The sun stood high above Wind Shear Valley, casting golden light across the fractured dueling platform. Dust settled, silence hung, and the echoes of the final clash between Li Qingyun and Xia Shuying still reverberated in the hearts of all who had witnessed it.
In the center of the platform, Elder Nie rose slowly, his voice clear and dignified as he addressed the gathered crowd.
"The Outer Sect Sword Trial has ended."
His words stirred the disciples from their daze. Murmurs began again, though subdued with awe and reverence.
"The trials were not just a test of skill, but of will, growth, and character. Today, many of you have surpassed your limits. And now, we announce the results."
He looked to Li Qingyun, who stood calmly at the edge of the dueling platform, Shadowfang sheathed once more.
"The first place—Li Qingyun. For your exceptional performance, you are granted: three thousand contribution points, a month's worth of top-grade cultivation resources, one temporary entry into the Inner Sect Vault of Techniques, and direct recommendation for core disciple candidacy."
A quiet stir rippled through the crowd.
Even among the elders, several eyes gleamed with interest.
Li Qingyun nodded slightly, his expression as composed as ever.
Elder Nie then turned to Xia Shuying, who stood beside her opponent in the final duel. Her robes were dusted with sweat and blood, but her spine remained straight, her gaze unwavering.
"Second place—Xia Shuying. Despite your loss, your awakening of the Sword Bone Physique is a rare event. In the sect's history, fewer than five cultivators have held this body. The sect shall fully support your future cultivation."
Gasps broke out.
"You will receive the same rewards as Li Qingyun—with an additional thirty days of private training in the Sword Cleansing Hall."
The announcement was thunder.
Xia Shuying's fingers curled slightly at her side, but she only bowed her head in silent gratitude.
Behind the two, a groan echoed from the edge of the waiting area. Lu Yifan, now conscious, leaned heavily on a sword for balance. His eyes were hollow, lips tight with disbelief.
He had lost.
Publicly. Decisively.
And worse, Li Qingyun stood higher than him in every way.
Still, he forced himself to walk onto the platform.
Elder Nie's eyes passed over him, then turned to Zhang Lei, whose simple gray robes fluttered quietly in the breeze.
"For fairness," Elder Nie said, "a third-place match shall now be held. Lu Yifan, Zhang Lei—step forward."
The platform reset with a hum, formations reactivating.
Zhang Lei stepped onto it with solemn focus. Lu Yifan moved stiffly, his pride wounded more than his body, though the bruises and spiritual strain still burned in his veins.
"Begin!" came the call.
Zhang Lei didn't hesitate.
He summoned his full power instantly—no measured steps, no waiting. His sword rose with a tiger's roar, burning with condensed wind and steel.
Lu Yifan tried to raise his blade—but it was too late.
The opening move struck deep, ripping his sleeve and tearing a jagged wound across his ribs. Blood splattered.
The crowd gasped.
Elder Nie's brow twitched slightly.
Lu Yifan staggered, but gritted his teeth and forced spiritual energy into his limbs.
"Get up…" he whispered to himself. "You're not supposed to lose again…!"
But his movements were sluggish. Wounded. Strained.
Zhang Lei didn't gloat.
He didn't speak.
He simply finished what he started—his second slash parried Lu Yifan's sword, and the third knocked it cleanly from his grip.
Lu Yifan fell to one knee, his energy broken, mind whirling.
He had been beaten again.
This time, by someone he never even considered his equal.
"Victory—Zhang Lei."
Lu Yifan didn't move.
Only lowered his head.
And for the first time, he didn't speak.
As the sun dipped westward, the names of the top four were etched into the stone wall of Wind Shear Valley:
1. Li Qingyun
2. Xia Shuying
3. Zhang Lei
4. Lu Yifan
Elder Nie turned to the remaining disciples.
"The trial is over. Let it be known—the sword path is not one of arrogance, but of clarity. You have witnessed the results of discipline, patience, and brilliance. Take them to heart."
