The seasonal "Gathering of Trials" was a spectacle for the Silent Moon Sect's outer disciples. It was less a formal competition and more a chaotic, semi-sanctioned brawl held in the "Misty Vale," a low-lying forest clearing where the sect's spiritual mists gathered thickest. The goal was simple: be one of the last twenty disciples standing in the vale by dawn, or hold one of the five "Moonstone Seals" hidden within it. The reward was a month's supply of Spirit-Grain pills and, more importantly, the attention of the inner sect elders.
For Lee Jin, it was an unprecedented opportunity. A hunting ground.
He stood at the edge of the chattering crowd of outer disciples, a grey ghost among the hopeful blues and anxious whites of training robes. His own robes were still the drab, undyed hemp of a servant. He hadn't been invited; he had simply shown up. No one had told him he couldn't.
Senior Disciple Han, overseeing the gathering, spotted him. His eyes flashed with irritation. "You? What do you think you're doing here, trash? The Trials are for disciples with potential, not for menial laborers to get trampled."
Lee Jin met his gaze, something he would never have dared months ago. "The edict says 'all outer disciples may test their progress,' Senior Brother. I am an outer disciple."
A few nearby disciples snickered, but it was a nervous sound. They remembered the spar with Kwan. Han's jaw tightened. Denying him openly would be against the rules. "So be it. The mists do not discriminate between fools and the dead. Don't come crying when you break something."
The gong sounded, and the flood of disciples surged into the Misty Vale. Lee Jin didn't rush. He let the crowd swallow him, then slipped sideways into the thicker treeline, away from the main charge. The moment he entered the mist-wreathed woods, his senses, honed by months of stolen skills, sharpened.
The Moonlight Step, now a serviceable short-distance dash, carried him silently from shadow to shadow. His Master Herbalism identified patches of slippery Ghost Moss and the intoxicating pollen of Dreamwillow blooms—hazards to avoid, or perhaps to use. His Silent Moon Fist knowledge assessed the distant sounds of scuffles—the thud of a clean hit, the sloppy swing of an overcommitted punch.
For an hour, he was a ghost, observing. He saw two disciples team up to ambush a third, only to turn on each other the moment their target fell. He saw a burly disciple find a Moonstone Seal hidden in a rotten log, only to be immediately set upon by a pack of three. Greed and desperation were the true trials.
Lee Jin's target wasn't a seal. It was a specific skill he had seen during a demonstration weeks prior but never been close enough to copy: the "Mist-Cutter Palm," a technique that used a sharp, condensed burst of qi to part obstructions—or flesh. It was used by a tall, severe-looking disciple named Rho, who was now moving through the woods with calm, predatory efficiency, easily dispatching anyone who came near him.
Rho was hunting seals. Lee Jin was hunting Rho.
He trailed him at the very edge of his system's 10-meter range, a shadow in the shadows. Rho encountered a disciple hiding in a thicket. The disciple panicked, lashing out with a basic fist form. Rho didn't bother with a stance. His hand shot out, palm flat. There was a sound like tearing cloth, and a visible wedge of force cut through the mist, striking the disciple in the chest and sending him flying backwards into a tree, unconscious.
[Target: Disciple Rho]
- Skills Detected: One Moon Circulation (Advanced), Mist-Cutter Palm (Competent), Observant Eye (Novice)
[Copying: 'Mist-Cutter Palm'…]
The knowledge streamed in—a complex, violent focusing of qi into the edge of the palm, a specific torsion of the wrist at the moment of release. It was far more demanding than the Silent Moon Fist. It required fine control and a significant burst of energy.
[Copy Complete: 'Mist-Cutter Palm' (Competent)]
Just as the integration finished, Rho's head snapped around. His Observant Eye, though low-level, had caught a flicker of movement—a displaced tendril of mist, the scuff of Lee Jin's retreating foot.
"A rat in the shadows," Rho said, his voice cold. He didn't see Lee Jin clearly, only a shape. "Come out. I'll make it quick."
Lee Jin didn't answer. He calculated. Rho was stronger, faster, with more qi. A direct fight was suicide. But he had something Rho didn't: perfect knowledge of Rho's own signature technique, and a map of the terrain in his mind.
He burst from cover, not towards Rho, but at a sharp angle, using a Moonlight Step to zigzag between two thick oaks. Rho snorted, giving chase with fluid, ground-eating strides.
Lee Jin led him on a chase, not a flight. He ducked under a low branch Rho had to swerve around. He leaped a patch of Ghost Moss that Rho, in his confident pursuit, stepped on. Rho's foot slid, breaking his momentum for a critical half-second.
That was the opening.
Lee Jin spun. He didn't have the qi to execute a true Mist-Cutter Palm. But he didn't need to. He understood its principle: a sharp, linear projection. He funneled every drop of qi he could muster—not intohis palm, but into his fist. He channeled it not with the Mist-Cutter's fine focus, but with the Silent Moon Fist's brutal efficiency, using the copied knowledge of the Palm's release point to amplify the strike.
It was a hybrid. A bastard technique.
He punched, not at Rho, but at the mist-slick trunk of a young pine directly beside the pursuing disciple. His fist, sheathed in a faint, desperate silver, struck the wood.
CRACK-BOOM!
It wasn't a clean cut. It was a localized explosion of force. The trunk didn't part; it splintered. A shower of wet wood and sap erupted directly into Rho's path. A sharp, spinning chunk struck him across the temple. He cried out, more in shock and indignation than serious injury, and stumbled, blinded by sap and debris.
Lee Jin didn't stay to see the result. He was already gone, another Moonlight Step carrying him deep into a gully, his qi reserves utterly spent, his lungs burning. He collapsed behind a boulder, listening.
He heard Rho's furious roar, then the sound of him crashing away, likely to clean his face and seek easier prey.
Lee Jin lay in the dirt, shivering from exhaustion and adrenaline. He hadn't won a fight. He hadn't captured a seal. But he had stolen a high-grade technique from a superior opponent and used its principles to survive. He had been an uninvited guest, and he had not been ejected.
As dawn's pale light began to dilute the mist, a system notification glowed in his weary vision.
[Combat Data: High-Stress Evasion and Improvisation logged.]
[Skill Synergy Detected: 'Silent Moon Fist' and 'Mist-Cutter Palm' principles show 11% compatibility.]
[New Objective: Restore Qi. Locate nutrient source. The hunt continues at dusk.]
The hunt. Not for seals, or for rank. For the next skill, the next piece of the mosaic he was building from the broken fragments of his stolen talents. He pushed himself up, the taste of pine sap and victory—thin and strange—on his lips. The ghost was still in the game.