One of the stranger quirks in the rules for First-Class sects was that, although there were strict limits on what we could and could not buy, there were no such restrictions on the amount of gold we were allowed to possess. Also, while we weren’t permitted to receive any form of assistance from stronger sects after our founding, there hadn’t been anything stopping one from handing us a mountain of gold beforehand.

Why? Because gold was only useful when there was something to spend it on. Under the Bureau’s restrictions, the number of coins we could use on cultivation was limited. The rest would simply go to waste. Worse, once word of our wealth spread, we would be hounded by desperate fools looking to snag a quick fortune, forcing us to constantly defend a pile of worthless metal.

So, although I had enough wealth to purchase the entire Broken Spear Outpost several times over, discretion was essential. With this in mind, I didn’t even consider trying to buy one of the outpost’s villas. Instead, before leaving the Sect Affairs Bureau, I inquired about a suitable inn.

The clerk provided me with a list of options that were considered suitable for nine-star sects, their prices ranging from 5 gold a month on the low end to over 500 on the high end. After careful consideration, I settled on one that balanced safety and subtlety. It was secure enough to keep trouble away, but modest enough not to attract it.

Located near the edge of town, this inn cost 25 gold a month and wasn’t exactly the kind of place that catered to newly formed sects such as ourselves. Instead, it was aimed more at established groups that were already making decent coin from missions and professions.

Staying in such a place might lead some people to believe that we had more wealth than we could protect. However, by taking on this small risk, we received a suite with a sizable, central living area and five separate bedrooms, all of which were shielded by both privacy and defense formations. With these formations protecting us from Martial Disciples, and our sashes deterring everyone else, we had little to fear so long as we remained behind the inn’s walls.

Sure, this might make it more dangerous for us to leave town on missions, but that was a problem for later. At the moment, we just needed to focus on getting stronger. By the time we were ready to leave the outpost, we would be more than ready to face anyone who might want to cause us trouble.

Without a storage bag, I didn’t have any way to explain pulling items out of my inner world. So, after reserving a room at the inn, I made a quick trip to a nearby Bureau-Approved store to pick up a few basic supplies.

Upon my return, I gathered everyone in the suite’s common room, where I arranged a few newly bought cultivation mats in a loose circle. Then, once we’d all taken our seats, I exhaled slowly, letting the noise of the outpost fade into the background.

“Each of you has absorbed information from a memory orb,” I said, looking around the circle. “While I don’t know exactly what you learned from those orbs, I do know that none of them contained any information on weapon cultivation. So, let me explain.”

I reached over to a bundle of simple, mortal guandaos, picked one up, and positioned it so that it rested across the palms of my hands, ensuring that it was pressed firmly against my acupoints.

“Unlike elemental cultivation, weapon cultivation doesn’t rely on qi filters. Your weapon is your filter. As you draw energy through your guandao, the weapon will filter out any impurities, allowing only pristine guandao qi to enter your body—theoretically, at least.”

I wasn’t sure what, if anything, my companions would be able to see. Nevertheless, I reached out and began cycling energy through the weapon in front of me.

“There are still Low-, Mid-, High-, and Peak-Yellow cultivation techniques, but since weapon cultivation doesn’t rely on filters, these sub-Ranks aren’t too important. They only represent small modifications that will make cultivation slightly easier. What’s more important is to use a weapon that’s capable of purifying your qi to the greatest extent possible.”

To my right, YuLong carefully studied the guandao I was holding, but I didn’t notice any muscle movements to suggest he had activated qi vision.

“Would it be fair to assume that, since you were able to pick up that weapon for only a few silver, it’s not a very good qi filter?”

“Correct. Unfortunately, First-Class sects aren’t allowed to directly purchase weapons that are designed to act as qi filters. We’ll have to either make them ourselves or purchase them using contribution points earned from missions.”

YuLong shot me a doubtful look. “You really think all this First-Class sect business is worth it? Feels like a lot of trouble for not much gain.”

As Kan and JiuLi began to nod in agreement, I raised a finger to stop them.

