The early morning mist coiled through the training grounds like ghostly serpents. The mountain winds were quiet today, but inside Lin Feng's chest, a storm was beginning.
Today was the trial.
---
A large crowd had gathered beneath the central arena of the Thousand Spirit Sect's Outer Court. Elders in long white robes floated silently above, their eyes cold and indifferent. Below, outer court disciples shifted nervously, most casting uneasy glances toward the black mirror erected at the center of the platform.
The Mirror of Resolve.
It didn't test strength.
It didn't measure talent.
It simply reflected your will — or lack of it.
In front of that mirror, there was nowhere to hide.
---
Lin Feng stood at the very back, his sleeves ragged, hands calloused from years of quiet struggle. No one greeted him. No one even noticed him — not until the name was called:
> "Lin Feng. Step forward."
Whispers fluttered.
> "Who?"
"Isn't that the kid who still practices Stone Root Stance?"
"Still alive? Hah."
But Lin Feng walked forward without a word, eyes calm.
He stood before the mirror.
---
The surface of the glass was utterly black, but as he stepped close, it shimmered — rippling like water disturbed by a stone. Suddenly, his reflection changed.
He saw himself, kneeling in the courtyard, blood dripping from his mouth.
He saw himself abandoned outside the sect gates in the snow.
He saw Elder disciples laughing, their eyes filled with contempt.
He saw everything he'd endured in silence.
Then... the mirror darkened again.
> "Weak resolve," an elder's voice rang out.
"No potential. He remains at the bottom. Next!"
The judgment was made.
But Lin Feng didn't move.
His fists clenched.
> Weak...?
> Then why do I still stand... when others would have fallen?
---
Suddenly, the black surface of the mirror shivered again.
A faint pulse.
A flicker of something deeper than resolve — something the mirror didn't know how to show.
The elder watching frowned. "...That shouldn't have happened."
But Lin Feng was already walking away, silent as always.
No one noticed that the Mirror's surface still shimmered, even after he'd left.
---
That Night
Back in his dilapidated wooden hut, Lin Feng sat cross-legged. He was exhausted, but his heart burned.
His body felt strange again — not just aching, but alive.
A warmth pulsed through his veins like slow lightning.
He unwrapped the faded scroll again: "Seek the Path. It will awaken."
> "...Where is the path?" he whispered.
As if in answer, the jade badge on his belt suddenly shimmered. A crimson symbol flickered on its surface — one used only for summoning.
It was from the Outer Court Task Pavilion.
> "Mandatory mission: patrol near the edge of the mountain ruins. Dangerous terrain. Three disciples required."
He read the fine print again.
Then he saw it:
> "Assigned party: Lin Feng. Mo Yixuan. Ren Yao."
---
He'd heard those names.
Mo Yixuan — a cold, sword-wielding female disciple known for her talent and pride. Said to have already grasped a sword intent at the Foundation level.
Ren Yao — a troublemaker with fiery blood and loud laughter. Good with a spear, but reckless and hated authority.
Lin Feng frowned slightly.
This wasn't a trial.
It was a setup — a mission meant to throw away three unchosen disciples.
And yet… for the first time, he felt something stir inside his chest.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
But something raw.
Fate had drawn a blade.
And Lin Feng — abandoned and forgotten — would soon begin to sharpen his own.