The training grounds of the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction echoed with the clash of weapons and the hum of qi. The first official sparring drills for the dual martial arts system had begun.
Pairs of disciples moved in clumsy coordination — spears thrusting too quickly, swords trailing a heartbeat behind, defensive stances collapsing when the partners' timing faltered. The flaws were evident, glaring even. Some pairs argued, others stumbled, and a few simply froze under the pressure of trying to anticipate each other's movements.
Yet amid the chaos, there were sparks of promise. A blade catching an incoming strike just as a spear redirected the enemy's balance. Two fists moving in mirrored arcs, striking from opposite sides. A pair of talisman users overlapping their arrays to create a stronger, sharper barrier.
Haotian stood with arms crossed, Fenlong Spear resting against his shoulder, eyes calm but keen. Lianhua paced among the female disciples, correcting their forms with sharp precision, her voice both encouraging and firm.
"It will take time," Haotian said quietly to himself, watching a pair finally land a seamless counterattack together. "But progress is progress. A few months, and they'll move like flowing rivers."
That night, beneath the glow of spirit lanterns in their private estate, Haotian and Lianhua sat across from one another, their hands joined, breathing in rhythm. The Union of Dual Souls Sutra unfolded again between them.
Their qi began to merge, yin and yang spiraling together, cycling through their bodies in steady waves. Each cycle grew smoother, their synchronization more natural, as though their bodies and spirits had begun to memorize the other.
Moans and whispered encouragements blended with their cultivation chants, driving them onward. One cycle passed, then another, until they had completed twenty-four cycles.
When at last they collapsed together, Lianhua lay beside Haotian, her body trembling with exhaustion, but her face was serene, satisfied. Haotian rested on his back, chest rising steadily, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The thought to himself.
"These past two months… I've kept my cultivation steady, despite everything,"
"I've reached the peak of the Nascent Realm."
The six guards, too, had benefited from the Solaris Jadeheart fruits and the Crystal Vein pills. Each of them now stood at the peak of the Nascent Realm, solidifying the faction's backbone. The disciples were also progressing steadily under the abundance of resources.
Still, Haotian knew discipline and organization would matter as much as cultivation. "We'll need captains," he thought. "Strength will grow with pills and fruits… but character will decide who leads."
The next morning, sunlight slipped through the curtains. Lianhua stirred first, groaning softly as she sat up and began to gather her robes. Before she could rise fully, a warm arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back down.
"Haotian!" she gasped, half flustered, half amused. "We should get up. The faction will be expecting us soon… and we haven't even eaten breakfast."
Haotian opened one golden eye, a mischievous smile tugging his lips. "We're the leaders. They can wait for us."
Lianhua giggled, smacking his chest lightly. "Such lecherous thoughts." She leaned down, pressing her lips against his. "But I'll indulge you."
Another session began, another cycle of their dual cultivation. By the time they finally rose, an hour had passed.
When they finally walked into the pavilion, their steps composed and their faces calm, the entire faction was already assembled. Breakfast had long been finished, but the disciples had waited without complaint.
Of course, the whispers and smirks were impossible to hide. Female disciples giggled behind their sleeves, while the men smirked knowingly — until one sharp stare from Haotian silenced them all.
He stepped forward, his voice carrying over the field. "From today, the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction will begin structuring its leadership. The first captains have already been chosen."
The six guards stepped forward, their presence radiating authority. Each bowed slightly toward Haotian, who continued:
"They are my first captains. But there will be more. I intend to name twenty captains in total, followed by vice-captains and team leaders. Each team will be composed of six pairs, trained together until their synergy is flawless."
The disciples straightened, anticipation flashing in their eyes.
"Positions will not be given freely. They will be earned. Cultivation is important, but character will weigh just as heavily. Leadership requires both." His voice hardened. "An assessment will be held to determine the next captains."
He paused, then added: "Captains, vice-captains, and team leaders will receive monthly stipends greater than the sect's standard allowance. But every member of this faction will also receive stipends in addition to what the sect provides. You are not here to be neglected. You are here to rise."
His words set the disciples ablaze with determination. They roared their assent, the training grounds alive with energy.
His gaze swept the crowd, calm but resolute. "That is all. Begin your training."
The disciples roared their acknowledgment, the courtyard alive with renewed vigor.
And so, the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction stepped into its next stage — not just a faction of numbers, but one of order, hierarchy, and ambition.
The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction was no longer just gathering strength. It was becoming an army.
