The Mission Hall was alive with noise, a tide of outer sect disciples rushing in and out beneath its towering eaves. Light from the morning sun spilled through high windows, glinting off bronze plaques that listed missions, rewards, and sect decrees. Li Wei moved steadily through the press of bodies, Mei Yun walking a step behind him, her gaze sweeping warily across the crowd.
They reached the verification counter, a long stretch of carved wood reinforced with inscription lines. A steward waited behind it, a sharp-eyed woman with ink-stained fingers. She gave Li Wei a brief glance, cool and impersonal, before holding out her hand for his token.
Li Wei placed it silently in her palm. With practiced efficiency, she pressed the jade into a crystal array embedded in the counter. The formation came alive with a soft hum, runes spinning before settling into clear numbers.
Her voice was clipped, devoid of warmth."Redclaw Hollow mission complete. +500 contribution points."
She slid the token back toward him without hesitation."Balance: 2,725."
Li Wei inclined his head in acknowledgment. A murmur rippled through the nearby disciples; his name had already begun circulating after the Ironfang Wolves extermination. Now, with another successful mission on record, those murmurs sharpened into recognition—and recognition was dangerous. Respect and envy traveled side by side, and rivals were always listening.
"Wei," Mei Yun whispered as they left the counter, "people are staring."
He didn't respond. His gaze swept the hall, noting snatches of conversation. Mentions of the Four Great Northern Sects. Rumors of prodigies climbing higher on the Stele. And—more quietly, spoken behind cupped hands—whispers of caravans gone missing, bodies found with the markings of slavers carved into their flesh.
His jaw tightened. Redclaw Hollow had not been an isolated incident.
---
Later that day, the Stele of Names loomed above him once more. Sunlight gleamed off the monumental slab, its surface etched with thousands of glowing names. Each bore rank, each carried weight. Around its base, disciples sparred and meditated, their eyes flicking often toward the rankings that defined their futures.
"Li Wei."
He turned. Han Lin approached, his arm still bandaged from an earlier duel but his grin sharp as ever. "Word is you've been climbing faster than anyone expected. Don't tell me you're planning to stop at Rank 180?"
"I don't have the luxury of stopping," Li Wei replied.
Han Lin chuckled. "Good. Because Zhao Tian has been looking for you. He didn't like that stalemate last time. Says he'll settle it properly when you're ready."
Li Wei's gaze drifted upward, toward the names clustered around Rank 180. Zhao Tian's glacial footwork, the Frost Serpent Steps—he remembered every detail of their clash. He would not approach that fight unprepared.
Instead, he stepped onto the challenge platform beneath the Stele. His voice carried clear: "Li Wei of Heavenly Dragon Sect petitions the Stele for a challenge above Rank 180."
The ancient stone pulsed faintly, runes rippling across its surface. A name glowed brighter—Rank 179—indicating the next available opponent. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the formation responded. A shimmer of light spilled across the courtyard, and from among the onlookers, a tall youth in emerald robes stepped forward. His spear shimmered faintly with wood-element qi. The Stele had chosen.
The duel began.
The clash was fierce. The youth's spearwork swept wide arcs, roots and branches sprouting in the air as qi manifested around him. Li Wei's Flowing Cloud Steps carried him through the storm, his blade cutting precise lines between strikes. The Tempest Fang Slash roared once, tearing through the spear's defense and leaving a shallow line across the boy's arm. Moments later, the match ended. Li Wei stood victorious, chest heaving but calm.
"Winner: Li Wei. New Rank: 179."
Cheers and murmurs surged through the watching disciples. Mei Yun met his gaze from the sidelines, pride flickering in her eyes despite her worry. Han Lin whooped loud enough to be heard across the courtyard.
The steward at the Stele announced: "Reward: +200 contribution points."
His jade token glowed faintly. Balance: 2,925.
Still short of what he needed. But progress nonetheless.
He did not stop there. Li Wei challenged again that same afternoon, forcing his battered body through one duel after another. Rank 172 fell after a grueling thirty exchanges. Rank 165 followed, the duel ending with his Tempest Fang Slash shattering a defensive wall of earth qi. Sweat streamed down his back, his lungs burned, but his sword-arm remained steady.
By the time dusk bled into the sky, he had pushed himself to Rank 162. Each victory added weight to his jade token, though the numbers were still far from what was needed.
Balance: 3,175.
The crowd's whispers grew louder. "He's rising too fast." "No one should be able to maintain that pace." "Is he hiding a background after all?"
Li Wei ignored them all. Each strike, each step was proof not of hidden lineage but of relentless will.
---
Night descended slowly over the sect. Lanterns bloomed across the stone walkways, their soft glow mirrored in still ponds. The quiet was broken only by the faint rush of wind through pines. Beneath one of those ancient trees, Li Wei sat cross-legged, eyes closed, guiding his breath. The battles of the day churned through his meridians, qi restless and burning, but he steadied it with discipline, hammering his foundation firmer with each cycle.
Each battle honed him sharper, each mission pressed him harder. Yet always, at the edge of thought, lay the memory of Redclaw Hollow—the prisoners, the brands on their skin.
The slavers were not gone. They had only been brushed aside.
Beyond the sect's protective array, miles down the mountain, a cloaked figure emerged from the forest's edge. Another waited for him beside a covered wagon.
"He survived Redclaw Hollow," the first whispered. "If he keeps digging, the boy will draw too close to our route."
"Then let him climb," the other replied, voice cold. "The higher he goes, the harder he'll fall. Until then, we watch. When the order comes, he will be silenced."
The wagon creaked into motion, rolling into the night, leaving only the rustle of branches in their wake.
---
Li Wei's jade token rested in his palm, its faint glow marking the weight of his progress.
Balance: 3,175.