CHAPTER 15: CHAPTER 15

Fear crept steadily up Ethan’s spine as the sound echoed through his thoughts—the sharp knock on the door.

It bore an uncanny resemblance to that knock from long ago: his first day in this village, the moment he had stepped into his hut, fresh from a fractured sleep and already trembling with unknown dread.

That same knock had nearly killed him—left him cowering and broken for two entire days afterward, too weak and fearful to move.

The memory flooded his mind like a sudden, icy wave. He shivered and scrambled out of the bathhouse, water dripping from his hair and skin clammy from both the cold and residual exhaustion. His voice rang out with urgency as he shouted.

"Wait! I’m opening the door!"

Just as the last syllable escaped him, Ethan sensed the invisible presence at his door halt abruptly—the knocking ceased, footsteps receded slightly, and there was an almost imperceptible pause. Whoever stood outside had retreated, respecting his words.

Ten minutes passed in uneasy silence.

Ethan quickly dried himself with a rough towel, willing the trembling in his limbs to settle.

The cold air bit at his damp skin, but his mind raced far beyond the sensation of chill.

Eventually, he darted toward the door—his heartbeat thudding in his ears—and flung it open with a mix of caution and curiosity.

There, framed by the patchwork of shadows and late afternoon light, stood a tall and striking figure: Kael.

Kael—the man who had almost ended Ethan’s life when he first arrived. The one who had loomed as a mysterious titan among the exiles.

But now, Kael simply stood there, calm and measured, having waited patiently for more than ten minutes without attempting to move or intimidate.

Neither accusation nor threat shone in his eyes—only an inscrutable calm.

Ethan blinked, struggling to discern whether Kael’s presence was born of guilt over that first encounter or some wary respect.

Perhaps it was the latter: the same quiet caution that had won Kael’s restraint during their past misunderstandings. Or maybe Kael had heard the hesitant words Ethan muttered during his bath: pleas for calm, wishes to avoid conflict, the unmistakable tremor of fresh power being tamed inside a fledgling disciple.

Kael’s gaze was steady as he spoke.

"You’ve adapted to this place already, haven’t you?"

Ethan nodded truthfully.

He wasn’t lying. After all the breakthroughs—consuming the Spirit-Eye Opening Brew, awakening his Spirit-Eye, and cultivating the first cultivation stage of the Celestial Jade Physique Scripture—this cursed land seemed to bite a little less sharply now.

The cold, the oppressive yin energy, the ever-looming threat of madness—all had faded from overpowering threats to mere background static.

But then a pang of uncertainty hit him: Had he checked his system status lately? After all these changes, he hadn’t yet looked to see what the system made of him.

With a simple thought, the system screen flickered to life, words cascading before his eyes:

[Name: Ethan]

[Cultivation: Body cultivation]

[Combat evaluation: Perfection of the Foundation Establishment Realm]

[Evaluation: You could become an inner disciple of the Azure Origin Dao Sect, but you possess no real strength in the wider world.]

Shock struck Ethan in waves. His combat power jumped from the peak of the Qi Refining realm to peak of the Foundation Establishment realm—all in a single day.

This was no small feat; for most cultivators, such progress required months or years of unimaginable hardship and dedication.

Yet the evaluation was sobering. Despite the leap in strength, his standing in the real world remained fragile. Inner sect eligibility was promising, but the larger powers that ruled the cultivation world still dwarfed his fledgling might.

Emotionless, Ethan glanced back at Kael and said, "Start again from the beginning. I... just realized I blacked out for a moment."

Kael looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and mild resignation.

He sighed, as if he’d expected this response and was prepared to repeat himself yet again.

"There are many places here you haven’t seen, Ethan. The village is bigger than you realize, and many areas remain unexplored by most exiles."

Kael’s voice dropped to a quieter tone.

"Today, I want to show you one of those places. We call it the Training Arena... but most people simply know it as the Battle Arena."

Together, they turned from Ethan’s hut and entered the village streets.

The settlement looked desolate and empty to an outsider; a place forgotten by time, forsaken and silent.

The cabins and huts sat beneath a canopy of sparse, leafless trees. Some buildings were leaning, others had broken windows or doors barely hanging on rusty hinges.

The dirt roads bore only the faint impressions of footsteps—quiet, formal, marked with the ghost of long-past travelers.

Ethan could understand that from the misguided eyes of an outsider. This place looked abandoned, left to crumble beneath the weight of decades spent in exile.

Yet this was not a ghost town, only asleep.

Kael explained, "At this hour, most residents are either on cleaning duty, engaged in other tasks, or resting after training. Activities are mostly regulated, and each has their own schedule to follow."

Slowly, they walked past shuttered windows and darkened doorways.

Ethan attempted to fill the silence with small talk, asking Kael questions about the village, its hierarchy, the nature of their punishments—questions Kael answered briefly, carefully avoiding personal details.

Ethan noticed with his Spirit-Eye that the harsh cold aura that should have been gnawing at Kael was receding. The man—once tense and haunted—now moved with calm strength, the frost around him melting bit by bit.

Curiosity burned in Ethan’s chest like a quiet fire. Kael was a prodigy, having reached the Foundation Establishment peak before age twenty—an extraordinary feat, rarely accomplished in any era. Yet here he was, trapped in exile like a common criminal.

Ethan had thought about asking why, probing for this mystery, but restraint stayed his tongue. With a budding friendship so new, and trust so fragile, he understood Kael would reveal his story only in his own time. For now, it remained a locked shadow of the past.

As they turned a corner, the buildings thinned and the chatter of the village faded behind them.

Before them lay the Battle Arena—vast and open, ringed by faded stone walls etched with the scars of countless clashes. Raised stands composed of patched timber circled the grounds, a few rickety benches scattered where exiles occasionally gathered to watch sparring matches or training sessions.

Kael gestured toward the arena, voice echoing softly in the open air. "This is the battle arena."