The city was already alive with noise and movement by the time the morning sun spilled its light over the rooftops. The roads stretched wide, filled with people moving back and forth like ants in a nest, each one hurrying with purpose. Hawkers raised their voices above the din, calling out prices, praising the freshness of their goods, or boasting about rare items brought in from the wilderness. Stalls that had been bare and closed the night before now stood ready within minutes, canopies tied down, counters stacked, and eager merchants waiting to make their silver for the day.
"Excuse me, Mister, how much is this dried monster meat?"
The voice belonged to a young man with sharp, full eyebrows and high-set cheekbones. He had paused before a stall where strips of brown meat hung from hooks, swaying slightly in the morning air. Each strip looked tough and leathery, giving off a faint smoky scent. Some were thin and brittle, others thick with sinew, while a few still clung to bony shapes. All of it looked like it came from the same beast, though the cuts varied.
The stall owner, a burly middle-aged man with a white headband tied tightly around his forehead, glanced up. His hands, broad and scarred, rested on the handle of a butcher's knife that gleamed dully in the sunlight.
"Oh, young boy!" the man said, his voice booming with practiced friendliness. "I can see you've got solid bones and strong shoulders. You must have great potential! How about two silver coins per pound? That's already the lowest I can give. Any cheaper and I'd be cutting my own throat in business."
"What!?" The young man's eyes widened. "Two silver coins per pound? Are you out of your mind?"
The butcher's smile didn't falter. Instead, he leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Hey now, don't act surprised. You know the goods. This isn't ordinary meat. This comes from a fierce magical beast, brought down only after a team of hunters risked their lives in the wilderness. One of them even left the field with a broken arm. That price is more than fair—even if you told others, they'd agree."
The young man's lips pressed together, ready to argue further, but before he could speak, a loud commotion cut through the market.
"Hey! Out of the way! Move it!"
The shout came from a middle-aged coachman, seated atop a glossy black carriage trimmed with silver. The carriage was too wide for the crowded street, yet he didn't pull back the reins. The horses surged forward without hesitation. People scrambled aside, but one unfortunate man was a moment too slow.
Thud!
The man was struck and knocked to the ground, rolling painfully across the dirt road. Gasps rippled through the crowd, but the coachman only snorted.
"That's what you get for standing in the road!" he barked, flicking a copper coin at the injured man. Without another glance, he whipped the reins and the carriage rolled on, turning the corner and disappearing into the bustle.
The fallen man staggered upright, clutching his side. Though anger burned in his eyes, he bit down on his tongue and said nothing. Confronting someone inside that carriage would be no different from throwing away his own life.
"Tsk, who does that guy think he is? So arrogant!"
Whispers spread quickly among the crowd. Still, most people lowered their heads, unwilling to step in.
A companion of the injured man approached, carrying a bulging bag filled with herbs and dried animal skins. He placed a steadying hand on his friend's back and spoke quietly. "Forget it. Those men belong to the Leopard Escort Agency. The one inside is likely the son of the owner, and he's here for that event." He pointed toward the city center, where the flow of people grew denser and the roads widened.
The first man spat to the side, still seething. "Hmph! As if he'll actually get selected. Just watch—those arrogant fools will come crawling back like lost dogs." He shook his head, muttering as the two walked on.
Scenes like this weren't rare in the city, especially today. Some ended in shouting matches, others in fistfights, but the city's law enforcers, clad in silver armor, never let things spiral too far. At the first sign of trouble, they appeared, heavy boots pounding the streets, quickly restoring order before moving on.
At the very heart of the city, five wide brick roads converged like the arms of a star. Each road led directly into the central square, where lines of young men and women—most between the ages of fifteen and twenty—waited in neat rows. At every intersection, squads of armored enforcers stood watch, silver chestplates gleaming, spears planted firmly on the ground.
Above the lines, a floating steel ring hovered, humming faintly. Whenever someone passed beneath it, the ring released a soft glow of blue light that rippled like water.
"Passed!" barked the inspector.
One by one, youths stepped through, their faces tense with excitement or fear. Some clenched their fists tightly, while others whispered prayers under their breath.
Suddenly, the glow shifted from blue to a harsh, burning red.
"Failed! Drag him out!"
A middle-aged man, who had tried to blend in with the younger candidates, was seized by two towering enforcers.
Clang!
His protests rang out as he was hauled away. "Wait, no! I'm still young! You can't—"
The inspector sneered. "Old fool, trying to trick us. Did you think the Lord would let frauds slip through? Thanks to the 'Truth ring,' your lies are useless."
The line continued to move briskly. No one dared to look back.
In the very center of the square stood an open space paved with a strange white stone, smoother than any brick or cement. Rising from its middle was a massive tower, eight stories tall. The top level widened into a circular viewing platform surrounded by wooden railings carved with fierce tigers and dragons. Their stone eyes seemed alive, watching both the city below and the skies above, guardians of this place of power.
"My friend Bai Chen, what do you think of this sight?"
Viscount Vale rested his hand on the railing of the platform, his gaze sweeping across the throng below. His sharp cheekbones and firm face looked carved from stone, though now softened by a rare smile.
Beside him stood a youth with striking red hair and eyes like glowing embers. Bai Chen leaned against the dragon carving, his expression calm as he looked down on the sea of people.
"It's good," he said evenly. "The streets are clean, the air is bright, and the people move with purpose. This city has the air of prosperity."
"Haha! Coming from you, that is no small praise, my friend." The Viscount's laughter was hearty, though it sat oddly on his usually stern features.
"It's nothing," Bai Chen replied with a polite smile. He knew better than to bruise a nobleman's pride. Strength and magic were important in this world, but knowing how to deal with people was just as vital.
Meanwhile, in a quieter corner of the city center, tents had sprung up to house the overflow of candidates. Inside one such tent, Zhang Wei lounged in a flexible chair, his arms folded. The muffled noise of the square reached him even here, a steady hum of voices and clashing emotions.
He had caught sight of Mei Yan and Ela earlier, entering a nearby tent together. For a moment, he had thought to join them, but something held him back. What surprised him most was that Ela had managed to pass the detection ring without issue. He had forgotten to warn them about it, but it seemed fortune had favored her—she was still young enough to qualify.
Zhang Wei leaned back, exhaling slowly. For now, it was enough to watch and wait.