The morning of the trial dawned cold and silent.
No birdsong. No breeze. Just the low murmur of disciples gathering in the central arena—an ancient ring of stone sunk into the mountain's side, etched with runes that shimmered faintly under the rising sun.
Li Wei stood among nearly forty others, all provisional or outer disciples like himself. Some wore finely woven robes with clan crests stitched on their sleeves. Others bore the scars of earlier fights, eyes cold and hungry.
He felt the weight of their gazes. The newcomer. The anomaly.
The outsider.
"Look at him," someone whispered behind him. "Only one meridian. What's he doing here?"
"Elder Mo must be losing his mind."
"I heard he used a wind technique. Probably just a fluke."
Li Wei ignored them. He focused on his breath. The Breath of the Verdant Sky had begun to settle into him like muscle memory. The qi in his body still flowed awkwardly—but it flowed.
A gong rang out. The crowd quieted.
At the top of the steps, Elder Mo appeared, flanked by several seated elders and inner disciples. Yan Rui stood to one side, arms folded, eyes fixed on Li Wei.
"The Spring Ascension Trial," Elder Mo said, his voice amplified by spiritual resonance, "is not just a test of strength. It is a measure of will, adaptability, and discipline. Today, only five will ascend to outer disciple rank. The rest will wait another year—or leave."
Murmurs rippled across the arena.
"You will each face two rounds," Mo continued. "The first, combat. The second…" He paused, eyes gleaming. "…survival."
The elders waved their sleeves. The arena floor shifted with a thunderous grind. It split into multiple circular platforms that rose and floated into the air—hovering just above the trees, supported by hidden formations.
Each platform would host a duel.
"Match pairings have been chosen by the will of the wind," Mo added, but Li Wei could see it for what it was—carefully orchestrated.
His name was called first.
"Li Wei vs. Lin Yao."
Gasps echoed.
Li Wei tensed.
Lin Yao stepped forward with a slow, confident smile. He wore black robes trimmed in white, and his long hair was tied with a jade clasp. His eyes—calm, elegant—glittered with disdain.
"I was hoping they'd give me someone worth killing," Lin Yao said softly. "But this will do."
Someone behind Li Wei muttered, "That's Elder Yun's personal student…"
The name carried weight. Elder Yun was one of the most influential figures in the sect—and his disciples were known for cruelty behind grace.
Li Wei stepped onto the platform.
The wind swirled beneath their feet, holding the arena steady as the duel began.
Lin Yao moved first.
He drew a slender blade, but it was his qi that struck first—a flickering arc of ice energy that sliced toward Li Wei like a silver fang.
Li Wei ducked. Rolled. The strike missed his throat by inches.
Another came, faster this time.
He weaved around it. Focused. Let the wind enter his lungs.
The Breath of the Verdant Sky surged.
With a twist of his palm, he released a burst of wind to deflect the next slash—but Lin Yao was already there.
"Too slow," Lin whispered.
A slash grazed Li Wei's side. Pain flared.
He staggered back, teeth clenched. Blood soaked through his robe.
I can't win like this, he thought. I need to stop reacting.
Then… he closed his eyes.
Don't chase the current. Become the river.
He let go.
Let the wind guide him.
The next time Lin Yao struck, Li Wei moved with the wind—sidestepping the blade so naturally it looked like a dance.
Then he struck back.
A spiral burst of qi shot from his palm—wilder than before, less controlled—but faster.
It caught Lin Yao in the chest.
The boy staggered, stunned.
Li Wei pressed the advantage. A second strike—sharper. Focused.
Lin Yao blocked it with his sword, but his footing slipped.
The platform trembled.
The crowd gasped.
Li Wei gathered the last of his breath—and unleashed a third strike, aimed not at Lin Yao, but at the platform beneath his feet.
CRACK.
The edge of the stone shattered.
Lin Yao lost balance.
He fell.
Not from the wound. From a misstep.
The barrier caught him before he hit the ground—but the match was over.
Li Wei stood alone on the platform, chest heaving.
Victory.
The arena erupted into shouts—some shocked, some outraged.
Above, Elder Mo raised an eyebrow, hiding a smile. Elder Yun's face, in contrast, was a frozen mask of fury.
Yan Rui, from the sidelines, muttered, "Now everyone's going to notice you."
Li Wei didn't care.
For the first time since he stepped into the sect, he had earned his place.
⸻
Far below the sect, in a hidden cavern deep beneath the mountain, the cracks in the ancient statue widened. From within, something began to stir… and remember a name lost to time.