With a wave of his sleeve, the formations faded, and the dueling platform powered down.
Li Qingyun turned to leave, but paused as Xia Shuying stepped beside him.
"You fought with using your full strength?," she asked quietly, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
Li Qingyun smiled faintly. "Of Course, and so did you… until the end." He didn't blinked an eye as he told a straight lie.
She nodded, brushing back loose strands of hair.
"I still lost."
"You awakened your Sword Bone. You gained more than victory."
They walked together through the valley, the echoes of their clash still ringing like swords unsheathed.
Behind them, Lu Yifan stood alone beneath the plum tree where Li Qingyun had always waited.
He clenched his fist.
And swore that this was not the end.
It was only the beginning.
____
The courtyard was quiet, nestled near the edge of the East Ridge where peach blossoms grew wild. Their petals drifted lazily through the air as the sun's light softened, casting long shadows across the stone path leading to Li Qingyun's door.
He stepped past the threshold in silence, Shadowfang still sheathed at his waist. His robes, though tattered in places, held a certain dignity—no stain, no crease could diminish the weight of his presence.
He sat cross-legged beneath the small willow tree near the pond, where koi fish occasionally broke the mirrored surface. His eyes were closed, yet his breathing held depth—as if each inhalation pulled in sword intent from the very wind itself.
It was quiet. Finally.
The trial was over.
His body still held the strain of repeated combat, but not a trace showed on his face. There was no elation, no pride. Only calm.
Moments passed like drifting clouds.
Then—footsteps. Crisp. Light.
A polite knock echoed from the gate.
Li Qingyun opened his eyes.
He didn't need to ask.
"Enter," he called.
The gate creaked open, revealing a robed inner sect disciple. The youth bowed deeply before stepping in, holding a lacquered wooden box and a small spiritual storage pouch in both hands.
"Senior Brother Li," the disciple said, his voice filled with respect that bordered on awe. "By Elder Nie's order, I am here to deliver your rewards for securing first place in the Outer Sect Sword Trial."
Li Qingyun nodded. "Set them there."
The disciple obeyed without hesitation, placing the item on the low stone table near the pond.
"Is there anything else?" Li Qingyun asked.
"N-no, Senior Brother. Only my congratulations." He bowed again and took his leave swiftly.
Once alone, Li Qingyun finally reached forward.
The spiritual pouch glowed faintly with formation lines—its contents locked by sect wards, now deactivated upon delivery.
He opened it.
Inside were five neat bundles of jade slips, sealed vials, and crystalline tokens.
He removed them one by one and placed them on the table.
—A glowing identity token: engraved with the character for "Core."
—A thin jade scroll: temporary access to the Inner Sect Vault of Techniques, marked with Elder Nie's signature.
—A dozen crystal vials: each filled with vibrant, rotating spiritual essence—top-grade cultivation supplements rarely granted to outer disciples.
—A contribution medallion: its runes etched in gold, marking three thousand points.
—A silk-wrapped parchment: a handwritten commendation, sealed with the emblem of the Sect Master himself.
Li Qingyun inspected each with quiet attentiveness.
He then tapped the side of the core disciple token. A brief pulse of sword qi radiated from it—clean, cold, and proud. Not unlike himself.
He held it for a moment, staring at the reflection of the sky across its surface.
"A core disciple…" he murmured, voice low, thoughtful.
But there was no joy. No change in his expression.
As always, this was never the end.
Only a single step forward on a longer path.
He turned to the jade scroll and placed it aside—he would read it later. For now, he picked up one of the cultivation vials. As the golden liquid swirled within, its radiance danced across his eyes.
Still holding it, he looked toward the pond again.
The surface was calm.
But beneath, the koi stirred.
Just like the world above—the calm only masked the turbulence beneath.
He sat quietly, the vial still in hand, eyes deep as ancient wells.