Wei Lian stepped out of the canyon's mouth, boots sinking in mud that was half frozen, half blood.
Snow fell in thick sheets, landing on his hair and shoulders, soaking through torn cloth to sting raw wounds.
His breath came out in heavy clouds, each exhale rattling with cold and exhaustion.
He adjusted the stone on his shoulder one last time before lowering it carefully to the ground.
It landed with a dull, wet thud, rolling slightly in the churned slush.
He didn't flinch as the motion tugged fresh pain across old cuts.
The clearing was silent except for the wind.
It whistled low and mournful, sending flakes swirling like restless ghosts.
Around him, other disciples shivered in small, scattered groups.
Some sat with heads bowed over their stones, shoulders shaking with sobs they tried to hide.
Others glared hollow-eyed at the canyon's mouth, faces pale and slack.
No one spoke loudly, as if the wind might hear them and demand payment.
Mu stood at the edge of the clearing, arms folded in his sleeves, the snow piling on his bald head.
He didn't brush it away.
He just watched them all with eyes flat and pitiless.
His gaze tracked Wei Lian as he arrived, lingering on the blood, the tattered robe, the dried scabs splitting open.
But Mu's face didn't change.
There was no warmth.
No approval.
Wei Lian met his eyes and held them.
Snow gathered on his lashes, melting and running in cold rivulets down his cheeks.
He blinked slowly, unbothered by the chill.
Jin Xiu sat nearby on his stone like a conquering general, arms resting on his knees.
Blood matted his hair and crusted his lips, one eye swelling shut.
His grin was red and jagged.
Their eyes locked.
Jin Xiu's grin spread wider, teeth stained pink with drying blood.
Wei Lian's face didn't move at all.
No fear.
No anger.
Nothing.
The wind gusted once, blowing a curtain of snow between them.
When it settled, they were both still staring.
Unblinking.
Mu finally moved.
He paced slowly before the battered line of survivors, boots crunching in the frozen mud.
He let the silence stretch painfully, letting the wind speak for him.
He studied their injuries one by one.
Split lips.
Broken noses.
Blood-soaked robes stiff with frozen gore.
"You survived."
His voice was low but carried, slicing through the wind's howling.
Simple words, with no comfort.
No praise.
"That's all survival means."
"Not victory."
"Not honor."
He gestured lazily at the bodies laid out to one side.
Snow covered them like shrouds, assistants working quietly to move them.
No one wanted to look directly.
"They didn't make it."
"They were too weak."
"Don't lie to yourselves about what that means."
A few disciples shuddered.
One began to weep softly, pressing his face to his knees.
No one offered comfort.
Mu's gaze swept over them like a blade.
He stopped on Jin Xiu.
He took in the bloodied knuckles, the swollen face, the arrogant grin.
"You treated this as a battlefield."
"You hunted the weak."
"Good."
Jin Xiu's grin split wider, teeth flashing in the gloom.
One disciple recoiled at the sight.
Mu moved on without another word.
He stopped in front of Wei Lian, eyes narrowing.
He let the wind swirl snow around them before speaking.
His gaze dug deep, cold and unblinking.
"You look dead."
"But you're not."
"Good enough."
Wei Lian didn't speak.
Didn't twitch.
Snow collected on his head like a crown of frost.
Mu sniffed once, then turned away.
His voice rose, cold and sharp.
He didn't shout.
"This was not the trial."
"This was the gate."
"A promise of what waits if you continue."
Silence fell.
The wind whistled through frozen roots, rattling like dry bones.
Some disciples lowered their heads in shame or fear.
"You all carry weight now."
"Your own pain."
"Your own fear."
He gestured at the stones still resting in the mud.
"Remember that burden."
"It's yours alone."
"No one will help you carry it."
Wei Lian listened in silence.
He felt every cut on his body.
Felt his breath rasp in his chest.
Inside, the Human Root pulsed like a heart of ice and fire.
Qi flowed evenly, tamed but hungry.
Below it, the Chaos Root slumbered, vast and heavy.
He knew its name now.
Knew what it demanded.
What it promised.
Mu's voice lowered, final.
"Rest tonight."
"Eat if you can."
"Tomorrow, you train."
He turned on his heel and strode away, snow swallowing the sound of his steps.
Assistants began moving among the survivors, checking wounds, dragging bodies away.
No one protested.
Wei Lian didn't move.
Snow fell thick and heavy on his shoulders.
Blood stiffened in his clothes.
He breathed slowly, watching the steam curl and fade.
Jin Xiu hadn't moved either.
Their eyes met one last time before Jin Xiu looked away, spitting blood onto the snow.
Wei Lian lowered his gaze to the stone at his feet.
His fingers flexed, cracked, and bled.
He didn't flinch.
Because tomorrow wasn't for mercy.
It was for taking every lesson the canyon taught and using it to break the world in return.
Even if he had to do it alone.