The day after his announcement, Haotian threw himself into preparations. The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction would not name captains based on flattery or blind ambition — they would earn their place.
In their private courtyard, the scent of spirit rice and roasted herbs drifted from the breakfast trays. Lianhua sat cross-legged on a cushion, hair cascading freely over her shoulders, enjoying her meal with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
She was ravenous. The morning had begun, as many mornings did now, with another round of the Union of Dual Souls Sutra. The intense cycles left her glowing, her qi brimming, and her appetite insatiable.
Haotian sat nearby, parchment and brushes spread across the table, his mind focused on sketches of formation arrays and obstacle designs. His spear leaned within arm's reach, but he barely touched his bowl.
Lianhua pouted. "At least eat a little. Don't think I don't notice — you're just as hungry as I am."
Without waiting for him to respond, she pinched a dumpling with her chopsticks and lifted it to his lips. Haotian blinked, startled out of his thoughts, but opened his mouth obediently. She smiled triumphantly as he chewed.
"See?" she said with a teasing lilt. "Even generals need breakfast."
He only chuckled, returning to his parchment. "And even generals must prepare the battlefield."
Lianhua sighed, but her eyes softened. She knew this was his way of caring — his discipline, his focus. So she continued to feed him between her own bites, both of them falling into a quiet rhythm: she nourished, he planned.
For two full days, Haotian worked with tireless dedication, aided by his six guards. Together they carved training fields into a gauntlet of challenges:
The Formation Maze: a shifting array of barriers and false exits that demanded trust between partners to escape.
The Weighted Crossing: a bridge reinforced with suppressive qi, where strength alone meant nothing — only synchronization could carry pairs forward.
The Phantom Opponents: illusory enemies conjured by Haotian's formations, their strength scaling according to the synergy of the challengers.
The Final Arena: where pairs faced live sparring against other faction disciples, overseen by Haotian and Lianhua themselves, to test not just skill but command.
By the end of the second day, the grounds thrummed with readiness. Runes glowed faintly in the soil, qi pulsed through the formations, and the stage was set.
Haotian stood at the edge of the final arena, arms folded. The Fenlong Spear pulsed faintly at his back, sensing its master's resolve.
"This will decide the leaders who guide us forward," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Lianhua approached from behind, wiping her hands with a cloth, her lips curving into a smile. "And here I thought you'd let me finish more than one breakfast without dragging the faction into a trial."
Haotian smirked, tilting his head toward her. "You were the one feeding me between bites. This is your fault."
Her laughter rang like a clear bell across the empty field, breaking the tension of the moment. Together, they turned to face the training grounds, where tomorrow the faction would test its heart and future.
On the first day of the Captain Assessments.
The runic maze shimmered with faint golden light, the air humming with qi. Walls shifted silently, corridors bent like illusions, and false exits shimmered only to vanish when touched.
The first pairs entered with determined expressions. Within moments, the maze swallowed them whole.
Some tried to sprint, eager to prove their speed, only to slam into dead-ends as the paths twisted away from them. Frustration mounted — their movements grew frantic, arguments echoed through the air. The watchers outside could only hear muffled voices.
Haotian's eyes narrowed. "They rush without thought. A captain who panics at the first obstacle is unworthy."
One bold pair, spear and blade, tried brute force — smashing their way into a glowing wall. The backlash erupted in a violent shockwave, sending them staggering out of the maze, coughing blood. The watching disciples winced.
"They lack patience," Lianhua murmured, her tone cool. "Leaders who mistake recklessness for courage will only lead their people to death."
Yet another pair caught their attention — a talisman disciple and a quiet spear user. Instead of charging forward, they sat cross-legged in the middle of a junction. The talisman glowed faintly as he spread his qi into the maze, searching for the flow of energy, while the spear user guarded his back silently. Minutes passed before the talisman disciple rose, pointing toward the correct path. Together they walked calmly, never once raising their voices.
Haotian's lips curved faintly. "They listened. Not to their pride, but to the world around them."
When they finally emerged, tired but unharmed, Lianhua made a mark on her scroll. "Trust and foresight. That pair has potential."
By the end, fewer than half the entrants completed the maze. Sweat, frustration, and humbled pride marked their faces. The maze had not tested only strength — it tested patience, trust, and the ability to see beyond the obvious.
Trial Two: The Weighted Crossing
A narrow bridge spanned a shallow gorge, but this was no ordinary crossing. Haotian's formations layered suppressive qi across every inch. With each step, the weight doubled, pressing down on their shoulders, crushing their legs, demanding both endurance and synchronicity.
