He picked up both rings, one in each hand, feeling their weight settle not in his palm but somewhere deeper within his awareness.

  Knowledge, herbs, techniques — entire lifetimes of accumulation rested inside them. The silver ring radiated calm refinement; when he brushed his consciousness against it, streams of information unfolded — high-level cultivation techniques, movement arts, defensive formations, and refined manuals untouched by demonic influence. It felt disciplined, structured, almost scholarly.

  The red ring, however, pulsed differently. A darker rhythm throbbed beneath its surface, carrying traces of violent intent. Demonic arts, forbidden skills, strange cultivation paths, and rare herbs unknown to the mortal world lay sealed within it. Even sensing them made the air around him feel heavier, as though the ring itself possessed a will that watched its new owner carefully.

  Before Eklavya could explore further, glowing sentences formed in the air, the rings, each word sharp and undeniable: “You will only be able to learn techniques permitted by your current realm. Additional techniques will unlock as you advance.” He let out a slow breath. “Of course,” he muttered. “Even divine inheritances come with restrictions.”

  A faint tremor rippled through the space again. A third ring appeared before him — forged of intertwined red, white, and black metal, crowned by a small dragon-shaped crest coiled around its surface. The earlier two rings drifted toward it automatically, drawn by an unseen force. A brilliant channel of light connected them, humming softly like flowing energy. For a brief moment, the three artifacts shone together, then the silver and crimson rings dissolved into streams of light and vanished back into the token.

  The tri-colored ring alone descended slowly and settled onto Eklavya’s finger, fitting perfectly as though crafted specifically for him.

  “Huh?!” He turned his hand, examining it carefully. When he probed its storage space, realisation dawned. All the herbs from the previous rings had transferred seamlessly, yet only a limited selection of techniques remained accessible — the rest locked away behind invisible seals.

  The inheritance was regulating him, preventing reckless growth. He exhaled slowly within his sea of consciousness, half relieved and half disappointed. Unlimited power sounded appealing until one remembered the tendency of unlimited power to kill inexperienced owners.

  Moments later, his awareness withdrew. Eklavya opened his eyes in his room, morning light still spilling across the floor. The transition felt smoother this time, though faint exhaustion lingered beneath his calm expression. He stood, stretched lightly, and walked toward the door before opening it and stepping outside.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “I need pills for a breakthrough…” he muttered to himself while walking. “Good thing Avrah was a high-tier alchemist…” His sentence trailed off as realisation struck him mid-step. “…but I don’t actually know how to make pills.”

  He stopped briefly, staring ahead with mild disbelief at his own situation. Possessing legendary alchemical knowledge without practical skill felt suspiciously similar to owning a library while being unable to read half the books. “Right,” he sighed. “Pill Hall. Elder help it is.” He stepped forward again, raising his arms in a lazy stretch before letting them fall back to his sides.

  The clan grounds bustled with familiar life as he moved along the pathways. Members prepared to leave for the market, merchants discussed prices, and warriors adjusted equipment before heading out. Conversations overlapped into a steady hum of activity. In the large courtyard, children ran freely, laughter echoing beneath the morning sky. Two-story residential buildings surrounded the courtyard on three sides, while the eastern side held only a single-floor structure, allowing sunlight to flood the open space.

  Several large trees stood planted across the courtyard, each fitted with rope swings tied securely to sturdy branches, wooden seats swaying gently as younger children competed for turns. Watching them briefly, Eklavya felt an odd calm — a reminder that while his life had suddenly become complicated, the world itself continued normally.

  He exited the residential area and entered the clan’s central region. The administrative complex and all things related to it stood on the east side. To the west lay the residential quarter he had just left, to the south the main clan gate leading outward toward the city, and to the north stood the clan’s private academy — a sprawling compound filled with students moving between lessons and training grounds.

  The academy was divided into four major sections: Primary, Secondary, High, and Inter. The Primary section trained children between five and nine years old; Secondary covered ages ten to twelve; High included thirteen to sixteen; and Inter extended from seventeen up to twenty-five, where advanced cultivation and specialisation began. Students moved through courtyards in disciplined groups, some practising breathing techniques, others sparring lightly under instructor supervision.

  Eklavya watched them quietly as he walked past. He himself had never attended the academy. His cultivation progress had once been painfully slow compared to other students — those in Secondary already reaching Heart Chakra levels, while High section students commonly advanced toward Practitioner Warrior stages.

  Rather than forcing him into constant comparison, his parents had chosen private tutors to teach him theory at home. Now, at sixteen, he had technically completed the High-level curriculum through personal study. A faint smile tugged inside. ‘Life,’ he thought, ‘had a peculiar sense of timing.’