As I walked toward the Information Group, I could feel the stares.

  They weren’t hostile. Not quite. But they weren’t welcoming either.

  It was the kind of look people give when they're told to carry a broken sword into battle—disappointment. Thinly veiled, but unmistakable.

  The few who had already gathered in the group glanced my way with the same reluctant look you'd expect when forced to pick the last player in a game of cuju—teaming up with someone they were sure would only drag them down

  A few eyes shifted away when I met their gaze. One person even sighed audibly.

  I guess it made sense.

  The combination of being ranked dead last, carrying a rusted soul weapon, and receiving only a single page from the Heavenly Archive… well, that was more than enough to tank my reputation to rock-bottom.

  No one said it aloud—but the way they glanced at me, then quickly looked elsewhere, spoke volumes.

  Once everyone had settled into their chosen groups, Ren Yao stepped forward again.

  “Alright,” he called out, voice steady but firm, “now that we’ve formed our groups, it’s time to put some structure into this.”

  He swept his gaze across the field, his eyes sharp, but calm.

  “Each group will need a leader. Someone to handle coordination, organize efforts, and report to me directly. I’ll be overseeing all of you, but I’ll also be acting as team lead for the hunting group.”

  He nodded toward us.

  “I’m giving you all a few minutes. Talk amongst yourselves. Figure out who’s most qualified to take the lead for your group.”

  Then, as if finished with his part, he stepped back toward his own team, already being greeted with familiarity by some of the other hunters.

  The rest of us were left to look at each other—some hopeful, some unsure, and others, like me…Waiting to see what would happen next.

  A few moments passed in awkward silence. No one seemed eager to step forward—until finally, someone did.

  He cleared his throat with quiet authority, stepping slightly ahead of the small cluster of gathered people.

  “I’ll volunteer,” he said, his voice rough, but even. “Name’s Wu Jian. Rank… 41,803.”

  That earned a few raised brows—just enough to get people listening.

  He continued, folding his arms behind his back with practiced discipline.

  “Before coming here,” he said dryly, “I worked as an investigator. Spent over a decade running one of the larger precincts in the Southern Territories. Homicides, missing persons, political disappearances—you name it.”

  There was a quiet weight to the way he spoke—not arrogance, but calm experience. A man who had seen enough to stop romanticizing it.

  I can read a trail, see through lies, and keep people in line—even the ones with more pride than sense. If this group’s about gathering information, then I’m the right one for the job.

  He looked the part, too.

  His face was weathered but not worn—a defined jaw beneath a light stubble. Small scars dotted the edge of his chin and temple, barely noticeable unless you were close. His eyes were sharp, narrow, like a hawk.

  His black hair was streaked with early gray, slicked back neatly, though a few strands fell loose from the humidity and the long day. Lines framed his mouth and eyes—not from age, but from squinting and focusing.

  Slowly, one by one, people began to nod. Maybe it was because no one really cared that much.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  After all, we weren’t some elite task force. We were castoffs. A ragtag group of cultivators too weak and too untalented to be accepted anywhere else. Who really needed a leader in a group like that?

  But when someone like Wu Jian stepped forward, no one would stop him. More often than not, people respect those who don’t demand to be followed.

  And in a group like ours, where most of us were more focused on surviving our own training regimens and doing as little extra work as possible, having someone else volunteer for responsibility was convenient.

  And when someone’s willing to take the burden off your shoulders, you let them.

  Wu Jian dipped his head slightly after a brief pause, acknowledging the unspoken agreement that had settled in the group.

  “Alright then,” he said, voice calm as ever. “Thanks for letting me act as lead.”

  He gave a small, respectful nod to the rest of us before glancing toward the direction Ren had gone.

  “I’ll go speak with Ren Yao. Let him know who’s leading our group and ask what instructions he has for us moving forward.”

  It didn’t take long for Wu Jian to return.

  He moved with the same calm, composed presence as before, hands behind his back, posture steady despite the fatigue we were all starting to feel.

  “Alright,” he said once we’d gathered around him again, “I spoke with Ren.”

  He paused briefly, letting the low murmur of conversation settle.

  “For now, since it’s already late and we’ve only just formed our groups, we won’t begin official duties until tomorrow. Tonight is yours—use it however you want. Keep training if you’ve still got the energy, or rest if you don't. Just make sure by dawn, you’re not dragging your feet. We start fresh in the morning.”

  A collective sigh of relief rippled through the group.

  Some people nodded quickly and turned without hesitation, eager to return to their shacks for a bit of peace and sleep. Others stayed behind, stretching or resuming their stances, wanting to squeeze in just a little more practice before nightfall claimed the sky.

  As for me… I wasn’t ready to rest just yet.

  I looked toward the trail—the same path we followed yesterday when they led us away from the Hall and dumped us into the outskirts.

  I turned away from the scattering crowd and headed toward the trail, following the familiar bends and soft footprints left behind by our march.

  The sky was fading, the last light of the sun clinging to the edges of the horizon, and ahead, I saw it again—the silhouette of the Hall of Unbound Aspirants.

  I followed the stone path up toward its main entrance.

  Following the wooden plank signs nailed along the inner columns of the Hall, I made my way through its broad corridors. The signs, simple yet precise, eventually pointed me toward the north wing, where two lacquered double doors stood half-open beneath a carved wooden plaque that read: Hall of Knowledge – Unbound Archives

  I stepped inside.

  The scent of aged parchment and ink struck me immediately. The library stretched far larger than I had expected. High shelves lined the walls, stretching nearly to the ceiling.

  Dozens of long tables filled the central hall, each one neatly lined with oil lamps placed every few seats. Their soft flames cast a warm, flickering glow over open books and weary faces. It wasn’t loud—far from it. The room hummed with the quiet rhythm of pages turning, scrolls unrolling, and the occasional murmur of hushed conversation.

  People moved between shelves and reading desks with slow, purposeful strides—some with arms full of books, others trailing their fingers along the spines, searching for a title that might catch their eye. All of them wore the same black Unbound uniform I did.

  As I stepped further beyond the entrance, the layout began to take shape. Corridors branched off into dedicated wings, each marked by finely carved wooden plaques above the shelves. The calligraphy was elegant. Topics were etched in both the common script and classical characters—designed so that even those with only the barest education could find their way.

  I tilted my head and read them as I walked, quietly mouthing the titles to myself:

  Herbalism and Alchemical Principles. Spirit Beasts and Celestial Creatures. Qi Circulation & Meridian Mapping. Historical Records of Great Sects. Soul Weapons: Manifestation, Types, and Anomalies. Dao Philosophy and the Paths of Enlightenment. Cultivation Disorders and Qi Deviation.

  Each section stretched deep into its own hall, shelves packed with scrolls, tomes, and stitched booklets, all carefully arranged by subtopics. Some corridors were brighter, busier, while others held stillness, as if rarely visited at all."

  Then I came across the corridor marked: Foundations of Cultivation Theory

  The moment I read it, I knew.

  This was the place I needed to be.

  Today’s pursuit was the understanding of the principles first. The core information that governed the path of cultivation. What made someone a cultivator? What was required? What was expected? What steps to take to move forward?

  If I was going to rise from the bottom, I needed to know where the ground began.

  So, without hesitation, I stepped into the corridor.

  Row after row of tightly packed bookshelves stretched ahead of me, filled with hundreds—maybe thousands—of volumes on the subject.

  And I began to walk, eyes scanning and fingers ready to pull down the first book that called to me.