Chapter 11 ( On the way )

  The morning air was crisp, and the streets of Driftwood Brook buzzed with the rare energy of anticipation. Today was the yearly aptitude test—a chance for the young and hopeful to prove their worth to the sects.

  A sleek, humming carriage—hovering just an inch off the ground—waited near the town square. Its polished alloy frame shimmered faintly with embedded Qi stones, runes etched into its sides pulsing softly as it powered up.

  Adam stepped aboard the transport, his strange sword arm covered by a loose black sleeve. Red peeked out from the fold of his robes, tail flicking curiously.

  “Don't embarrass me,” Xiaoyan said with a grin as he climbed in after, followed closely by his sister, Xiaomei, who clutched a small satchel to her chest. Her eyes flicked nervously to the gathering crowd.

  At the edge of the platform, Old Bao stood with his arms crossed. “Don’t forget to breathe, eat, and don’t start fights unless you plan to win. That goes double for you, Xiaoyan.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Xiaoyan waved him off. “Try not to cry while we’re gone.”

  Xiaomei gave her father a quiet bow, her voice soft. “We’ll come back stronger, I promise.”

  Old Bao smiled, his gaze lingering on Adam. “You keep an eye on them, lad. You’ve got the look of someone who's seen too much already.”

  “I’ll make sure they get there and back in one piece,” Adam said.

  The driver, a tired-looking man in a faded robe and a Qi-forged cap, leaned out of the front window. “Last call for the Grand Harmony Sect Test—Driftwood Brook branch! Next stop, Rising Ember City! Estimated time, six hours!”

  The doors hissed shut. With a faint whine of energy and a pulse of blue light from its rear array, the transport lifted smoothly into the air and shot forward along the winding skyroad.

  Adam leaned back, eyes on the clouds. For the first time in a while, he felt something close to excitement.

  As the transport glided over rolling hills and rivers glinting in the sun, Adam sat by the window, watching the landscape blur past in streaks of green and gold. His curiosity finally got the better of him.

  He leaned forward, raising his voice just enough to reach the driver’s seat. “Hey, uh… quick question.”

  The driver glanced back through the rear mirror, one eyebrow raised.

  “I’m from a remote village,” Adam said, scratching his cheek with an awkward smile. “I don’t really get how all this works. If the world’s Qi is thinning, then why are we still using Qi-powered machines?”

  At that, the driver let out a short chuckle. “Now there’s a question I don’t hear every day.”

  He tapped the dashboard lightly. “This baby doesn’t run on natural ambient Qi like old relics. We use Qi batteries—specifically the renewable kind. They’re special, rechargeable constructs made by combining formation techniques and some bright ideas from those otherworlder folks who dropped in ages ago.”

  “Rechargeable?” Adam echoed, genuinely intrigued.

  “Yup.” The driver grinned. “We’ve got formations that draw in energy from light, water flow, even wind. Solar-powered, hydro-powered, you name it. The formations convert that into usable energy to replenish the Qi batteries. Works like a charm.”

  “So you’re using… renewable energy to power cultivation tech?”

  “Exactly. Cultivators refined the methods over generations. Turns out mixing ancient arrays with science gives you some real neat results.” The driver smirked. “Some old geezers were against it, of course. Called it unnatural. But when half your sect gets clean lighting and self-heating floors, people shut up real fast.”

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  Adam leaned back, whistling low. “That’s… actually kind of brilliant.”

  Xiaoyan, eavesdropping, nudged him. “You really didn’t know that?”

  Adam shrugged, still digesting the info. “I told you—I’ve been through some weird places.”

  The driver grinned in the mirror again. “Stick around long enough, kid. The weird’s just getting started.”

  Adam blinked. “It gets more weird?”

  “Oh yeah,” the driver chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “I had a real ancient relative—somewhere way up the family tree—who worked with blacksmiths, formation masters, and otherworlders back in the First Integration Era. They started making low-level body mods—Qi-assisted joints, spirit-threaded limbs, stuff like that. At first, it was all to help the injured or empower weaker cultivators.”

  Xiaomei leaned in slightly, her voice quiet. “And then?”

  “Well,” the driver said, voice dropping like a secret being shared, “some took it too far. Formed a sect convinced they could replace everything—flesh, soul, even Dao intent—with machinery. Said they were on the path to mechanical immortality. Crazy bastards.”

  “What happened to them?” Adam asked, now fully intrigued.

  “No one knows for sure,” the driver said, tone grim. “Some say they uploaded their minds into a tower of metal buried deep underground. Others say their ‘immortal engine’ turned on them and devoured their souls. All I know is, even today, some ancient ruins give off mechanical echoes no cultivator wants to get near.”

  As the road curved through a mountainous valley, the hum of the Qi-powered transport vehicle created a gentle rhythm. Adam stared out the window, his eyes following the glinting rails that stretched like veins across the landscape.

  “…So those people with the artificial souls,” Adam suddenly spoke, glancing toward the driver, “wouldn’t that make them… something like artifact spirits?”

