The fifth day dawned under an oppressive sky. A vast training field had been reshaped overnight — its ground carved into shifting sands, its air weighed down by spiritual gravity that pressed like a mountain.
Haotian stood at the edge with Lianhua at his side, arms folded. His voice carried across the field. "This is not a test of strength alone. It is a test of will. Endure the storm, and prove your body can bear the weight of command."
The disciples stepped forward, faces pale as the invisible pressure pressed upon them. Every breath grew heavier, every heartbeat thundered in their ears. For some, their knees buckled within moments.
The hours dragged. Sweat darkened robes, and blood spilled from bitten lips. Yet among the strain, four figures rose beyond the rest.
A gritty spear-user dug his heels into the sand, qi flowing through every vein. His body trembled, but his spear butt slammed into the earth as if rooting himself against the heavens. "I will not fall," he rasped, and even as his skin split with pressure, he stood tall until the end.
Nearby, a slender swordswoman staggered under the weight. But instead of resisting, she let her movements flow like water, turning collapse into motion. Every stagger became a step, every stumble a parry against invisible blows. She endured by adapting, and in doing so, lasted longer than most.
A broad-shouldered disciple clenched his jaw, eyes blazing. When his teammates collapsed, he hoisted one onto his back and carried him forward step by painful step. His body shook violently, but he endured not only for himself, but for another.
Finally, a quiet youth sat cross-legged in the storm of pressure, eyes closed. While others strained and fought, he focused inward, his qi circulating in perfect rhythm. The crushing weight became fuel. By trial's end, his calm figure glowed faintly, as if he had grown within the storm itself.
When the pressure finally lifted, many disciples lay unconscious in the sand. Healers rushed to their sides. But four figures stood, battered yet unbroken — proof of endurance.
Haotian's expression softened. "Another four," he said quietly. Lianhua's lips curved in the faintest smile, and the six guards nodded among themselves.
The trial field lay abandoned, silent except for the faint sound of healers tending to those who had collapsed. But in the inner chamber, Haotian, Lianhua, and the six guards once again sat in council. A brazier burned low, casting flickering shadows across their faces.
Haotian began, his tone firm but thoughtful. "Yesterday proved something different. Endurance is not loud — it is steady. Four stood tall when many fell."
Lianhua glanced at the notes before her, then met the others' eyes. "The spear-user, the swordswoman, the broad-shouldered carrier, and the meditating youth. Each endured in their own way. Let's consider them."
Lanyue leaned forward, tapping the table lightly. "The spear-user impressed me. He pushed his body past breaking just to stand. That kind of grit is hard to teach." Her smirk deepened. "But grit without brains is dangerous. He nearly destroyed himself."
Yuerin spoke more softly. "True. His body trembled like it was at its limit, yet he refused to give in. That willpower can inspire others. But he'll need guidance to not burn out too quickly."
Haotian nodded slightly. "He reminds me of the earth. Immovable, but at risk of cracking."
They shifted to the swordswoman.
Zhanfeng gave a sharp laugh. "Now her—I like. She didn't fight the storm head-on. She bent with it, made its weight part of her movement. That's clever. Shows she can think under pressure."
Jianhong added in his steady way, "Adaptability is as important as strength. She did not resist blindly, she found flow. That tells me she may thrive where others crumble."
Lianhua's smile was faint. "She had grace under strain. That is leadership too — leading by example without a single word."
Next, the broad-shouldered disciple.
Xuanming's voice was sharp, almost cold. "Carrying another when you're breaking yourself? Foolish. Admirable, but foolish. A captain who collapses under others' weight dooms his team."
Shuyin shook her head firmly. "No, it wasn't foolish. He carried because he believed no one should be left behind. That heart… that's what makes others follow. A captain without compassion is no captain."
Haotian's tone was balanced. "Both points are true. He must learn where to draw the line — but his heart is unshakable."
Finally, they spoke of the meditating youth.
Lanyue frowned. "Quiet, calculating. He endured by shutting the world out. Admirable focus, but dangerous. Will he see his team when they need him, or only himself?"
