“Grandmaster Erendriel, you know alchemy?!” Cade asked, wide-eyed, as he saw half a dozen precious cauldrons lined up in the center of a large chamber with reinforced walls and numerous protective formations. The air in the room was thick with the scent of a hundred different spirit herbs, potent blood, and many strange reagents he couldn’t recognize.

  “I dabble,” the Saint smiled lightly.

  The Asura had already worked out that whenever an elder mentioned they 'dabbled' in some craft, it meant they were terrifyingly good at it.

  After entering the citadel through a set of much smaller mithril gates, the elven elder led him through a maze of dark, spacious corridors, sparsely lit with sunstones. The ceiling was quite high, and on their way to the Saint’s study, they passed numerous heavy, rune-etched doors, all of which were shut.

  “Sit. It’s Cade, right? My name you already know,” the elf pointed at a cushioned chair at a small table, positioning himself on the opposite side.

  “Cade Ward.” Cade quickly cupped his fist and bowed once again before taking a seat. He watched the elder pour a steaming, fragrant liquid from a small, ornate kettle, but curiosity was eating at him too much to wait for the Saint to finish. “Grandmaster, might I ask why I’m here? Is it because of my actions in front of the Hall?”

  “Do you really think I’d pull you over to discuss such a trivial matter?” the Grandmaster asked, smiling faintly.

  “No,” Cade promptly answered.

  The Saint pointed at the small cup filled with tea. “Drink. It’s very soothing.”

  The Asura bowed, lifting the cup with both hands and taking a sip. The taste was peculiar, a little too earthy, but as his voracious heart consumed the liquid, it radiated waves of soothing blood qi. His mind immediately grew calmer and sharper.

  “Amazing tea!” Cade couldn’t stop himself from appreciating it aloud.

  The Saint chuckled softly, taking a sip from his own cup. “Every year, I watch all manner of cultivators take part in the trial. Most are focused on getting to the top as quickly as possible. It’s only natural; that’s what we reward them for. You caught my attention even before your meeting with the assassins. Do you know why?”

  Cade rapidly thought about his actions leading up to the fight, and the only thing he could think of that would have stood out was his lack of sleep. “Because I stayed up during the night?”

  The elf shook his head. “It was because you restrained yourself to match the speed of your friend, always staying behind to protect her in case she fell. Tell me, how fast do you think you could have climbed the mountain?” Erendriel asked, staring into Cade’s eyes like a falcon.

  Under the weight of this sharp gaze, the Asura decided against steering too far from the truth. “Maybe… five days? If I climbed without taking breaks, probably closer to three,” he answered truthfully. Of course, if he ignited his blood qi, he’d have climbed even faster.

  The elder nodded. “That was also my rough estimate after watching you fight. Tell me, what do you think the Law Severing Art is at its core? Just your loose thoughts; don’t worry about getting it wrong.”

  Cade pondered for a moment. His understanding of Yin Tian’s move was negligible, but it did give him a very shallow insight into how this technique worked. “I’m guessing it’s about borrowing the laws from the weapon and imprinting them on spiritual energy?” he asked unsurely.

  The elf’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, that’s unexpected. Yes, this is more or less how the Law Severing Art works at its core, at least on a low level of understanding. Next question: why did you take an old sword from the Hall?”

  “I…” Now it was Cade’s turn to be surprised. He didn’t expect anyone to find out. Suddenly, he realized how naive he was. Soul Avatar cultivators had soul sense, and they were likely using it to observe what was going on inside the Hall. It was hard to say what exactly they could see, but at this point, lying wouldn’t get him anywhere.

  “You’re not in trouble. Just answer truthfully,” the elf added, aware of his consternation.

  “I sensed one of the sword spirits calling to me. It was very weak, almost dying. I’m nurturing it with my soul qi,” the Asura answered resignedly.

