“Greetings, fellow cultivators. I am Olivia, an inner disciple of our humble sect, and I will act as your guide.” A very elegant woman with pale green-tinted hair bowed to the guests with a soft smile, yet she kept her chin tilted just high enough to ensure she was looking down her nose at them. As she rose, she pulled a silk kerchief from her sleeve and daintily patted her nose, as if the very scent wafting towards her was an affront to the senses.

  The five stood to admire the calligraphy of the sect signboard as well as the grandiose gates that towered over three stories. The four gazed deeper into the writings as if there was a deeper meaning or intent within them, while Soloman took notice of the woman's demeanor.

  The party leader, taking notice of the woman, spoke up. “Greetings, I am Illia, with four members of our ‘Swift Gale Sect’ who were invited to partake in the tournament. We hope to exchange many insights during our stay.” Illia took charge of introductions to ensure that no mishaps occurred that may damage the sect’s reputation.

  “…It’s a pleasure. Please follow me; I will show you to your rooms first.” Olivia gestured them in, her silk sleeves fluttering with a sharp, practiced grace. She guided them through a series of bridges that hovered over various-sized ponds housing turtles, waterfowl, and fish. Every few steps, she would snap open a delicate lace fan, using it to subtly "shoo" away the air in front of her whenever Ouro or Andre stepped too close.

  “Leaving the sect without approval during the tournament is forbidden; we have surveillance orbs around the perimeter to avoid any such incidents.”

  The four of them frequently patrolled outside the sect and were rarely left to go on journeys, causing them to become rambunctious, which gave Olivia the impression of them being country bumpkins. As Ouro pointed excitedly at a particularly large tortoise, Olivia’s eyes rolled toward the sky before she quickly smoothed her expression into one of bored tolerance.

  The group arrived at the guest quarters, creating a larger racket witnessing its interior. A dissatisfied look flashed across Olivia’s face, her lips curling into a tiny, sharp sneer before she quickly hid it behind her fan as she saw one of the more tempered guests approaching her.

  “When will the tournament officially start? And what exactly are its contents?” Soloman quickly got down to business, eager to understand what to expect and make preparations. He observed Olivia’s behavior closely—the way she subtly wiped her hand on her dress after accidentally brushing against a shoulder did not go unnoticed. It caused him to reconsider the relationship between the two sects as not as amicable as he first believed.

  “It will start the day after tomorrow in the morning. Currently, the contents remain unchanged: first is cultivation measurement between members of equal standings, the second will be ‘Dao’ comprehension, and lastly, of course, will be the practical exam where we compete one-on-one.” Olivia slapped her fan open, making a high-pitched unfurling sound that echoed like a whip. Soloman stayed behind while the remaining members dropped their luggage off to continue his conversation.

  “Standings? What do you mean?” Soloman asked, his tone inquisitive but firm.

  “…Outer disciple, inner disciple, and core disciples are the general breakdown of hierarchy in most sects. Does your sect not have such practice, or do you simply let everyone mingle... around?” Olivia strained to hide her grimace behind a false smile, but her tone was dripping with condescension.

  “…I have not been officially inaugurated, but mainly assist with weapon maintenance and lectures. I have not noticed any distinction in the treatment of disciples like your sect does, as ours frequently patrols its border to protect the commonwealth. Does your sect not practice such patrols?” Soloman matched her tone, his words coated with a similar edge. An almost visible electric spark was triggering from their venomous gazes. Illia, noticing the interaction, felt nervous about how to intervene.

  “…Of course we do. We ensure that nothing happens to our protected villages.” Olivia raised the fan in her hand, high enough to partially obscure her face, exposing only the cold arrogance in her eyes.

  “Protected, huh?… Then your sect knows about the horde of drakes flying in the area, right?” His eyes narrowed with scrutiny. “Surely such a large and prestigious sect as yours wouldn’t leave such a deadly nuisance flying around.” Soloman’s words were sharp, cutting through the pretense.

  “O-of course. We pushed them away from our towns once notice was given.” Olivia’s fan began to move with a frantic, agitated rhythm.

  “Oh~ notice… when it’s paid, I see. So the three villages en route here are not yours then, correct?” Soloman’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone icy.

  “I’m sure our teams are en route now.” Olivia’s voice wavered, her fan snapped shut with a violent thwack, but Soloman didn't flinch. Most would tremble under the gaze of an inner disciple of her stature. A third level ‘Core Forming’ cultivator, who is fully capable of striking down a tree line to stumps with a flick of her wrist, expected nothing less than a kowtow.

  To a him who has seen reactors go critical and ‘Angels’ fall from the sky, a girl with a fan was hardly a threat.

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  She started gnashing her teeth, the hand clutching the fan nearly snapping it in twain. Before the tension could escalate further, Illia stepped in, sensing the need to diffuse the situation.

  “Excuse me, where’s the bath here?” Illia wedged herself between the two.

  “Yes, right… The bathhouse is just over here. If the girls will follow me, I shall guide you there along with where the tavern is to accommodate any loss of nourishment from your long trip.” Olivia collected herself and began walking away briskly, her posture rigid with barely concealed irritation.

  “Thank you, senior. Sophia, we are going to the bathhouse!” Illia flagged down the other woman in the group and whispered to Soloman. “We have to bear with it. We will get ours in the competition, okay?” She urged him to avoid causing any more animosity, which left him to roll his eyes.

