Iron Wind City didn't welcome anyone.
There were no gates, no guards, and no rules posted on stone tablets. Just a worn dirt path lined with crumbling stone and sagging wood, leading into a city that felt more like a wound than a place. The caravan rolled in without pause. No one stopped them. No one checked their goods or asked who they were.
And yet, the silence said everything.
Su Lingxi stepped off the final cart without a word. The bamboo hat still covered her face, the wide brim casting a deep shadow over the cloth that concealed her features. Her long robes, loose at the waist and wide at the sleeves, were plain and dark, hiding her figure well enough that even her gender wasn't obvious at a glance.
She walked carefully. Not because the road was rough—though it was—but because the silence felt too sharp, too tight.
It wasn't the peaceful quiet of a sleepy village.
It was the kind that made your skin itch.
People moved. Merchants spoke in low tones. Street vendors lit fires. But no one raised their voice. No one laughed too loudly. The whole city felt like it was holding its breath.
Just ahead, other travelers who had arrived with her—some on foot, some from the same caravan—were already peeling away into side alleys. Slipping into the city alone or in pairs. Most of them were young. No one looked back.
'They're here for the sect too.'
He didn't know their names. Didn't need to.
They looked like wanderers. Ragged, cautious, hopeful. Probably with no backers, no clan names, no one to protect them. Just one goal in mind: to get into Bloodblade.
He didn't follow them.
She walked her own path, moving with the crowd, head low, sleeves tucked in. The bamboo hat concealed everything that needed hiding.
'If I hadn't covered myself, someone would've noticed by now. Someone always does.'
Buildings leaned at strange angles. The roads twisted unexpectedly. There were no guards in sight. No banners, no sect emblems, no laws.
But there was still order. A twisted, quiet kind.
No one caused trouble.
No one dared.
There weren't any written rules. But everyone knew what the limit was.
Here, people still robbed, killed, did worse. But they did it quietly, discreetly within bounds.
'There are no laws in this city,' Ren thought, 'just consequences.'
Loud problems got silenced. Visible messes got cleaned up. And behind all of it loomed the name of one sect—Bloodblade.
The further she walked, the more she noticed.
A few figures stood in corners or leaned against shaded walls—men and women with sharper eyes, slower breaths. Some held swords. Some carried nothing at all. But they moved differently.
He didn't know how cultivation realms worked. No charts, no system. But his body reacted to some of them anyway. A kind of quiet instinct—like the air shifted when they passed.
'Cultivators. No idea what realm they're in. But they're not ordinary.'
None of them wore official robes. No sect colors. No clan symbols.
'Probably rogue cultivators. Or people who got kicked out of somewhere, or never belonged in the first place.'
He didn't make eye contact. Didn't need to.
Predators acted the same in every world. If you looked too strong, they watched from a distance. If you looked weak, they tested the edge.
She kept walking.
At one point, she passed a red-lantern building tucked between two cracked stone walls. The curtains were pulled halfway back, and the windows were open. Women sat near the front steps—dressed in silks, their makeup bold, their eyes bright.
They laughed softly. Beckoned toward passing men. Their voices sweet, playful.
Not forced. Not desperate. Deliberate. Controlled.
A brothel. Or something worse.
Ren didn't look twice.
'Even that… they keep quiet. Charming, but not loud. Can't draw too much attention.'
Everything in this city could exist—as long as it didn't cause trouble.
He slipped off the main street, following a narrow side path that curved between two leaning buildings. Eventually, she found what she needed: a small, worn inn at the corner of an alley. Faded wood, a broken lantern, and a pot simmering slowly outside.
Perfect.
She stepped inside.
The air smelled of ash and wet cloth. A few empty tables were lined along one side. Behind the counter stood a balding man, wiping down a bowl with a rag that looked more gray than white. He looked up briefly as she entered, then lowered his gaze without a word.
"One room," she said quietly. "Just for one person."
The man reached under the counter, pulled out a small wooden key token, and placed it down.
"Two coins a night."
Ren placed the coins without hesitation.
The man swept them away, but didn't turn to leave. Instead, he let his thumb drift slowly along the edge of the counter. Back and forth. A silent signal.
Ren said nothing. But after a moment, he slid another coin across.
The man's fingers closed over it almost immediately.
"You here for the recruitment?" the innkeeper asked casually, as if asking about the weather.
Ren didn't answer.
"Doesn't take a genius to guess why you're here," the innkeeper said quietly. "People like you only show up this time of year." The man continued, smirking faintly. "I came to this city three years ago. Every year, around this time, people like you show up. Covered faces, plain robes, too quiet. Looking around like you're trying not to be noticed. Always alone."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.
"Most of them are here for Bloodblade. Think they'll find power fast. Think it's simple. Think it's safe."
He chuckled once.
"But here's a free warning—only a few ever get picked."
A pause.
"The rest? They disappear."
Ren said nothing.
"Some say they give up and leave," the man said. "But I've never seen anyone walk back out the gates. Some say the sect handles failures… quietly. Just makes them vanish. Either way, nobody talks about it."
He leaned back and tapped the counter once.
"When it starts, you'll know. A cultivator from Bloodblade will come into the city himself. Makes the announcement loud and clear. No need to guess. Until then, wait. Don't get involved in anything stupid."
He gestured toward the stairs.
"Second floor. Third door on the left. Lock sticks. Jiggle it once."
She nodded, took the token, and walked upstairs.
The steps creaked under her weight. But no one followed.
The room was bare. Just a thin bedroll, a cracked basin, and a narrow window with a sheet of tattered cloth where glass should've been. There was no sound. No one in the halls. Just silence.
She locked the door, set the bamboo hat down, and sat quietly on the edge of the mat.
Ren exhaled slowly.
'So that's how it works. No schedule. No invitation. Just show up… and wait.'
It didn't surprise him.
This wasn't a righteous sect. There wouldn't be open tests or formal trials. Just a time and a place—and either you stepped forward or you didn't.
And if you failed?
'No different from before. In the corporate world, people vanished too. They just called it something else.'
He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
'The game hasn't changed. Just the stakes.'
Outside, Iron Wind City waited in silence.
Inside, so did he.