  The elf nodded, as if he was expecting these exact words. “Good. The reason you’re here is that after every trial, each Sword Master chooses a promising disciple from one of the candidates, whom they will tutor for the following year. On the other hand, we—the Saints—rarely do. It’s not that we consider ourselves so far beyond teaching low-ranked disciples, but rather because we look for certain qualities in a candidate. Qualities which they very rarely have,” the Saint explained, taking another sip of tea.

  “I have one in-name disciple whom I took on a year ago, and I really wasn’t planning on accepting anybody else. However, a combination of talent, sharpness, and loyalty is truly rare. Would you like to become my second in-name disciple? Keep in mind, I’m not offering you a personal position, and you don’t need to kowtow. You’ll still be starting in the outer court, like everybody else. That being said, you’ll also be able to see me for additional guidance.”

  Cade’s pupils widened. He immediately glanced towards the cauldrons. “Will the Grandmaster teach me alchemy?!” he asked excitedly.

  Witnessing the young man’s enthusiasm, Erendriel smiled with satisfaction, but still shook his head. ”It’s not a good idea. Alchemy is very time-consuming. These young years are crucial to building your foundation. For the most benefit, it's best to prioritize progressing your cultivation for now. You can learn alchemy at any point in the future.”

  The young Asura had never thought about it this way, but now he found it difficult to disagree with the Saint’s words. He’s right, alchemy can wait. Unless it’s absolutely necessary to progress my cultivation, it’s best to focus on advancing. Sometimes a little outside perspective could go a long way towards choosing the correct path. He quickly saluted and thanked the elf for his guidance.

  Over the next few days, everything began to settle into a steady routine. Grandmaster Erendriel waived his entry fee on account of him being picked by Legion. He never made any further inquiries about the sword, as if the matter didn’t concern him. The sword’s spirit had yet to wake up, but the weapon itself was perfectly usable for training, despite its seemingly wretched state. Its sharpness was exceptional, and it could still cut through ordinary steel with ease.

  After some inquiries, Cade tracked down one of the top blacksmithing prodigies inside the Great Furnace—the section of the citadel occupied by the Smithing Division. A skilled blacksmith could become a weapon or armor artificer in the future, a highly profitable and safe trade. Scalanis had been in the monastery for three years already. He was a brown-skinned elf with short, black hair, his cultivation was in the early True Core, and he was on his way to becoming a Master Smith in the next eight to ten years. A great number of cultivators requested his services; fortunately, not many had Cade’s resources at their disposal.

  “You want me to do what?” Scalanis asked, staring at the dark, flaking weapon as if it was some sort of hallucination.

  “Fashion a proper grip for it. Can Senior Brother do it?” Cade asked.

  “Of course I can,” he huffed. “The question is, can you afford it?”

  In the end, Scalanis took a fat purse full of crystals and got to work. The next day, Cade picked up Legion with a brand new, black leather grip. It matched the weathered weapon quite well, and the sword now sat perfectly in his hand. Cade used the opportunity to ask Scalanis if he knew what kind of metal Legion was made of, but the blacksmith shook his head. According to his knowledge, most ancient weapons were forged out of alloys from a time long before the Exodus, and their secrets were sadly lost.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  During those days, Cade didn’t get any chance to speak with Jade, other than muttering a few words of gratitude when she quickly passed him a storage ring from Var Du Long. He only saw her in passing on a couple of other occasions, as they were placed in different groups. He could have sought her out but chose not to. He was a little disappointed in her reaction—even though deep inside he knew he had struck Arthur far too hard. He knew how feisty Jade's character was, and assumed she was still angry with him, so he decided to give her some time.

  Neither King nor Brickwall were in his group. He had at least managed to exchange a few sentences with both and link up their tokens—a Sword Dao identification badge with communication capabilities. Brickwall seemed quite excited for his first sword training session, as his current skill wasn’t that great. In that regard, he was in a similar spot as Cade. King was in a great mood because he was asked to pay a mere 5,000-crystal admission fee. Cade smiled upon hearing the elation in his voice. The ex-bandit already had his first sword session, and it turned out his ability was quite decent. The Dong family was of a low noble class, and their children received martial arts training from a young age.

