The skyline of the Imperial Capital didn't just appear; it loomed over the horizon like a physical weight. Massive walls of white marble, reinforced with silver runes that shimmered with a rhythmic, breathing light, stretched toward the clouds. As the carriage slowed, Lin Wei felt the very atmosphere change. The air here was thick, almost syrupy, saturated with the Qi of thousands of cultivators—some sharp as needles, others as vast and slow as an incoming tide.
"System," Lin Wei thought, pulling his Void-Shrouding tighter until his dual-colored aura was nothing more than a dull grey mist in his mind. "How many eyes are on us?"
[Detection: 14 high-level spiritual probes detected. Three 7-Star talents and one 8-Star talent are currently scanning the gate area. Void-Shrouding holding at 98% efficiency.]
The carriage lurched to a halt. A guard in polished gold armor stepped forward, his eyes narrowed behind a visor. He held a crystal orb that hummed with a low, inquisitive light. Lin Wei felt a faint, tickling sensation against his skin as the crystal tried to peer into his meridians. For a heartbeat, the ice core in his chest flared in protest, a cold spike of adrenaline. He forced it down, letting the Phoenix fire wrap around it in a suffocating layer of heat. The orb turned a steady, boring orange.
"Standard fire root," the guard grunted, waving them through. "Proceed to the South District. Try not to burn anything, country boy."
As the carriage rolled into the city, Lin Wei peered out the window. The Capital was a beautiful, terrifying contradiction. High-tier mansions floated on jade platforms above crowded, neon-lit slums. Every street corner held a different sect's sigil. This wasn't just a city; it was a gilded cage full of apex predators.
As the carriage passed under the marble archway, Lin Wei noticed a secondary gate to the West, draped in banners that bore a twisted version of the Lin Clan's Phoenix—one with clipped wings and a crown of gold.
"Branch families," Captain Feng spat, noticing Lin Wei's gaze. "When the North fell into decline, the 'clever' ones moved here. They traded the clan's honor for Imperial stipends. They call themselves the 'Capital Lin,' but they're just dogs wearing silk collars."
Lin Wei watched a group of them pass—young cultivators with arrogant strides and eyes full of disdain for the "backwater" carriage from the North. He realized then that the Shadow Cult didn't have to break down the front door; the family meant to guard the jail had already sold the keys for a comfortable life in the city.
"We're here," Captain Feng said as they pulled up to a complex of iron and grey stone—the Imperial Academy. "From here, you're on your own. My blade can't help you inside those walls."
Lin Wei stepped out, his dual-colored gaze sweeping the entrance. A group of students in sapphire robes watched him, their laughter sharp and mocking.
"Another backwater 'heir' from the North," one of them sneered, a youth with the 4-Star aura of someone who had never seen a real battlefield. "I wonder if he even knows how to use a spirit stone, or if he still barters with goat skins."
Lin Wei didn't look at him. He didn't have to. He simply walked past, the air around his feet dropping ten degrees. The student shivered, his laughter dying as a thin layer of frost suddenly crawled up his expensive sapphire robes, turning the fabric brittle.
The registration hall was a cavernous space that smelled of old parchment and the metallic tang of defensive formations. Lin Wei stood in a line that felt like it stretched into eternity, surrounded by the pampered scions of the Empire's elite.
"Name and lineage," a registrar said, not bothering to look up from his ledger.
"Lin Wei. Lin Clan of the North."
The quill stopped. The man looked up, his eyes scanning Lin Wei's simple traveling silks. "The 'Bane of the Frost'? The rumors say you leveled a valley and turned a cultist into a glass statue. Quite a tall tale for a 1-Star talent."
The room went silent. Heads turned. The "1-Star" comment sparked a ripple of snickering.
"Rumors are usually exaggerated by people who weren't there," Lin Wei said, his voice flat and singular.
"Indeed," a new voice cut through the air, cold enough to rival Lin Wei's own ice core.
A tall youth with hair as white as bone stepped forward. This was Han Ye of the Frost-Sect. His aura was a suffocating 5-Star Qi Gathering, sharp and jagged. "I've spent twenty years in the sub-zero peaks mastering the ice. I find it hard to believe a fire-born brat from a failing clan can do anything but melt a few icicles."
Lin Wei felt his Ice Core spin faster, the absolute cold in his left arm demanding a release. He forced a smirk. "If you're so curious, Han Ye, wait for the Placement Exam. I'd hate to shatter your ego before you even get a room key."
Han Ye's expression didn't change, but the stone floor beneath him began to crack. "Arrogance is a common trait in those about to fall. We'll see what your Phoenix is worth when I freeze the air in your lungs."
The registrar cleared his throat loudly. "Enough! Lin Wei, you are assigned to Dormitory 7. The exam begins at dawn. If you're late, don't bother coming back."
Dormitory 7 was a crumbling stone tower on the edge of the grounds, furthest from the high-density Qi springs. It was a clear insult. Lin Wei entered his room—a damp, cramped space with a single wooden bed. He sat down, finally letting go of the Void-Shrouding. The room transformed instantly. One wall turned white with frost; the other began to smoke as the bed scorched under the Phoenix's heat.
"System," he wheezed, his vision swimming. "The Qi in this city... It's artificial. It feels like it's being forced."
[Analysis: The Capital sits on a 'Spirit-Vein Siphon.' The Qi is filtered to favor the Imperial Bloodline. Warning: You are currently 'bleeding' energy to the city.]
"Nothing is ever easy," Lin Wei growled, his eyes glowing violet in the dark. "Fine. If the city wants my energy, I'm going to make it regret the taste."