The Greenstone Exchange Gathering was held at the City Cultivation Pavilion, a structure older than any single clan in the city.
Its stone steps were worn smooth by generations of cultivators. Tall pillars carved with ancient inscriptions surrounded the central plaza, each one humming faintly with stabilizing formations meant to suppress violent outbursts.
It was not a place for bloodshed.
It was a place where reputation was weighed.
Wen Chen arrived just after sunrise.
He wore simple robes bearing the Chen Clan emblem, neither extravagant nor plain. Behind him followed two elder escorts, their presence formal rather than protective.
The moment he stepped onto the pavilion grounds, the air changed.
Not hostile.
But attentive.
He could feel eyes turning toward him from every direction—some curious, some cautious, some openly calculating.
Stage 3 did not announce itself with noise.
It announced itself with absence.
Absence of pressure. Absence of urgency. Absence of the need to prove anything.
Wen Chen walked forward at an even pace, gaze level, breath calm.
First Impressions
Cultivators from multiple clans had already gathered.
He recognized insignias immediately.
The Zhao Clan, dressed in dark blue and silver.
The Lin Clan, known for their talisman craftsmanship.
Independent cultivators clustered near the periphery, careful not to draw attention.
As Wen Chen passed, whispers followed in his wake.
"That's him…"
"So young…"
"Stage 3 already…"
Some gazes lingered too long.
Wen Chen did not acknowledge them.
Instead, his perception expanded subtly, measuring the field without drawing attention to itself.
Zhao Han — Spirit Initiate, Stage 3 — Progress: 231 / 400
Lin Yue — Spirit Initiate, Stage 2 — Progress: 298 / 300
Independent Cultivator Qian Mo — Spirit Initiate, Stage 3 — Progress: 167 / 400
So there are others, Wen Chen thought.
Not many.
But enough.
He moved toward the Chen Clan's designated seating area and took his place.
The elders exchanged quiet words, but Wen Chen remained silent, observing.
The Pavilion's Opening
An elderly man in gray robes stepped onto the central platform.
The Pavilion Overseer.
"Welcome," he said calmly, his voice carrying without effort. "The Exchange Gathering exists to promote cooperation, understanding, and healthy competition."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Remember—this is not an arena."
Somewhere in the crowd, someone snorted softly.
The overseer continued, unfazed. "Disputes will be settled through controlled demonstrations and exchanges. Any violation will result in expulsion."
His gaze swept the crowd.
"Begin."
Controlled Exchanges
The first hours passed with formal exchanges.
Cultivators displayed techniques, artifacts, and refinement methods. Talismans changed hands. Pills were appraised. Knowledge was traded in measured words.
Wen Chen watched carefully.
This was not about strength alone.
It was about judgment.
Those who showed too much exposed themselves.
Those who showed too little invited dismissal.
A Lin Clan disciple demonstrated a flame-control talisman. Applause followed.
An independent cultivator presented a body-tempering method. Polite interest was shown.
Then—
A ripple passed through the pavilion.
Zhao Han stepped forward.
He bowed toward the overseer. "This junior requests a demonstration exchange."
The overseer nodded. "With whom?"
Zhao Han's gaze shifted.
It landed on Wen Chen.
Silence spread.
Wen Chen felt it—the subtle tightening of attention, the collective intake of breath.
Zhao Han smiled faintly. "If Young Master Wen agrees."
All eyes turned.
The Chen elders tensed slightly, but said nothing.
Wen Chen rose slowly.
He met Zhao Han's gaze evenly.
"I agree," he said.
The Exchange Arena
The arena was not large.
Circular, reinforced with formations that suppressed lethal force.
Wen Chen stepped inside.
Zhao Han followed, posture relaxed, aura restrained.
They bowed.
Then stood still.
No immediate attack.
No rush.
The silence stretched.
Wen Chen studied Zhao Han carefully.
His Qi was controlled, but not fully settled. Stage 3, but still adapting—much like himself.
Zhao Han spoke first.
"Your breakthrough was clean," he said quietly. "Impressive."
Wen Chen inclined his head slightly. "You're stable."
Zhao Han chuckled. "Careful. Compliments can sound like challenges here."
"Then let's keep it simple," Wen Chen replied.
Zhao Han nodded.
They moved.
Not explosively.
Deliberately.
Zhao Han's palm swept forward, Qi condensing around his hand in a controlled arc. Wen Chen stepped aside, redirecting the flow with a subtle twist of his wrist.
The impact dispersed harmlessly into the formation barrier.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
They exchanged blows—measured, precise.
No wasted movement.
No killing intent.
Each strike tested timing, control, and understanding rather than raw power.
Wen Chen felt the pressure building.
Not overwhelming.
But constant.
Zhao Han's techniques were refined, layered with intent. He wasn't trying to win.
He was trying to measure.
Wen Chen adjusted his breathing, circulating Qi in tighter cycles.
Then he stepped forward and placed his palm against Zhao Han's wrist—not striking, but anchoring.
The contact lasted only a breath.
Yet Zhao Han's eyes widened slightly.
He withdrew immediately.
They stepped back.
Silence followed.
The overseer raised a hand.
"That will suffice."
Relief mixed with disappointment rippled through the crowd.
The two bowed to each other.
Zhao Han smiled faintly. "As I thought."
Wen Chen met his gaze. "You're not finished growing."
"Neither are you," Zhao Han replied.
They stepped down.
Aftermath
Whispers exploded.
"Even match…"
"No clear winner…"
"Both Stage 3…"
Wen Chen returned to his seat calmly.
Inside, his Qi settled slowly.
The panel flickered briefly.
[Status Panel]
Name: Wen Chen
Realm: Spirit Initiate
Stage: 3
Progress: 132 / 400
Condition: Stable (minor exertion)
Evaluation: Combat refinement achieved
So that's the cost, he thought.
Every exchange refined him—but demanded more.
Quiet Understanding
Later, as the gathering continued, Zhao Han approached again—this time without the arena between them.
"Next time," Zhao Han said quietly, "it won't be so restrained."
Wen Chen nodded. "Then it won't be here."
Zhao Han laughed softly. "Fair."
They parted.
No hostility.
But no illusion either.
Nightfall – Gathering's End
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Pavilion Overseer announced the close of the day's exchanges.
Wen Chen stood once more at the edge of the plaza, looking out over the city.
He had been seen.
Measured.
Accepted.
And marked.
Stage 3 had placed him among peers.
But peers were not friends.
They were future obstacles.
He turned and left the pavilion grounds.
Tomorrow would be different.
The calm before was over.