The first pair tried to cross too quickly. By the halfway point, their steps faltered — one staggered, the other pulled forward, and the imbalance sent them both crashing down onto the bridge. They crawled back, defeated.
Others fared little better, straining and swaying as their coordination collapsed. Arguments flared, one blaming the other for slowing them down. Haotian's gaze hardened. "A leader who breaks under weight cannot carry others. They have failed."
Then came a surprising scene. A smaller, wiry disciple hoisted his much larger partner onto his back. Each step made his knees tremble, his veins bulge with effort, but he never faltered. He bore the crushing weight of both, teeth clenched, eyes blazing with determination.
The crowd erupted in murmurs, and even Lianhua's eyes softened. "That is loyalty beyond pride. The kind that inspires others to follow."
Haotian nodded slightly. "A captain must sometimes carry not only themselves — but everyone under their care."
Another pair impressed differently — they held hands, whispering instructions, adjusting their breathing until their steps aligned perfectly. Slowly, they walked in complete synchronization, moving as though bound by one spirit. They too made it across, though drenched in sweat.
By the end, fewer than a third of the entrants crossed successfully. Those who did earned more than victory — they proved endurance, trust, and unshakable loyalty.
Trial Three: The Phantom Opponents
The field shimmered as Haotian activated the third test. Illusory enemies formed from his qi — phantoms armed with weapons, moving with frightening speed and coordination. Their strength shifted, scaling to the pair they faced.
The first challengers charged eagerly, blades flashing — but within moments, they were overwhelmed. Their attacks missed openings, their defenses collided awkwardly, and the phantoms exploited every gap. Defeated, they collapsed, panting, humiliated.
Haotian's gaze was cool. "Strength without unity is nothing. They might as well fight alone."
Then came a different pair — a swordswoman and a fist cultivator. Their styles seemed incompatible, yet as the battle wore on, they adapted. The sword cut clean arcs, opening gaps, and the fists followed instantly, hammering through. The phantoms reeled, unable to find an opening.
Lianhua's lips curved faintly. "That's how it should be. Not two styles colliding — but two styles weaving."
The most disappointing, however, was a talented disciple who abandoned his partner mid-battle, trying to display his prowess alone. The phantoms immediately adapted, overwhelming the partner and leaving her crushed under their strikes.
"Arrogance," Lianhua said coldly. "He forgot his partner the moment he sought glory. That is not a leader — it's a fool."
Only a handful of pairs endured to the end, proving that their coordination and adaptability could weather even evolving threats.
Trial Four: The Final Arena
The last trial brought pairs into a live sparring arena. No illusions, no tricks — just disciples clashing before their peers, every mistake exposed.
Here, raw emotion surged. Some pairs fought brilliantly, moving in tandem, flowing with confidence. Others fell apart under pressure, their rhythm collapsing the moment their opponents pressed harder.
Haotian and Lianhua watched silently, studying not just skill, but temperament. One pair, though outmatched, refused to surrender — they shielded each other until they were too exhausted to rise. They lost, but their loyalty and persistence burned brightly.
Lianhua made another mark. "They don't yet realize it, but they'll rise higher than they know. A leader who refuses to abandon their partner will never abandon their people."
Another pair revealed clever tactics — instead of rushing to attack, they feinted, redirected strikes, buying time for each other to recover. Haotian's eyes gleamed faintly. "Strategy. Not reckless bravery. That is command."
By the end of the arena, the field was littered with sweat-drenched, battered disciples — but also alive with determination. Some had failed, some had shone, and a few had revealed qualities neither strength nor talent alone could show.
Closing of the First Day
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Haotian dismissed the exhausted disciples. Some walked proudly, others limped in shame, but all carried lessons carved deep into their hearts.
Haotian and Lianhua stood together on the empty field, parchment filled with notes in their hands.
"They're rough," Lianhua admitted softly. "Most don't yet know how to think beyond themselves."
Haotian's golden eyes were steady. "That is why we test them. Not to break them — but to teach them. A true captain must be forged, not found."
Her lips curved in a rare, proud smile. "Then we may already have our first candidates."
He looked at her, expression unreadable, then turned toward the training ground. "Tomorrow, we push them harder. Today, they learned about themselves. Tomorrow, they'll learn about command."
The trials had begun — and the Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction had begun to shape its first true leaders.