“It’s worth it. Even just considering this issue alone, it is absolutely worth it. The best qi-filtering weapons are crafted by refiners from one- and two-star sects. For ordinary Warrior Tier cultivators, obtaining such items is nothing but a fantasy. They aren’t something that one can buy with gold. However, as a First-Class sect, we can complete missions, earn contribution points, and purchase them from the Bureau. Then, once we have a few examples to work with, we can take them apart and learn to forge them ourselves.”

Of course, I did have plenty of other ways to acquire the weapons we needed, but I wanted my sect—my clan—to learn to stand on its own. I had no desire for it to remain forever dependent on me for whatever knowledge and strength I chose to share. This First-Class sect system would give them access to everything they needed, but it would also make them earn it.

Kan folded his arms and frowned. “Ancestor, I understand your reasoning, but will it really be so simple? If these items are as valuable as you say, why would the Bureau hand them out just for completing a few basic missions?”

“Because,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips, “this domain belongs to the Saint of Heroes, and it’s difficult to be a ‘Saint of Heroes’ without a few heroes running around.”

Before anyone could ask more questions, I shook my head. “No, I don’t know what qualifies someone to be called a ‘hero.’ What I do know is that this entire domain is designed to create them. For whatever reason, the Saint of Heroes wants powerful sects and cultivators that are free from the influence of more established clans. The First-Class sect system is one of the tools she uses to achieve this.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Kan didn’t look entirely convinced by my explanation, and I couldn’t blame him. The Nine Rivers Saint devoted himself to strengthening his clan, and the Saint of Myriad Herbs poured its efforts into empowering its Temple. But the Saint of Heroes? She only seemed to care about creating the strongest, most talented cultivators possible. That kind of selflessness was difficult to trust.

That said, these concerns could wait for later. Right now, our only goal was to grow stronger.

With this in mind, I reached for a stack of blank books and used my copy ability to imprint two of them with a basic, Low-Yellow guandao cultivation technique. Once finished, I handed these manuals to Kan and JiuLi, along with one of the guandaos.

“Take these and go study the basics of cultivation. Your goal is to reach Martial Disciple 2 as soon as possible.”

JiuLi glanced at me uneasily. “What if we do something wrong? What about… cultivation madness?”

I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry about that. Right or wrong, with these simple weapons, you're bound to end up with pretty bad cultivation madness no matter what you do.”

JiuLi’s eyes widened. “But—”

I waved her concerns aside. “Like I said, don’t worry too much. Just focus on advancing. Once that’s done, we’ll be able to complete some missions to earn the contribution points we need to buy proper weapons. For that to happen, though, both of you need to get stronger.”

While JiuLi nodded with hesitation, Kan flashed a grin and hurried to his room.

After they were gone, I looked between YuLong and Meng LuYao. “We’ll need to get started cultivating as well, but first, there’s something I need your help with.”

Although the inn didn’t have a proper courtyard, it did include a training room where guests could practice martial arts in relative privacy. This room was just large enough for two people to spar without killing each other, its formation-lined walls designed to absorb stray blows and suppress errant qi.

While Meng LuYao watched from the side, YuLong was already rolling his shoulders, grinning. “You know, Fang, I might have the blessing of a weapons master, but that doesn’t mean I am one. Shouldn’t we find someone who actually knows what they’re doing?”

I shook my head without hesitation. “No. Perhaps later, but at the moment, it wouldn’t serve any purpose. Just trust your instincts and fight however you think you should.”

With that, I raised my guandao and stepped forward. YuLong mirrored the motion, and the two of us began a brief dance of blades, testing each other’s rhythm as we worked to better understand our weapons.

The guandao’s blade felt deceptively familiar at first, but its balance told another story. My crescent moon spade had been steady and centered, built for control and defense. The guandao, though, refused to stay still. It dragged me forward with every motion, demanding flow and follow-through. It was a weapon that turned every strike into momentum, with each move leading into the next.

Also, while it was possible to whip a guandao around and strike with the haft, the weapon’s forward weight made such movements feel awkward. My crescent moon spade could hook, sweep, or block from either end, but the guandao only wanted to cut. And, without an understanding of the weapon’s natural flow, all I could manage were crude stabs and slashes.

YuLong wasn’t much better off than I was. His balance wavered, and his strikes lacked rhythm. However, his instincts were sharp. As I pressed forward, he caught the haft of my weapon with his guandao’s hook, twisted his wrists, and sent my blade off-course before stepping in with a short counter. It wasn’t graceful, but this move showed he was learning with every exchange.

