The realm was merciless.
Yue Ling barely had time to breathe.
From the moment her feet landed on the dry, cracked soil of the trial world, it had been battle after battle—wave after wave of spiritual beasts, arrows with no visible archers, and a suffocating mist that dulled her senses and weighed down her body like chains.
The sky above was not sky at all, but a deep, swirling void, echoing with ancient roars and whispers from long-forgotten cultivators who had once stood in this very place. Their voices were faint, almost gone, but Yue Ling could still hear them. "Survive, if you can. Prove yourself, if you dare."
In the midst of chaos, a voice echoed in her mind—her ancestor's voice.
"So you dare to curse me?" It was laced with mirth, the voice of someone far older, far stronger, who knew the path Yue Ling was only beginning to walk.
The echo returned louder this time, curling around her like mist:
"Only those who suffer… can bloom."
Yue Ling gritted her teeth as a two-headed spirit wolf lunged toward her. Her sword flashed with a ripple of energy—unstable, wild—and sliced through its neck. It vanished into ash, leaving behind a small, glowing core. Without thinking, she grabbed it and dropped it into her pouch.
Another beast came. And another. Then another.
Their eyes burned with elemental fury. Their bodies were fused with metal, wood, fire, and water, each possessing terrifying power. Some leaped from beneath the cracked soil. Others dropped from the void above.
She fought them all.
Sometimes with the sword her grandfather gave her. Sometimes with her bare fists. Sometimes using the simplest formations she could remember.
She set a trap array. Five beasts fell into it—only to rise again, stronger, more enraged. Her lips cracked from thirst. Her limbs were bruised. Her robe, now torn, was smeared with blood and the dark essence of defeated spiritual beasts.
Still, she didn't stop.
Because for the first time, she felt something in her.
The deeper she fought, the more her mind opened.
She remembered things she had forgotten. Lessons from her mother whispered in the wind. Her grandfather's silent glances now made sense. The books she had pretended to skim through had etched themselves into her subconscious. Her movements were growing sharper, quicker, as if her body had been waiting for this moment.
Is this what it means to awaken?
Is this why they called the Yue bloodline a curse?
The realm changed again.
The mist thickened, turning black. A haunting cry echoed. It wasn't human.
It was her test.
A thousand arrows suspended mid-air appeared before her, each glowing faintly with spiritual intent. Behind them stood the seven-headed beast. Its steps shook the realm. Its breath carried the scent of decay and power. Each head represented one of the five elements. The sixth and seventh heads were blank—lifeless.
Yue Ling's body trembled. Her sword shattered in her hand. She was barehanded, surrounded.
One arrow struck her arm. Another pierced her thigh. Blood flowed freely. Her vision blurred.
Yet she moved.
Instinct took over. She shifted her weight, flipped in the air, and used the energy from one falling beast core to ignite a chain reaction of spiritual formations around her. The arrow storm tried to follow—but the energy pulses disrupted their pattern.
She landed in a crouch, palms on the ground, drawing an array with her blood.
"Burn," she whispered.
The ground exploded. The seven-headed beast roared, three of its heads turning to ash.
But the remaining ones lunged.
The pain in her limbs was nothing compared to the piercing cry from the void above. A thunderbolt, wide as a tree trunk, lit the entire realm as it descended.
Crack!
It struck her directly.
She screamed, her voice swallowed by the wind.
Then silence.
When her eyes opened again, she was no longer standing.
She was floating.
She hovered above the very core of the realm—its heart. A place not meant to be reached by those unworthy. A space of origin.
Around her, flowers bloomed. Petals the color of moonlight and blood. Each one shimmered with the resonance of her suffering, her battle, her stubborn will.
Among them, a single petal hovered.
Delicate, almost too beautiful to exist.
The Orchid Tear Petal.
It floated toward her, then pierced her chest where the glowing arrow once did.
Her heart throbbed.
Her mind went blank.
In that moment—Yue Ling was reborn.
Not as the 'useless one' or the 'ugly duckling'.
But as the true heir of the Yue bloodline.
Her ancestor's voice returned once more, soft and solemn:
"You have suffered… now bloom."
Yue Ling's eyes glowed faintly. A ring, once hidden, now pulsed with power from her earlobe—the ancient artifact that had bound itself to her in secret, silently waiting for her awakening.
A final arrow appeared from above. The realm's judgment.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she raised her hand.
The arrow shattered against her aura.
In the outside world, Grandfather Yue jolted upright from his meditation. The tea in his hand trembled.
"She did it," he murmured.
But then—his gaze turned dark.