  The driver scratched his head, his smile faltering. “Huh. Now that you mention it… I never really thought about it like that.” He drummed his fingers against the steering console. “I mean, they talk, they think, they move—but artifact spirits are born from real souls, right? And those machine folks… theirs are built, not born.”

  He fell silent, gears turning behind his eyes.

  “That’s because they aren’t the same,” a calm voice spoke from the seat behind Adam.

  Adam turned.

  A tall woman in grey robes sat with one leg crossed over the other. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, and a strange metallic pendant floated near her shoulder like a silent sentinel.

  “They don’t feel the world. Machine souls operate on imitation—crafted from logic and arrays, not spirit or suffering.” She tilted her head. “An artifact spirit might beg for freedom, laugh at your jokes, or sulk when ignored. A machine soul would simulate those things… without ever truly feeling them.”

  The driver blinked. “Ah… I guess that’s why old man Qie always said they felt ‘wrong.’”

  The woman clasped one fist in her other palm and offered a slight bow. “Kaelith Rune. Artifact Smith of the Arcane Creation Guild—a sub-sect of the Grand Harmony Sect. We specialize in forging, enchanting, and experimenting with spiritual constructs and artificial awakenings.”

  Adam offered a polite one-handed salute, his left sword-arm making a traditional gesture impossible. The woman mirrored the motion with a light smirk

  Adam tilted his head. “Kaelith Rune? That… doesn’t sound like most names I’ve heard around here.”

  She chuckled. “You really are from a remote place, huh?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, that explains it. I’ve got otherworlder blood in me. One of my ancestors came through the veil during the first integration Era. Ended up founding a whole line of smiths—we took the name Rune after the old language they brought with them.”

  Adam’s gaze lingered on her gauntlet-covered hand. “So your whole family’s into smithing?”

  “Born with soot in our lungs and hammers in our blood,” she said with pride. “And in the Arcane Creation Guild, we blend that legacy with cultivation and formation arts.”

  Adam glanced at her again, curiosity in his tone. “So… what business brings an artifactsmith from a prestigious guild all the way to Rising Ember City?”

  Kaelith snorted lightly, resting her gloved hand on her lap. “What else? I’m looking to recruit talent, duh.”

  Adam raised an eyebrow. “Recruiting?”

  “Yeah,” she said, shifting comfortably in her seat. “Every year, the guild gets a few slots to scout potential disciples during the aptitude tests. Most just want to get into the Grand Harmony Sect proper, but some… some have a knack for creation. I’m here to find those few.”

  “Sounds like you’re fishing in a very big pond.”

  Kaelith smirked. “Maybe. But every masterpiece starts as raw ore.”

  After a few hours of smooth travel, the scenery shifted.

  What began as rolling fields and scattered farmlands soon gave way to cobbled paths lined with Qi-powered lanterns and merchant stalls. Then came the towering gates—thick, reinforced with inscriptions and glowing wards—welcoming all travelers into Ember City.

  The moment they passed through, a tidal wave of sound greeted them.

  Ember City pulsed with life. The streets teemed with people—hundreds of thousands, maybe more—moving like rivers through the wide avenues. Cultivators in sect robes brushed shoulders with merchants shouting over one another. Street performers balanced on glowing constructs while children darted past enchanted stalls selling spirit beast figurines.

  The air buzzed with energy, not just from the Qi lines woven into the city’s infrastructure, but from anticipation. Aptitude Test Day had drawn in people from every direction—hopefuls, recruiters, peddlers, and opportunists all converging in one massive surge of chaos and excitement.

  High above, floating platforms and spirit towers marked the presence of powerful peaks of the Grand harmony sect, their emblems glowing with quiet authority.

  Adam leaned forward slightly, eyes wide. “This… is a lot.”

  Kaelith chuckled beside him. “Welcome to Rising Ember City. Hope you like crowds.”

  Xiaomei pressed her face to the window, her eyes sparkling. “It’s even bigger than I imagined…”

  Xiaoyan gave a low whistle. “I feel like an ant in a sea of giants. Are we really going to stand out here?”

  Adam smirked. “Only if you fall on your face during the test.”

  Their transport glided down one of the central avenues before finally pulling to a smooth stop near an enormous structure that dominated the city skyline.

  The Ember Coliseum.

  Carved from volcanic stone and reinforced with glowing formations, the arena loomed like a sleeping beast. Its walls pulsed with shifting runes, and a massive sigil hovered above it—broadcasting real-time scenes of the events within. Floating crystals mounted across the city synced with the central sigil, ensuring every test, every result, and every dramatic moment could be seen from any district.

  The crowd outside the Coliseum buzzed like a hive. Lines of participants wrapped around its exterior, while spirit beasts in armor patrolled under the supervision of sect officials and city guards.

  Adam stepped off the vehicle, gazing up at the structure.

  “Well,” he muttered, “no pressure.”