The announcement of the results came like a rolling thunder that shook the Outer Sect to its core. Twenty-five teams had been tested, broken, and scattered across the vast arena, but only five stood tall at the end. Lu Mao and his companions Chen Yuan, Bao Fu, and Yan Mei were among them. The morning light spilled over the sect courtyard, dyeing the banners in crimson and gold as the elders made their way to the front.
The elder presiding over the competition stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his presence calm yet carrying the weight of authority. His voice boomed across the gathering of bruised and exhausted students.
"The trial has ended. Five teams remain standing. These five teams have earned the right to represent the Outer Sect, to receive the rewards bestowed by the Inner Court, and to set foot on the path beyond these walls."
The crowd stirred. Eyes glittered with envy and admiration alike. For most, reaching this stage was a dream deferred. For those who made it, the future lay open.
The elder lifted a hand, and a disciple came forward, holding a jade tray. Upon it rested porcelain bottles sealed with red wax, their faint glow betraying the precious contents within. Another disciple carried a small wooden chest, the lacquer gleaming as though it had never known dust.
"Each member of the winning teams shall receive a Foundation Qi Pill," the elder announced. "This pill will refine your meridians, strengthen your dantian, and allow smoother breakthroughs. For some, it may mark the difference between stagnation and advancement. Use it well."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Even some of the seniors who had failed to qualify clenched their fists in jealousy. Pills of this grade were rarely given to the Outer Sect. For most, it was the sort of thing one would never see unless taken in by an Inner Sect master.
"And for the teams as a whole," the elder continued, gesturing to the chest, "each will be granted access to one martial manual from the Inner Court library. Unlike the common manuals of the Outer Sect, these are refined arts, cultivated and polished by the core disciples. Guard it, train in it, and carry the sect's name proudly when you take missions outside these walls."
The tension thickened. Students leaned forward unconsciously, trying to peer into the chest. The very thought of touching something from the Inner Court was enough to send the young cultivators' hearts racing.
When the names of the five winning teams were called, disciples stepped forward one by one to receive their rewards. Zhang Wei, scar still cutting across his cheek from the earlier humiliation, stood among them. His glare toward Lu Mao was sharp as steel, but he said nothing, the weight of the elders' presence silencing him.
Finally, it was Lu Mao's turn. He and his companions approached the front, bowing as etiquette demanded. A disciple handed them each a porcelain bottle. Even sealed, Lu Mao could feel the faint thrum of Qi leaking through, brushing against his skin like warm static. His fingers tightened around it.
The chest was opened next. Inside lay six manuals bound in dark cloth, each radiating a pressure that set the air vibrating. Lu Mao's eyes instinctively locked onto one its aura steady, deep, almost like a mountain breathing in silence. It wasn't flashy like the others, but something about it resonated.
Li Xian, who stood to the side as their overseer, raised a brow. "Choose wisely. These are not books to glance at and toss aside. They will define the rhythm of your cultivation."
Chen Yuan, ever steady, deferred. "Lu Mao, you choose. You've carried us this far."
Bao Fu groaned dramatically. "If it ends up being a boring one, I'll blame you."
Yan Mei said nothing, her gaze simply flickering toward Lu Mao as though testing whether his instincts would prove true.
Without hesitation, Lu Mao extended his hand and lifted the mountain-aura manual. The elder nodded faintly, sealing the choice.
The ceremony concluded, but Lu Mao barely felt the applause that followed. His mind had already turned inward, his thoughts echoing with a single question: Would this be enough to open another vault?
That night, silence blanketed the dormitory. Chen Yuan had taken to meditation immediately, sitting cross-legged with his Foundation Pill already consumed, his breathing steady as the faint rhythm of circulating Qi filled the air. Bao Fu had collapsed into bed with a full belly, muttering about eating first and cultivating later. Yan Mei, as elusive as always, had retreated to her corner, shrouded in her own quiet practice.
Lu Mao sat alone, the porcelain bottle before him. He stared at it for a long time, his mind replaying the storm of fists from the vault, the agony, the ecstasy, the clarity that came with Wind Fist's absorption. His fingers uncorked the bottle, and at once a sweet, potent fragrance filled the room. The pill within was pearl-white, faintly luminous, as though it had been carved from condensed moonlight.
Without hesitation, he swallowed it.
The effect was immediate. The pill dissolved on his tongue, melting into streams of warmth that coursed down his throat, spreading through his meridians. His dantian pulsed, drinking it in greedily. Each breath he drew grew heavier, deeper, until the world itself seemed to breathe with him.
He closed his eyes. The world around him fell away.
And then he stood once more in his inner world.
The black-golden vein stretched endlessly, molten brilliance flowing through the void. The vault that had swallowed Wind Fist pulsed faintly, like a heart still digesting its feast. Dozens of other vaults remained, silent, sealed, their surfaces unyielding.
Lu Mao summoned the Shadow Steps manual into his hand. The book shimmered with light, the diagrams and footwork glowing faintly. He lifted it, letting its energy flow toward the nearest vault.
Nothing.
The book trembled but did not dissolve, did not get pulled inward like Wind Fist had. The vault remained cold and unresponsive, as though it hadn't even noticed him.
He tried again with Phantom Veil. Then Eyes of the Hawk. Then the Inner Court manual they had claimed as a prize. One after another, he willed them to merge, to trigger the same storm of knowledge that Wind Fist had given him.
Each time, the result was the same: silence.
Lu Mao's jaw tightened. His fists clenched around the glowing manuals. "Why? Why did it work once but not again?"
He hammered his will against the vaults, demanding, begging for a response. Sweat broke out across his brow even within the inner world. But the vaults stood silent, unmoving, as if mocking his desperation.
Exhausted, he sank to his knees. The manuals lay scattered around him, glowing faintly in the void. His breaths came ragged. The black-golden vein pulsed on, indifferent to his struggle.
It was only then that a faint whisper brushed his consciousness. Not a voice, but an instinct, an intuition rising from the marrow of his being. Not yet. Too weak. The path is closed until you climb higher.
Lu Mao's eyes widened. He understood.
The vaults were not stubborn for the sake of it. They were bound to his cultivation. Until his foundation deepened, until his Qi veins expanded, they would not yield. The Wind Fist had been the opening gift, but the others were locked away, awaiting a key he did not yet possess.
He gritted his teeth. His fists shook. "So strength is the price… cultivation is the key."
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the dormitory, drenched in sweat, the faint taste of iron in his mouth. His heart still thundered in his chest, but clarity had returned. He could not force the vaults. He had to grow into them.
Across the room, Bao Fu was snoring like a beast. Chen Yuan's breathing was even, his Qi circulating smoothly. Yan Mei's presence was quiet but sharp, like a blade hidden in its sheath.
Lu Mao leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. His lips curved into a faint, determined smile. "Fine. If cultivation is the key… then I'll climb. Step by step, until every vault opens."
His hands flexed, the faint echo of Wind Fist still tingling in his veins. One day, the storm would return. One day, every vault would yield.
And on that day, the Outer Sect, the Inner Court, the entire cultivation world none of them would be able to stand in his way.
The next morning dawned with a new routine. The team began to prepare for their first mission outside the sect. Rivalries simmered beneath the surface, whispers of grudges and unfinished business still fresh from the competition. Zhang Wei and his scarred sneer lingered like a shadow, promising conflict yet to come.
But for now, Lu Mao had one goal. Train. Grow. Unlock.
And deep within his dantian, the vaults waited in silence.