The courtyard stilled. Even the rowdiest of students quieted, their earlier boasts swallowed by unease. The faint breeze rustling across the plaza seemed heavy with foreboding.
A Heavenly Dragon Sect attendant stepped forward, his robes edged with threads of silver. In his hand gleamed a jade staff, and with a single strike against the flagstones, glowing lines spread outward like veins of molten light. They coiled and intertwined, weaving into a vast formation that hummed faintly. The air itself thickened, resonating in the marrow of every bone.
"Step forward," the attendant intoned. His voice was neither loud nor harsh, yet it carried to every ear with a weight that brooked no disobedience. "This is the Trial of Endurance. It will not test your fists, but the burdens you can carry within your heart."
Uneasy murmurs rippled through the gathered students. Some clenched their weapons tighter, though no blade would help them here. Others exchanged wary glances, realizing that there was no ally they could lean on in what was to come.
One by one, the competitors stepped into the array. Each footfall sent ripples of light through the runes. Li Wei followed in silence, the faint thrum of energy prickling against his skin. As soon as he crossed the boundary, a curtain of light rose around the formation, sealing them inside.
The courtyard, the onlookers, the sect attendants—all vanished.
Darkness stretched in every direction.
At first, it was merely absence—no sky, no ground, no horizon. Then the whispers came.
They rose from nowhere, curling like smoke into Li Wei's ears—voices he knew, voices he did not. They shifted between tones: mocking, mourning, accusing, taunting. The words pressed against him like cold hands at his back.
You will never rise beyond this.
Your parents died for nothing.
Every step you take is meaningless.
Li Wei's breath hitched. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms until pain steadied him. These were not illusions of flesh and blade like the first trial. These were subtler, sharper: shadows of his own doubts, his own scars, turned into weapons against him. He forced his breathing into rhythm, guiding his qi as an anchor against the storm.
Across the endless void, the trials of others played out. Though each student was trapped in their own pocket of darkness, glimpses bled through. One collapsed, wailing for forgiveness to a long-dead parent. Another raged, striking wildly at invisible enemies, his sword cutting only emptiness. A girl sat unmoving, her body trembling as though weighed down by chains unseen. Each heart was laid bare, their burdens displayed for all within the array to witness.
For Li Wei, the darkness shifted. It thickened, congealed, and then burst into flame. He smelled smoke—thick, choking. He heard the crackle of burning wood. The night of his childhood returned with brutal clarity. His village ablaze. Screams tearing the air. Shadows moving with blades drawn, faceless yet all too real.
"No." His growl cut against the phantom fire. His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding. "Not again."
The Whirlwind Slash erupted from his blade, qi whipping through the darkness as he carved at the fiery mirage. The flames parted, the illusion rippling—but it did not fade. The trial pressed harder, dragging him deeper into memory. His mother's face appeared in the smoke, lined with fear and love. His father's arm rose once more, shielding him even as the blade fell.
Li Wei staggered. His breath came ragged, chest heaving. This was not qi exhaustion; his circulation surged strong, even more vibrant than it had days before. No, the strain came from within—from his heart dragged back into chains he thought he had long since broken.
He dropped to one knee.
"Why?" The word bled into the dark, cracked and raw. "Why did they come? Why did they take everything?"
Silence. Then the laughter of unseen men, cruel and hollow.
The fire wavered, forming twisted silhouettes—mocking shadows of those who had struck his village. Blades glinted, dripping with blood only he could see.
Li Wei's eyes hardened. His fists clenched until blood welled from his palms. He drew a long, sharp breath. "This is why I am here. They will pay for it. But for that to happen… I must pass this trial."
He shut his eyes and took a deep long breath.
When they opened again, they burned with steady light. The fire melted away. The voices scattered like leaves in the wind. Only the endless black remained, thinner now, fractured with veins of pale brilliance.
He pushed himself upright. One step forward. Then another. Each movement carved open the shadows, light spilling through until the void shuddered. With a final breath, the darkness shattered.
The array dissolved.
Li Wei stumbled back into the courtyard, the weight of silence pressing on him once more. The sunlight seemed harsher after that suffocating dark, yet the air had never felt so precious in his lungs.
All around him, students emerged in varying states. Some pale, trembling, their gazes hollow as if they had glimpsed something too heavy to bear. Others stood stiff, jaws tight, their robes soaked with sweat. A few had to be carried out entirely by sect attendants, their strength consumed by the ordeal.
From the corner of his eye, Li Wei saw Wang Zhao stagger free of the array. The Xiang Academy prodigy's face was twisted, his usual arrogance cracked into something darker. He caught Li Wei's gaze, and for a brief moment, there was no taunt, no sneer—only a flash of recognition that this trial had shaken them both. Then Wang Zhao turned sharply away, shoulders rigid.
Mei appeared beside Li Wei, her face damp with tears she hastily brushed aside. She grabbed his arm, her grip trembling. "You alright?"
Li Wei nodded once. His chest still heaved, his robes clung with sweat, but his qi burned clear and steady within him—fuller, sharper than before. Whatever had occurred inside, it had not broken him. If anything, it had carved something away, leaving the core of his will more defined.
"Good," Mei whispered. Her voice cracked, but she forced a smile. "Good."
The array pulsed on, drawing in those who had not yet entered. The glow lit the courtyard in eerie light, shadows dancing across the ancient stone. Around the perimeter, Heavenly Dragon Sect attendants watched in silence, their expressions unreadable. But their eyes tracked every falter, every triumph, weighing futures with a single glance.
Li Wei's gaze lingered on the glowing formation, the faint hum still vibrating in his bones. His heart was steady now, yet the echoes of the trial clung to him like smoke.
---
Far from the gathered crowd, in the shadow of a narrow alley not far from the plaza, two cloaked figures lingered.
"Damn it," one hissed. His voice was raw, frayed with frustration. "The second trial's already over. We missed our chance."
The other spat onto the cobblestones, his eyes narrow beneath his hood. "The brat won't slip away forever. The third trial—"
A voice cut through the night, calm and cold.
"No. You won't live to see it."
The assassins stiffened. A figure had appeared behind them without sound, as though he had simply stepped out of the darkness itself. Silver hair gleamed faintly in the moonlight, and his robe bore the unmistakable insignia of the Heavenly Dragon Sect. His eyes, sharp as blades, pinned them in place.
"You dare move against the sect's chosen in our own city?" His words carried no anger, only the weight of inevitability.
The assassins drew their blades, desperation flashing in their eyes. They lunged—
—and were gone.
No clash, no cry. Just a ripple of qi that snuffed them out like sparks in a storm. When the air stilled, only the elder remained, his hands folded behind his back.
He gazed toward the distant compound where the students rested, his eyes lingering on one figure he had marked since the first trial.
"Interesting indeed," he murmured. Then, as silently as he had come, he vanished into the night.