Chapter 203: Chapter 202: Ten Thousand Dreams
Timeline: TC1853.04.14 (Next Day)
Location: Various Locations Across Empire
Tomas Wei walked the dirt road back to his village with jade token burning against his chest like a second heartbeat.
The fields looked the same as they had yesterday morning when he’d left for the Eighth Ring Guild Mission Hall—endless rows of grain rippling in afternoon wind, irrigation channels cutting geometric patterns through farmland that stretched to the horizon. His family’s plot sat three kilometers west, twelve acres that five generations of Weis had worked until their hands were as rough as the soil itself.
Everything looked the same.
Everything felt different.
His daughter spotted him first, running down the road with seven-year-old energy that ignored the heat. "Papa! Did you test? Did the crystal work? Can you really cultivate?"
Tomas caught her up, spinning her once before setting her down. "The crystal worked."
"And?"
He pulled out the jade token, letting sunlight catch the inscribed formations. His daughter’s eyes went wide.
"You can cultivate," she breathed. "Papa, you can actually cultivate."
"Earth-aligned. Medium potential." The words still felt strange in his mouth. "Not exceptional. But enough."
His daughter hugged him with fierce intensity. "Mama said you’d come home disappointed. She said the nobles wouldn’t really let people like us learn cultivation. But you did it. You actually did it!"
They walked together toward the family farm, his daughter chattering excitedly about what cultivation must be like, spinning fantasies built from stories and hopes. Tomas let her talk, mind occupied with harder questions.
What if it was a trick? What if nobles were somehow using this recruitment to identify commoners with spiritual capacity for... something else? What if he traveled to Seven Peaks only to discover the whole thing was an elaborate deception?
His wife waited in the doorway of their small house, expression mixing hope and caution in equal measure. She’d been the one who’d encouraged him to apply, but she was also practical enough to fear disappointment.
"Well?" she asked as they approached.
Tomas held up the jade token.
His wife’s hand went to her mouth. "By the Light. It’s real."
"The crystal said I have spiritual roots." Tomas entered the house, setting down his pack. "Earth-aligned. Medium potential. Not strong, but enough to qualify."
"What does that mean?" His wife followed him inside, closing the door against the afternoon heat. "What happens now?"
"Recruitment begins in sixteen days. I go to Seven Peaks Territory. They provide housing, training, and resources. Everything."
"For how long?"
That was the question he’d been avoiding. "The recruitment announcement didn’t specify. Years, probably. However long it takes to learn cultivation properly."
His wife sat down heavily at their kitchen table, worn wood scarred from decades of use. "Years. You’d be gone for years."
"Maybe," Tomas admitted. "Or maybe just months for basic training. I don’t know. The Guild staff couldn’t give specifics."
"And the farm?"
"Your brother can work our plot. His sons are old enough to help. We’d share harvest profits while I’m gone."
His wife looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Not anger. Not disappointment. Something more complex—fear mixed with understanding, practical concern layered over deeper hope.
"What if it’s a trick?" she asked quietly. "What if nobles are using this to identify people with spiritual capacity so they can... I don’t know. Eliminate threats? Control us somehow?"
Tomas had asked himself the same question a dozen times during the walk home. "Then I’m already identified. The crystal scanned me. Whatever they want to do with that information, they can do it whether I go to Seven Peaks or not."
"But if you go—"
"I might actually learn cultivation." Tomas met his wife’s eyes directly. "Our daughter could grow up watching her father become a cultivator. Our family could rise above fields and dirt and being invisible to nobles. This is the only chance people like us ever get. I have to try."
His wife was quiet for a long moment. Then she reached across the table and took his hand. "Then you try. And we’ll manage the farm. And in a few years, maybe our daughter can test too when she’s old enough."
Relief flooded through Tomas. He’d been prepared to fight for this, to argue and insist. Having his wife’s support made the fear manageable.
"I need to tell the village elder," he said. "Show him the token. Ask for a blessing."
"He’ll try to talk you out of it," his wife warned. "Elder Ren doesn’t trust anything that sounds too good to be true."