  “Why? Are you not equals? I was led to believe your two sects were in cooperative stances.” Soloman cocked an eyebrow at her behavior, his curiosity piqued by her submissiveness against subversive bullying.

  “W-we… are sects in equal standing in public view…”

  “…But?”

  “Our sect has lost against them for the last century… Even we disciples think of this situation of us being here as just whetstones to sharpen their people.” Illia’s voice was barely above a whisper, her agitation evident.

  “Mùchén would allow this even when it harms the mental state of his people?” Soloman’s brow furrowed, incredulous at the idea.

  “…It’s not that simple. Even when we lose, we gain some insight and bring it back with us for our sect members. And…”

  “Money, right? Or rather spirit stones for you folks.” Soloman finished her thought, his tone matter-of-fact.

  “Exactly. Our sect lacks a spirit mine or guardian beasts that bring strong qi to create environments for them, and before you ask. We can’t grab or expand our territory for resources. The last thing our continent needs is another sect war.” Illia looked into Soloman’s eyes with a reminiscent gaze, with Sophia locking arms with her and pulling her away, towels in hand.

  “Oi~ Soloman, Andre and I are gonna hit the tavern, you coming?” The men were gesturing with their hands holding drinks while planning to cavort with the females in a new environment.

  “You go; I need to rest my bones and plan on how to deal with the competition.”

  “Boo~ live a little.”

  “Not often we guys get time for ourselves without our elders skulking around. They punish us if we even hold hands.” Andre drooped his shoulders, remembering having lost his chance with his crush only to be rewarded with practicing two thousand sword swings when caught by Elder Wren.

  “I’m not young anymore to stay out this late and drink.” Soloman walked towards his assigned room and was about to close the door, only to hear the two men walk away with jeering comments about his age.

  “I’m 40 and still drink and flirt, what’s so special about 30?”

  “I’m only 22, speak for yourself. Let’s go, before the girls catch us.” Ouro shrugged his shoulders and started pushing Andre forward to rush out before the girls came back from their bath.

  “Tsk. Looking like teens but being 40… Cultivators have it nice!” Soloman shook his head as he slammed the door, the noise echoing in the quiet courtyard.

  “Sigh~ Finally some quiet, however—” Soloman flopped down onto his bed to close his eyes after changing his attire and doing a bit of reading, only to hear another voice chattering away.

  [Can you quiet down, please? You’ve been at this for months now.]

  {But there’s so much to go through in your memory. I can’t help it.}

  [You can look around as much as you want, but can it just be a little quieter? It’s been so loud I couldn’t even hear a beast chasing after us.]

  [Sigh. I failed to account for the loss of my precious solitude. I was too enamored with the challenge to see if I could make it work.]

  {I-I’ll try, but it’s so nice to finally talk regularly now. Talking into the void and rolling clouds gets boring after the first 200 years.} Priscilla’s smile beamed at the new experiences around her.

  Soloman looked at his digitized hands and the walls surrounding them. The dissociation between his physical body and digital one was discomforting, to say the least. The unreachable black walls had letters and images constantly downpouring in linear lines, similar to a circuit board in the early development of computers in human history.

  [Sigh~ I get it, but other people can’t and won’t know you’re here talking to me. I either look like a loony or have a distant look on my face trying to talk to you. And how are we talking like this? We even have avatars.]

  {Don’t know.}

  […The unusual cross between our technology must have caused this. More than some of our parts, I guess.] Soloman followed Priscilla’s avatar floating around in the unusual environment around them, which they respectively called the ‘thought box’. The environment she created was a large regal room that would change its scenery depending on Priscilla’s whim, with the only thing Soloman could do being access his stored memories or Priscilla’s.

  [What are you looking at anyway?]

  She laid on a large cushion, gently kicking her legs idly. {Your childhood, you were so cute!}

  [Ugh. Please don’t, it’s embarrassing. Anyway, what are we gonna do about the tests tomorrow?]

  {Hmm~ Oh, easy.} Priscilla turned off her view screen while saving her progress and looked back at Soloman with a confident look plastered across her face.

  [Oh?]

  {First test is the cultivation level, right? Already solved; you were already introduced in the response letter as a body cultivator. Second is dao attainment, which no one but ‘Void Returning’ or higher cultivators could beat you, let alone a bunch of ‘Foundation’ stage plebs. And lastly, for the fight… hmmm. I’m sure it’ll be okay.}

  […Thanks for the vote of confidence. However, there’s a problem.]

  {What?}

  [I want a sweeping victory.]

  {She made you that mad? What did she even really do?}

  […She disrespected people who helped me since I arrived here, and most importantly, she looked down on me and the people they are supposed to protect for some coin.]

  {Hmm~ Can’t quite follow… But I have an idea.} She pulled up a file and showed Soloman the contents with a very mischievous look.

  {Get this and I can take care of the first test. Second test is already won. And the third… I’ve seen what was in your world before and… what was needed to survive, and… what you did.} She started fidgeting, unsure what face she should make, only to feel a hand starting to pat her head.

  [Laws of the jungle exist in any environment. I did what I had to do for myself and family. Just this will win us the competition.] He gave a large smile as he pointed to the screen.

  {Easy peasy. They won’t expect our people to advance as much as they did with your lessons, let alone understand how to read a body cultivator’s level.} She puffed her arms in a victory pose with an eager sparkle in her eyes.