Dawn was a lie.
The cracked bell rang before even the idea of light had touched the sky.
It sounded like a funeral toll — low, broken, echoing off the icy walls.
The dorm spat them out like rotting meat.
Disciples stumbled from the warped doors, breath fogging.
Blankets clung to their shoulders, wet and moldy.
Their eyes were wrong.
Sunken.
Haunted.
No one spoke.
They limped through the courtyard.
Mud cracked under frozen rime.
Snow from last night had turned to a slick crust that shattered with each reluctant step.
Blood from yesterday's fights still stained the ground in dark blotches that wouldn't wash out.
Jin Xiu walked at the front.
Face purpled from bruises.
One eye nearly shut.
Breathing like an angry bull.
Liu Qing was behind him, arms folded around his ribs.
His mouth trembled.
He refused to look at anyone.
Wei Lian walked last.
His feet were bare, cut and caked in black mud.
Each step sank and squelched.
Froze around his toes.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't hurry.
Inside, the ember in his dantian pulsed.
3rd layer.
Steady.
Alive.
The crack throbbed.
Wide.
Hungry.
They gathered at the training ground without being told.
The place was little more than a frozen pit surrounded by broken walls.
Icicles hung from sagging eaves, dripping a steady, mournful rhythm.
Frost crawled over cracked tiles like white veins.
Elder Mu waited in the center.
Staff planted in the ground.
He didn't greet them.
Didn't offer water.
Didn't pretend to care.
He watched them file in like cattle for slaughter.
Snow fell in thick, wet flakes.
Melting on hot breath.
Clinging to hair.
Freezing into their sleeves.
Finally, Mu's voice scraped through the wind.
"Look at you."
Silence.
"Wounded dogs. Filthy pigs. Broken trash."
A girl sniffled.
Jin Xiu glared but said nothing.
"Yesterday you fought."
"Some of you won."
"That doesn't mean you're good."
He swept his gaze across them like a butcher eyeing cuts of meat.
"It means you're less worthless."
No one answered.
He let the cold bite them.
Let the silence sink in.
"You want heated rooms? Stones? Techniques?"
His voice was mocking.
"Earn it."
He spat.
"Or die trying."
He slammed his staff once.
"Forms."
They dropped into stances like puppets.
Mud cracked under their feet.
Frost burned their palms as they spread their fingers.
Wei Lian felt the pain in his legs.
The throb in his knuckles.
He let it fuel him.
Inside, Qi stirred.
Anchor.
Sink.
Channel.
Infuse.
He punched.
Snow exploded from his sleeve.
Air cracked like wood splitting in frost.
But he kept it controlled.
Muted.
Mu walked among them.
He watched Jin Xiu snarl through his stance.
"Too wild."
Crack.
Mu's staff slammed into Jin Xiu's thigh.
Jin Xiu grunted but didn't fall.
Teeth bared in defiance.
Wei Lian watched.
Noted the shift in Jin Xiu's weight.
The way he favored his left leg now.
Weakness.
Mu moved on.
Liu Qing's turn.
His knees shook.
Breath rattled in his lungs.
Mu didn't even hit him.
"Pathetic."
Liu Qing fell to his knees anyway.
He tried to get up.
Failed.
He sobbed once, low and ugly.
Mu's staff hovered above him.
"Again."
Liu Qing forced himself upright.
Body twitching.
Mu kept moving.
He stopped behind Wei Lian.
Silence.
Snow melted on Mu's hood.
Ran in rivulets down his staff.
Wei Lian didn't move.
Breath slow.
Qi ready.
He let his wrist break too early.
Deliberate.
Qi leaked.
Mu snorted.
"No genius here."
Wei Lian didn't answer.
But inside he smiled.
Good.
Keep thinking that.
Don't see me.
Mu's voice rang out.
"Hold."
They froze.
Muscles trembling.
Breath ragged.
Snow piled on shoulders.
Melted into frozen mud at their feet.
Mu paced.
"This isn't training."
"This is sorting."
Silence.
"Sorting who lives. Who dies. Who feeds the ground."
Liu Qing whimpered.
Jin Xiu spat blood.
Wei Lian just watched.
Mu stopped.
Turned.
"Again."
They moved.
Jin Xiu punched so hard the sound cracked.
Blood flew from reopened cuts.
Liu Qing flinched at his own movement.
Sobbing quietly with every strike.
Wei Lian moved smooth.
Controlled.
Anchor.
Sink.
Channel.
Infuse.
Each movement precise.
But flawed just enough.
Mu watched.
Didn't speak.
Snow turned to sleet.
Stung their faces.
They didn't stop.
Couldn't.
Hours crawled.
Breaks were given only so they didn't collapse entirely.
They sat in mud.
Breath steaming.
Blood soaking through thin robes.
Mu stood, unmoving.
Watching.
Judging.
Jin Xiu glared at Wei Lian during one break.
Eyes full of challenge.
Wei Lian didn't look back.
He watched Mu instead.
Noted how Mu shifted his weight.
How he favored one knee.
How his fingers whitened around the staff in cold.
Weakness.
They rose when Mu barked.
Fell when Mu struck.
Rose again.
Snow fell.
Melted.
Froze.
The ground was a pit of black filth.
Blood.
Mud.
Sweat.
Near dusk, Mu let them fall.
They didn't even try to stand.
Steam rose from bruised bodies.
Silence.
Except for ragged breath.
Mu's voice was low.
"Good enough to die tomorrow."
No one laughed.
"Second trial at dawn."
"Eat if you can. Sleep if you dare."
He turned without another word.
They didn't cheer.
Didn't even groan.
They just crawled.
Stood.
Limped away.
Jin Xiu walked stiffly.
Blood dripping from his knuckles.
Eyes locked on the ground.
Liu Qing stumbled.
Cried openly now.
Didn't even wipe the tears.
Wei Lian walked last.
Slow.
Measured.
Mud squelched.
Snow fell on his head, melted, ran in icy streams down his back.
Inside, the ember in his dantian flared.
The crack pulsed.
He felt it widening.
Welcoming.
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow.
Another cut.
Another test.
Because tomorrow wasn't for mercy.
It was for becoming the blade that would carve his path through anyone who stood in his way.