"I know. But he deserves to see proof that cultivation is possible for us."
Elder Ren lived at the village center in a house only slightly larger than Tomas’s own. The old man—perhaps seventy, weathered by decades of farming—sat on his porch whittling wood with practiced hands.
"Tomas Wei," he said without looking up. "Heard you went to the city yesterday. Testing for that cultivation recruitment."
"I did." Tomas climbed the porch steps, pulling out the jade token. "And I qualified."
Elder Ren’s hands stilled. He looked up, ancient eyes studying Tomas with intensity that seemed to see through skin to something deeper.
"Show me."
Tomas handed over the jade token. Elder Ren turned it over slowly, examining the inscribed formations with attention that suggested he recognized something about them.
"Earth-aligned," the old man said quietly. "Medium potential. The crystal judged you capable of cultivation."
"You can read the inscriptions?"
"My grandfather could cultivate," Elder Ren said, voice carrying the weight of old grief. "Not much. Just enough to be dangerous to people who wanted cultivation monopolized. The families killed him when I was young. Said he was practicing forbidden arts. But really..." The old man’s fingers traced the jade token’s formations. "Really, they just couldn’t tolerate a farmer’s son who could manipulate spiritual energy better than their mediocre scions."
Tomas felt cold settle in his chest despite the afternoon heat. "They killed him for cultivating?"
"They killed hundreds," Elder Ren replied. "Back before the Sundering, when magic was common and spiritual energy was available to anyone willing to learn. The families couldn’t maintain their monopoly through force because too many commoners had power. So they waited. And when the Sundering happened, and spiritual energy collapsed..." He looked up at Tomas. "They used that chaos to eliminate everyone who’d learned to cultivate without family approval. Called it ’restoring order.’ Killed cultivators. Destroyed techniques. Rewrote history to claim cultivation required noble bloodlines."
"But it doesn’t," Tomas said quietly. "The crystal proved—"
"The crystal proved what my grandfather tried to tell people before they hanged him. That cultivation potential exists in everyone. That families have been lying for centuries to maintain control." Elder Ren handed back the jade token. "If you go to Seven Peaks, you’ll be walking into the kind of fight that got my grandfather killed. Are you prepared for that?"
Tomas clutched the jade token, feeling its weight. "I’m prepared to try. And if nobles come after me for learning cultivation..." He met Elder Ren’s eyes. "Then at least I’ll die having tried something beyond fields and dirt."
The old man studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.
"My grandfather would have liked you. Go to Seven Peaks. Learn cultivation. And when you’re strong enough..." Elder Ren’s voice carried steel beneath aged roughness. "Remember the people they killed for trying to be more than what families allowed."
***
The Ashford family dinner table was set with expensive porcelain and silver cutlery that represented three generations of successful merchant operations. Yuki sat across from her parents, jade token in her pocket, feeling heavier than the serving dishes between them.
Her mother had barely spoken since Yuki returned from the Guild Mission Hall that afternoon. Her father had tried maintaining normal conversation—asking about her day, mentioning merchant guild politics, discussing upcoming trade negotiations—but his eyes kept returning to the jade token Yuki had placed deliberately beside her plate.
Finally, as servants cleared the main course, her father broke the careful pretense.
"High potential," he said quietly. "Water-aligned. That’s what the crystal said?"
"Yes." Yuki met his gaze without flinching.
"The assessors we paid—all five of them, including the Celestial family healer—they were wrong?"
"They weren’t wrong," Yuki replied. "They were lying. Or their methods were designed to miss spiritual capacity in non-noble bloodlines."
Her mother set down her teacup with careful control that didn’t hide her trembling hands. "You can’t know that. The crystal could be faulty. The whole thing could be some kind of political manipulation—"
"Fifteen thousand people applied in Imperial City alone in the first two days," Yuki interrupted. "Six thousand qualified. That’s forty percent of applicants. If the crystal was faulty or if commoners truly lacked spiritual capacity, the qualification rate would be near zero."
