Tens of feet above them, a disciple sat on a tree branch.
Her position was concealed by leaves. Her presence unnoticed by the crowd below. She had been watching the entire time.
She watched the fight unfold, then calmly took out a small book.
The book was worn, its pages filled with neat handwriting. Records. Observations. Information about every disciple in the sect.
Flipping to a new page, she wrote:
Trial Disciple Yang Kai vs. Ordinary Disciple Zhou Ding Jun.
Her brush moved with practiced precision. Black ink on white paper. Simple. Clean. Factual.
Outcome: Zhou Ding Jun wins.
She paused, brush hovering over the page. Then added one more line.
Note: Yang Kai displayed unusual resilience. Behavior change from previous challenges. Continue observation.
The girl closed the book and disappeared into the morning mist, leaving no trace she had ever been there.
Below, Yang Kai struggled to his feet one final time. The crowd dispersed. Zhou Ding Jun collected his Contribution Points and left.
The morning bells had rung. The challenge was over. Life in High Heaven Pavilion continued as always.
But Yang Kai smiled despite his injuries.
He had survived. He had learned. And next time, he would be ready.
This was only the beginning.
---------------------------
The person who was on the tree branch had a graceful figure, it obviously was a woman. It was just that black mask on her face, did not allow people to see her face. But those delicate eyebrows, proved that this person was not old. The armband on her arm also indicated her identity, a High Heaven Dark Hall Disciple!
Her presence was completely hidden. No Qi fluctuations. No sound. No movement that would draw attention. She had been trained well in the art of observation without detection.
The Dark Hall disciples were ghosts within High Heaven Pavilion. Everyone knew they existed, but no one ever saw them unless they wished to be seen.
High Heaven's Dark Hall is a special sector; the school's three main elders were responsible for governing and the hall disciples were responsible for recording down all affairs of the school, no matter how big or small, all matters are recorded. This also included the results of duels between disciples.
Every challenge. Every victory. Every defeat. The Dark Hall recorded it all with meticulous precision. Nothing escaped their notice. They were the sect's memory, its living record of every significant event.
So for all battles within the school, you do not have to worry about not being able to prove your wins and earning Contribution Points. For in the shadows, Dark Hall disciples will record them down for you, and summarize your monthly records.
The system was efficient and fair. No disciple could claim a false victory. No one could deny a legitimate defeat. The Dark Hall's records were absolute and unquestionable.
This woman, after recording the outcome for this duel, took out another smaller book from her waist and opened up at May 7th century, 14 years Yang Kai's 147th defeat.
Her personal record book. Separate from the official sect records. This one contained her own observations, her own notes, her own thoughts about the disciples she monitored.
Even if you remove this, above are numerous records of Yang Kai's battles. From the first battle to the most recent, all had one word: Defeat!
Page after page of the same result. Different opponents. Different stages of cultivation. Different locations. But always the same outcome.
One hundred and forty seven battles in a row, he had lost every single one of them. This simply can be said that since the school's history, it was a unique record and was enough to be awe inspiring.
No one in High Heaven Pavilion's long history had ever compiled such a perfect losing streak. Other Trial Disciples gave up after ten defeats. Twenty at most. They either left the sect or stopped accepting challenges.
But Yang Kai never refused. Never surrendered. Never quit.
Perched atop a tree branch, looking at Yang Kai, Xia Ning Chang watched the Trial Disciple as he stirred, his body still weak from the morning's beating. The moment he opened his eyes and tried to move, she knew the pain he must have felt. Yet, the boy did not groan, did not curse his opponent, did not wallow in self pity.
She had expected tears. Or anger. Or at least some visible sign of suffering. The injuries Zhou Ding Jun had inflicted were not minor. Several ribs were probably cracked. His shoulder was badly bruised. His face was swollen.
Any normal person would be moaning in pain.
Instead, he checked his surroundings, his brow furrowing in confusion. She saw it, the way his fingers tightened slightly. He was sharp, even in this state.
His awareness had not dulled despite the beating. Most disciples in his condition would be disoriented, focused entirely on their pain. But Yang Kai's first instinct was to assess his situation.
That was unusual.
She had expected a simple expression of gratitude when he found the bottle she left behind, but instead...
"Why is he smiling?"
The question troubled her. A smile after such a crushing defeat made no sense. Was he delirious from pain? Had the beating damaged something mentally?
Why would someone who just lost 147 times smile?
The record should have broken him. The humiliation should have destroyed his spirit. Yet there he sat, battered and bleeding, with a faint smile on his lips.
Since becoming a Dark Hall disciple, she had recorded countless duels, victories, and defeats. She had witnessed both genius and mediocrity, but never had she come across someone quite like Yang Kai. His record was abysmal. No talent, no resources, no backing. Yet he still fought.
Geniuses were common. Core Disciples with powerful mentors and abundant resources appeared every generation. Their success was expected.
What was rare was someone with nothing who refused to accept their fate.
She had initially observed him out of curiosity. Then, out of pity. Now?
Curiosity had brought her to watch his first recorded defeat three years ago. She remembered that fight clearly. Yang Kai had been full of determination then, convinced that hard work would overcome his lack of talent.
By the tenth defeat, curiosity had turned to pity. She felt sorry for this stubborn fool who could not recognize reality.
But somewhere around the fiftieth defeat, pity had transformed into something else.
She was not sure.
What emotion did she feel now? Respect? Admiration? Concern? She could not name it precisely.
Perhaps it was admiration, though she would never admit it.
Admitting admiration for a Trial Disciple would be ridiculous. She was several stages above him in cultivation. She had access to resources he could only dream of. Her master was Treasurer Meng, one of the most mysterious figures in the sect.
By all measures, she should look down on Yang Kai.
Yet she did not.
As he tucked away the bottle, she saw a change in him. It was small, but unmistakable. A hint of determination, a moment of reflection. The way he carried himself afterward was different.
The defeat had not broken him. Somehow, impossibly, it had strengthened his resolve. His eyes held a clarity they had not possessed before.
Something had changed within Yang Kai.
"This boy, is he really as untalented as they say?"
Talent was measured by cultivation speed. By that standard, Yang Kai was mediocre at best. Three years to reach Tempered Body Third Stage was neither impressive nor terrible.
But talent came in many forms. Mental fortitude. Combat instinct. Adaptability. Willpower.
Perhaps Yang Kai's true talent lay not in cultivation speed but in something harder to measure.
She did not have an answer.
The question would require more observation. More time watching this strange Trial Disciple who defied all expectations.
With a flicker of movement, she vanished into the shadows.
Her black robes merged seamlessly with the darkness beneath the trees. One moment she was visible, the next she had disappeared completely. This was the Dark Hall's specialty. To observe without being observed.
Yang Kai would never know she had been watching. Would never know she had left him the Blood Clotting Cream. That was how it should be.
Dark Hall disciples did not interfere. They only recorded.
But sometimes, just sometimes, they bent that rule.
.......