The disciples entered the maze in pairs, the walls rising high with runes glowing faintly like veins of living stone. Illusions swirled in the passages: phantom beasts, false dead ends, twisting turns that led nowhere. The trial did not test only strength — it tested trust.
Haotian, Lianhua, and the six guards stood on the observation platform, watching shadows shift within the labyrinth. Screams echoed once, then twice, but faded into silence. Many would stumble. Some would be broken. But Haotian's eyes lingered on those who refused to yield.
In one corridor, a young healer pressed her trembling hands to her partner's chest. His face was pale with terror, qi scattered by the illusions. "Breathe with me," she whispered, her voice steady despite the pounding of her own heart. "I won't leave you here." Her calm radiance brought him back. Shaken but alive, he admitted his weakness and followed her lead. Haotian's gaze sharpened — this was no ordinary disciple.
Elsewhere, a shield bearer planted his feet, holding up his heavy shield against collapsing walls triggered by hidden glyphs. Sweat poured down his brow, knees bent nearly to breaking, but he held the weight of stone and illusion alike. Behind him, his archer partner loosed arrows in perfect rhythm, striking down false threats and severing runes that would have triggered further collapse. Her calm precision guided the pair forward step by step.
Hours passed before the maze began to crumble, collapsing into nothingness. Disciples stumbled out, some pale, others weeping, many defeated. But four stood apart — steadier, sharper, tempered by trial.
The healer and her partner.
The shield bearer and his archer partner.
They emerged exhausted but upright, the mark of leaders just beginning to shine.
Haotian folded his arms and exchanged a glance with Lianhua. "Four," he said quietly. She nodded, her eyes warm with approval. The guards murmured among themselves, but one truth was clear — the Maze of Trust had revealed its first four gems.
The trial grounds were quiet the next morning. Sunlight broke through the pavilion's high windows, spilling across the long table where Haotian, Lianhua, and the six guards had gathered. The disciples rested elsewhere, but here decisions were weighed.
Haotian tapped his finger on the table's edge. "Yesterday, the Maze of Trust gave us four who rose above the rest."
Lianhua folded her hands neatly, her tone gentle but firm. "The healer, her partner, the shield bearer, and his archer companion."
The six guards leaned forward in unison, eyes sharp. This was not idle talk — this was the shaping of captains.
Lanyue smirked first, her voice teasing yet thoughtful. "The healer has promise. She didn't just push forward; she carried her partner's heart with her. That kind of steadiness can keep a squad alive."
Yuerin nodded slowly. "Agreed. But her partner? He's timid. He admitted weakness instead of denying it, which I respect… but can he command others? Or will he always lean on her?"
Haotian rubbed his chin. "He lacks confidence now. But his honesty is rare. He may grow into someone others can trust — not flashy, but reliable."
Zhanfeng gave a booming laugh. "Bah! Reliability's not enough. A captain needs fire in his gut! That boy better toughen up, or he'll drag his team down."
Jianhong spoke with his steady, deep tone. "And yet… he stayed in the maze. He did not flee. Fear acknowledged, but still endured. That is its own kind of strength."
The group fell into thought before turning to the shield bearer pair.
Xuanming spoke crisply. "The shield bearer was solid. He bore the weight, anchored the path, and his partner supported him with precision. They were unshakable together. Exactly the qualities of battlefield leadership."
Shuyin smiled faintly. "But he bends under too much weight. He risked breaking his knees to hold up the walls. Courage, yes, but a captain must know his limits. His archer partner showed restraint and clarity. I believe she may be the true leader in that pair."
Lianhua's eyes brightened at that. "I thought the same. She did not panic, even when stone collapsed around her. Calm eyes, steady hands. She saw through illusions and targeted what mattered."
Haotian exhaled, looking around at the group. "So, we have four — each promising, but each flawed. None are perfect yet. But yesterday showed me something important. None of them walked out of the maze alone. Trust carried them through."
The guards murmured in agreement. The fire of rivalry flickered in their voices, but the unity of judgment was clear.
At last, Haotian leaned back. "We'll keep them under watch. Their growth in the next trials will show if they're captains… or if yesterday was a single spark."
Silence followed, then Lianhua's quiet voice broke it: "Sometimes, one spark is all it takes to start a flame."
The council of eight fell into thought, already anticipating what tomorrow would bring.
The third dawn rose clear, but tension already coiled in the air as disciples assembled before the chasm. Wooden platforms swung high above the gorge, connected by ropes that creaked under the faintest wind. Spiritual pressure pulsed from below, creating currents strong enough to knock even steady cultivators from their footing.
