The chambers of the Alchemy Hall were always laced with a faint fragrance—half soothing, half stifling.
Today, the air was particularly heavy.
Elder Fei Yu, one of the Four Pillars of the Seven Strike Martial Sect's Alchemy Division, sat at the head of the chamber, her form elegant and composed as ever.
A steaming porcelain cup rested in her hand, untouched, as she leaned her cheek lazily against her knuckles. Her crimson robes trailed to the floor like liquid flame.
Before her, kneeling upon the cold jade tiles of the floor, were two figures.
Hei Xanyu. Rank 8 Elite Disciple.
Wu Zhu. Rank 3 Elite Disciple.
Both had once been considered rising stars of the Elite Court. Yet their recent performances—no, failures—had brought them under her scrutiny. The Elders' Assembly had already decided: Elder Fei Yu would personally handle their matter.
Whether that meant punishment, rehabilitation, or expulsion, was up to her alone.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Disciple Hei Xanyu. Disciple Wu Zhu." Her voice echoed through the chamber. "You two have disgraced yourselves this month."
A moment of silence passed.
She continued, "Hei Xanyu, you spent your days gallivanting around, flirting and feasting like some Young Miss of a merchant clan. As for you, Wu Zhu…"
She paused, her gaze sharpening. "You locked yourself in your cottage for weeks on end. Not even stepping out to train, let alone refine your skills. And now—here you kneel, both of you, wearing such placid expressions as if you've already made peace with your mediocrity."
Hei Xanyu broke the silence with a light chuckle, brushing her stray hair strands behind her ear.
"Elder Fei Yu," she said with practiced sweetness, "I believe there's a misunderstanding. I wasn't indulging myself… I was collecting insight. Social insights, emotional understanding—matters of the heart. Cultivation is not just about sword strikes and techniques, but balance. Reflection."
Fei Yu stared at her as if watching a spider spin a web—amused, unimpressed.
"I'm confident that next month, this humble disciple will show you the results of her hard-earned enlightenment," Hei Xanyu added with a smile that was just shy of smug.
Fei Yu leaned forward, gesturing toward Wu Zhu, who hadn't spoken a word.
"And what about you?"
Wu Zhu remained silent.
He sat perfectly still, unmoving—eyes hollow, lips slightly parted. His hands trembled, resting on his thighs.
Fei Yu's brows furrowed slightly. "Explain," she said, her voice firm and demanding now. Even infusing her words with Qi.
Still no answer.
Then, like a fragile dam breaking under pressure, Wu Zhu's body gave out.
He collapsed forward on all fours, panting like a wounded beast. Sweat poured from his forehead, soaking into the fabric of his robes. He clutched his chest, wheezing—his Qi unstable and erratic.
"I… please… don't… it hurts… I—AAHHHH!"
He screamed.
The sound was raw.
His body thrashed against the stone floor, like a marionette with cut strings. His voice fractured into cries and desperate pleas, as though something invisible was tearing him apart from the inside.
Hei Xanyu flinched, her teasing expression gone in an instant. She stared at Wu Zhu in disbelief, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his breakdown.
Even Elder Fei Yu was momentarily stunned.
Then her eyes darkened.
'He's traumatized…' she realized. 'Severely.'
The realization brought with it no pity—only bitter disappointment. Wu Zhu wasn't just an elite disciple—he was Rank 3. A beacon for those who walked the path behind him.
And yet, here he was, broken beyond recognition.
All because of a single failed encounter with a Tempered Realm Centipede.
A centipede!
Yes, the tale was known. Wu Zhu had been found near death, barely clinging to life, saved only by the timely intervention of Zheng Xie. The incident had been brushed aside—assumed to be a simple case of exhaustion.
They had believed he needed time alone to reforge his pride.
But this… this wasn't the pride of a bruised genius.
This was the shell of a man crushed by fear.
Elder Fei Yu clicked her tongue, the sound crisp and sharp. She resisted the urge to unleash her fury. Had it been any other disciple, she would've discarded them without thought. But Wu Zhu was different.
He was too important to throw away.
She exhaled, then stood.
"You've left me with no choice," she said, voice cold and final. "Both of you."
Hei Xanyu stiffened.
