People moved sluggishly around the campfire, shadows flickering across their weary faces as they tried to overcome the shock of what had happened a few days ago. The stampede had come without warning—a chaotic blur of terror and violence. The hopeful dreams they had brought to the School of Daoism—of discovering their talents and basking in recognition—had been shattered.
Now, they were reduced to survivors.
Makeshift beds of branches and leaves were scattered haphazardly around the camp. Some huddled together near the fire, their eyes vacant, seeking warmth against the biting cold of the cloudy night. Others sat alone, staring blankly into the distance, silently mourning lost friends and broken dreams.
A boy near the fire sighed heavily, his breath curling in the cold air. "I can't believe this is how I'm treated after awakening a rare Light spiritual root."
The boy beside him scoffed, jabbing a stick into the fire and sending up a spray of sparks. "Your spiritual root might be Light, but it's low-grade. Meanwhile, I have a top-grade Fire spiritual root."
The Light-rooted boy's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around a piece of firewood. "And yet, you're still here freezing with the rest of us. Fire, huh? Pretty useless right now. Besides, Fire is common. There are two or three more people here with the same spiritual root. Confidence like yours means nothing without a celestial-grade Fire root."
The Fire-rooted boy's face darkened. "What did you say?!"
He shot to his feet, gripping a crude spear with white-knuckled hands. His stance was shaky, more from exhaustion than fear, but his anger gave him a dangerous edge.
The other boy sneered but didn't move. He simply stared into the fire, dismissing the threat with a cold smirk.
Uneasy murmurs rippled through the camp. Some shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between the two boys. Others watched with guarded interest, their grip tightening on whatever makeshift weapons they had. A few stared into the flames, pretending not to notice, unwilling to waste energy on the fight.
Tension coiled in the air as the spear-wielding boy took a step forward—
"Enough."
The word cut through the air like a blade.
A sharp, commanding voice silenced the entire camp. From the shadows emerged a girl—beautiful and composed, her black hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Her figure moved with quiet authority, her expression carved from ice and disdain.
"Stop this nonsense," she said coldly, her gaze sweeping over both boys. "If you want to fight, do it elsewhere. But if you start anything here, you'll be thrown out of this camp. Alone."
The spear-wielding boy froze mid-step. His face paled, and he slowly lowered the weapon. The other boy shrank back into his seat, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.
No one dared to meet the girl's eyes. Her presence demanded respect—or fear.
Without sparing them another glance, she turned and walked deeper into the camp, her steps steady and unhurried. The campfire crackled in the uneasy silence she left behind.
She approached a quiet figure seated on a flat stone—a girl with flowing crimson hair, eyes closed in deep meditation. The firelight danced along her hair, giving it the appearance of smouldering embers.
The black-haired girl knelt beside her, waiting patiently.
Without opening her eyes, the crimson-haired girl spoke. "The situation?"
"Miss Ardenthal, it's as expected," the black-haired girl replied. "Even if this is a simulation modelled after the Ruined Continent, it isn't nearly as dangerous as we were led to believe."
A brief silence hung in the air. The crimson-haired girl slowly opened her eyes, glinting with cold calculation. "Well, this is just our survival test. The Ruined continent is described to be so brutal that even golden core cultivators are crushed without realizing what just happened. Only nascent soul cultivators and those more powerful than nascent soul can survive that continent."
Aurora then stopped her cultivation and stood up and the black-haired girl also stood up beside her. "This simulation doesn't even come close to that level of danger since we survived those disasters even without any cultivation."
Then she stared at the girl beside her. "Now that you are done with the recon, just relax and start preparing to begin your cultivation." She handed out the book that she had collected in the aftermath.
"This is the basic cultivation technique that is fundamentally used by everyone regardless of their element nature. Generally speaking, most people can use this to start their cultivation till they reach the peak of qi building." Aurora looked at Urelia who was hesitating to take it.
"Unless you have your family's Cultivation technique." Urelia smiled wryly at this statement. "It's nothing like that Miss Ardenthal, I was wondering why you were cultivating using this basic technique instead of your family's." Urelia then stopped and bowed. "I apologise for poking into your matters unnecessarily."
Aurora looked at her before looking at the book. "Don't think too much of it. It's true the family cultivation technique can help stimulate our bloodline constitution but this basic cultivation technique is the foundational technique. The insights it has can be helpful throughout our cultivation journey."
She then looked at Urelia. "In the end, this is a simulation. Gaining insights into a technique without it affecting our cultivation is one of the few benefits of it."
The two walked in silence for a moment, the cold wind tugging at their clothes. Aurora's gaze turned toward the campfire, where the boys still sat in tense silence.
"But most people seem to have forgotten that simple fact. People like them won't last long in the cruel world of cultivation."
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Pain—blinding and immediate—snapped Kylian awake.
A groan escaped his throat as he struggled to open his eyes. Something heavy pinned him down, pressing against his chest. The weight was suffocating.
Slowly, painfully, he pried his eyes open. A lifeless face stared back at him—glassy, unseeing eyes and slack features. A dead body.
Panic flared. Kylian gritted his teeth and pushed against the corpse, every muscle screaming in protest. Agony lanced through his limbs, but he forced himself to move, rolling the cold weight off of him.
He gasped for breath, blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision.
And then he saw it.
The sky above was cloaked in roiling black clouds, thunder rumbling in the distance. The earth was torn and scarred, bodies strewn everywhere—some half-buried, others mangled beyond recognition.
The air was thick with the metallic stench of blood and damp soil.
As Kylian staggered to his feet, his legs trembling, the reality of what had happened began to settle in.
This wasn't just a stampede.
It was as if every disaster imaginable had struck in one place.
When the scroll mentioned unpredictable weather, Kylian thought bitterly, I didn't think it meant death storms and earthquakes.
He coughed, the air thick with the stench of blood and damp soil.
"A simulation... right."
A bitter smirk ghosted across his lips.
If this is fake, then what the hell does real look like?
His legs trembled as he staggered toward the shattered remains of a hut, stepping over bodies.
He rummaged through the wreckage, each movement sending pain flaring up his spine. His fingers brushed over half-burnt books, tattered cloth, and splintered wood.
Not much to work with.
After minutes of digging, he managed to collect a few intact books and stripped the bedsheets to wrap around his injuries.
It wasn't enough, but it would have to do.
His stomach growled, a sharp reminder of his exhaustion.
"Damn it. Everything hurts."
Kylian slumped behind a fallen beam, dragging debris over himself for cover.
Sleep. Just for a moment.
The cold gnawed at him, but sleep was stronger.
This is going to hurt tomorrow.