"Or the standards are too lenient," her mother countered. "Real cultivation requires specific bloodline markers that—"
"That don’t exist," Yuki’s father said, voice quiet but cutting. "I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon. About how much money we spent on assessors. About how many times we were told our daughter had no talent. About how convenient it was that every assessor we consulted belonged to noble families or served their interests."
He looked at Yuki with something that might have been an apology. "They lied to us. Took our money and told us you were ordinary because letting merchant-class children cultivate would threaten their monopoly."
"We don’t know that," Yuki’s mother insisted, but her voice carried less certainty.
"We know the crystal said she has high potential," Yuki’s father replied. "We know she could join a legitimate cultivation organization that’s already attracted thousands of applicants. We know—" He paused, choosing words carefully. "We know that cultivation has always been the one thing our money couldn’t buy. And now it’s being offered freely to anyone with capacity."
"Seven Peaks isn’t established," Yuki’s mother argued. "It’s barely three months old. They don’t have history or reputation or—"
"They have objective testing that proved I can cultivate when five expensive assessors said I couldn’t," Yuki cut in. "Mother, I’ve spent my entire life being told I was ordinary. Being introduced to potential suitors as ’the merchant’s daughter who can handle accounts’ instead of anything impressive. Watching you and Father try to arrange advantageous marriages because cultivation was impossible. And now..." She pulled out the jade token. "Now I have proof that I’m not ordinary. That I have high potential. And you want me to ignore that because the organization offering training isn’t old enough?"
Her mother’s composure cracked. "I want you to be safe. I want you to not walk into a situation that could get you hurt or used or—"
"Or elevated," Yuki’s father interrupted gently. "That’s what you’re really afraid of. That she’ll succeed. That she’ll become a cultivator when we couldn’t buy that for her with all our wealth."
Silence fell over the table. Servants had withdrawn, leaving the family alone with expensive porcelain and uncomfortable truths.
"What if the noble families retaliate?" Yuki’s mother finally asked. "What if they punish commoners who dare to cultivate? What if they come after the people at Seven Peaks or—"
"Then I’ll be there," Yuki said firmly. "Learning to protect myself. Becoming strong enough that noble families can’t just eliminate me for being inconvenient."
"You’re nineteen," her mother whispered. "You’re supposed to be planning your wedding, not running off to some revolutionary cultivation sect—"
"I don’t want a wedding where I’m sold to enhance our family connections," Yuki replied, voice harder than she’d intended. "I want a future where I matter for what I can do, not who I marry. This is my chance. Maybe the only one I’ll ever get. I’m taking it."
Her father was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached across the table and took Yuki’s hand.
"When do you leave?"
"Recruitment begins in sixteen days. I should probably arrive early to get oriented."
"Then you’ll need proper supplies." Her father’s merchant mind was already working. "Quality traveling clothes. Cultivation manuals—I’ll check with the Merchant Guild for anything they’ve collected. Spiritual herbs, if we can acquire them. Enough money to—"
"The recruitment announcement said the sect provides everything," Yuki interrupted.
"Then money for emergencies. And communication crystals so you can contact us. And—" Her father’s voice caught. "And a father’s blessing, if you’ll accept it."
Yuki felt tears she’d been holding back finally escape. "Thank you."
Her mother looked between them with an expression mixing grief and resignation. "I can’t stop you. I can’t protect you. All I can do is..." She stood abruptly, leaving the table without finishing the sentence.
Yuki watched her mother go, then looked at her father. "She’ll adjust?"
"Eventually." Her father squeezed her hand gently. "Your mother loves you. She’s just terrified of what cultivation might cost. Give her time to understand that the greater cost would be watching you waste high potential because we were afraid."
***
Commander Marcus Flint looked at Kade across the garrison office desk with an expression mixing frustration and disbelief.
"You’re under contract," Flint said flatly. "Two more months of service. You don’t get to just leave for cultivation training."
"My contract ends in exactly eight weeks," Kade replied, keeping his voice level. "Recruitment begins in sixteen days. I’ll serve my remaining time, then pursue cultivation. I’m requesting leave for the final two weeks to prepare—"
"Denied." Flint’s tone left no room for argument. "You’re a sergeant. Your squad relies on you. I’m not approving leave so you can chase some commoner cultivation fantasy."
