Snow fell relentlessly.
Thick, heavy flakes buried the yard in shifting dunes of white.
It didn't soften anything.
Blood soaked the drifts in places, turning them ugly pink.
Old splatters from the second trial, churned mud frozen solid, smelled faintly of iron and sweat.
The cold made it all crisp, silent.
The disciples were herded out into that cold like animals.
They limped and shuffled, many half-dragging each other.
Bandages were crusted with blood that cracked when they moved.
Steam curled from their ragged breathing.
Each exhale sounded like a sob in the wind.
The wind didn't care.
It screamed through the black pillars around the training ground, rattling old banners.
Those banners snapped like whips in the storm.
Even the sect's symbols on them were faded, as if the wind had scoured the pride away.
Mu waited at the front.
Unmoving.
Snow piled on his shoulders, on his hair, in the folds of his robe, and stayed.
He didn't shake it off.
He let the weight of the cold rest on him like judgment.
Arms folded behind his back, he watched them all with eyes that didn't blink.
No one dared speak.
A few whimpered.
Jin Xiu spat once at the snow, blood in his spit, eyes flickering around like a cornered wolf.
Wei Lian stood near the back.
He was still.
His breath fogged out in even, quiet streams.
He didn't tremble.
He didn't huddle.
He let the cold bite, let it remind him he was alive.
Mu waited long enough for the wind to settle.
Long enough that the silence became unbearable.
Long enough that they had to look at him.
Then he spoke.
Low, calm, deliberate.
It carried through the yard without effort.
"You survived the second trial."
"Barely."
"Congratulations."
No one cheered.
A few eyes closed in silent relief that sounded like prayer.
Mu didn't smile.
He let those words sit.
Let them hope.
Just enough.
"You want reward?"
"You want mercy?"
"Fine."
He turned slightly, gesturing behind him at the black stone mountain that loomed over everything.
The wind howled louder then, rattling stone like bones in a grave.
Snow drifted from ledges high above like falling ash.
"We will grant you a privilege."
"Access to one of the sect's cultivation caves."
"A low-tier Qi vein."
The words dropped like stones into a pond.
Ripples of disbelief spread.
Murmurs broke out in shivering waves.
A boy in front gasped audibly.
A girl grabbed the arm of the person next to her, eyes wide and wet.
Even Jin Xiu's sneer cracked into something almost hungry.
Mu let them have it.
Watched them feed on hope.
Then he killed it.
"Ten hours."
"That's all you get."
"Per month."
The murmurs died.
Silence fell so hard it felt like a blow.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Mu's mouth twitched in something that wasn't a smile.
More like disgust.
His voice got softer.
"Normally, such a cave is reserved for inner disciples."
"Cultivators with real promise."
"People who matter."
The words twisted like knives.
He didn't raise his voice.
Didn't need to.
"You get ten hours."
"Because we don't expect you to last long enough to want more."
"Use it."
He scanned them slowly.
Eyes cold, assessing, like a butcher picking which pig to cut next.
The snow clung to his lashes without melting.
"Or waste it."
"I don't care."
"If you squander this chance, you'll only die faster."
A boy let out a strangled sob.
Another bit his fist so hard blood welled.
Someone whispered prayers to ancestors who wouldn't listen.
Jin Xiu's eyes gleamed.
He licked chapped lips.
Grinned.
Wei Lian didn't move.
He watched Mu with black, unblinking eyes.
He memorized every word.
Mu turned away for a second.
Snow fell onto his collar.
He let it.
"Three months from now," he said, turning back.
"The third trial will begin."
Another wave of noise rippled through them.
Fear.
Resignation.
Mu cut through it with a single look.
They fell silent.
Mouths snapped shut.
"Minimum requirement to participate."
"Five layers of Qi Refinement."
"Anything less means you don't even get to try."
A girl screamed once before choking it off with both hands.
A boy dropped to his knees in the snow.
He pounded it with weak, bloody fists.
"Three months."
"That's your time."
"That's your mercy."
Mu let those words hang.
He wanted them to feel it.
The weight.
"If you can't break through in time, don't bother showing your face."
"I'll kill you myself before the trial does."
"Spare us the embarrassment."
His voice was so calm it was worse than shouting.
The wind screamed.
Snow buried their feet.
"Your rations will be given."
"Your bandages."
"Your straw mats to die on."
"Be grateful."
Silence.
Ugly.
Heavy.
He turned slowly.
Didn't look back.
Didn't offer comfort.
Assistants began to move through the ranks.
Pushing them apart.
Ordering them to go.
Disciples limped away in broken lines.
Some wept.
Some cursed.
Jin Xiu turned once, eyes locking with Wei Lian's.
He grinned.
A challenge.
A promise of violence.
Wei Lian didn't blink.
Didn't smile.
Didn't react at all.
He just turned away.
Snow bit at his face.
Froze blood to his clothes.
Inside, the Human Root pulsed.
Slow.
Steady.
Cold.
Qi thick as iron.
Settled in his veins like coiled chains.
Waiting for his command.
Ten hours in a Qi cave.
Not salvation.
An opportunity.
Three months.
Five layers.
A line between survival and the grave.
He exhaled once.
Fogged the freezing air.
Let it drift.
He felt pain in every limb.
But it was familiar now.
A teacher.
A promise.
He would use every hour.
Squeeze every drop of power from it.
Cut away weakness with his own hands.
Because he would stand at that third trial.
Not crawling.
Not begging.
Ready to kill.
They wouldn't forget him.
Not the sect.
Not Jin Xiu.
Not anyone who'd spat on his name.
Wei Lian walked away through the snow.
Footsteps crisp.
Steady.
Certain.
Above him, the black mountain loomed, its peaks vanishing into grey storm.
Wind howled like laughter.
He let it.
Because he'd survive it.
He'd survive them all.
And make them regret leaving him alive.