Boneroot and Iris joined the gathering at the largest open area on the plateau, behind the Grand Hall. Unlike the other training fields scattered across the sect, this one held a raised platform made from chiseled stone. The duo stopped in front of this platform, joining the group of fifty or so young cultivators waiting for the commencement of the day’s events.

Atop the sleek, grey stone stood eighteen men and women. Iris informed him after Master Bo’s lecture that there was one Master and one Expert for each ki attunement. The experts usually didn’t cultivate the Luminous Way, but Masters were a different story. Since each of them had spent a great deal of time in the sect, they were required to have mastered the Luminous Way to a significant degree before they’d be considered for the position.

They varied in age and appearance. Some wore the sect robes, while others wore their own clothes. Some stood at perfect attention, hands clasped, while others slouched and looked about lazily. One even waved to the new arrivals and again when certain disciples in black and white robes joined the crowd.

As the last of the hundred new students filtered into the area, the latest of whom looked embarrassed, one of the cultivators on the stage stepped forward. Straight, black hair brushed her shoulders. The audience looked up at her violet eyes, opened to their fullest. Her lips were pursed, but her face relaxed. She wore the same sect robes as Boneroot and some of the other disciples, without even a mark to indicate her status.

Grand Master Yan spoke.

“Welcome to the Brightmoon Sect. I’m sure you’ve heard that more than once by now, but I’d like to say it all the same. Standing before you are all nine Sect Masters and all nine Sect Experts. As you may or may not know, we more new faces among the Sect Experts than usual this year, but I have no doubt they will go above in beyond in their duties teaching you young disciples.”

Light applause filled the gap in her words.

“Master Bo informed you yesterday of the sect’s rules and expectations, so I will try not to tread on worn ground. Instead, we are here today for three reasons. First, we will be assessing the cultivation of each disciple through a number of sparring matches. Then, we will be sorting you into teams of five based on the results of those fights.”

At the reminder of the team system, they were allowed a brief moment to speculate before Grand Master Yan commanded the floor again.

“The third reason, however, will come first. Graciously, two of our esteemed colleagues have agreed to a quick exhibition spar. It is my hope that this fight will show you how far you have yet to go, give you something to which you may aspire, and remind you of the respect these masters and experts command. Expert Salim and Master Fan, would you be so kind as to introduce yourselves?”

At that, Grand Master Yan and the others stepped off the sides of the raised platform, leaving only two people to occupy it. One of these people was a stout man with a bald head and pronounced brow. His black beard was bushy, but didn’t extend past the collar of his unadorned sect robes. Next to him stood a man of completely opposite style.

He was shirtless, save for some golden bands circling his arms and he wore bejeweled, wide-hemmed, silk pants. The dark hue of his skin suggested he was from Hamagari, like a few of the students Boneroot had seen the day before.

The shorter man was the first to speak.

“I am Master Fan. I cultivate the Luminous Way’s fire art. I hope to see many of you in the Inner Sect soon.”

He nodded his head to the flashier of the two, who spoke up in turn,

“Thank you, Master Fan. I am Salim Yashi. If it’s not already obvious, I am one of the two sect experts from Hamagari.”

He gestured toward another woman standing next to Master Lei. She wore similarly light clothing and glittering jewelry, but her expression and posture were rigid, in direct contrast to the man speaking. Her broad features were pursed tightly as Salim moved on.

“My peer, Alheri Zafi, is just shy. She’d love to get to know all of you, I’m sure.”

The woman in question grunted, “We aren’t peers.”

She didn’t even address Salim’s other assertion. Her scowl did that on its own. To her satisfaction, the response did cause a slip in the man’s over-the-top, slick cheer.

“Well, as I was saying, you may call me Salim, or Expert Salim. I cultivate the Yashi’s clan art, The Desert Devours. Though I don’t know much about the Luminous Way, or its earth art, I will be happy to instruct all of you in the general points of cultivation, or the specifics of Earth ki. If any among you has the affinity for Sand ki, seek me out!”

Without any verbal indication that the fight was about to begin, the two cultivators took to opposite sides of the arena. Each performed a quick bow, though one was much grander than the other, while a cloud of tension hung over the crowd of disciples. Everyone was jostling each other trying to get a better view, which, among cultivators was a slightly more violent affair.

That came to a stop at the first sign of action. Sand began to envelop the stage, flowing out from Salim’s body. He stood in place, smiling, as wave after wave of his ki materialized. Boneroot noticed the sand pushing up against an invisible barrier at the edges of the platform and the crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The grains swirled violently about the stout man’s position, but they never managed to get close to him. It was Master Fan who finally decided to move. He shot forward behind a bulwark of flame, while waves of Earth ki crashed behind him. Salim met with a similar construction of sand. The two clashed in the wake of their techniques’ dismissal. Qi coursed through their limbs as they traded punches and kicks so quickly Boneroot could barely keep track.

