A new day begins, and Yang Kai woke up.
His body rose from the thin mat that served as his bed. The small room was barely large enough to turn around in, with cracked walls and a window that did not close properly. Cold air seeped through the gaps during winter nights.
He cleaned up and took the broom lying in the corner of the small room and walked out.
The broom was old, its bristles worn from constant use. This was his lifeline in the sect, the tool that earned him his meager living. Without it, he would have no way to survive as a Trial Disciple.
Standing at the front door, he stretched a little. He looked up at the touch of grey in the dawn sky and closed his eyes while breathing in deeply. He was enjoying this moment of peace, before reopening his eyes to start sweeping the ground, cleaning away the dirt and leaves.
The courtyard stretched before him. Fallen leaves scattered across the stone pathway. The morning dew made them stick to the ground. He would need to work carefully to remove them all.
Dressed in black clothes that were simple and clean. The aged clothing colour for no reason, highlighted the youth's loneliness and years of isolation here. Yang Kai's spine was as straight as a javelin, and with his face had a meticulous expression. Even though he was completing the lowest ranked job. His actions were very calm, he did not exert much force on the broom, his body did not even move that much. With only the rotation of his wrist, the broom moved effortlessly. When his body moved, the dust and trash on the ground seemed to magically accumulate in one place around him, just like they had grown a pair feet.
There was a rhythm to his movements. Years of practice had taught him efficiency. Every motion was calculated to waste no energy. When you were as weak as he was, conservation of strength was survival.
Yang Kai was the High Heaven's Trial disciple. For three he had trained in the school, but he had only reached the Tempered Body third stage. Yet the other disciples that had entered at the same time as him had long surpassed him and reached higher stages. They were all able to enter into the main building, pay their respects and make advances towards their futures. While he can only lament about his inadequacy in the outer courts.
He remembered their faces from three years ago. Fourteen youths arriving at the sect gates, all filled with dreams and ambition. Now those same disciples wore the robes of the Inner Sect. Some had even become students of elders. Meanwhile, Yang Kai swept courtyards.
The Tempered Body third stage in three years cannot be called bad or good, but really, really mediocre.
That word haunted him. Mediocre. Not terrible enough to be expelled. Not good enough to be valued. Just average enough to exist in limbo, neither success nor complete failure.
Helplessly, Yang Kai could only continue to sweep out here in the outer court. Working hard to support himself and working hard in training.
Every spare moment he cultivated. After finishing his sweeping, he would find a quiet corner and meditate. He circulated what little World Energy he could gather through his meridians. He practiced body tempering exercises until his muscles burned. Yet his progress remained painfully slow.
High Heaven Pavilion is a very unique school. This uniqueness is seen through the ruthless competition between disciples. In the school, the strong are like kings, while the weak are eliminated. The strong eat the weak; the law of the jungle, in the High Heaven Pavilion is actively followed by all.
This was not philosophy. It was daily reality. Strength determined everything. Where you slept. What you ate. Who respected you. The strong could challenge the weak and take their Contribution Points without consequence.
In other schools you may be able to school friendly competition, brotherly bonds and people working together to achieve the same goal. But in the High Heaven Pavilion, you will only be able false bonds, in order to use each other and rise in power. Stepping over each other's bodies is the only way.
Yang Kai had learned this lesson brutally in his first year. He had tried to make friends. He had offered help to struggling disciples. Those same disciples had turned on him the moment it benefited them. They stole his resources. They spread rumors. They challenged him publicly just to raise their own standing.
Under High Heaven's strict system, it's well known throughout the entire Great Han Dynasty. Although the grounds were not that large, but due to the brutal nature of their disciples, their might is second to none! This is also because, each disciples' skill is like a tiger and walking out, no one in all the rivers and lakes dares to provoke them.
When a High Heaven Pavilion disciple walked into a town, people stepped aside. Their reputation was legendary and terrifying. The brutal training and constant combat produced warriors who were battle hardened beyond their years.