Kade had expected this. Flint was an old guard—career military who believed in hierarchy, discipline, and maintaining social order. The idea that sergeants could become cultivators would seem like chaos to him.
"Sir, five other soldiers from our garrison tested positive," Kade said carefully. "Three enlisted men and two corporals. All of them qualified with the spiritual capacity testing. This isn’t just me pursuing a fantasy. This is a genuine opportunity that—"
"That undermines military structure," Flint interrupted. "You think I want soldiers believing they can abandon their posts to become cultivators? You think I want men thinking they’re too good for regular service once some crystal says they have spiritual roots?"
"That’s not what’s happening—"
"That’s exactly what’s happening." Flint stood, pacing to the window that overlooked the garrison training yard. "I’ve already had three enlisted men request early contract termination. Two corporals are asking about extended leave. And now my senior sergeant wants to leave for cultivation training. Do you understand what that does to unit cohesion?"
Kade understood. But he also understood what declining this opportunity would cost. "Sir, with respect—cultivation training could actually benefit military service. Cultivators in combat units would be valuable. If soldiers can learn spiritual techniques and then return to apply those skills—"
"If they return," Flint cut in. "You think people who learn cultivation will want to come back to garrison duty? You think they’ll still follow orders from officers who can’t cultivate?"
The real fear was showing through now. Not concern for unit cohesion. Fear that cultivation would destroy the carefully maintained military hierarchy that kept commanders in authority over common soldiers.
"I’m not asking to abandon my post," Kade said. "I’m asking to pursue training that could make me a better soldier. And I’m willing to serve my full contract first. Just requesting leave for the final two weeks to prepare properly."
"And if I deny your leave?" Flint’s question carried a challenge.
"Then I serve until my contract expires and go to Seven Peaks immediately after," Kade replied. "Either way, I’m going. The question is whether I go with the garrison’s blessing or despite its opposition."
Flint turned from the window, studying Kade with a veteran’s assessment that had measured hundreds of soldiers over decades of command. Whatever he saw made him shake his head slowly.
"You’re really going to do this."
"Yes, sir."
"Even though it probably ends your military career. Even though other units won’t want a sergeant who abandoned conventional service for cultivation. Even though you’re thirty-five years old, starting something most people begin as teenagers."
"Even though," Kade confirmed.
Flint was quiet for a long moment. Then he moved to his desk, pulling out request forms. "Two weeks’ leave approved. If you are rejected, you’ll return to serve your contract fully. If accepted..."
Kade hadn’t expected that. "Sir?"
"I don’t like this," Flint said, filling out the forms with sharp, precise movements. "I think it’s going to cause problems we’re not prepared to handle. I think soldiers pursuing cultivation will destroy the military structure. But..." He looked up. "But I also know you’re a good soldier. If you think this is worth doing, then maybe it is. Just don’t expect me to be happy about losing my best sergeant to some revolutionary sect."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don’t thank me yet. The other five soldiers who tested positive? They’re also requesting similar arrangements. Word is spreading through the garrison. By next week, I’ll probably have fifty enlisted men asking about cultivation opportunities." Flint handed over the signed forms. "You’re starting something that’s going to change how military service works. I hope you’re ready for that."
Kade took the forms, mind already considering implications. If soldiers across the Empire were pursuing cultivation training, if commoners in military service were discovering they had spiritual capacity...
The entire social structure was about to shift in ways that would terrify people who benefited from the current hierarchy.
"I’ll be ready," he said.
***
The Fourth Ring Guild Mission Hall had descended into controlled chaos.
Chen Li stood at the reception desk at noon, watching three separate incidents unfold simultaneously: a fight breaking out near the testing crystal between applicants who’d been waiting since dawn, a group of noble representatives demanding immediate audience with guild leadership, and a family argument explosive enough that guards were moving to intervene.