Master Fan retreated back for a moment, having taken a strike to his abdomen, but he was quickly assaulted by more sand. Dunes rose and fell on top of him, while more of it formed talons to slash at his legs. All of it was rebutted by quick bursts of fiery ki. Fed up with playing defense, he conjured a spinning pillar of flame in between him and Salim. The burning cyclone began to pull sand towards its center, siphoning the attacks away from its master. Salim responded with even more sand. Soon, the arena was a chaotic vortex of earth and fire competing for supremacy while two cultivators struck at each other from within the eye of the storm.

The audience could barely see the two high-level cultivators go at it for the maelstrom of chaos which engulfed the stage. The sheer amount of essence being thrown about was astonishing. Sand splashed up against the invisible walls in frantic waves. Smoke billowed up into the sky and the heat of the battle was starting to reach out of the enclosed arena. Boneroot watched the fight in awe.

It was quickly becoming clear, however, that the Yashi clan’s overwhelming art would win the battle of attrition. So, it was no surprise when Master Fan recalled his technique and replaced it, hunkering down behind an omnidirectional shield of roiling fire. Jets of sand battered the stout cultivator’s defenses. As the dusty storm raged, Salim rode around in the currents of his earthen tempest, firing off stone projectiles paired with the occasional qi assault. In one such attack, however, he committed to much, overextending from his guerilla style of attack. Immediately, the bastion of flames exploded outward.

Salim was knocked back, bouncing once off the ground. The storm faltered briefly in that time, but it was more than enough for Master Fan to capitalize on it. He darted toward the reeling cultivator, a trail of ash at his feet, and struck out with twin streams of searing Fire ki, which hit their mark on Salim’s bare chest. In an instant, the exhibition was over.

The invisible barriers came down and a wall of sand slid toward the audience for a moment before it started to filter back toward Salim. While the loser of the duel rubbed at the scorch marks on his skin, Master Fan gave a quick bow to the crowd and Grand Master Yan retook the stage.

“An excellent display,” she said. “Thank you very much Master Fan, Expert Salim. And to you, young disciples, take a moment to process the battle you have just witnessed. We will begin the assessment shortly. If you do not strive for your own version of their excellence, you may find yourself out of a sect come the end of the year.”

Grand Master Yan stepped away from the platform and struck up a conversation with Salim Yashi, who was taking the loss in stride, animatedly miming how close he came to victory. Looking on was Alheri Zafi, who looked torn between pleasure and disappointment at her countryman’s defeat.

Boneroot turned his attention toward Iris, who was struggling to articulate her reaction to the last few minutes of action. He gave her a moment to collect her thoughts while Kuroki and Biku did excited laps around each other. He only caught snippets of their nonverbal conversation,

“Wapow! And then the sand!”

“Yes, the sand! Indeed, the sandy dirt!”

Iris’ spirit beast had taken to using the biggest words he knew to compensate for the tsovar’s superior cultivation.

“That was not what I expected,” Iris said. “They didn’t... I can’t... It was insane!”

Boneroot nodded amicably. Before he could respond, however, their conversation was interrupted by one of the disciples behind them.

“Insane? Please. They barely even fought. Perhaps if she wanted to inspire everyone, Grand Master Yan should have chosen combatants who aren’t languishing in the Blue realm.”

The pair turned to look at their interloper and were unpleasantly surprised to find the most obviously noble individual in the entire audience.

The boy’s gaunt features and hooked nose were another surprise, particularly on a cultivator. His robes were a mass of flowing, patterned silk, which completely concealed each inch of his body. Black hair was pulled back in a top knot so tight it visibly tugged at the top of his forehead.

“I suppose I can’t fault commoners for being easily impressed,” he said with his eyes closed and his head wilting in a contemptuous sigh. “Before that buffoon Li Doa took power, I’m assured sights like this were downright boring in the halls of the Tiankaiji.”

At the last word, his eyes opened slightly, his gaze tilting up toward Boneroot and Iris.

“I am Bao Tiankaiji.”

Again, the name didn’t provoke the reaction he wanted.

“One of the Five Glorious Families.”

Nothing.

“Retainers to the past two Emperors? From what backwater village, or poor excuse for a city do you two hail? Surely, the education system hasn’t deteriorated that far?”

At this point, Boneroot actually had remembered Kroshieshi mentioning the fall from grace of the Tiankaiji clan after Empress Ushi Daizhen was usurped. He didn’t see much point in revealing that fact, however.

Iris was staring the boy down with a disdain to match his own. A thin, pale hand snaked out of the tunnels of Bao’s sleeves to massage at his temple. He sighed even more dramatically.

“I told Father this sect was on the decline, but even I had not predicted it would be so severe. Oh, you poor fools, I do hope you take your ejection at the end of the year in stride. Why, to have the opportunity to study here is an honor for those such as yourselves.”

Before he left the two dumbstruck cultivators, Bao Tiankaiji gave each one a consoling pat on the arm and a shockingly sincere, yet pitying smile. Even Kuroki and Biku had stopped their play fighting to gawk at the boy’s back.

Iris broke the silence.

“I really hope I get to fight him.”