Yuerin's expression softened. "I disagree. His calm spread to those near him. He did not panic, and in that stillness others found strength. He may be reserved, but he has a leader's composure."
Lianhua lifted her chin. "There is something rare about him. He grew under pressure. That is a seed worth nurturing."
Haotian exhaled slowly. "Four more. That brings us to twelve. The path to twenty captains is taking shape, but these next trials will show if their sparks become flames."
The room grew quiet, anticipation pressing in. Outside, disciples whispered of what challenge awaited them next. Inside, Haotian and his circle sharpened their judgments, ready for the storms to come.
On the seventh morning, the disciples filed into a circular hall carved of obsidian. The air shimmered faintly, and on every wall, polished stone reflected their forms. But these were no ordinary reflections — each disciple's mirror-image moved on its own, wearing their faces twisted with fear, doubt, or rage.
Haotian's voice echoed through the chamber. "This is no test of blade or body. The enemy here is yourself. Overcome your shadow, or be consumed by it."
The hall darkened. The illusions stirred.
Cries rang out as disciples faced their own deepest weaknesses. One fought a mirror-self that mocked every failure he had buried. Another collapsed in tears before a version of herself that jeered her inadequacy. The strong faltered, the loud fell silent.
But among the turmoil, two shone.
The first was a disciple weighed by guilt. His mirror wore the faces of comrades he had failed to protect, accusing him, cursing him. For a moment he nearly fell apart, his knees buckling. But then, with trembling voice, he whispered, "Yes… I failed. But I live, and I will carry you forward." His mirror shattered into dust, and he rose taller than before.
The second was a disciple consumed by ambition. His shadow-self promised him power, glory, supremacy if he would abandon all else. The temptation was thick in the air. But the disciple clenched his fists and shouted, "Without those beside me, power is ash! I reject you!" He struck his illusion down, his aura blazing with newfound clarity.
All around them, others crumbled — lost to panic, to greed, to despair. The chamber grew silent at last, leaving only two figures standing steady among the wreckage of shattered mirrors.
Haotian's eyes narrowed in approval. "They conquered not the world, but themselves. That is strength no enemy can take."
Lianhua's gaze lingered on them, soft and sure. "Fourteen now. A full company of seeds for captains."
The six guards exchanged glances, a rare unanimity passing between them. None argued. All understood — the Trial of Mirrors had carved truth from illusion.
As the disciples staggered out into the daylight, whispers spread like fire. Those who had endured the maze, the balance, the storm, and now their own hearts… these were no ordinary disciples anymore. They were the rising pillars of Haotian and Lianhua's faction.
The council chamber was quiet that morning. The brazier still burned, but the air seemed lighter than before. For seven days, trial after trial had cut through the disciples. Now, with fourteen chosen, the first circle of captains was complete.
Haotian set down his notes, looking around the table. "Yesterday gave us the hardest trial of all. Not of body, but of spirit. Two more passed through the storm of their own hearts."
Lianhua's eyes softened as she recalled their faces. "The one who bore his guilt, and the one who turned from ambition. Both were tested in ways a blade could never measure."
Zhanfeng crossed his arms, expression serious. "The guilt-bearer—he nearly broke. That much weakness, it makes me wary. But…" He paused, lips curling slightly. "He stood back up. That counts for something."
Shuyin responded quickly, her voice warm but firm. "It counts for everything. Admitting failure without running, and choosing to carry it forward — that is integrity. I would trust him with lives."
Haotian inclined his head. "A leader who admits fault and still presses on… such men are rare."
They turned to the second candidate.
Lanyue leaned back in her chair, eyes sharp with amusement. "The ambitious one tempted by glory. I thought he would fold. But he spat in the face of temptation. That kind of defiance is a weapon."
Xuanming's tone was colder, though grudgingly respectful. "Yes. To reject power is harder than to seize it. But ambition will return. If he cannot balance it, he may yet falter."
Yuerin finally spoke, calm and deliberate. "True — but in that moment, he chose loyalty over selfishness. I saw clarity in his eyes when the illusion broke. That kind of resolve can anchor others."
