Master Lui continued, “return to Master Lian as instructed. He will explain what comes next.”

  Chen Mo bowed deeply. “This disciple understands.”

  Master Lui closed the ledger and leaned back slightly, his voice remaining calm.

  “Normally,” he said, “I would have you review and sign several standard contracts. Monthly assignments, contribution requirements, outside tasks. Those are meant for ordinary formal disciples.”

  He glanced at the document Master Lian had sent, then shook his head faintly.

  “But since Master Lian asked to see you first, those arrangements are being postponed. That usually means he has other plans for you.”

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  Chen Mo’s heart skipped a beat. His brows knit together almost imperceptibly.

  Other plans?

  Master Lui noticed the change in his expression and waved a hand lightly.

  “Don’t misunderstand,” he added evenly. “This is a good thing. Master Lian does not involve himself lightly. Whatever he proposes will come with both opportunity and responsibility.”

  He paused, his gaze sharpening just a fraction.

  “In the end, however, acceptance is your choice. No one will force you to sign anything without your consent.”

  Chen Mo lowered his head, concealing his thoughts. “This disciple understands.”

  Master Lui nodded once. “Go, then. Do not keep Master Lian waiting.”

  Chen Mo walked down the stone corridor, the newly issued disciple token resting in his palm. It felt heavier than its weight suggested, cool metal pressing into his skin as if reminding him that there was no turning back. His thoughts churned despite his steady pace.

  Did I act too hastily this time?

  Revealing his breakthrough had been a calculated move, yet now that the die was cast, doubt seeped in through the cracks. In the village, caution had kept him alive. In the martial hall, visibility was both ladder and noose.

  He exhaled softly.

  Crying over spilled milk was pointless. From the moment he had circulated his qi before Master Lian’s eyes, he had stepped onto someone else’s board. Whether Master Lian’s intentions were benevolent or self-serving no longer mattered. Refusing outright would only brand him as ungrateful or, worse, suspicious. Offending a senior figure this early was not a luxury he could afford.

  If I cannot avoid the game, he thought calmly, then I’ll play it well.

  Rather than resistance, negotiation was the wiser path. Benefits, protections, time. If he was to be bound, then the rope should at least be padded.

  By the time Master Lian’s office came into view, Chen Mo’s expression had settled into composure. His grip loosened around the token, his steps growing firm and unhurried.

  With resolve tempered by caution, he stepped forward and approached the door.

  Chen Mo stopped before the wooden door and adjusted his posture. He raised his hand and knocked, firm but measured.

  “Enter,” came Master Lian’s voice from within, calm and authoritative.

  Chen Mo pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it carefully behind him.

  Chen Mo stepped fully inside, cupped his hands, and bowed slightly.

  “Greetings, Master Lian.”

  Master Lian nodded and gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

  Chen Mo complied, posture straight but reserved.

  Master Lian glanced at him. “Did you obtain your identification token?”

  “Yes,” Chen Mo replied respectfully. “Thanks to Master Lian’s recommendation and Master Liu’s guidance, everything went smoothly.”

  “Good.” Master Lian’s tone was even. After a brief pause, he continued, “I assume Master Liu mentioned what this might involve?”

  “Not in detail,” Chen Mo said. “But this disciple believes Master Lian has a better arrangement in mind.”

  Master Lian’s lips curved faintly. “That is correct.”

  He leaned back slightly, fingers tapping once on the armrest. “You should understand something first. In this city, power and influence are divided between the City Lord’s mansion, the various martial halls, and that wretched Iron Fang Gang. On the surface, things appear peaceful. In the shadows, however, a bloody struggle over benefits and resources never stops.”

  His gaze sharpened. “The undercurrents are fierce. A lone individual cannot withstand them.”

  Master Lian continued calmly, “The same situation exists within every martial hall and school. Even within a single sect, internal struggles are inevitable. Factions form, compete, and clash. Our Silver Crane Hall is no exception.”

  He looked directly at Chen Mo. “I will be honest with you. Our hall has several factions, all competing to recruit promising talents. I represent one of them. Discovering gifted disciples and bringing them into our fold brings me benefits, resources, and standing.”

  The room fell quiet, the weight of his words settling like dust after a heavy strike.

  Master Lian leaned forward slightly, voice calm but carrying the weight of authority.

  “If you agree to join our faction,” he continued, “you will avoid signing the heavy indenture contract of twenty years. You will gain access to far greater resources, more opportunities, and—most importantly—protection.”

  He paused, letting the words sink in. “An ordinary disciple, bound by the standard indenture, is little more than cannon fodder. Always sent to the front lines, constantly struggling for scraps of resources, and deprived of freedom. With us, you will have the chance to develop, to cultivate, and to progress in peace—without being ground down by endless factional conflicts.”

  Master Lian’s gaze fixed on Chen Mo, steady and unwavering, measuring the youth’s understanding.

  Chen Mo leaned slightly forward, a calculating glint in his eyes, and asked, “Master Lian, may I ask… which factions are there within the school? And more importantly, what exactly would I be expected to do after joining your faction?”

  “There are three main factions within the Silver Crane School,” he began, voice measured. “Each faction has its own priorities and methods of cultivating disciples. One focuses on martial skill and battlefield effectiveness, another on medicinal knowledge and internal refinement, and the last emphasizes intelligence gathering, diplomacy, and maintaining connections with the city’s powers.”

  He leaned back, folding his hands calmly. “As for what you are to do… that depends on your abilities and potential. I’ve seen your progress in just fourteen days—you have mastered the Silver Crane Stance and awakened your qi and blood. That is rare. You will be groomed, given resources, and observed. Your tasks will include training at the highest standard, executing missions that test your judgment and skill, and… aligning yourself with my faction’s interests within the school. Everything you do will benefit your cultivation while strengthening our position.”

  He paused, eyes sharp, scanning Chen Mo’s reaction. “In short, you are free to act, but always mindful of the greater web. Your choices will not only shape your path, but the influence you bring to your faction—and me.”

  Chen Mo tilted his head slightly, asking with measured curiosity, “And which faction would that be… ours?”

  Master Lian’s lips curved into a proud smile at hearing the word. “Ours, indeed… and we are the best faction,” he said, chest swelling with pride. “We may not excel in combat compared to some, but our control over resources—pharmaceuticals, alchemy, medicinal pills—is unmatched. You will receive preferential access to materials discreetly. Your main concern, Chen Mo, will be to grow stronger. The higher you climb, the more influence you gain, and the more our faction’s power rises with you.”

  With that Chen mo answered: I will do as Master Lian says.