Yan Qiu woke before the bell.

  The third floor was still dark and everyone else was asleep. He lay on his back and thought about his parents.

  His mother would be awake by now. She always woke before dawn, just sitting by the fire with her hands in her lap. His father would be out in the field already, working the soil with his calloused hands.

  He wondered if they knew he had made it.

  He sat up and looked around the room. Peng Hu was snoring in his bed with one arm hanging off the side. Tao Wen was asleep with a book still open on his chest. Sun Hao was curled up under his blanket with only the top of his head showing.

  Yan Qiu got up quietly and walked over to Peng Hu’s bed. He stood there for a moment, then reached out and shook his shoulder.

  Peng Hu opened one eye. “What.”

  “Senior Peng, is there a way to send letters from the sect?”

  Peng Hu groaned and rubbed his face. “A postman comes up the mountain every few weeks. He should be here within a few days. Sometimes he is early, sometimes he is late. Hard to say.” He squinted at Yan Qiu. “You could not wait until morning to ask me this?”

  “Sorry.” Yan Qiu went back to his bed and opened his wooden chest, looking for paper. He did not have any. He checked his bundle too. Nothing. He looked back at Peng Hu. “Do you have paper? Or ink?”

  “Do I look like I carry paper around?” Peng Hu rolled over. “We do not have any up here.”

  “Where do I get some?”

  “Supply Hall. Costs a few contribution points, or you can pay with coins if you have any.” He pulled his blanket up. “Now let me sleep.”

  Yan Qiu went back to his bed. He did not have paper or ink, and he did not have contribution points yet either. He and Sun Hao had been planning to try a mission today anyway, so he could use whatever he earned to buy writing supplies after.

  He lay back down and waited for the bell.

  The morning bell rang and the third floor woke up. Disciples groaned and stumbled out of bed. Sun Hao sat up with his hair sticking in every direction.

  “I hate that bell,” he said.

  “You say that every morning.”

  “Because it is true every morning.”

  They dressed and went downstairs. Yan Qiu told Sun Hao about the postman while they ate, and Sun Hao’s face changed immediately.

  “I want to send a letter too. To my mother.”

  “We need paper and ink first. Supply Hall has them, but we need points or coins.”

  “Then we better get a mission today.”

  They spent the rest of the morning cultivating in the dormitory, sitting cross-legged on their beds and circulating qi to stabilize themselves before the day’s training. Yan Qiu ran through a few cycles using his old method, and Sun Hao did the same with the Withered Wind Breathing.

  When they felt settled, they headed to the training grounds. The morning air was cold and other new disciples were already gathering on the stone courtyard.

  Elder Han was on the platform when they arrived. He looked the same as yesterday, rigid posture, scar running from his ear to his chin, hands clasped behind his back.

  “Today you learn the second foundation technique,” he said. “The Dust Treading Step.”

  Yan Qiu felt a spark of excitement. The breathing method had been frustrating, but this was something new, something he might actually be able to do.

  He demonstrated. His feet moved in a quick, light pattern across the stone, barely touching the surface before lifting again. There was no flash or spectacle to it. He just moved, and then he was somewhere else, and the distance he covered made no sense for the number of steps he took.

  “This technique uses wind qi to reduce your weight and extend your stride. It is not about speed. It is about efficiency.” He stopped and looked across the rows of disciples. “A fast technique burns through your qi in minutes. This one lets you move all day without running dry. Master it, and you will outlast anyone who relies on raw speed alone.”

  He demonstrated the basic footwork pattern three more times, slow enough for them to follow.

  “Begin.”

  The disciples spread out across the courtyard and started practicing. Most of them stumbled through the first few attempts, their feet too heavy or their qi too scattered to get the lightness the technique required.

  Yan Qiu tried the pattern. Step, shift, step, glide. The footwork felt natural to him in a way the Withered Wind Breathing had not. His qi moved down through his legs without resistance, and when he pushed off the stone his body felt lighter, like the air was holding part of his weight. He completed the first sequence and landed softly.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It was not perfect. His transitions were rough and he lost the lightness halfway through the second sequence. But the basic movement worked, and he could feel the technique clicking into place with each repetition.

  Duan Ke was already three sequences ahead of everyone else. His feet barely touched the stone and his movements were smooth and unhurried, like he had been doing this for years instead of minutes. His gold roots were showing again, picking up the technique faster than anyone had a right to.

  Sun Hao was struggling more. His red roots gave him power but not finesse, and the Dust Treading Step was all finesse. He kept landing too hard, his feet slapping the stone instead of gliding across it.

  “Lighter,” Elder Han said as he walked past Sun Hao. “You are not stomping grapes. Feel the qi in your feet, do not force it.”

  Sun Hao gritted his teeth and tried again.

  Elder Han made his rounds, correcting postures and adjusting stances. When he reached Yan Qiu he stopped and watched for a moment.

  “Good. Your footwork has a natural rhythm to it.” He moved on without saying more.

  Yan Qiu kept practicing. The technique was easier than the breathing method, probably because it only needed his white qi to work. There was no conflict with the darker current beneath it, no collision that scattered everything. His feet moved and the qi flowed and the stone felt softer under his steps with each pass.

  On the far side of the courtyard, Gao Yichen was telling the disciple next to him about his family’s trade connections in Dusthaven. His voice carried across the training ground.