"Break it up!" one guard shouted, separating two men who’d come to blows over line position. "You fight, you’re both disqualified. No exceptions."
The testing crystal pulsed with steady light, indifferent to the human drama surrounding it. Another applicant touched the surface. Results displayed. Qualified. Jade token generated. Next person.
The system worked flawlessly. The people were the problem.
Chen’s assistant appeared at her elbow, looking harassed. "The noble representatives are demanding we halt recruitment immediately. They say—"
"I know what they say," Chen interrupted, watching the family argument escalate. A mother was physically restraining her daughter from approaching the testing crystal while the father argued with both. "Tell the nobles I’m occupied managing the hundreds of applicants currently in this facility and can’t meet until the end of the day."
"They won’t accept that."
"Then they can wait or leave. Their choice."
Her assistant departed. Chen moved toward the family conflict, guards already arriving but needing higher authority for certain decisions.
The daughter—perhaps sixteen, wearing merchant-class clothing—was crying with frustration. "You can’t stop me from testing! The recruitment is open to everyone!"
"You’re too young," her mother insisted, grip on the girl’s arm tight enough to leave marks. "You don’t understand what you’re risking—"
"I understand I might have spiritual capacity," the daughter shot back. "I understand this is my only chance to find out before you marry me off to someone’s worthless son!"
The father looked torn between supporting his wife and wanting to let his daughter test. "If she qualifies, if she has high potential... we could delay the marriage arrangements. Give her time to train before—"
"Before what?" the mother demanded. "Before she gets hurt trying to cultivate? Before noble families retaliate against commoners who dare to rise above their station? Before—"
"Enough." Chen’s voice cut through the argument with administrative authority honed over decades. "This is a testing facility, not a family therapy hall. The girl is sixteen, which is within recruitment age parameters. She’s allowed to test."
"She needs parental consent," the mother protested.
"Actually, she doesn’t." Chen pulled out the recruitment guidelines. "Applicants sixteen and older can test independently. Those younger than sixteen require guardian approval. Your daughter can make her own choice."
The mother’s face went red with fury. "You can’t just—"
"I can," Chen interrupted. "This recruitment operates under Guild authority, which supersedes family permissions for applicants of age. Your daughter can test if she chooses. You can support that decision or oppose it, but you can’t prevent it."
The daughter pulled free of her mother’s grip and moved toward the testing line before anyone could stop her. Her father looked relieved. Her mother looked devastated.
Chen understood both reactions. This recruitment was tearing families apart—dividing parents who wanted safety for their children and those who wanted opportunity, splitting households between fear and hope.
It was necessary. But that didn’t make it easy to watch.
A Guild runner appeared with an urgent expression. "Administrator Chen? The Guild Master wants numbers. Total applications across all Mission Halls in Imperial City as of noon today."
Chen consulted her notes, mind calculating rapidly. "Twenty-two thousand, four hundred and sixteen applications. Nine thousand, three hundred and seven qualified candidates. Qualification rate holding steady at forty-one percent."
The runner’s eyes went wide. "Twenty-two thousand in three days?"
"And growing," Chen confirmed. "At current rates, we’ll hit thirty thousand by week’s end. Empire-wide projections..." She paused, considering numbers that shouldn’t be possible. "Sixty to eighty thousand total applications remains realistic."
"For five hundred positions."
"Yes."
The runner departed to deliver numbers to Guild leadership. Chen turned back to the testing hall, watching the endless line of applicants, the noble representatives demanding a halt, the guards maintaining order, the crystal pulsing with steady light.
Revolution.
It wasn’t armies or governments. It was thousands of ordinary people discovering they weren’t ordinary. That they possessed the capacity nobles had claimed was impossible. That cultivation didn’t require bloodline, permission, or family approval.
Just spiritual roots and determination.
Chen watched a farmer receive his jade token with an expression of stunned joy. Watched a factory worker get rejected and walk away with crushed hopes. Watched families argue, and strangers fight, and desperate people wait for hours just to touch a crystal for five seconds.
Ten thousand dreams.
Maybe more.
All of them were changing the world, whether the world was ready or not.
