The sect was calm.
Unnaturally calm.
After weeks of blood, poison, duels, and betrayal, a silence had spread across the outer division like frost—quiet, brittle, and ready to crack beneath the lightest weight. But Wei Lian knew the stillness wasn't peace. It was the breath before the scream. The pause before the sword fell.
He stood atop the cliff edge behind the northern dormitories, looking down at the sect's rooftops glittering under morning dew. His eyes swept over the familiar sights: the stone pavilions, the worn courtyards, the training fields marked with scorched soil and faint bloodstains.
To others, it was the place they lived.
To Wei Lian, it was a map.
A battlefield.
A hunting ground.
Ever since Elder Mu's public praise, the attention on him had intensified.
Disciples stared longer.
Factions whispered more softly.
Some saw him as a threat to be avoided. Others as a rising star to be courted.
But no one truly understood him.
And that was how he preferred it.
He still moved alone. Still trained alone. Still spoke only when necessary. But he was no longer invisible.
And that made everything more dangerous.
It was during a visit to the herbal storehouse that he first noticed Lin Yu's changed behavior.
The boy stood beside him, clutching a list of supplies, but his eyes drifted constantly—scanning the people around them, his shoulders tense, his answers a beat too slow.
When Wei Lian asked a question, Lin Yu answered with stutters. When Wei Lian turned away, the boy lingered behind.
Then came the subtle betrayal.
Wei Lian had planted a name in conversation—fictional, carefully chosen. He'd said the name casually while walking with Lin Yu through the alchemy yard, pretending it belonged to a rival he suspected of spying for Elder Mu.
Two days later, that same name had been flagged for questioning by sect stewards.
No one knew the source.
But Wei Lian did.
The next day, he gave Lin Yu another false seed.
A scroll detailing a nonexistent plan to visit the abandoned pill furnace in the southern cave—a place Wei Lian had no intention of going.
An hour after dusk, two patrol disciples passed near the cave's entrance.
Wei Lian saw them.
He watched from the trees as they waited. Unmoving. Expectant.
And he smiled.
He let Lin Yu continue to follow him. Let the boy bring his reports. Let him walk the sect at his side. But now, each conversation had a second meaning. Each glance a second layer.
Wei Lian asked about other disciples.
Lin Yu gave answers, but never with full certainty.
Wei Lian asked about faction rumors.
Lin Yu deflected, claimed not to hear them.
The boy was unraveling.
Wei Lian knew why.
Fear.
Some pawns broke when pushed. Others broke when trusted. Lin Yu had been both—used and given just enough favor to believe he mattered.
And now he feared the hand that had elevated him.
Wei Lian had no pity for that.
That same week, a storm of rumor swept through the sect.
The words came on the wind: "The Third Trial is near."
Disciples whispered of it in courtyards and during meditation. No one knew the format. No one knew the overseer. But one thing was certain:
It wouldn't be like before.
Past trials had been brutal but predictable—group challenges, illusions, endurance tests, staged fights. But this time, something felt different.
Tension spread like infection. Sparring halls grew quieter. Factions stopped recruiting. Everyone watched everyone else, calculating odds, counting their allies.
Wei Lian didn't bother.
He had no allies.
He had tools. And targets.
The tension peaked on the fifth day after Elder Mu's speech.
Wei Lian sat beneath the outer sect's oldest tree—a weathered pine with roots like ancient bones—sharpening his blade with a whetstone that hissed softly with every stroke. The sky was dim, sun caught behind slow-moving clouds. The air smelled of iron and falling leaves.
Lin Yu approached cautiously.
"There's word from the steward's hall," he said.
Wei Lian didn't look up.
"Well?"
"They're preparing a public notice. The Third Trial will be announced today."
Wei Lian continued sharpening.
Lin Yu lingered, shifting awkwardly. "They say it's limited… Ten disciples. Only ten will pass."
The whetstone stopped.
Wei Lian lifted his gaze, expression unreadable.
"Ten?"
Lin Yu nodded.
Silence stretched between them.
Wei Lian resumed his sharpening.
Ten disciples.
That meant chaos.
Desperation.
Betrayals before the trial even began.
Perfect.
The bell rang at sunset.
But it wasn't the usual chime of sect transitions. It was the low, heavy toll of the Trial Bell—rare, final, unmistakable.
Disciples gathered within minutes. The main courtyard flooded with robes of all colors, faces pale with dread or burning with ambition. Wei Lian stood near the back, arms folded, his face neutral.
A steward pinned the scroll to the trial post at the courtyard's center.
Disciples surged forward, but even before the words were fully read, a wave of reactions rippled outward.
Official Notice – Third Outer Sect Trial
Participants: All active outer sect disciples.
Ten slots.
The format is new and devised by inner sect supervision.
Teamwork and personal strength will be evaluated.
Deception, conflict, and elimination are expected.
Trial begins in three days.
Location: The Whispering Hollow.
The crowd broke into whispers.
"The Hollow? That's forbidden!"
"I thought it was sealed…"
"They're sending us into that place?!"
Wei Lian's eyes narrowed.
Whispering Hollow…
He'd heard of it in passing. A broken spiritual formation at the sect's border—a place once used for sealing dark artifacts. Dangerous. Twisted. Full of echoes and traps that could unravel the mind.
He smiled faintly.
So they wanted blood after all.
That night, Wei Lian lit a single candle in his quarters and spread three scrolls across the floor.
One showed the known layout of the Whispering Hollow.
The second listed the ten strongest disciples of the outer sect—by cultivation stage, known skills, and faction allegiance.
The third was blank.
Wei Lian dipped his brush in ink and wrote one name.
Lin Yu.
He stared at it for a while.
Then added another line beneath:
Potential traitor. Possible reward: eliminating him inside the trial.
He stared at the flame for a long time.
Then whispered to it:
"If you break… I'll make sure you stay broken."