After five minutes of sparring, YuLong and I stepped back, both breathing steadily as we turned toward Meng LuYao.

“Well?” I asked.

She nodded once. “The guandao symbol lit up for YuLong. Nothing for you.”

I turned back to YuLong. “Now, think of it as a spear. Don’t try to swing. Just thrust, pivot, and keep your balance. What you are holding is a spear. Treat it as such.”

YuLong gave me an uncertain nod. Then, we raised our weapons and clashed once more.

This time, I held a decisive advantage. YuLong was too busy trying to convince himself that his guandao was a spear to focus on the rhythm of the fight. His movements became hesitant, his thrusts lacked reach, and his slashes stopped halfway. Still, as the minutes passed, he began to adjust. His footwork steadied, and his strikes gained intent. After five minutes, we lowered our weapons and turned to Meng LuYao once more.

She shook her head. “No. When you two first started, both the spear and guandao symbols were glowing faintly, like they couldn’t decide which to choose. But as the fight went on, the spear faded, and the guandao lit up completely.”

Meng LuYao’s voice carried a trace of disappointment, as if the test had only confirmed her doubts. I, however, was thrilled. The very fact that the symbols had wavered at all filled me with quiet satisfaction. It meant the path we were exploring wasn’t impossible.

Extending my hand, I grasped YuLong’s guandao and directed a line of environmental wood qi through its core. The shaft split neatly at the midpoint, its length dropping from two meters to one. After giving YuLong a brief moment to adjust, we resumed our sparring.

“Guandao was lit up,” reported Meng LuYao.

I placed my palm on YuLong’s shortened weapon once again and used another controlled pulse of qi to cut the haft down to only half a meter.

“Still just the guandao,” Meng LuYao noted, a faint spark of interest entering her tone.

Without replying, I extended my hand and severed the haft of YuLong’s weapon once more. It was now a mere twenty-five centimeters in length, roughly the same as the hilt of a saber.

“Remember,” I said, meeting YuLong’s gaze, “that is still a guandao. Treat it as such, and attack me accordingly.”

Since YuLong and I were using the same types of attacks, with the only difference being that I had an extra meter and a half of reach, he struggled to fight back. His shortened guandao was so front-heavy that each strike threw him off balance, leaving one opening after another. He didn’t stand a chance in our little spar, but that wasn’t what mattered. After five minutes, we looked at Meng LuYao.

“It was confused at first—flickering between the guandao and the saber—but it settled on the guandao.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “Excellent. The only question now is whether the weapon registered as a guandao due to YuLong’s intent or his technique.”

Determining this would be more difficult, but it should be possible.

“System,” I subvocalized, “give me 50 credits worth of talent in the guandao.”

Purchase confirmed. 59,690 credits remaining.

While I could save a few credits by just purchasing a high affinity, I wanted to get a feel for the guandao and this new affinity at a more natural pace.

With this purchase complete, I traded weapons with YuLong, and we started up again.

I had one major advantage over YuLong when it came to testing oddly shaped guandaos—while neither of us knew how to wield a guandao, I also didn’t know how to wield with a saber. That made things simpler. All I had to do was believe that the weapon in my hands was still a guandao and move in whatever way felt natural. This resulted in a form that was completely different from what one would use with a standard, long-hafted guandao, but what did that matter?

Five minutes later, we looked at Meng LuYao.

“I’m… not sure,” she said, frowning. “The guandao symbol lit up, but… halfway? You were definitely using a guandao talent, but… not completely?”

“Good,” I said, meeting YuLong’s eyes. “Now, let’s see if halfway is enough to earn me an affinity.”

Less than half an hour later, I collapsed onto the floor of the training room, chest heaving. Without a cultivation base, I didn’t have any qi to supplement my physical endurance, and my recently reborn body was still far from its peak. Honestly, it was a miracle I’d lasted as long as I had.

I hadn’t yet managed to determine whether wielding my rather saber-like, short-hafted guandao could grant me a guandao affinity, but I had grown noticeably more comfortable with the weapon. That was progress enough. The rest could follow in due time.