Night spread across the mountains like an endless tapestry. The air sharpened with chill, and yet the candidates waiting at the base of the trial could hardly notice. Their gazes were locked upon the strange path stretching before them.
It was not stone, nor soil.
A ribbon of stars descended from the heavens, touching the ground in a shining trail that wound upward through the mountain's dark ridges. Each point of light pulsed faintly, as though alive. From afar, the path resembled a constellation drawn against the earth itself.
The youths shifted uneasily. Even the boldest among them could not pretend this was anything less than sacred.
"This…" one boy muttered, his arrogance faltering. "This is not the work of men."
"Of course it isn't," another girl whispered. "They say the Starveil Sect was built where heaven's blessing fell. To walk this path is to let the stars weigh your soul."
"Bah," a tall youth snorted, forcing bravado into his tone. "Then let the stars see what true strength is."
But though his words were loud, his fists were tight, his knuckles pale.
Elder Zhao raised his sleeve, his voice ringing against the cliffs.
"This is the Path of Constellations. Each step you take will bear the weight of your own heart. The heavens will strip you bare—your desires, your fears, your truth. Only those who endure will reach the end."
He let the words settle like iron. Then, with a faint flick of his wrist, the path shimmered brighter, inviting—or daring—the candidates forward.
The first boy stepped out. The moment his foot touched the light, his shoulders buckled. His mouth opened in a silent gasp, and after only a dozen paces, he collapsed, body quivering as if he had carried mountains. Sect disciples rushed in, pulling him aside before the light beneath his feet extinguished completely.
A ripple of dread ran through the crowd. The brash talk of earlier faded into silence.
Lin Feng exhaled softly. "Well… no turning back."
Qiao Wen gave a curt nod, expression unreadable, though his hand lingered near his chest as if steadying his heartbeat. Together, they stepped forward.
—
The instant Feng's sandal touched the starry surface, his vision blurred.
He stood on a grand stage, dressed in dazzling armor that caught the light of a thousand lanterns. All of Sunflower Town knelt before him, cheering his name. His mother wept with pride, his sister raised a banner painted with his face, merchants shouted their allegiance, and even nobles bowed their heads.
The sound was intoxicating. His heart thundered in rhythm with the cries. This is it. This is glory. This is what I've dreamed of.
But then, faint as a whisper, John's voice echoed in memory:
"Freedom isn't chains, Feng. Even glory can bind you if you let it."
The cheers warped. The banners turned into shackles of gold that clung to his arms, heavy and unyielding. His legs trembled, pinned by the weight of expectation.
Feng's chest heaved. He could surrender—sink into the vision, let himself be adored forever. Or he could resist.
"I don't need illusions," he growled under his breath. "When the time comes, I'll earn it for real."
With those words, the golden shackles shattered into dust. The vision broke, leaving only the quiet shimmer of the starlit path. His shoulders eased as the crushing weight lifted slightly, and he stepped forward again, breath ragged but steady.
—
Beside him, Wen walked more slowly. At first, he felt nothing more than a prickling at the edge of his spirit. But soon, the stars twisted before his eyes.
He saw Feng ahead of him, always ahead, bathed in light and laughter. Friends gathered around him, mentors praised him, entire halls welcomed his name. Wen reached out—yet his hand passed through shadows.
No one turned. No one noticed.
He was alone.
The vision cut deep. It was not unfamiliar—it was his greatest fear, his most constant thought. That no matter how far he pushed himself, Feng would always be brighter. He would always be "the other one."
His steps faltered. His breath caught. The loneliness gnawed at his ribs like a beast.
Then, unbidden, memory stirred. Feng's hand gripping his shoulder after a long night of training. Feng's voice, warm and firm: "Wen, I need you beside me."
The loneliness did not vanish. It still pressed heavy. But something shifted. If he was to walk unseen, so be it—he would still walk.
Wen's jaw tightened. He straightened his back, voice low and steady:
"If I must be in the shadows, then I'll endure the shadows. I'll walk until the path runs out."
The illusion cracked, crumbling like shattered glass. His legs steadied, and he stepped forward, slower than Feng, but unwavering.
—
Around them, the trial showed no mercy.
One youth screamed as visions of his dead brother mocked him. Another girl staggered, whispering promises of eternal beauty, only to collapse when her face seemed to rot away in her own mind. Disciples rushed to carry the fallen from the glowing path.
Of the dozens who had stepped forward at first, more than half had already fallen. The survivors walked with hunched shoulders, teeth gritted, sweat soaking their robes.
Step by step, Feng and Wen pressed on. The visions came again and again, but each time they pushed through—Feng with his laughter and defiance, Wen with his silence and stubborn resolve.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the weight lifted. The last star beneath their feet dimmed, and the path ended at a wide plateau carved into the mountainside.
Only a fraction of candidates remained.
Elder Zhao stood waiting, his hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable. His voice cut the night like a blade:
"You have passed the Path of Constellations. But the stars only reveal what lies within you. The next stage will test not your illusions, but your strength."
The youths lifted their heads, faces pale and exhausted but eyes burning with determination.
"The final trial begins at dawn," Elder Zhao declared. His sleeve swept outward, and the stars above flared brilliantly, drawing a veil of light across the heavens.
"Duel Under Veil."
The words fell heavy as stone.
Murmurs surged among the survivors, excitement and fear mingling in their voices.
Feng and Wen exchanged a long look. No words were spoken, but both understood—what lay ahead would be nothing like the trials before.
Above them, the stars blazed brighter, as though watching.