Though the High Heaven Pavilion has one rule. That's to fourteen year old disciples, the first three years of their acceptance is considered the testing phase. In these three years, all of the disciples food, clothing, shelter are provided by the outer court. Disciples only need to focus on cultivating. If in these three years you can breakthrough the Tempered Body, then you are able to enter the inner court to pay respects to your elders and become their students. Of course you do not need to have a teacher and practise on your own, but the difference in learning by yourself and having a teacher is very large. In a way, the High Heaven rules do have some flexibility and freedom.
Those three years were the golden period. Free food, housing, and basic cultivation resources. No responsibilities except self improvement. Yang Kai had wasted that opportunity. His mediocre talent had squandered it.
In those three years if you do not break through, then you can either leave the school or be demoted to a Trial disciple.
Trial disciple. The words tasted like ash.
Trial disciple is Yang Kai's current status! He is also High Heaven Pavilion's shame!
Not just his own shame, but the sect's shame. Every Trial disciple was proof that the system had failed someone. They were rejects. Almost good enough, but not quite. They existed in limbo, belonging nowhere.
Compared to normal disciples, their treatment is very different. Trial disciples must provide for their food, shelter, clothing, for the outer court will no longer waste cultivating resources on these trashes. Once demoted to Trial disciples, you basically can never advance. Unless you manage to increase your cultivation level quickly. Only then will the school let you attempt to become a true disciple.
The logic was coldly practical. Why invest resources in failures? Better to let them fend for themselves. If they somehow improved on their own, perhaps they deserved another chance. Otherwise, they would eventually give up and leave.
The entire High Heaven consists of three thousand disciples, while the Trial disciples? You can count them on your ten fingers!
Out of three thousand disciples, less than ten were Trial disciples at any given time. That was how rare it was to fail this spectacularly and still refuse to leave.
Yang Kai has faith that he can become a true disciple!
That faith was not based on evidence or reason. His cultivation speed had not improved. Nothing had changed to justify renewed hope. Yet he believed. He had to believe. Without that stubborn kernel of hope, there was nothing left.
Yet fate had different plans for him today.
The sky gradually began to light up as he swept. Cleaning the trails, sweeping dust from the space.
Darkness gave way to grey half light. Stars faded one by one. The eastern horizon glowed with the promise of sunrise. Yang Kai continued his methodical sweeping, his mind half elsewhere.
Even though sweeping itself did not use a lot of energy, but without food or drink since the morning and constantly moving, Yang Kai was covered in sweat. This had nothing to do with strength, by his physique was very poor. Two out of three meals he was hungry. For anybody living like him, how could their physique be good.
His stomach growled, a hollow aching sound. He had skipped dinner last night, saving money to purchase a Qi gathering pill. The pill had cost three days worth of meals. He had convinced himself it would be worth it. It had not worked. His body absorbed the Qi but failed to convert it into meaningful advancement.
He is already starving.
His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the broom. His vision swam occasionally, dark spots appearing at the edges. These were warning signs of serious malnutrition. He knew he should eat something, but pride and desperation kept him from giving in.
Gradually High Heaven disciples surrounded him. These disciples had woke up early, not to cultivate but to look at him. They had great interest in Yang Kai looking at him with avid gazes like they were staring at a naked beauty. A sweet fragrance like juicy meat bins wafted.
To these disciples, Yang Kai was not a person. He was an opportunity. A resource to be exploited. A stepping stone on their path. They looked at him with hungry eyes, like predators circling wounded prey.
Among those Tower disciples gathered around Yang Kai there was also a tense competitive atmosphere in the air. Looking at each other warily, all held an unfriendly look.
They were not here as friends. Each wanted the same thing, and only one would get it. They watched each other as carefully as they watched Yang Kai, ready to dispute any perceived unfairness.
It was that time again.
Yang Kai's jaw clenched. His hands tightened on the broom handle. His heart rate increased. He knew what was coming. He had been through this ritual dozens of times before. Knowledge did not make it easier.