  He found himself missing his friends’ constant bickering. Sword Dao made it difficult for cultivators from different groups to meet due to different schedules, though at least they could send and receive voice messages through the token. Outer court disciples had little time for anything, as they were expected to attend lectures and work eight hours every day, no exceptions. They received little help from the servants, most of whom were ordinary mortals paid to keep the citadel running, instantly recognizable thanks to their simple brown robes. They had their work cut out for them, as there were nearly 1,800 disciples to look after, many of whom had never done a day of serious work in their entire lives. After joining the outer court, that would definitely change. There were no exceptions; everyone was given a job, though there were better ones and some pretty bad ones.

  Cade was given the task of working in the sprawling spirit garden, one of four located inside the massive citadel. It was considered one of the worst jobs available. The field took up a large portion of one of the lower levels and was the main source of many precious spiritual plants. These were usually transferred to Tower Oasis, where elven alchemists turned them into high-quality pills. While horticulture wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, Cade was fairly satisfied with this arrangement. He was used to working in the field; it felt good to work with his hands again. Besides, he was learning a lot about spiritual plants, though he’d still prefer a less hands-on approach.

  Standing in the middle of the verdant fields, under the bright light projected from hundreds of sunstones hanging below the ceiling, he could almost imagine being back home at the family vineyard. If he narrowed his eyes just enough, he could pretend the blurry silhouettes of disciples working in the distance belonged to his mother and father. He often wondered what his parents would think about him: would they be proud, or look at him with dread, as if he had become some kind of a monster? He silently hoped it would be the first option.

  Besides the lectures and the spirit garden, there were also group sword training sessions. His group was taught by Sword Master Henok, a massive human who easily matched Brickwall’s size. He appeared to be around fifty years old, judging from his graying temples, but his real age was unknown. Dressed in shimmering silver martial robes—the Sword Master colors—Henok moved like the wind and struck hard and fast, from angles Cade didn’t even know existed in sword fighting. Doubtlessly, this was only a tiny portion of his ability, as his cultivation was in the early Soul Body Integration realm, the body refiner equivalent to Soul Avatar.

  The Sword Dao Monastery had 36 Sword Masters and an equal number of sword styles. For the next few months, Henok would teach them the basics, and only then could they start thinking about picking a style. The lessons were far too few for Cade’s liking. Watching the Sword Master spar with several disciples at once while discussing various introductory techniques was truly eye opening, and made him realize how pathetic his own sword skill was in comparison. When his turn came, the middle-aged Sword Master only shook his head after landing a clean hit with his first move. The worst part was that it happened despite the Asura doing his best to defend. His pitiful display placed him pretty much at the bottom of the twenty disciples in his group.

  However, this experience only served to reinforce his determination. He was convinced he’d improve quickly if he only had the chance to practice more. What can I achieve after training for two hours per week, in a group setting no less? It'll take a year before I see any results. And apparently, there was a way to quicken this process. After asking around, he found out the monastery had special sparring chambers equipped with ancient dueling automatons. These training puppets knew all 36 of the sword styles taught in the monastery. In fact, there was an unconfirmed rumor they knew more than that. In terms of pure sword-fighting technique, the puppets could easily defeat any expert below the Soul Avatar realm. They could also be adjusted to assume very low levels of ability. With their assistance, Cade was sure he’d improve quickly.

  There was only one minor issue: using the chambers was expensive. One hour cost exactly 1,000 crystals. Even two or three hours per week were a significant expense to most disciples. On the other hand, Cade had no issue paying the fees. All his crystals served a single purpose: to advance his cultivation and abilities. His main problem was a lack of time, as he was stuck in a loop of working and attending lectures—which often took up to six or seven hours every day due to their terrible scheduling. While the lectures weren’t mandatory, they were always focused on the subject of the Law Severing Art, which made them a must if he wanted to understand Yin Tian’s devastating move.

