A few days passed. One evening, Aaryan stood outside the cabin, the wind tugging at his sleeves, and stared into the distance. His fingers brushed the bloodstains on his shirt—remnants of a past that seemed so distant, yet still clung to him like the damp chill in the air. He thought about the notice in the market—the call for new disciples to join The Evernight Pavilion. The words echoed in his mind, each one like a whisper that urged him to take a step forward.

  "Ten days... only ten days until the selection."

  He was still sore from his near-drowning, his body far from its prime. His muscles ached with every movement, as though his own body was still unsure if it was ready to keep going. But then, his thoughts turned to the future.

  "What do I have to lose?"

  The question gnawed at him. He had nothing. No formal training. No mentors. No clear path forward. But the thought of what the Evernight Pavilion offered—training, power, purpose—was tantalizing.

  'Could I really make it? What if I fail? What if I'm not good enough?'

  Doubt crowded his mind, filling him with an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. But then another thought struck him. He had nothing else. Nothing but survival. And wasn’t survival enough to give him a shot?

  Just as he was about to turn and head back inside, Grandma Kalyani’s voice reached him from the cabin.

  "You know," she said, her tone gruff but thoughtful, "there are a lot of people in this world who wait for luck to find them. But luck won’t get you far if you’re not willing to work for it. Take the workhorse, for example. He doesn't stop because the road's tough. He doesn't wait for the path to get easier. He just keeps moving, step after step, until the road’s behind him."

  "But…" the young boy who had carried Aaryan from the riverbank tried to explain.

  “No buts. On your father’s account, I can only lend you this much. Go back and work for the rest of it yourself.” Grandma Kalyani’s words were as sharp as ever.

  Aaryan’s brow furrowed, unsure at first why her words felt like they struck a chord deep inside. She wasn’t talking to him, wasn’t telling him to chase the trials or giving him advice, but somehow, her words landed like a blow to his hesitation.

  "Workhorse... keep moving."

  It was simple, but it resonated. No one else would fight for him. No one else would walk the path ahead of him. If he wanted to make something of himself, he would have to push forward, no matter how hard it got.

  Taking a deep breath, Aaryan squared his shoulders, the uncertainty slowly starting to melt away under the weight of his resolve.

  "I’ll keep moving," he whispered to himself, a quiet determination in his chest. "I’ll take the test. I’ll do it."

  And with that, he turned back toward the cabin, ready to face whatever came next.

  ?? — ? — ??

  The morning of the selection day arrived with a crispness in the air that bit at Aaryan’s skin, a reminder that the season was shifting. The sky was overcast, the clouds hanging low, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath in anticipation. His nerves were a tangled mess, but there was something else—an undeniable pull, a sense that today would define everything that followed.

  Aaryan stood at the edge of the cabin, looking out at the path that wound through the area, toward the heart of Green Veil City. It was a path he had seen many times before, but today it felt different—heavy with the weight of expectation. He adjusted the straps of the small bag slung over his shoulder, checking the few items he had packed—some dried food, a water skin, and his sword. He had never been one for showy preparation, but something about this day made him want to be ready for anything.

  As he turned to leave, Kalyani stood in the doorway, watching him with her usual calculating gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind rustled the trees, carrying the sounds of life from the village—voices calling out, children laughing, the clink of tools being used.

  “I don’t get why you’re in such a hurry. A few more years wouldn’t hurt,” she said finally, her voice gruff, yet with an undertone of something softer, almost resembling concern. “Don’t expect them to roll out a carpet for you just because you showed up. It’s a test—one you have to pass on your own.”

  Aaryan looked at her, his gaze steady, meeting her eyes. He wasn’t sure why, but those words stuck with him more than he cared to admit. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know, but hearing it from her, in her blunt way, made it real.

  “I can’t wait a few more years,” he said, his voice steady. “I want power, and I need it now.”

  Kalyani didn’t respond right away, slightly shocked by his response.

  “What might have happened to him?” she wondered. “It seems it wasn’t the first time he had to fight to survive.”

  She simply nodded, as though she understood more than she was willing to say. Then, with a quick flick of her wrist, she handed him a small pouch.

  “Take this,” she had said, her tone returning to its usual gruffness. “On the road. You will need it.” Aaryan took the pouch ungrudgingly and yet felt the weight heavier than it should have in his hand. He did not feel the need to open it but he was quite sure that it contained money-or at least enough to rub along. But it was more than that. It was a token, something offered. Perhaps trust. Or perhaps just to show that she, in spite of all her sharp-tongued words, did not think him entirely useless.

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  “Thanks,” he muttered and slid the pouch into his pocket.

  With that, he turned and went down the path, his feet moving of their own accord as his mind raced.

  The city seemed alive with activity, more than usual. From traders shouting their wares, people rushing through the streets in a stream of kids and adults alike, everyone knew what day it was. He walked through hordes of people toward the town centre, the crowd growing denser with people moving toward where the trials would be held.

  His heart beat louder in his chest now, every step a dull thump like a drummer, exhalations short with expectancy. Dreading but not wanting to acknowledge the fear, which he was unable to drive away. A place like this, filled with so many hopefuls, so many capable individuals-it was all too easy to feel little like itself. All too easy to wonder if he belonged here in the first place.

  But he pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. ’I’m not here to belong. I’m here to prove something. To myself.’