Every five days, these disciples came. Not to cultivate. Not to train. But to use him as their personal punching bag.
Five days. That was the rule. According to the Challenge Rule, any disciple could challenge any other disciple once every five days. This prevented excessive harassment while maintaining competitive atmosphere. For Yang Kai, it meant knowing exactly when the beatings would come.
At this movement, the people gathered around him all spread out and surrounded him, with Yang Kai as the centre. A tense atmosphere filled the air, it was as if the air no longer flowed.
They formed a loose circle, perhaps twenty disciples total. All stronger than Yang Kai. All eager for their turn. The morning breeze died down. No one spoke. No one moved. They just waited, watching.
A burly teenager stepped forward. Zhou Ding Jun, Tempered Body fifth stage. His grin was full of malice.
Zhou Ding Jun was solidly middle ranked among outer court disciples. Fifth stage put him high enough to bully those below, not high enough to challenge those above. He was the type who only picked fights he knew he could win.
"Yang Kai no need to resist. Just lie down and let me get this over with."
The words were delivered with casual arrogance, as if Yang Kai's defeat was merely a formality. A two stage difference in cultivation was significant. Zhou Ding Jun's muscles were denser, his bones harder, his reactions faster. Even if Yang Kai fought with everything he had, victory was virtually impossible.
Chuckles rippled through the crowd. Someone added mockingly, "Yeah, do not waste our time, trash. We have got real training to do after this."
The laughter cut deep. It was the casual dismissiveness. They did not even see him as a real person. He was entertainment. A brief diversion before they returned to actual cultivation.
Yang Kai remained silent. He had heard these words too many times before.
There was no point responding. No clever comeback would change their minds. Only strength mattered in High Heaven Pavilion, and strength was what Yang Kai did not have.
He picked up his broom and casually tossed it into the air. Dozens of pairs of eyes followed it, praying that luck would favor them. The broom spun before crashing onto the ground, pointing at Zhou Ding Jun.
This was how they decided. Rather than letting the strongest claim the right every time, they made it a game of chance. The broom toss was random, giving even weaker disciples a shot at the prize. And the prize was Yang Kai himself. Or rather, the guaranteed victory and Contribution Points from challenging him.
Cheers erupted. The burly teen laughed heartily.
"Looks like today is my lucky day!"
Zhou Ding Jun pumped his fist, grinning like he had won a major tournament rather than earning the right to beat up someone two stages weaker. His excitement was genuine and unsettling.
The others groaned in disappointment.
"Damn it, I have been waiting three months for my turn."
"Shut up, at least we get a good show."
They would stay and watch. Even if they could not participate, they could enjoy the spectacle. Perhaps they would pick up techniques by observing. Perhaps they would simply take pleasure in seeing someone weaker get beaten.
Yang Kai exhaled slowly, preparing himself. He could already feel the pain coming. He was weak. He knew it. He had no right to fight back.
And yet...
Something was different.
The thought came unbidden. Yang Kai frowned slightly. What was different? Everything seemed the same. The disciples surrounding him. Zhou Ding Jun stepping forward. The morning sun creeping over the horizon. Nothing had changed.
Yet something felt wrong. Like he was forgetting something important.
A dizzy spell hit him like a crashing tide. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled.
The world tilted sideways. Colors smeared together. Sounds became distant and muffled. Yang Kai staggered, his hand reaching for support that was not there. Weakness flooded through his body. Even standing felt impossible.
The world around him distorted. The courtyard. The mocking voices. The morning breeze, all fading into silence.
Everything was getting further away. Faces blurred into indistinct smears. Voices became echoes, then whispers, then nothing. Light itself seemed to dim. Shadows crept in from the edges of his vision.
Then, everything turned dark.
Yang Kai's body crumpled to the ground, collapsing like a puppet with cut strings. His eyes rolled back. His breathing became shallow and irregular. To the watching disciples, it looked like he had simply fainted from hunger and exhaustion.
But the truth was far stranger.