The mist clung to the ancient pines of Yīnméng Forest like a living shroud, softening the sunlight and turning the world into a blur of silver and green. Even for a Shadow Lotus disciple, walking these paths was like stepping into a living dream—or a trap. Lian Yue had always loved the forest's quiet, the way the shadows danced along the mossy ground. Today, however, every whispering leaf felt like it was laughing at him.
He stumbled over a root, cursing under his breath, and quickly straightened, wiping the sweat and grime from his forehead. His hands shook slightly—more from nerves than exhaustion. Today was the final trial for advancement in the Shadow Lotus Sect, the chance to cement his place as a rising disciple. For years, he had trained tirelessly, mastering the basics of Shadow Qi, learning to bend the darkness to his will, and cultivating agility to match it. Yet, standing in the courtyard, surrounded by the elder council and the other disciples, he felt the weight of doubt settle on his shoulders like a physical force.
"Lian Yue," Elder Mo Qian's voice cut through the mist like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. "Step forward."
The boy obeyed, forcing a steady breath. His twin sister, Lian Rong, stood across the courtyard, her posture perfect, her dark hair flowing like liquid shadow down her back. Her eyes, usually soft and teasing, were hard and unreadable today. A small part of him, buried deep, hoped she would falter—but he knew better. She never faltered.
"You have struggled in your Shadow Qi control," Elder Mo Qian continued, eyes narrowing as he examined Lian Yue. "Your clones are weak, your strikes sloppy. A disciple who cannot command his own shadows is a liability. And yet… you continue to cling to your pride as though it could shield you from failure."
A murmur ran through the courtyard. Some students hid smirks; others looked sympathetic. Lian Yue clenched his fists, Shadow Qi rising like black smoke along his arms, curling in restless tendrils. His shadow stretched unnaturally across the courtyard floor, twisting and recoiling like it sensed his inner turmoil.
"I… I can do better!" he blurted, voice cracking slightly. "I've trained all my life for this—please, let me continue the trial!"
"You have had your chance, Lian Yue," Mo Qian said coldly. "Your failure is not a misstep—it is your reality. You are hereby stripped of your heir privileges and exiled from the Shadow Lotus Sect."
Exiled. The word slammed into him harder than any strike. His knees felt weak, his vision blurred with unshed tears. Around him, the courtyard seemed to spin, the shadows of the pines stretching like mocking fingers. Lian Rong's eyes softened just slightly—was it pity, or relief? He couldn't tell.
"I… I'll prove myself," he whispered, though no one could hear over the quiet tensing of the forest. Pride and desperation warred in his chest. He was weak. He had failed. And yet, the fire in his heart refused to die.
Mo Qian stepped closer, the elder's long robes brushing against the stone floor. "Pride alone will not save you. Strength will."
Before Lian Yue could respond, another elder, a woman with hair like silver mist, stepped forward. "It is not too late, Yue. The forest outside is treacherous, yes—but perhaps the path beyond Shadow Lotus can teach you more than our trials ever could."
Her words were meant to comfort, but they only reminded him that he was now alone. His home, his family, his sect… everything he had known was gone. He had nothing but his wits, his rudimentary Shadow Qi, and the faint hope that he could survive.
The forest swallowed him as he stepped beyond the outer gates, shadows clinging to him as if warning him of dangers yet unseen. He walked in silence, the only sound the soft crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional whisper of wind through the pines. He remembered the words his master had told him long ago: The shadows will not betray you, but you must learn to trust them.
He tried, focusing his energy, coaxing the shadows beneath his feet to stretch and twist. A tendril of darkness lifted, dancing across a tree trunk, and he allowed himself a small smile. It was weak, but it was movement. He had something to hold onto.
Hours passed, or perhaps days—time was blurred in the forest. Hunger gnawed at him, and his limbs ached from lack of proper rest. Yet, he pressed on, forcing himself to adapt. He learned to move quietly, to melt into the shadows rather than flee from them. His eyes grew sharp, noticing the faint glimmer of spirit energy in the soil, the subtle shifts in the air that signaled the presence of beasts.
It was in the twilight, when the mist had thickened into near-impenetrable fog, that he first sensed it. A pair of glowing eyes watched him from the underbrush. His first instinct was fear, but years of training told him to observe first, react second. He crouched, letting his Shadow Qi flow, shaping a small clone to test the creature's intent.
The figure moved with fluid grace, leaping silently through the mist. A soft, guttural growl rumbled from it, but it did not charge. Its fur shimmered silver and black, eyes reflecting the dim light like liquid moonlight. The creature circled him once, then twice, before finally sitting, tail flicking lazily.
A Spirit Beast. Moonfang, the forest whispered the name into his mind—not aloud, but somehow, he understood.
For the first time since his exile, Lian Yue felt something close to hope. He approached slowly, extending a hand, letting his Shadow Qi ripple gently across the clearing. The beast sniffed, tilting its head. Then, with a surprising burst of speed, it leapt onto his shoulders, nuzzling him as if claiming him.
"You… you'll be my partner, won't you?" Lian Yue breathed, laughter and tears mingling. The shadows seemed to twist in approval, wrapping around him like a cloak of protection.
But his moment of relief was short-lived. From the mist, shapes emerged—figures clad in dark robes, faces hidden. Forsaken scouts. He could sense their corrupted energy, the faint scent of malice, the cruel intent in the way their shadows moved unnaturally.
He swallowed hard, gripping the Shadow Lotus Dagger at his belt. Moonfang crouched, tail lashing, muscles tensed. The first scout stepped forward, voice low and mocking.
"Little shadow boy, wandering alone… your death will be quick."
Lian Yue's heart pounded. He was weak, inexperienced, and outnumbered. Yet something deep inside surged—anger, pride, and the raw will to survive. Shadow Qi snaked along his arms, fingers of darkness ready to strike.
The first clash was sudden. Shadows flared, tendrils striking like whips through the fog. Moonfang leapt, claws flashing, teeth bared. Lian Yue moved instinctively, ducking under the next attack, spinning, letting his clone distract the enemy. His movements were rough, unpolished, but effective. Each strike, each dodge, each command to Moonfang was a lesson. Survival was teaching him more than any elder ever had.
By the time the last scout retreated, leaving behind faint whispers of the Forsaken Covenant's plans, Lian Yue was bruised, bleeding, and exhilarated. The forest around him was silent again, the mist settling like a soft blanket.
He sank to his knees, panting, shadows curling around him protectively. Moonfang curled at his side, a low purr vibrating from its throat.
"I failed," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I lost my sect… my home… everything. But I'll… I'll become stronger. I'll come back, and I'll make sure no one underestimates me again."
Above him, the ancient pines swayed, the sunlight breaking through the mist in scattered rays. For the first time in his life, exile didn't feel like the end—it felt like the beginning.
And somewhere in the distance, the forest whispered of trials yet to come.