Jianhong gave a single nod. "He withstood the storm within. Such steel belongs on the battlefield."
Haotian looked over them all, his gaze steady. "Fourteen. Each different. Each flawed. But each with the seed to command."
Lianhua's lips curved into a quiet smile. "We have the beginnings of captains — and in time, perhaps more."
The six guards murmured their assent. For once, none argued. The air in the chamber settled, firm with quiet resolve.
Outside, the faction bustled — disciples training harder than ever, rumors swirling like fire. Inside, Haotian's circle had finished the first great step. The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction now had its foundation.
The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Grounds had barely quieted after the Trial of Mirrors when the ripples spread.What began as murmurs in the shadowed corners of courtyards soon surged through every corridor and courtyard of the Burning Sun Sect like wildfire carried by the wind.
Fourteen had endured.Fourteen had walked the mirror's abyss, defied their reflections, and returned alive.Fourteen chosen under Haotian and Lianhua's gaze.
By midday, the entire sect vibrated with voices—some awed, some doubtful, some fearful—but none indifferent.
On the training fields, where blades clashed and fists struck against sparring dummies, whispers slipped like threads between bouts.
"I heard one shattered his own shadow-self and walked out smiling. Imagine having that kind of will…"
"They say another carried his teammate the whole way through. If that's true—that's the kind of captain worth following."
A scoff broke the reverent tones. "Hah. Don't be fooled. It's favoritism. Haotian's faction already feasts on the best resources. Of course his captains shine brightest."
Yet, no matter how envy colored some words, admiration burned brighter. Heads turned as the fourteen crossed the sect grounds. No longer faceless among the sea of robes, their steps seemed heavier, their silhouettes sharper. Others paused mid-stride to bow slightly—not ordered, but instinctive, born of respect that could not be ignored.
The air carried it: awe.
The hall of scrolls, where disciples came to claim their trials and prove their worth, buzzed with hushed speculation as mission brokers leaned over tables and traded rumors as if they were coin.
"Fourteen captains, raised in just two months… not even the great sects of the north have seen such growth."
"They're not just captains. They're pillars. If Haotian keeps this pace, his faction could rival the oldest within a year."
Another broker, quieter, more cautious, bent closer. "Rival? Try threaten. Already, older factions grit their teeth. Some leaders… are uneasy."
The parchment in their hands crinkled as silence fell. Even here, in the bustle of duty, the weight of change pressed like a shadow overhead.
Behind lacquered doors and veiled lanterns, the older captains met in dim-lit chambers, their voices sharp whispers over tea that grew cold.
"This is madness. Fourteen in one sweep? Our trials yield one, perhaps two… in an entire year."
"They're draining the neutral pool. The factionless disciples already flock to them. Soon, none will remain for us."
One voice, low and bitter, asked the question that no one wished to hear."Should we… oppose them?"
The room stilled. Silence weighed heavy until broken by a rasping laugh.
"Oppose Haotian? With the Sect Master smiling on him? With his beasts, his guards, his bloodline? No… only a fool challenges a rising storm." The speaker's tone sank like lead. "We watch. We wait. And when storms clash, perhaps… we pick the ruins clean."
Even in the high council hall, incense curling lazily toward painted rafters, the matter could not be ignored. Elders sat rigid as ripples of conversation broke their usual composure.
"Unorthodox methods… but undeniably effective. Fourteen chosen in less than two weeks. His eye for talent… sharper than expected."
Another voice, edged in caution: "Or more dangerous. Ten years at this pace, and he'll command an army within the sect walls."
Before the weight of speculation could swell further, the Sect Master's calm voice cut through like the toll of a bronze bell.
"Better within than without. Haotian builds. And what he builds, builds for us. Let disciples whisper. Let rivals envy. This… is only the beginning."
And with those words, no elder dared speak further. But each carried their own storm of thought behind closed eyes.
Within the faction's training square, firelight licked off sweat-soaked skin and ringing blades. The chosen fourteen pushed themselves until bruises layered over bruises, until breath tore ragged in their lungs. Pride and expectation weighed on every strike, every stance, every stumble—and still they endured, driven by something that burned brighter than exhaustion.
