Morning dawned over Nian Village, but the sky remained shrouded in heavy gray clouds, casting the plaza in a muted, oppressive light. The sound of drums echoed through the streets, summoning villagers of all ages—children, adults, and elders alike—to the central square. Today was the Clan Acceptance Ceremony, a day that would determine the future of the village's youngest generation.
Hundreds of children, from ten to twenty years old, stood in neat rows, their faces tense and palms slick with sweat. Parents lined the edges of the plaza, whispering prayers, their eyes reflecting equal measures of hope and anxiety. At the head of the square, a grand stage had been erected before the ancestral monument. The elders, along with Clan Leader Bai Nian and Rion Yan, sat in solemn silence, the clan flag fluttering behind them like a silent witness to the day's trials.
On the second floor of the academy, Fu Yang observed the proceedings. He was dressed in a clean black robe for the first time, his skin smooth and unmarred, hair neatly combed by a villager's wife. He looked taller than most of the other children, radiating the disciplined air of a scholar. For the first time, he did not need to hide his face. A faint, calm smile tugged at his lips as he glanced downward at the students below—each one struggling with weighted stones, balancing acts, and endurance tests.
"Mmm… the test is simple yet merciless," he murmured inwardly. "A trial of strength, endurance, and focus. In my previous life, I needed four long years to pass." His eyes scanned the ground, noting the trembling hands of children lifting heavy stones, the hesitant recitations of teachings, and the beads of sweat glistening on flushed foreheads. Some succeeded, while many failed. Parents held their breath with every trial.
Then, a name was called. Cin Yan stepped forward, and a hush swept over the plaza. The elders' eyes naturally shifted to Rion Yan, who let out a faint sigh.
"Haaa… i told her that she was already accepted as a disciple," the old man admitted, his voice calm but edged with gravity. "Yet she wished to prove herself, to show that she does not always rely on me. I could not stop her. Forgive me—and my granddaughter—for this behavior."
An elder waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, it is quite alright. If anything, it demonstrates the young Miss's exceptional talent." The others nodded in agreement, their words polished with praise. Rion Yan merely inclined his head politely, offering quiet thanks.
---
Cin Yan's steps were measured and poised as she entered the circle, her long sleeves swaying elegantly with each stride. Every eye in the crowd followed her, a mixture of awe and envy in their gaze. Before her, a heavy stone block awaited—prepared specifically for her age group.
Without hesitation, she crouched, tightened her stance, and lifted. The crowd gasped. Her arms quivered faintly, but her face remained serene, breathing steady and unshaken. She carried the weight across the stage, placed it down carefully, and stood tall, eyes gleaming with determination.
"Such control…!" whispered one elder.
"She has not only strength, but also discipline of mind," another murmured.
Villagers erupted into applause, some shouting her name, while the other children stared with a mixture of awe, admiration, and envy. Cin Yan continued through the endurance and mental trials with apparent ease, her movements precise and confident.
Bai Nian's lips curved in satisfaction. "Cin Yan, your strength and willpower surpass your years. From today, you shall be recognized as an inner disciple of the Yan Clan."
Mo Mi chuckled, pride clear in her voice. "The flower of the Yan Clan blooms brilliantly today."
Fu Yang's eyes lingered briefly on her before shifting back to the other participants. Reputation, respect, jealousy—they were all but empty garments for him, easily donned or discarded.
---
The following day, the results were announced: twelve inner disciples and seventy externals. Ten of the inner disciples were children of the elders, including Shi Tian and Sha Tian. The remaining two were Fu Yang and Cin Yan. Villagers celebrated, praising the rise of a new generation of strength.
That evening, the inner disciples were invited to a banquet at the famous inn of Nian Village. An invitation had also been extended to Fu Yang, though upon arrival, the guards blocked him.
"You are too late," one said. "The banquet has already begun. You cannot enter now."
Fu Yang's expression remained unchanged. He turned silently and walked away, fully aware of the truth behind the refusal. Reputation and social approval meant nothing to him now. "Right now," he thought, "I should stay low and cultivate. Until I am strong enough to protect myself, I avoid unnecessary attention."
---
Inside the banquet hall, Cin Yan sat at the main table, flanked by Shi Tian and Sha Tian. Laughter and conversation flowed freely.
"Brother Shi, your performance in the strength trial was truly impressive," Cin Yan said.
"Haha, thank you. But I am nothing compared to Miss Yan. You're on a different level entirely… unlike certain crybabies," Shi Tian said pointedly, drawing chuckles from the table.
Sha Tian sneered. "Even after Miss Yan invited him, he still didn't show his face. Hmph. We all belong to the same clan, yet he acts so aloof."
Their words chipped subtly at Fu Yang's reputation, but he paid them no mind. To him, respect and social standing were garments anyone could wear or strip away.
Cin Yan's calm voice cut through their chatter. "Enough. We are here to discuss important matters, not waste time on cowards. Besides, what face would he have to appear here? He didn't even attend the trials properly." Her words carried authority, and the crowd nodded, laughter and mockery continuing in the background.
---
Meanwhile, Fu Yang returned to his academy quarters. Each inner disciple had a separate room—neither too small nor too large, just enough to serve as a private space for study and cultivation.
He seated himself cross-legged on the bed, eyes scanning the room carefully. Satisfied that no one was nearby, he closed them and sank into meditation.
Still in the initial stage of Skin Tempering, his consciousness delved inward, circling around the black-and-silver core at the center of his body. He tried to provoke it, to draw out its latent power—but the core remained still, unyielding.
Clicking his tongue softly, he withdrew his focus. Instead, he turned inward, concentrating on the fragments of wolf skin still embedded in his flesh. To reach the next stage—the Flesh Forging Stage—a cultivator had to purge every trace of beast impurity. Fu Yang estimated he was still at 94%. When it fell to 75%, he would reach the intermediate stage; at 50%, the final stage.
The method of purification required relentless training paired with potent breathing techniques. Fu Yang chose one of the best, ancient and unforgiving: the Hold and Flow Technique.
He inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a full minute. The pressure forced his blood to surge violently, concentrating in his head. His body trembled under the strain, but his face remained calm, eyes sharp with focus. This was just the beginning.