Reborn as the Last van Ambrose-Chapter 232: Families

The Celestial Sect’s training grounds had taken on an atmosphere of mounting tension as the end of the first week approached.

What had begun as enthusiastic determination among the remaining students had gradually shifted into something more complex—a mixture of exhaustion, doubt, and whispered conversations that ceased whenever Shen Lao appeared.

Grim observed these developments from the balcony of his private quarters, watching as clusters of students gathered in the dormitory courtyards during their rest periods. Their body language spoke volumes about the internal struggles many were experiencing.

"The complaints are becoming more frequent," Chen Xing reported, joining him on the balcony with a folder of daily reports. "Several students have approached me about modifying the training regimen. Others have begun discussing departure dates."

"How many are seriously considering leaving?" Grim asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

"Perhaps two hundred," Chen Xing replied carefully. "Though the number seems to fluctuate based on daily performance and peer influence."

"And their reasons?"

Chen Xing said with obvious distaste. "The training is too demanding, the living conditions are inadequate, the instruction lacks proper academic structure. Some claim they could achieve better results through private tutoring."

Grim turned from his observation of the students to study his aide’s expression. "You sound disapproving."

"I find their reasoning shortsighted," Chen Xing replied diplomatically. "They came here seeking extraordinary abilities, yet they reject the extraordinary discipline required to achieve them."

"Indeed," Grim agreed. "Though their weakness presents an interesting opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"The kind that separates genuine commitment from temporary enthusiasm," Grim said with growing satisfaction.

"I want you to arrange for invitations to be sent to all student families. Parents, guardians, elder siblings—anyone with authority over the students’ decisions."

Chen Xing looked puzzled. "Invitations for what purpose?"

"A demonstration," Grim replied with quiet anticipation. "The families need to understand exactly what their children are choosing between."

"When should these invitations be sent?"

"Immediately," Grim decided. "Schedule the event for three days from now. That should provide sufficient time for families to make travel arrangements while maintaining the current tension level among the students."

"And the students themselves? Should they be informed about their families’ visit?"

"No," Grim said firmly. "Let it be a surprise. I want their reactions to be genuine when they’re faced with their families’ expectations."

As Chen Xing departed to arrange the invitations, Grim returned his attention to the students below.

[You’re planning something particularly ruthless,] Caius observed with what sounded like anticipation. [Using family shame as a motivational tool.]

"I’m providing clarity," Grim replied silently. "These students need to understand the full implications of their choices."

[And their families need to understand the full implications of their children’s weaknesses,] Caius added with approval. [Quite elegant, actually.]

"Public shame is remarkably effective at motivating behavioral change," Grim agreed. "Especially when it’s combined with the prospect of genuine achievement."

Three days later, the main training ground had been transformed into an amphitheater-style gathering space, with elevated seating arranged to provide clear views of the central demonstration area. Over eight hundred family members had responded to the invitations, creating a crowd that represented significant portions of the Empire’s noble, merchant, and professional classes.

The students themselves had been assembled in formation on the training ground, their surprise at seeing their families evident in expressions that ranged from delight to mortification. Many had clearly not expected this level of scrutiny regarding their participation.

Grim stood at the center of the demonstration area, his presence commanding immediate attention from both students and families alike.

"Welcome to the Celestial Sect," he began, his voice carrying easily across the assembled crowd. "You have come here today to observe what your children have chosen to pursue, and more importantly, to understand what they have chosen to reject."

Murmurs rippled through the family seating as parents exchanged glances, clearly uncertain about the implications of his words.

"Over the past week," Grim continued, "your children have been offered an extraordinary opportunity. The chance to learn techniques that could place them among the most powerful individuals in the Empire. Abilities that could secure their futures, elevate their families, and contribute to the realm’s strength."

He paused, allowing his words to settle before continuing with a harder edge.

"However, not all of your children have embraced this opportunity with equal enthusiasm. Some have demonstrated the discipline and commitment necessary for genuine achievement. Others have chosen to prioritize comfort over greatness."

The atmosphere in the amphitheater grew tense as families began to understand that they were about to witness some form of judgment regarding their children’s performance.

"The question you should be asking yourselves," Grim said, "Is whether your children belong among those who will shape the Empire’s future, or among those who will be shaped by others’ actions."

A well-dressed woman in the family seating raised her hand tentatively. "Lord Ambrose, might we ask which category our children fall into?"

Grim smiled with predatory satisfaction. "An excellent question. And one with a remarkably simple answer."

He gestured toward the assembled students, who stood in neat formations across the training ground.

"Look at them," he said simply. "The separation is obvious to anyone with eyes to see."

The families leaned forward, studying their children’s appearances with growing concern. What they saw was a clear division between those who stood with military bearing and obvious physical conditioning, and those who appeared tired, dispirited, and noticeably less disciplined in their posture.

"The strong ones," Grim continued, "are those who have embraced the training regimen completely. They wake before dawn, complete every exercise, and push themselves beyond their previous limitations. They understand that extraordinary abilities require extraordinary sacrifice."

He turned to indicate a portion of the students who stood with particular discipline and confidence.

"These students will continue their training and development. They will learn techniques that few humans ever master. They will become assets to their families and to the Empire."

The pride on some families’ faces was obvious, while others looked increasingly concerned about where their children stood in this evaluation.

"The weak ones," Grim continued with cold finality, "are those who have spent the week complaining about the requirements, seeking exceptions to the rules, and attempting to convince others to abandon their training."

He gestured toward a different section of students, whose posture and expressions made their status unmistakable.

"These students have chosen comfort over achievement for the sake of conveniene. They have demonstrated that they lack the character necessary for genuine power."

A man in expensive merchant’s clothing stood up from the family seating, his face flushed with anger. "Lord Ambrose, are you suggesting that our children are failures?"

"I’m suggesting that your children have revealed their true character under pressure," Grim replied evenly. "Some have proven themselves worthy of extraordinary opportunity. Others have proven themselves ordinary."

"And what becomes of the... ordinary ones?" a woman asked with obvious dread.

"They are free to leave," Grim said with apparent generosity. "To return to their comfortable lives, their reasonable expectations, and their limited futures. No one is forced to remain here."

The implications were crystal clear—leaving meant accepting permanent classification as weak, ordinary, and lacking in the character necessary for greatness.

"However," Grim continued.

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