  He was drawing nearer to the open space where the trials were due to take place, and he could already see it-a great stage erect in the heart of the square, surrounded by wooden beams that resolved themselves into makeshift stands. The place was filled with people, all remaining poised for the trial, talking. A group of persons stood at the very back of the stage, each garbed in black robes, their eyes sharp and appraising.

  This made Aaryan's stomach clench, but he didn't turn away. This was going to be it. This was going to be the definitely changing moment. He did not have a clue what lay ahead, what the trials would demand of him. But he had one thing he was sure about: I will never back down.

  He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He stepped into the throng of those waiting for their names to be called. Tension hung heavy in the air, and he felt the weight of a hundred eyes on him while joining the other contestants.

  The air crackled with nervous energy as the crowd of hopefuls moved forward, glancing around in delicious apprehension, whispering among themselves, exchanging unsure glances from time to time. Aaryan stood among them, churning stomach and squinting against the alarming thought. The air felt thick, with pressure rising before a storm, and he felt that the greatest test was still to come.

  The long line moved slowly forward as the time for the trials drew near. As Aaryan approached the side stages where the qualifying rounds would happen, he noticed a group of individuals standing near the entrance. They were draped in long, dark robes, and their faces were hidden under hoods which gave them a cold detachment. The robes had intricate patterns embroidered in silver thread, signifying that they were disciples of the Evernight Pavilion-the prestigious sect overseeing the trials.

  This added an uneasy weight to the atmosphere. They stood tall with impassive faces as if everyone else around was subordinate to them. Aaryan occasionally caught a glint of cold amusement in their eyes as they viewed the contestants, almost in a stiff and superior manner. They weren't here to socialize. They were only there to watch, guide, and judge.

  A tall figure in robes stepped two paces ahead, raised his hand, and in a moment, the commotion of other murmurs entirely subsided. His voice rolled through the crowd, slicing into the air like a bard's arrow.

  "Line up. Quickly. You'll meet your qualifying rounds soon. Miss your turn, and you're out. No talking to the judges unless you're commanded. Understand?"

  His tone was crisp and cutting through the silence as though his mere presence commanded attention. There was no warmth, no encouraging laugh-sharp efficiency instead.

  The disciple hardly waited for an answer, already looking beyond him to the next contestant and indicating where they were to go.

  "Move along," he snapped at a young fellow in front of Aaryan, who couldn't help but hurry past, his face burning from humiliation.

  Aaryan had very little time to digest what the disciple had said, as he saw another group moving ahead now. A group of young people with impeccably tailored robes and self-assured looks on their faces. They were clearly from rich families, with some hint in their clothes of what noble comfort was. Each one had one or two servants to carry their baggage like they did not care but sat casually while waiting for their turn to compete in the trials.

  One of the young men was dressed in a deep crimson robe with gold accents and was standing taller than the rest. He was looking around and scanning the crowd, very much full of himself. His hair slicked back to fashion and his face a mixture of disdain and boredom.

  "Do you think they'll even allow us to compete with the likes of them?" a voice beside him whispered in a mocking tone, the girl obviously disgusted with the people around her as she flicked her hair over her shoulder.

  "They look miserable," the young man said with contempt. "I doubt half of them will get through the first round. I've already broken through to the second stage of Anima-it's plain sailing now." His voice dripped with confidence, so loud he couldn't possibly drown it out with the arrogance he was exuding. He tapped his hand casually on the hilt of the sword at his side, the sword of someone who could only belong to a family of wealth and power.

  The group of rich contestants stood apart from the others, already primed for the competition. Aaryan could feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere around them—there was a palpable difference in how the wealthy contestants carried themselves. They were used to privilege, to being at the top, and it showed in the way they looked down on the others. They had trained their whole lives, and they wore that fact like a badge of honour.

  Aaryan, by contrast, felt out of place. He had no servants, no polished robes, no family legacy to fall back on. His only weapon was the rough experience he had gained through survival, through the struggles that life had thrown at him. Yet as he watched the group of elite contestants, a strange fire flickered inside him. He wasn’t here to win any popularity contest. He wasn’t here to impress anyone with his background. This was his chance, his moment to prove that even someone like him—someone without a name, without connections—could still make his mark.

  As the queue inched forward, Aaryan couldn’t help but overhear the rich boy's smug comment about the trials.

  “I’ll be in the top ten, no doubt about it. They’ll be begging to accept me by the end of the day,” the boy boasted, his voice laced with arrogance.

  Aaryan tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, feeling the weight of his resolve settle into place. Let them think what they want. It didn’t matter. They could have all the money and status in the world, but it wouldn’t guarantee them success here.

  He wasn’t going to let anyone look down on him just because he didn’t fit their idea of what a disciple should be.

  The disciple in the black robe gestured sharply, breaking Aaryan’s concentration. “You—get in line. Now,” the disciple snapped, motioning for him to move toward one of the side stages.

  With a final glance at the smug group, Aaryan squared his shoulders, ignoring the looks from the wealthy contestants. It was easy to think they all had something he didn’t—a confidence, a training, a history. But Aaryan pushed those thoughts aside as well.

  He didn’t need what they had. He only needed to take the first step.

  And he was here now.

  With that final thought, he stood tall, waiting for the test to begin.

  https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/108046/destiny-reckoninga-xianxia-cultivation-progression