Chapter 4: The Outer Disciple's Plight
The tolling of a massive bronze bell, deep and resonant, ripped Kaelen from his slumber. It wasn't the gentle chime of Willow Creek's morning, but a commanding summons that vibrated through the very stones of his temporary lodging. This was the Azure Sky Sect, a world away from his village, and his new life as an outer disciple had officially begun.
He dressed in the standard, simple outer disciple robes – plain blue tunic and trousers, functional and unremarkable. He remembered Elder Valerius's warning about attention and concealment, and securely fastened the jade pendant around his neck, feeling a subtle calming of the insistent hum within his own spiritual core that had been present since the Growler incident.
The induction ceremony was a blur of faces and formal pronouncements. Kaelen was one of hundreds of new outer disciples, a sea of anxious young men and women from various backgrounds. Some carried themselves with an innate aristocratic grace, others fidgeted with nervous energy. Kaelen, with his rustic clothes and long, unbound hair that marked him instantly as an outsider, felt the scrutinizing gazes. Whispers, light as morning mist but sharp as thorns, reached his ears: "Another commoner," "Looks like he just crawled out of the dirt," "No visible bloodline traits, must be incredibly diluted." He kept his expression neutral, his grip tightening on the jade pendant.
Their days quickly fell into a rigorous schedule. Mornings were for communal meditation sessions, where disciples learned to 'sense' spiritual energy and begin the foundational stage of Qi Condensation. Kaelen sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor of the vast Outer Disciples' Hall, surrounded by hundreds of peers. He closed his eyes, straining to feel the 'spiritual flow' Elder Valerius had spoken of, to guide it into his meridians and Dantian. He could feel a faint tingle, a distant hum, but it was like trying to catch mist with his bare hands. Other disciples, particularly those from noble families or with innate talent, seemed to grasp it almost instantly, their bodies occasionally glowing faintly as they absorbed the energy. Some even displayed subtle changes—a faint glimmer in their eyes like a hawk, a slight hardening of skin akin to scales, or a brief elongation of fingernails—signs of their nascent beast bloodlines beginning to resonate with the spiritual energy.
"Concentrate, Thorne!" bellowed Instructor Ren, a burly, impatient man with a perpetually stern face, his gaze frequently falling on Kaelen. "Your spiritual roots are barren, and where is your bloodline affinity? You're still as stagnant as a puddle! Do you even have a spiritual root, or are you just wasting the Sect's time?"
Humiliation burned in Kaelen's cheeks, but he swallowed it. He knew he was slow, slower than almost everyone else. His village had no spiritual energy to speak of, no guidance. He was starting from absolute zero, and his own unique bloodline, too primordial and vast, wasn't yet ready to manifest or aid in this basic Qi Condensation process, especially with the pendant suppressing it. But the memory of Lyra's tear-streaked face, of his parents' hopeful eyes, burned away the shame. He would not fail them. He would not give up.
Afternoons were dedicated to physical conditioning and basic martial arts forms. Here, Kaelen excelled. His years of hard labor had forged a body of unusual resilience and strength. While other disciples struggled with the repetitive movements or winced at the soreness, Kaelen executed each form with grim determination, his endurance seemingly limitless. His long hair, which many mocked as "wild" or "unruly," would often come loose from its hasty tie, framing his focused face as he poured every ounce of his will into his movements. During these sessions, some disciples would intentionally channel their minor bloodline powers, a brief hardening of their fists, a slight increase in speed, or a faint animalistic roar, aiming for subtle, beast-like enhancements to their movements. Kaelen, however, relied purely on his raw physical might.
"Thorne! Your stance is sloppy! Where's your spiritual affinity in those strikes?" Instructor Ren would shout, even as Kaelen's fists struck harder, his kicks moved faster, than many of his more 'talented' peers who relied on their burgeoning spiritual energy and bloodline traits. "That's not spiritual energy, that's brute force! This is cultivation, not a brawl! You're falling behind in Qi Condensation!"
Kaelen ignored the jabs, focusing on the muscle memory, the breathing patterns. He knew his brute force wouldn't be enough forever, but for now, it was all he had. And sometimes, just sometimes, as he pushed his body to its limit, he'd feel that familiar, subtle hum beneath his skin, a ghost of the power he'd unleashed against the Growler. The jade pendant, warm against his chest, kept it contained, a simmering secret.
Evenings were spent in the Outer Disciple dormitories – cramped, shared rooms where conversations often revolved around family prestige, rare resources, and gossip about inner disciples. Kaelen kept to himself, studying the basic cultivation manuals they were given, trying to understand the intricate pathways of meridians and the concept of forming a Dantian, the core of a cultivator's spiritual power. The characters blurred, the concepts alien, but he meticulously reread each passage, trying to etch them into his mind.
