Dawn came late.
Not a sunrise but a dull greyness that seeped over the mountain like an old bruise.
Wind whined between crooked rooftops.
Snow had fallen overnight, only to melt into foul, sucking sludge that pooled in the courtyard.
When the bell rang, it sounded like a death knell.
A cracked, ugly clang that echoed off broken walls, rattling the dorm doors in their loose hinges.
Inside, disciples stirred.
Some gasped awake in fear.
Others whimpered, refusing to rise until a boot or a fist made them.
The air stank of fear.
Old blood.
Wet straw.
Jin Xiu sat up slow, breath fogging in the cold.
His eyes were bloodshot.
Knuckles cracked and raw.
He didn't speak.
Han Zi didn't move at first.
Someone kicked him in the ribs and he groaned, rolling over.
Blank eyes.
Skin waxy.
Wei Lian wasn't there.
He hadn't spent the night inside.
He was at the creek.
Black water steamed in the cold, mist curling like grasping fingers around slick rocks.
He washed his fists, reopening old cuts.
Blood threaded through the water in red ribbons before vanishing downstream.
He felt nothing.
Pain was routine now.
Inside, his dantian burned.
3rd layer.
Stable.
Eager.
The crack pulsed.
Wide.
Waiting.
When the bell fell silent, he rose.
Barefoot.
Thin robe stiff with frozen mud.
He walked toward the courtyard without hurrying.
Disciples gathered in miserable clumps.
Shivering.
Eyes darting like animals that knew the slaughter was coming.
They tried not to look at him.
But they did.
Quick glances.
Fear.
Hate.
Jin Xiu stood with fists clenched, jaw set so hard it trembled.
Han Zi hugged himself and rocked on his heels.
Mu waited at the gate.
He wore the same tattered robe.
The wind whipped it around his legs.
Staff planted in the frozen mud.
He didn't speak immediately.
He let them squirm.
The wind howled.
Snowflakes spiraled in lazy circles.
Silence settled like dirt in an open grave.
Finally, Mu's voice scraped the morning.
"This is your last chance."
No one moved.
"Anyone want to run? Do it now."
A girl near the back sobbed once.
But she didn't leave.
Mu watched them.
Eyes black and flat.
"Good. Saves me the trouble of chasing you down."
He spat.
"Follow me."
He turned and walked.
Didn't check if they followed.
They did.
Mud sucked at their boots.
Froze around bare feet.
The path snaked away from the dorms, past crumbling walls blackened with mold and age.
Snow piled in ragged drifts against the walls, already melting into foul water.
Disciples shuffled like prisoners.
No one spoke.
Except for the wind screaming in the gaps between buildings.
A boy slipped on ice and fell hard.
His cry cracked the silence.
No one helped him up.
He bit back sobs and staggered upright.
Wei Lian didn't glance at him.
He walked with careful, measured steps.
Feeling the cold burn his feet.
Inside, his Qi hummed.
Alive.
Waiting.
They turned onto a narrow stair cut into the rock.
The stones were slick with black ice.
Han Zi fell once, scraping both palms bloody.
Mu didn't even slow down.
When they finally reached the top, they found themselves looking down into an old, crumbling arena.
The walls were stone, cracked and leaning.
Carvings so worn they were just ghosts of shapes.
Blood stained the ground in dark, ugly splotches that no amount of rain or snow had ever washed away.
Wooden poles stood in uneven rows.
Some had ropes dangling.
Others were slick with old, black stains.
The wind swept through it all, howling like a wounded beast.
Mu climbed a short platform without a Word.
Turned to face them.
Staff planted at his feet.
He waited.
Let them look.
Let them see the blood.
The ropes.
The stakes.
Silence pressed down.
Then he rasped:
"This is where you prove you're not trash."
No one answered.
"Three tests."
"Fail even one, you're out. No second chances. No mercy."
A boy near the front whimpered.
Mu ignored him.
"You want heated rooms? Spirit stones? A talisman? A technique?"
He spat.
"Earn it."
He scanned their faces.
Eyes sharp.
"Or die trying."
Snowflakes melted as they hit the ground.
Turned to black slush.
"Today is the first test. Survive it, you get to try for the second."
A cough broke the silence.
Someone wiped snot onto their sleeve.
"First test is simple."
He gestured at the poles.
"Tie your enemy. Break their will. Make them yield. Or make sure they don't get back up."
Murmurs.
"We're fighting each other?"
"This is insane—"
"They want us to kill each other."
Mu's mouth twisted.
"Kill if you want. Doesn't matter to me. But if they don't submit, you fail."
"And if you submit?"
He paused.
"You're done."
Silence again.
Heavy.
Cold.
He let it settle.
Let them squirm.
"You think the Inner Sect will take pity?"
"You think anyone will care if you break?"
He barked a laugh that had no humor.
"The Sect wants killers. Survivors. Not beggars."
He slammed his staff into the platform.
"Pairings will be drawn now."
A ripple of panic.
Someone whispered:
"Please no… please not him…"
Wei Lian stood at the back.
Silent.
Watching.
He let his breath mist in the air.
Inside, the ember burned.
The crack pulsed.
He watched Mu's eyes sweep over them.
He didn't flinch.
He wasn't afraid.
Because tomorrow wasn't for mercy.
It was for crushing anyone who stood in his way.