Beyond the gates, disciples gathered, silent witnesses to the spectacle. Some stood with envy sharp in their eyes. Others admired openly, seeing paths for their own futures. More than a few plotted in silence, schemes forming on how to earn their own chance to stand among the chosen.
Within the gates, Haotian and Lianhua observed in silence. Their eyes did not see captains already forged—they saw sparks. Sparks that, if stoked, would become a conflagration.
And when that blaze finally roared, no faction in the Burning Sun Sect… perhaps no power in the realm… would be able to look away.
The Raising Dragon and Phoenix Faction had chosen fourteen. Yet they were not faceless soldiers — each bore scars of trial and glimmers of future promise. In the days before the ceremony, Haotian and Lianhua observed them closely, measuring the seeds that would one day become pillars.
1. Wei Jian
Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence was like a fortress. In the Trial of Balance, he had steadied two collapsing platforms alone, buying time for others to cross. His loyalty to comrades was evident, though he tended to place himself in danger first. Lianhua saw him as someone who needed discipline — and protection from his own recklessness.
2. Su Ming
Sharp-eyed, lean, and quiet, Su Ming rarely spoke, but his gaze cut through hesitation. During the Maze of Trust, he had guided his team with calm directions while others panicked. Haotian admired his ability to stay cool under pressure, though Yuerin warned he might become too aloof to inspire others.
3. Bai Renshu
A swordsman known for speed, Renshu's arrogance was tempered in the Trial of Endurance. Where once he mocked slower companions, he had carried one through firestorms to safety. Zhanfeng noted with grudging respect that hardship had hammered humility into him.
4. Qin Yao
The only woman among the first four, Yao had revealed sharp instincts and a willingness to command. In the Trial of Storms, she had been the first to shout orders that rallied others when panic threatened. Lanyue teased that she had "a leader's tongue," but Haotian noted her words were backed by action.
5. Luo Han
During the Trial of Balance, he fell twice, bruised and bleeding. But each time, he climbed back up without complaint. Jianhong spoke well of him: "A rock that does not break, even if it crumbles." Haotian saw in him resilience, though not yet vision.
6. Zhao Yunfei
Yunfei's cunning had nearly lost him the Maze of Trust — he sought shortcuts, only to lead his team into a dead end. But when confronted, he admitted his mistake and took responsibility, carrying the blame squarely. Shuyin softened toward him then. "He stumbles," she said, "but he does not run from the truth."
7. Cheng Rui
Broad grin, easy laugh — but in the Trial of Mirrors, he faced a vision of his family accusing him of cowardice. He had wept openly, then walked forward anyway, tears on his face as his shadow shattered. Haotian marked him as rare: strong enough to admit weakness.
8. Lin Qiaoyu
Quiet as water, yet sharp beneath the surface. In endurance trials, when others gasped for breath, she conserved her strength and guided companions with steady hands. Yuerin approved deeply, saying, "She flows where others break." Haotian agreed — she had the patience of a tactician.
9. Tang Wei
Brash and loud, much like Zhanfeng, but when the storms raged, he put his body between the lightning and his teammates. His burns told the tale of someone willing to shield others at his own expense. Lanyue smirked, calling him "a fool with heart." Haotian saw something truer: selfless courage, unpolished but rare.
10. Mei Lihua
Slender and reserved, she had stunned them all in the Trial of Balance by stepping into command when others faltered. Her voice had cut through chaos, her strategies sharp. Xuanming had noted, "A blade is most dangerous when hidden in silk." Haotian quietly agreed — leadership sometimes bloomed in the unexpected.
11. Xu Daolin
Clever, sharp-tongued, prone to jesting even during trials. His mirror-self had taunted him with failure, but he had laughed in its face and pressed forward. Shuyin frowned at his irreverence, but Lanyue defended him with a grin: "A leader who can laugh at fear is one who can banish it from his followers."
