Dawn broke over the Azure Cloud Sect, but the light brought no warmth. It was a cold, grey morning, the sky the color of bruised flesh. The trial ground, which had yesterday witnessed a rebellion, was now filled with a different kind of energy—a tense, buzzing anticipation that smelled of fear and ambition.
Hundreds of outer disciples stood assembled, a sea of nervous faces. The elders looked down from their dais, their expressions unreadable. Elder Zhao stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chill air like a blade.
"The Scarlet Mist Valley opens for forty-eight hours," he began, no preamble, no encouragement. "You will enter via jade tokens, each keyed to a sector: North, East, West, South. Your goal: survive. Your score: beast cores, spirit herbs. The ranking will determine your future."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "There are formations at the perimeter. They will not save you once you are deep inside. Alliances are your own business. Betrayals will not be punished. Killing is forbidden by sect law." His eyes swept the crowd, cold and dismissive. "But the valley has its own justice. What happens in the mist… often stays there."
A collective shiver ran through the disciples. The message was clear: this was no longer a controlled test. This was the wild.
The assembly broke into a frantic, low hum of activity. It was a marketplace of survival. Disciples huddled in groups, their whispers sharp and transactional.
"I have a map of the western streams—traded for three low-grade spirit stones!"
"Beware the crimson leeches! They suck your Qi, not your blood!"
"My cousin said there's a patch of Ghost-Face Orchids near the southern cliffs, but the vines there are… sentient."
"The real treasure is in the center—the old battlefield. They say you can still find shards of star-metal there."
Li Tian stood apart, a solitary rock in the swirling stream. He observed the chaos, his new calm a shield against the panic. He checked the jade token in his hand. It was cool, its surface etched with faint runes that pulsed with a soft light. He didn't know it, but the runes were a lie. Underneath the visible markings, a subtle, ape-like sigil had been etched, a malicious secret waiting in the mist.
"Brother Li."
A quiet voice spoke beside him. It was a lean, sharp-eyed disciple with calloused hands and a practical air. Li Tian recognized him—Yan Qiao, from the logistics corps. He was the one who always had the best-quality ropes and the sharpest knives. A practical man, not given to gossip.
"Yan Qiao," Li Tian acknowledged with a nod.
"The mist is acidic. Tie a damp cloth over your mouth. Stay upwind when you can." Yan Qiao offered the advice like a tradesman stating a fact. There was no pity in his eyes, only a measured respect. "And watch for the ground. It looks solid, but it swallows."
"Thank you," Li Tian said. The exchange was brief, but it meant more than a hundred cheers. It was an acknowledgment from someone who valued competence over status.
Another figure approached, his steps smooth, a mild smile on his face. It was Wu Renshu, an outer disciple known for his polite words and sharp, calculating eyes. "Brother Li. That was quite a performance yesterday. Truly… unprecedented." His smile didn't reach his eyes. He glanced toward where Zhang Fan was holding court with his lackeys. "The valley is full of surprises. I wonder what secrets it holds for us all."
Li Tian met his gaze, saying nothing. The hollow compliment was a veil for a threat. Wu Renshu was a snake, polite until it was time to strike.
---
Behind a large supply cart, away from the main crowd, Zhang Fan finalized his plan. He pressed a small pouch of spirit stones into the hand of a nervous junior disciple who was helping manage the token distribution. "The North-West sector. The one bordering the Ape Cliffs. Ensure Li Tian's token leads him there. And plant these," he handed over a few small, red-flagged talismans, "along the main animal trail leading from the entry point. Make it look like a safe path."
The junior disciple paled but nodded rapidly, the weight of the stones and Zhang Fan's influence too heavy to refuse. "It will be done, Brother Zhang."
"You two," Zhang Fan turned to his cronies. "You don't engage him. You just make sure he sees the flags. You shepherd him toward the cliff. Let the apes welcome our 'talented' new brother."
---
Li Tian found a moment of quiet behind a tall stone pillar. He closed his eyes, cycling the Heaven Swallowing Art in a controlled, micro-scale. He didn't draw in the wild energy around him; he focused on the lingering dregs of pain from yesterday's battle, refining them, bleeding them off. The raw agony faded to a tolerable, burning ember. Greed is a quicker death than any beast, he reminded himself. Devour only what you can control.
A snicker came from his left. "Look, the trash is meditating. Praying to the heavens for a quick death?"
Li Tian opened his eyes. The sneering disciple flinched under his gaze. It wasn't a glare of anger, but a look of utter, profound calm. It was more unsettling than any threat.
"Knees are habits," Li Tian said, his voice flat. "I broke mine."
The disciple's smirk vanished. He swallowed hard and shuffled away without another word. The small victory was a confirmation. He was no longer prey.
On the dais, Elder Zhao's fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the rail. "The devouring energy… it is not of this era," the severe elder woman murmured beside him.
"Such arts attract calamity," the white-bearded elder warned. "They are remnants of a more savage time."
Elder Zhao finally spoke, his voice low. "Calamity is just another form of opportunity. For someone."
---
A deep, resonant hum filled the air. The two great stone monoliths flanking the valley entrance began to glow, ancient formation lines blazing with crimson light. The space between them shimmered, and the air itself tore open, peeling back like a veil to reveal a jagged canyon mouth. A thick, blood-red mist rolled out, carrying a metallic taste and the distant, layered howls of unseen creatures.
The jade tokens in every disciple's hand flared to life. Li Tian's token pulsed, the runes glowing brightly. For a split second, he thought he saw a flicker—a bestial, claw-like shape underneath the sector rune—but it was gone before he could decipher it.
"Remember," Yan Qiao said, tying a strip of cloth over his lower face. "Upwind."
Wu Renshu offered his thin smile. "See you on the other side… if the mist is kind."
The first disciples surged forward, disappearing into the crimson gloom. Li Tian took a final breath of clean air. As he stepped across the threshold, the ring on his finger pulsed once, a sharp, hot warning.
The mist swallowed him, cold and clinging. The sounds of the sect vanished, replaced by an eerie, muffled silence. And then, from the deep red ahead, came a sound that was not a howl.
It was a single, heavy thump.
Something big had just taken a step. And it was closer than it should be.