  “My father supplies spirit herbs to three different sects. Three! The Barched Wind Sect is actually one of our smaller clients, if you can believe that. The real money is in—”

  Elder Han appeared behind him. He grabbed Gao Yichen’s ear and twisted.

  “Ow! Ow ow ow—”

  “Ten laps. No qi reinforcement.”

  “Elder, I was just—”

  “Twenty.”

  Gao Yichen shut his mouth and started running. A few disciples nearby tried very hard not to laugh.

  After the training session, Elder Han gathered them on the platform.

  “Continue practicing the Withered Wind Breathing and the Dust Treading Step on your own time. Tomorrow you will learn the third and final foundation technique, the Gale Palm.” He paused. “Go to the Supply Hall and pick up the manual for the Dust Treading Step. Study it. I expect improvement by tomorrow.”

  He looked across the group.

  “I also recommend that you begin taking missions from the Task Hall. Low-rank tasks will help you earn contribution points and get familiar with the sect’s expectations. The sooner you start, the better.” He turned and walked off the platform.

  Sun Hao exhaled. “My feet hurt.”

  “You were stomping.”

  “I was not stomping. I was landing with authority.”

  They headed toward the Supply Hall to pick up the manual. The path wound between dormitory buildings and past a small garden where a few inner disciples were sitting and talking. Yan Qiu glanced at them as they passed. Their robes were a deeper shade of grey with blue trim, and they carried themselves differently from the outer disciples, more relaxed, more certain.

  As they rounded a corner, they nearly walked into Duan Ke.

  He was coming from the opposite direction, alone, with a manual tucked under his arm. He stopped and looked at them with that flat, measuring expression he always wore.

  “Watch where you are going,” he said.

  “Sorry,” Yan Qiu said. “We did not see you.”

  Duan Ke looked at him for a moment, then at Sun Hao. Something flickered behind his eyes, it was not hostility exactly, just the wariness of someone who was used to being on his own.

  “You two are always together,” he said. It was not a question.

  “We are on the same floor,” Sun Hao said. “And we are going to the same place.”

  Duan Ke said nothing to that. He stepped around them and kept walking.

  Sun Hao grinned as he watched him go. “He is quite friendly.”

  “He has always been acting just like that,” Yan Qiu said. “Come on.”

  They shrugged it off and kept moving.

  The Supply Hall was the same as before, the bored disciple behind the counter, the shelves lining the walls. They picked up their manuals and headed out.

  “Task Hall next?” Sun Hao asked.

  The Task Hall was a well-maintained building with clean stone walls and a tiled roof. Inside, a long wooden counter ran across the front of the room, and behind it sat a woman in sect robes with a ledger open in front of her. Wooden boards hung on the wall behind her, covered in paper slips with task descriptions written in neat characters.

  Yan Qiu and Sun Hao stood in front of the boards and stared.

  “There are so many,” Sun Hao said.

  The tasks were sorted by rank. D-rank slips were on the left, dozens of them, mostly cleaning and carrying work, gathering herbs. C-rank was in the middle, fewer slips, with tasks like hunting, patrol routes, and special material collection. B-rank was on the right, only a handful, and A-rank had its own separate board with nothing on it at all.

  “I have no idea which one to pick,” Yan Qiu said.

  “You two look lost.”

  They turned. Tao Wen was standing behind them with a book under one arm, looking at the task boards with the calm expression of someone who had done this many times before.

  “Senior Tao,” Sun Hao said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Picking up a task. Same as you, presumably.” He stepped forward and looked at the boards. “For your first mission, I would suggest something from the D-rank section. Herb sorting for the medicine hall, or carrying supplies between buildings. They are simple and they pay a small but steady amount of points.”

  Yan Qiu was about to agree when Sun Hao pointed at a slip on the C-rank board.

  “What about that one?”

  The slip read: Hunt one spirit beast cub in the eastern woods, Sector 3. Bring proof of kill. Reward: 15 contribution points.

  Tao Wen’s expression changed. The calm left his face and something tighter replaced it. “That is a C-rank mission. Even though it says cub, a spirit beast is still a spirit beast. They are stronger than normal animals of the same size, and they make territories. If a larger one is nearby, you could walk into something you cannot handle.”

  “It is just a cub though,” Sun Hao said.

  “A cub that can break your arm if it catches you.” Tao Wen looked between them. “For a first mission, this is too dangerous. Start with something safer and work your way up.”

  Sun Hao shook his head. “We can do it together. Two of us against one cub, those are good odds.”

  “It could still hurt you,” Tao Wen said. “Even together.”

  Sun Hao did not budge. “We will be fine.”

  Tao Wen looked at Yan Qiu, hoping for support.

  Yan Qiu thought about it. He did not know enough about mission ranks to judge the danger properly, and that was exactly why he wanted to try it. If he was going to complete three A-rank missions in one year, he needed to understand what each rank actually meant. Starting at the bottom and guessing would take too long.

  “I want to see what a C-rank feels like,” he said. “If it is too much, we will pull back.”

  Tao Wen pressed his lips together. “You are both new and you have been here for just two days.”

  “We will be careful,” Sun Hao said.

  Tao Wen looked like he wanted to argue more, but he let it go. “Fine. But if anything feels wrong, leave immediately. Do not try to be brave.”

  They registered the mission as a group task with the woman at the counter. She noted their names and told them the points would be split between them. Neither of them cared about that.