  There was only one way to break through this cursed circle: joining the inner court. This would not only relieve him of all physical work, freeing up eight hours every day, but also grant him access to more group training sessions. He’d also be able to take on assignments and earn points, which could be exchanged for a number of things, such as pills, alchemical ingredients, and personal sword training lessons. Those sessions couldn’t be otherwise purchased, which made the points incredibly valuable. However, it wasn’t that easy to advance. In the Sword Dao Monastery, there was only one factor that decided who progressed forward and who stayed behind, toiling every day and living off scraps: The Severance Ladders.

  Within the center of the citadel were four large circular arenas, each 500 feet in diameter and protected by powerful defensive formations. There, disciples could call each other out to duel, and if they succeeded in beating a higher-ranked opponent, they would take his place on the Ladder. If someone wanted to advance to the inner court, all they had to do was challenge and defeat an inner court disciple. As long as the monastery healers confirmed that a cultivator was clear to duel, they weren’t in a position to decline a challenge. The only way to avoid the duel was to pack up and leave. That being said, each person could challenge—and be challenged—only once per week. Inner court disciples at the bottom of their ranking often had queues stretching for dozens of weeks, while those at the top were mostly left alone.

  To prevent unnecessary deaths and any unfair advantage, the duelists used special swords made by the monastery blacksmiths. The main role of a dueling weapon was to significantly throttle the amount of qi that could be passed through the blade. This greatly limited the energy funneled into the Law Severing Art, while dulled edges and tips greatly reduced the amount of physical damage done to hardened cultivator bodies. These blades were created from a number of materials, depending on the ranking the cultivator fought in and their finances. In the Low Ladder—the Foundation Establishment and Skeletal Reinforcement ranks—ordinary steel was commonly used, but there were several other options. The Sword Masters acted as judges and ensured all weapons were in order. Whoever among the two participants was the first to score three bleeding wounds won.

  While the system did favor body refiners, it didn’t do so excessively. Proof was in the Low Ladder itself: the first position was occupied by Castien, who was in late Foundation Establishment and had so far defeated all challengers in the Skeletal Reinforcement realm. It immediately became obvious why he had boldly mentioned that everybody knew who he was.

  Cade had no issues with any part of the Severance Ladder, with one exception: if he tried using his blood qi on a steel weapon, it would simply explode, sending shrapnel in all directions. Not only did he have to improve his sword techniques—a lot—but he also needed to find a way to use the Law Severing Art in the duels. Either that, or fight without a weapon.

  Prompted by the need to obtain a dueling blade, he once again visited Scalanis, but the elven blacksmith didn’t have good news. If he were to make one using stronger, more resistant metal that could sustain an infusion of blood qi, such a weapon wouldn’t be allowed in a Low Ladder duel. For now, Cade decided to shelve this idea. It wasn’t the first time he’d be fighting with his hands. It might not be ideal, but the rules didn’t explicitly forbid it. As long as he could get into the inner court, it was all that mattered.

  On his way to the lecturing hall, he encountered King Dong, who apparently was scheduled for the same lecture. The ex-bandit rushed towards him. He carried bad news.

  “Boss! I was looking for you,” he then lowered his voice. “I didn’t want to send it through the token. I saw Jade today, and she mentioned that Arthur was furious after waking up from your slap—a well-deserved one, if you ask me. Amelia—that short, fine cousin of hers—apparently heard him messaging Darkheart on the comms, asking him to execute you for attacking a Brightheart.”

  Hello! Here's a quick update (let's call it "State of Cade")

  third and final arc of Book One! Only 16 chapters remain, and while things might seem reasonably calm for now… well, that peace won’t last long.

  Thanks for sticking with the story so far—it means a lot!