It was during one such evening, poring over a manual by the flickering light of a shared lamp, that he had his first direct interaction with another disciple.
"Still struggling with 'Qi Condensation Basics,' commoner? And still no sign of your beast affinity?" A sneering voice cut through the quiet.
Kaelen looked up to see a group of three young men, their robes impeccably clean, their expressions radiating disdain. The speaker, a lean youth with a sharp, arrogant nose, was Lian Jin. His family was a minor cultivation clan aligned with a powerful elder in the sect, and he made no secret of his contempt for those beneath him. A faint, almost imperceptible sheen like snake scales could be seen on the back of his hands, a subtle manifestation of his own low-level beast bloodline.
"This is not a book for children," Lian Jin continued, gesturing to Kaelen's manual. "Perhaps you're more suited for sweeping floors than cultivating. Your lack of any visible bloodline traits is quite telling." His companions snickered, one even making a soft, wolf-like growl, a hint of his own animalistic affinity.
Kaelen slowly closed the manual, his dark eyes meeting Lian Jin's. "I learn at my own pace." His voice was low, devoid of anger, but with an underlying firmness that surprised Lian Jin.
"Oh? And what pace is that? Snail-pace?" Lian Jin mocked, stepping closer. "Don't delude yourself, Thorne. You're dirt. The Elder probably took you in as a charity case, hoping for a miracle that won't happen. You'll never amount to anything here, not without a proper bloodline to aid your cultivation."
Before Lian Jin could say more, another voice intervened. "Leave him be, Lian Jin. What's it to you how he cultivates? The Sect welcomes all who seek the Dao."
Kaelen looked up to see a young woman standing at the entrance to their dorm wing. She was slightly older, perhaps nineteen or twenty, her features delicate but her expression resolute. Her robes, while also outer disciple attire, seemed to hang on her with an unusual grace, and her long, dark hair was neatly pinned, though a few stray wispstrayed wispsof hair framed her serene face. This was Xiao Mei, a quiet but respected figure among the outer disciples, known for her diligence and calm demeanor. A subtle, almost floral scent, along with an unidentifiable faint gleam in her eyes, hinted at her own unique, albeit minor, spiritual plant-beast bloodline.
Lian Jin scoffed. "Xiao Mei, always the righteous one. Don't tell me you feel sympathy for this rustic? He'll only drag down the average. He can't even condense Qi, let alone manifest his beast form!"
Xiao Mei merely fixed him with a steady gaze, and for some reason, Lian Jin hesitated. With a final huff of disdain, he and his companions turned and walked away, grumbling.
Xiao Mei then looked at Kaelen, a soft, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. "Don't mind him," she said, her voice gentle. "Ignore their words. Focus on your own path. Cultivation is a personal journey. Not everyone's bloodline manifests the same way, or at the same pace." She paused, her gaze lingering on his long hair for a moment, before offering a small, reassuring nod and continuing on her way.
Kaelen watched her go, a flicker of gratitude in his heart. It was a small kindness, but in the harsh, competitive environment of the outer sect, it felt significant. He returned to his manual, the words of Lian Jin still stinging, but Xiao Mei's quiet encouragement a balm.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Kaelen's routine became a monotonous cycle of meditation, physical training, and study. His spiritual sensing and Qi Condensation remained agonizingly slow, a source of constant frustration. He could feel the spiritual energy around him, a distant hum, but he couldn't grasp it, couldn't draw it into his body and condense it as the manuals described. It was like standing on the shore, watching the ocean, but unable to taste the water. He watched other disciples making breakthroughs, their minor beast bloodlines aiding them, and felt a pang of frustration at his own seeming lack.
Yet, despite his slow progress in spiritual cultivation, his physical strength continued to grow, almost imperceptibly, beyond what even rigorous training should achieve. He could run longer, lift heavier, and strike harder than any other outer disciple, sometimes even surprising the instructors. It was the hidden influence of his Apex Genesis Bloodline, quietly strengthening his mortal vessel, preparing it, even as the pendant kept its more overt power suppressed.
He was a paradox: the slowest spiritual cultivator, with no discernible beast bloodline manifestation, yet the most physically enduring. He was Kaelen Thorne, the rustic commoner, struggling in the shadow of giants, but within him, an ancient power slumbered, gathering its strength, waiting for the right catalyst to truly erupt. The Azure Sky Sect had taken him in, but it was unaware of the cosmic storm it had just invited.