Night cloaked the Floating Cloud Sect in quiet tension. Lanterns floated along the narrow streams winding through the outer disciples' quarters, casting golden ripples over the water. The silence wasn't peace—it was anticipation.
Inside the rundown training hall Tae-hyun had claimed, five individuals sat in a rough circle.
No weapons. No sparring.
Just a fire, crackling low, and the weight of what lay ahead.
Daon sat with legs crossed, sharpening his iron staff with a whetstone. Sparks hissed quietly. Minjae nervously sketched strange sigils into the dirt with his brush, muttering numbers under his breath. Rin stood near the window, arms behind her back, eyes fixed on the moon.
Only Rika broke the silence.
"This is awkward," she said flatly. "Should we talk? Or just keep pretending we're not all scared out of our minds?"
Yul glanced sideways at Tae-hyun, who said nothing. He sat, leaning against a beam, arms crossed, breathing slow. Calm—but not relaxed. His eyes didn't blink much.
"I'm not scared," Minjae muttered, still drawing. "I'm… processing."
"You've drawn the same array three times," Rika replied.
Minjae shrugged. "Processing slowly."
Rin spoke, her voice gentle but eerie. "Fear is natural. Only the dead are fearless."
"That's comforting," Rika deadpanned.
Daon suddenly stood. "We share nothing. We fight tomorrow, but tonight—why bond?"
Yul smirked. "Because if we die tomorrow, I'd at least like to know the names of the people I bled with."
That drew silence.
Tae-hyun finally spoke. "Daon, why are you here?"
The large man turned slowly. His voice was low. "I spared a child. My clan saw weakness. I see choice."
Rika whistled. "Damn. Okay, you're officially cooler than I thought."
"Minjae?" Tae-hyun asked next.
The boy flinched. "M-my brother died in a trap he designed. I learned from it. So others don't die the same."
Quiet again.
"Rin?"
She didn't turn from the window. "I was once a vessel. They tried to fill me with spirits. I emptied myself instead. Now I serve none."
Rika leaned back, blindfold shifting slightly. "I was born in the Lower Streets. Learned to fight blind when a cursed relic burned my sight out. Still see more than most."
Everyone turned to Yul.
She shrugged. "I was born in the sect. Watched them crush my brother's potential because he didn't fit their mold. I swore I'd never follow anyone. Then this idiot—" she nodded at Tae-hyun, "—showed up and didn't ask me to."
Finally, all eyes shifted to Tae-hyun.
He exhaled.
"I was thrown into this world against my will. No past. No help. Just a choice: survive or break."
Rika raised her cup. "To the broken, who kept going."
They all drank from chipped tea cups. Even Daon, reluctantly.
The fire dimmed.
And in that flickering light, something unspoken passed between them—not friendship, perhaps, but something close.
The beginnings of trust.
Tae-hyun stood. "Rest. Tomorrow we fight."
No one argued.
But as they each found a corner of the room to sleep, Yul lingered beside Tae-hyun.
"You still don't fully trust them, do you?"
He didn't answer immediately. Then, softly:
"Trust is a luxury. But calculated risk? That I can afford."
Yul studied him, then smiled.
"Cold. But fair."
And when the fire finally burned out, six hearts beat steady in the darkness, each carrying their own scars—each ready to face the trial not alone, but together.
---
Perfect. Here's Chapter 22 – Into the Outer Trial, where the team begins their deadly journey:
---
Dawn broke over the Floating Cloud Sect in blood-orange hues, casting long shadows across the jagged cliffs that overlooked the Trial Grounds. Beneath the Mountain of Ten Thousand Echoes, a gate carved into blackstone loomed—its surface etched with ancient characters pulsing faintly with qi.
Dozens of outer disciples stood in tight groups, tension rising like steam from their skin. Some whispered prayers. Others sharpened weapons or practiced stances until their hands bled.
Tae-hyun and his team stood apart.
Their expressions unreadable.
The Elder overseeing the trial floated down from a stone platform above. His presence silenced the field like a guillotine's drop.
"This Outer Trial marks your first step into true cultivation," he said, voice echoing unnaturally. "You will enter the Wastes of the Fallen Star. There, you must survive for seven days. Complete missions. Gather tokens. Or kill."
His gaze swept over them like a storm. "Only those with twenty merit points or more will advance. And remember—death is real. Qi beasts will not hold back. Nor will others."
Minjae paled. Yul cracked her knuckles.
Rika just grinned.
The Elder raised one hand. The blackstone gate groaned and began to open—revealing a world of twisted trees, red mist, and shifting qi currents that distorted the very air.
"Enter."
The trial had begun.
---
The Wastes of the Fallen Star were not a forest—they were a wound. Jagged trees twisted into clawed shapes. The ground hissed when touched. Qi here felt wrong. Tainted. Wild.
Rin bent low, touching the soil. "This place isn't just corrupted. It remembers pain."
Daon grunted. "I prefer punching things to philosophizing."
Rika held out her arm. "Quiet."
In the silence, they heard it—a low growl, distant, but circling.
A qi beast.
Minjae whispered, "We should set traps. Lure it."
Tae-hyun shook his head. "Not yet. We need height. Vision."
They moved swiftly through the terrain, navigating thorn-riddled gullies and bone-dry streambeds until they found the ruins of a crumbled stone watchtower.
As they climbed, the creature emerged.
It was like a bear—but wrong. Its fur shimmered like molten steel, and qi seeped from its maw like smoke. Its eyes—pure white—locked onto them.
No hesitation.
It charged.
"Positions!" Tae-hyun barked.
Rin drew sigils midair, her qi flaring darkly. Rika vanished, becoming a flicker of motion behind the beast. Daon met it head-on, staff raised like a hammer.
The clash shook the earth.
Rika struck first—daggers flashing toward the beast's legs. The creature roared, twisting faster than expected. Its tail lashed like a whip, striking Daon's shoulder and sending him flying into a boulder.
Minjae activated a trap seal beneath it—causing a chain of qi explosions that staggered the beast.
Tae-hyun waited.
Watched.
Measured.
Then he moved.
He dashed forward, eyes locked, and drained. His palm made contact with the beast's flank, and a surge of corrupted qi shot into him. It burned like fire—but he endured.
He forced the qi inward, purified it in the crucible of his will, and redirected it into his own core. His body screamed—but his mind stayed sharp.
The beast faltered.
Just enough.
"Now!"
Daon surged from the side, his staff spinning into a downward arc that shattered the beast's shoulder. Rika slit its throat with a blur of motion.
It collapsed.
Still breathing—but broken.
Tae-hyun stared down at it, his breath heavy. The drained qi shimmered beneath his skin like smoke beneath glass.
He didn't smile.
He didn't celebrate.
He simply looked at the others.
"One merit point," he said. "Nineteen to go."