Haotian stood with Lianhua and the guards at the overlook. "Balance and clarity," he said softly. "Those who hesitate will fall. Those who rush will take others with them."
The trial began.
At first, chaos reigned. Some disciples surged forward in panic, and ropes whipped violently. Cries echoed as a few tumbled into the safety wards below, eliminated at once. But amid the panic, certain figures stood out.
A calm tactician raised his voice above the roar of fear."Stop. One at a time. Anchor your footing on my count."His words struck like steel. Disciples froze, then obeyed. With sharp precision, he ordered them across the first stretch, his tone measured, unyielding. Under his leadership, what had been a mob became a line.
Not far away, a sharp-eyed archer steadied her bow. She didn't fire at phantoms — she fired at ropes. With perfect timing, her arrows struck at angles that shifted swaying bridges back into place, stabilizing them for those behind her. Every shot bought seconds of survival.
The wind gusted suddenly, sending a group crashing sideways. A resilient frontline fighter slipped, his fingers clawing at the rope as the chasm swallowed him. Gasps rang out — but with a roar, he hauled himself back, blood smearing across his knuckles. He stood shaking, but his defiance burned bright. "Not today!" he shouted, and others behind him clenched their jaws, renewed by his refusal to yield.
Finally, a resourceful supporter caught Haotian's eye. Qi drained near to empty, she had no techniques left to give — but she stripped her cloak from her shoulders and wrapped it tight across a fraying rope. It held. Her teammates crossed in safety, not realizing how close they had been to falling.
The last disciples staggered across, some trembling, some elated. Many had failed — but four had risen unmistakably above the rest:
The calm tactician.
The sharp-eyed archer.
The resilient fighter.
The resourceful supporter.
Haotian's expression remained calm, but inside he noted the sparks of command that trials like this revealed. Lianhua's eyes softened with approval, and the guards exchanged murmurs. Eight stood tall now across two days — the beginnings of a foundation.
The training field was empty, its ropes and platforms dismantled. What remained was the quiet weight of lessons learned. In the council chamber, Haotian, Lianhua, and the six guards gathered again, seated in a circle with scrolls laid before them.
Haotian began, voice steady. "Yesterday's trial cut deep. Panic claimed many… but four shone through. They may hold captain's steel."
Lianhua nodded gently. "The tactician, the archer, the fighter, and the supporter. Each different, but each vital."
The guards leaned forward, eager to dissect.
Lanyue smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "The tactician was a commander in the making. He didn't just save himself — he froze chaos with words. I'd wager his team would follow him even into death."
Yuerin added softly, "But words can falter under pressure. We must watch if his calm remains in bloodier trials. Still, I admire how he thought of others before himself."
Haotian marked the comment with a nod before shifting. "And the archer?"
Xuanming was first to speak, tone sharp. "Practical. Every arrow spent not on vanity, but function. Precision like that can hold formations together."
Shuyin smiled faintly. "Yes, but it was more than precision. She read the wind, the sway, the rhythm of danger. That intuition… it's rare."
Lianhua agreed quietly. "She steadied the ground for others. That's a kind of leadership not found in shouting orders."
They turned to the fighter.
Zhanfeng's laughter boomed. "Now there's a man with spirit! He nearly died, clawed back with his bare hands, and spat in the storm's face. That kind of fire lights hearts on the battlefield. I like him."
Jianhong gave a low grunt. "But his recklessness is dangerous. A captain who cannot gauge his limits may kill those who trust him. He needs tempering."
Haotian folded his arms. "True. His spirit is iron, but iron must be forged."
Finally, the supporter.
Shuyin leaned forward, her voice warm. "She had nothing left, and still gave everything she had. That cloak across the rope wasn't power, it was devotion. To me, she already thinks like a protector."
Lanyue tilted her head. "But her qi drained too quickly. She'll collapse if she doesn't strengthen her foundation. Admirable heart, but weak legs."
Lianhua's gaze softened. "Weak legs can be strengthened. A weak heart cannot. I believe she has promise."
The chamber fell silent for a moment, the weight of eight names between them. Four from the Maze, four from the Balance.
Haotian finally spoke. "Eight in four days. The captains are taking shape. But none are yet finished. We watch, we guide, and the trials will decide the rest."
The guards murmured assent, and the circle closed for the night. Outside, the disciples whispered of the next trial, unaware that their leaders had already marked them — not for survival, but for greatness.