12. Han Yong
Big-voiced, heavy-handed, he had shown surprising tenderness during the Endurance trial when he lifted an injured disciple and whispered encouragement until they reached safety. Lianhua had seen it too: "A man's gentleness can be as strong as his fists."
13. Gao Lin
The guilt-bearer. His shadow illusions had accused him of letting comrades die. He had nearly collapsed — but then accepted the weight and vowed to carry it forward. Now, when he walked, his back was straight, his eyes heavy but resolved. Jianhong called him "a man with scars in his soul." Haotian decided those scars made him steady.
14. Ren Kai
The ambition-tempted. His shadow-self had promised him power above all others. Yet he had rejected it, roaring that loyalty mattered more than glory. Zhanfeng smirked when he recalled it: "I half-thought he'd cave. But he spat in ambition's eye. That, I respect."
Together, the fourteen were an uneven set — strong, flawed, growing. But in Haotian and Lianhua's eyes, they were not mere disciples anymore. They were sparks ready to be fanned into flames.
The mission hall of the Burning Sun Sect had never seen such stillness. Disciples, elders, and even rival factions gathered shoulder to shoulder, whispers spreading like sparks before a storm. They had heard of it — that Haotian and Lianhua were to name their captains at last — but no one expected it to swell into a sect-wide spectacle.
At the center dais, Haotian stood with the Fenlong Spear resting beside him, his aura calm but unyielding. Beside him was Lianhua, radiant yet composed, her hands folded as though she were the balancing flame to his unshakable steel. Behind them, in two neat rows, stood the Six Guards and the Fourteen Trial-Forged — twenty in total, their faces solemn, their postures straight.
Haotian's voice carried over the crowd without strain:
"Disciples of Burning Sun Sect. Brothers and sisters of the Raising Dragon and Phoenix. Today we recognize those who will shoulder the future with us. Twenty captains — sworn not to power, but to duty. To protect, to guide, and to uplift the many beneath their wings."
A murmur passed through the hall. Twenty captains? Never had a faction declared such structure, let alone with such strength behind it.
Haotian turned first, extending his hand toward the six he trusted most.
"First, the Six who stood with me from the beginning. Lanyue, Yuerin, Zhanfeng, Jianhong, Xuanming, Shuyin. You are more than captains. You are guardians, cornerstones of this faction. Let all disciples know: your word bears my weight."
The six bowed in unison, their auras flaring briefly — each distinct, yet woven together like strands of fate.
Then Haotian's gaze swept across the line of fourteen, the faces marked by their trials.
"Wei Jian. Su Ming. Bai Renshu. Qin Yao. Luo Han. Zhao Yunfei. Cheng Rui. Lin Qiaoyu. Tang Wei. Mei Lihua. Xu Daolin. Han Yong. Gao Lin. Ren Kai. You entered as disciples, you endured as brothers and sisters, and you stand now as captains. Each of you carries a strength unique — resilience, wisdom, courage, loyalty — but together you will lead."
One by one, each name echoed in the hall like a hammer's strike. Some disciples in the crowd cheered, recognizing comrades; others stared in envy or awe.
Lianhua then stepped forward, her clear voice a counterbalance to Haotian's commanding tone:
"These captains are not ornaments. They will lead squads, train disciples, and be tested endlessly. Their duty is heavier than glory. Remember, a captain does not stand above — a captain stands with those they guide."
Her words quieted the hall to a reverent hush.
Haotian raised his hand, and formations of light shimmered briefly above the dais — a phoenix's wings and a dragon's coils intertwining, the faction's crest. The captains knelt beneath the glow, one knee to the ground, swearing their oath as their voices joined as one:
"We swear to the Raising Dragon and Phoenix. To its people, to its creed, to the path we walk together. We shall not falter."
The sound reverberated like thunder through the hall.
The sect master, watching from the high seat, narrowed his eyes. A faint smile tugged at his lips. Whatever path Haotian was carving, it was no mere faction — it was a foundation, a power that would one day rival even the sect itself.
As the hall erupted into cheers, Haotian glanced to Lianhua. She met his gaze, her smile steady and sure. Together, they had taken the first step in raising a legacy.