“Really? That’s brave. He’s stronger than you, you know,” Kuroki said casually.

Boneroot grimaced, but he didn’t get the chance to reprimand his companion.

“Oh,” Iris responded in a crestfallen tone. “I am pretty weak. That makes sense.”

Biku swatted at Kuroki, who retaliated much harder than necessary. At that, Boneroot did finally scold the cat and force him into his shadow on threat of withholding playtime.

Fortunately, Iris shook off her disheartenment just in time for Grand Master Yan’s return to the stage.

“Alright, thank you for your patience! We have sorted out the assignments and can begin the fights shortly. The way this will work is in six waves of eight fights and then one last set of two fights. This should allow you all to check out your comrades and competition. Now, when I call your name, you will go with one of the eight other masters as directed.”

Tension began to build once again in the crowd, as the disciples realized they could be fighting within minutes.

“First, Da Gunbang and Lu Giang please follow Master Fan.”

Two well-built young men stepped forward out of the audience with only a moment’s hesitation, after which they walked with Master Fan to an insignificant patch of land a few dozen paces to the east of the raised platform. Grand Master Yan announced eight more pairings, who quickly, and often shakily, found their way to their designated locations.

Boneroot didn’t recognize any of the names and Iris didn’t seem to either. One more announcement was made once the sparring pairs were ready with each of the other masters.

“You are all free to attend whichever fight you’d like to observe, or none, if you so choose. Begin at your master’s discretion.”

Swarms of disciples broke off toward each sparring site, with none appearing to draw much more attention than any of the others. Boneroot and Iris decided to follow after not the most interesting disciples, but the most interesting master.

In fact, the person whose fight they attended was someone the boy had his eye on since first arriving at the stone arena that morning. What marked this master as intriguing, specifically, was his age. He was the first cultivator Boneroot had met to look truly old. He was tall and frail, but held no sign of the hunched back, or troubled gait that might afflict an elderly mortal. Brown pupils peeked out from below nearly closed eyelids. His long, white beard stirred in a breeze localized to his person.

A couple paces to his left stood another of the eighteen experts and masters present on the stone platform earlier. He was a man whose rigid posture was nearly comical. His hair was shorn nearly bald and with a serious face he surveyed the growing group of observers. The look in his dark eyes was equal parts scorn and boredom. Boneroot guessed the two of them to represent the Master and Expert for Wind ki respectively.

The disciples about to fight were less noteworthy, but not entirely forgettable. One of them had a few colorful jewels and embroideries adorning his purple robe, while the other appeared to be another scion of Hamagari. She had soft, blue eyes, but a masculine cut to her jaw. Her shaggy, blonde hair was cut short just below her ears. Her bronze skin and sparse clothing were similar to her compatriots, but with much less jewelry. The blank expression on her face didn’t change when their elderly overseer’s irritated voice rang out.

“I am Master Rabi. None of you have the right to ask me for anything. So don’t. Begin fighting.”

The two in the center of the makeshift arena formed by a ring of onlooking disciples looked at the old cultivator with considerable trepidation.

“Did I stutter?” Master Rabi glowered harder.

Finally, one of the two moved. The boy in purple robes struck out with a whip of water extending from his palm. His opponent dodged with a precise step inward and the whip cracked in the air behind her. From her own hands, the girl tossed out a blinding orb of Light ki. Through the glow, Boneroot could see the essence churning and roiling in the air. Solar ki, then. The ball approached slowly and its target dodged easily. He found, however, that the technique changed course, tracking him.

The fight lasted two, maybe three minutes. Neither cultivator used a wide array of techniques, as the Water cultivator lashed about with his whip skill and the girl focused on evading the attacks. Though the boy was able to dodge the Solar ki repeatedly, he never managed to get past his opponents defensive maneuvering. Eventually, the orb caught up to him and the fight ended in flash that left behind robes seared into flesh.

“Yalwa Haske is the winner. Get that wound treated over there, boy.” Master Rabi gestured to a small enclave of what appeared to be medical tents near the base of the next peak, staffed by only a few individuals. Boneroot kept an eye on them while he waited for the other fights to finish up. They looked to be making liberal use of a salve and some pills before telling the wounded to cultivate through the rest of their injuries.

The girl, Yalwa Haske, wiped some sweat from her brow before bowing to Master Rabi and his rolled eyes. She rejoined the disciples around her, but kept to herself, engaging no one in the fervent murmuring and gossiping which abounded while they waited for the spars to resume.

The next two rounds of fighting passed without much of note happening. Boneroot and Iris chose to continue watching the fights supervised by Master Rabi, mostly because nothing interesting pulled them away. That changed when Grand Master Yan announced those who would be in the fourth wave. She punctuated each sentence with a wave in the designated direction.

“Ning Zong and Fior Moyjun, attend Master Fan.”

“Ai Wang and Shu Yingzi, follow Master Lei.”

“Ryo Raiyun and Liang Pao with Master Rabi.”

“Lula Vo In and Zhi Zhen with Master Bo.”

“Meiling Asa and Iris with Master Liling.”