The moon, no longer blood-red but a pale, indifferent silver, illuminated the vast, rocky expanse that surrounded the Five Evil Beast Sect. The mountain wind howled fiercely, echoing through the sharp peaks and carrying with it the scent of pine and snow. It was an unforgiving place—a land of isolation, where only the strong could survive and the weak were buried under the weight of their own failure.
At dawn, the winds picked up their pace, slicing through the dense fog that clung to the mountain like an old wound. Mo Gufeng stood at the edge of a steep cliff, looking down into the swirling abyss below. He could feel the wind rushing past his ears, like a cold whisper urging him to step forward, to dive into the void. His heart pounded in his chest, and though his tiny legs trembled under his weight, he stood firm. His father's voice echoed in his mind, sharp as a blade:
"Strength is born from the depths of fear. The weak will falter when faced with adversity. The strong will rise."
This was the beginning of his true test—the first trial in his life, and he had no choice but to face it. Mo Tianxie, standing at a distance, watched him with that same, emotionless gaze. His father's presence felt like the weight of a mountain pressing down on his son's fragile shoulders. He had never once raised his voice in anger. Instead, his commands were like a steady drumbeat, unyielding and ever-present, punctuating the child's existence with the rhythm of expectations.
"You will not fall. You will not fail," Mo Tianxie's voice carried over the howling winds.
Gufeng's small hands clenched into fists, the muscles of his tiny body taut with the strain of focus. The sky above seemed to stretch infinitely, a never-ending void that mocked his size, his youth, his very being. But within him, something shifted—a spark of defiance. He had felt it before, in the quiet moments when his father's gaze wasn't on him, when the suffocating silence of the mountain stronghold pressed in from all sides. It was the quiet voice of his mother, whispering from the depths of his soul. Survive. Grow. You are destined for more than this.
And with that, Gufeng took the first step toward his destiny. His feet moved slowly at first, the ground beneath him unstable. His mind was clear, his heart steady. As he advanced to the center of the cliff, the training had begun. But unlike his father's brutal, physical tests, this trial was more subtle, more dangerous in its own right. The wind, sharp and relentless, suddenly picked up speed, roaring around him like a living creature, pushing him backward, trying to drag him into the void below.
But Gufeng's body responded instinctively. His small frame bent with the wind, but he did not break. Each step was deliberate, calculated. He felt the tendons in his legs coil and release, his muscles straining against the onslaught of wind. With each movement, the child's body seemed to meld with the forces around him—strength born not of brute force, but of endurance and precision.
A crackling sound pierced the air, the first strike of thunder from an incoming storm. Mo Tianxie, still observing from a distance, narrowed his eyes. He had not spoken a word of encouragement, nor did he intend to. The test was never meant to be easy. It was a test of his son's will.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the wind battering at Gufeng with increasing intensity. His legs burned, his arms shook, but he pressed on. His small body seemed to waver with the wind, yet his resolve remained unshaken. I will not fall.
A sudden gust of wind pushed against him with the force of a tidal wave. Gufeng staggered backward, his feet slipping, but he managed to catch himself at the last moment. His breathing came in ragged gasps, but he did not retreat. Instead, he dug his fingers into the ground, using his nails to find purchase on the loose stone. He felt the stone, the grit, the roughness beneath him. It was a reminder—a testament to the strength that had been instilled in him since his birth.
"I will survive," he muttered to himself.
A harsh crack of thunder split the sky, and suddenly the wind seemed to relent, as though the very elements themselves were testing his perseverance. Gufeng knew he was nearing the end of this trial. His body ached with fatigue, but his spirit burned brighter than ever.
And then, he reached the summit.
He stood at the peak, panting, his legs threatening to collapse beneath him. But he had done it. The winds had not claimed him, the precipice had not swallowed him. He had passed his first trial.
His father's gaze, from across the distance, softened just slightly. It was not a look of approval—Mo Tianxie was incapable of such emotions—but there was something in the way he stood, something that suggested his expectations had been met.
"Not bad," his father's voice echoed through the stillness of the mountaintop.
Gufeng, though exhausted, stood tall. His breath came in uneven bursts, his body covered in the bruises and cuts of the trial, but his eyes burned with something deeper than fatigue. It was a fire that had been kindled within him, something primal and fierce that refused to be extinguished.
Later that Evening
The fire crackled in the center of the stone courtyard, its light casting flickering shadows on the cold walls of the Sect. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of charred meat, the only warmth in an otherwise sterile and desolate environment. Mo Gufeng sat on a stone bench, his body aching from the trial, his bruised arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Despite the exhaustion, his eyes burned with a quiet intensity.
Across from him, seated under the flickering light of the fire, was an elder of the Sect—a woman known only as Elder Bai, who had watched him from the shadows during his trial. She had always been present during the tests but rarely spoke. Her presence was as enigmatic as the mountain itself.
Elder Bai's voice broke the silence. "You've done well, child. The wind has tested you, but it is your will that has carried you to the top."
Gufeng's gaze flicked to her, his body stiffening at her words. There was something different in her tone, a recognition of something beyond simple strength.
"I... passed?" Gufeng's voice was raspy, the strain of the trial still evident in his words.
"Yes," Elder Bai replied. "But remember, strength is not only found in the body. It is also found in the mind. The trials will only grow harder, and the path you walk will be full of choices. Be careful whom you trust, Gufeng. The Sect does not care for weakness, but neither does it care for those who seek to dominate all."
Her words were cryptic, but they echoed something deep inside him—something more than the bloodlust of the Sect. His mother's teachings had always been tinged with a similar mystery, the idea that power, while essential, should not blind him entirely.
Before Gufeng could respond, Elder Bai's eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "You have two paths before you, child. One is a path of unrelenting power and destruction, led by your father's hand. The other is a path of understanding, of mastery over your own soul. Do not let the fire that burns within you consume you entirely. There are many ways to achieve strength."
Her words sent a shiver through him, though he did not show it. Elder Bai was not one to speak lightly, and her words lingered in his mind long after she left, vanishing into the night like a whisper on the wind.
As he lay down in the cold stone room that night, his body still aching from the day's trials, Gufeng closed his eyes and allowed the words of Elder Bai to swirl in his mind. He had passed the first test, but the true test was only just beginning.
Tomorrow, there would be more trials. But the question now lingered in his heart:
What kind of strength would he seek?