Snow fell thick and wet over the ruined arena.
It melted as it touched blood-black mud, turning the ground into a sucking swamp.
Icicles hung from cracked walls, dripping slow, freezing tears.
Wooden poles loomed in ragged rows.
Ropes swayed in the wind, creaking, snapping like old bones.
Stains too dark to be anything but blood marred the ground in ugly splatters.
Disciples huddled together near the entrance, their breath fogging in ragged gasps.
Some whispered prayers they no longer believed.
Others stared at the ground, refusing to look at the ropes.
Mu stood on the platform above them.
Staff planted at his feet.
Robe snapping in the wind.
Eyes black and empty.
He didn't speak at first.
He let them shiver.
Let them look at the blood.
Let them understand.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet enough to make them strain to hear.
"This is your chance."
Silence.
Snow fell.
"Your chance to prove you're not worthless."
A sniffle.
A cough.
"But don't be mistaken. Passing doesn't mean you're worthy."
"It means you're less worthless."
He spat.
The sound was wet in the cold.
"You'll fight. Tie them to the pole. Make them yield. Or break them until they don't stand again."
Someone whimpered.
"If you yield? You're out."
"If you refuse? You're out."
His eyes swept over them.
"If you die? No one will care."
The wind picked up, flinging snow sideways.
It plastered hair to faces, turned breath to white ghosts.
Mu's voice stayed flat.
"You want the stones? The rooms with braziers? A technique worth learning? Earn it."
Silence.
He raised the battered iron box.
"Pairings will be drawn now."
He pulled slips one by one.
Calling out names.
"Han Zi. Liu Qing."
Han Zi looked like he'd vomit.
He didn't even try to hide the terror on his face.
"Jin Xiu. Gao Fan."
Jin Xiu's lip curled.
He flexed his bloody knuckles.
Nodded once without looking at his opponent.
The box rattled.
Snow piled on Mu's shoulders.
He ignored it.
Finally:
"Wei Lian."
Silence.
Every head turned.
Some flinched just looking at him.
He didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Mu pulled another.
"Meng Fei."
A tall boy.
Gaunt.
Hollow eyes.
He swallowed so hard his Adam's apple jumped.
Mu pointed.
"Pole fifteen."
The two moved.
Mud sucked at their feet with wet, sucking sounds.
Snow clung to their hair.
Melted in rivulets over bruised faces.
Wei Lian walked without hurry.
Feet bare, cut.
Blood mixed with mud.
Meng Fei stumbled once.
Caught himself.
But when he looked up, his eyes were wet.
They stopped ten paces apart.
Pole fifteen was warped.
Splintered.
Dark with old stains.
A rope dangled, stiff with frost.
Mu's voice cut through the wind:
"Rules are simple."
"Make him submit. Tie him. Or break him so he can't stand."
He paused.
"Begin."
Silence.
Snow fell between them.
Hissing as it landed in puddles of blood.
Meng Fei's teeth chattered.
"I… I don't want to kill you."
Wei Lian didn't answer.
He just watched.
Meng Fei shifted his stance.
Feet wide.
Guard up.
Wei Lian exhaled.
Inside, the ember flared.
3rd layer.
Solid.
Ready.
Anchor.
Meng Fei lunged.
Mud flew.
Wei Lian stepped forward.
Closed the distance.
Sink.
He caught Meng Fei's wrist.
Twisted.
Bone ground.
Meng Fei screamed.
Channel.
Wei Lian drove his knee into Meng Fei's ribs.
Felt something give.
The boy gagged.
Spat blood.
Wei Lian didn't wait.
Infuse.
He rotated his hips.
Elbowed Meng Fei in the temple.
A sickening crack.
Meng Fei's eyes rolled.
He sagged.
Wei Lian yanked him by the hair.
Forced his head back.
He looked at the boy's face.
Tears.
Blood.
Terror.
"Yield."
Meng Fei tried to speak.
Choked.
Wei Lian didn't wait.
He punched.
Jaw cracked.
Teeth broke.
Blood sprayed.
Meng Fei collapsed.
He tried to rise once.
Hands scrabbling in the mud.
Slipping.
Wei Lian stepped on his wrist.
Pressed.
Bone snapped.
Meng Fei screamed high and shrill.
Then sobbed.
"Yield!"
"I— I… yield—"
The words broke apart in wet sobs.
Wei Lian let go.
He straightened.
Breathing slow.
Blood dripped from his fist.
Splashed on the mud.
Melted the snow in tiny red craters.
Silence.
Disciples stared.
Some covered their mouths.
Jin Xiu watched.
Expression unreadable.
But his fists tightened.
Han Zi shook.
Murmured something like a prayer.
Mu's voice carried over them all.
"Winner: Wei Lian."
He didn't react.
He turned.
Stepped away from Meng Fei's sobbing, broken form.
Mud clung to his ankles.
Blood smeared his toes.
He joined the line again.
Silent.
The others gave him space.
Eyes wide.
Fear.
Mu watched him.
Eyes narrowed.
"Good."
The wind howled.
Snow fell harder.
Wei Lian stood.
Breathing slow.
Inside, the ember burned.
The crack pulsed.
Not for mercy.
Not for hope.
For power.
Because tomorrow wasn't for forgiveness.
It was for breaking anything that dared stand in his way.