Wu Zhu continued to tremble, though his sobbing had quieted.
Fei Yu's eyes burned with resolution.
"You are to venture into the cave network within the Seven Strike Mountains. You will each hunt one thousand creatures—any beasts will do, their rank does not matter."
The words echoed like a death sentence.
"One thousand," she repeated, "before the end of next month. If you fail, your Elite Court titles will be stripped. You will be demoted to ordinary Inner Court disciples. Permanently."
Hei Xanyu's eyes widened in horror. "Elder—!"
Fei Yu raised a single hand, and the protest died in her throat.
"There will be no appeals. No negotiations. You may begin tomorrow, or on the last day of the month—I care not. But you will bring me results. Or you will fall from the sky like broken stars."
With a final flick of her wrist, she turned away, her long sleeves fluttering behind her like the wings of a crimson crane.
"Dismissed."
Silence hung like a guillotine.
Hei Xanyu gritted her teeth, rising slowly to her feet, her fists clenched tightly. She shot a glance at Wu Zhu, who remained slumped over, unmoving.
Pathetic.
But oddly… pitiable.
She walked out without a word, her shadow long beneath the flickering lantern light.
Wu Zhu finally lifted his head, blinking back tears, and crawled toward the door.
Behind them, Elder Fei Yu remained seated once more, her teacup untouched.
She closed her eyes. Venturing deeper in her spiritual sea.
…
Outside the hall. Hei Xanyu's white boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the disheveled Wu Zhu, who stood still—his shadow long, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
She reached out and tapped his shoulder gently.
Wu Zhu flinched.
His body recoiled as though struck, and he turned with eyes narrowed, brimming with weariness and distrust.
"What do you want?" he asked, his tone clipped—stripped of warmth.
Hei Xanyu sighed softly. "When do you want to go?"
Her voice lacked its usual teasing lilt. There was no sarcasm now, only a strange, subdued sincerity. "I suppose it'd be better if we ventured together. You don't look like someone who could handle those beasts alone… to be blunt."
Wu Zhu stared into the space beside her, unfocused, as if lost in thought. Seconds passed. Then more.
"No," he said at last.
"What?!" Hei Xanyu gasped, blinking.
Wu Zhu slowly turned to her, his expression calm, quiet, but resolute. "I said no. I want to venture into the cave network by myself."
A breeze passed between them.
"I need to get rid of my own incompetence," he continued, eyes distant but voice steadier than before. "I've wasted enough time running away—lying to myself. I'm grateful for your offer… truly. But if I keep relying on others, I'll never fix what's broken inside me."
Hei Xanyu looked at him for a long, silent moment. Her eyes studied him—this trembling wreck of a boy who just moments ago was sobbing on all fours—and now, somehow, was standing straight with purpose in his gaze.
And strangely… it suited him.
A small smile tugged at her lips, tinged with melancholy. "As you wish," she said at last. "I just hope the sect doesn't send someone to retrieve your corpse next month instead of your kill count."
Wu Zhu actually smiled, however faintly. "I hope so too."
He bowed lightly in thanks, then turned without another word. His steps were unhurried.
Hei Xanyu watched him go, her smirk deepening. "Interesting…"
She turned and vanished toward her own quarters, but not without casting one last glance over her shoulder.
Back at his humble cottage, Wu Zhu stood inside the dark room, the scent of medicinal herbs and dust clinging to the walls. He moved quietly, methodically gathering supplies.
A short, single-edged sword.
A pouch containing dried herbs, spare inner robes, and a few low-grade healing pills.
A leather water skin.
He sat briefly on the edge of his cottage, running a hand over the scar on his forearm. A souvenir from the centipede. A mark of shame. But also, perhaps… a turning point.
He exhaled through clenched teeth, rose, and stepped out into the night air.
Above, the moon was just beginning to rise—pale and distant, as though watching him silently from afar.
'I am a fool,' he thought, tightening the straps of his pouch. 'If I truly want to defeat Zheng Xie… if I want to stand alongside the powerful rather than cower behind them—I have to change.'
He looked down at his bruised hands.
'I have the talent. People say that. I know it, too. But talent without will is nothing. And I've done nothing but run from my weaknesses, curse others for my failures. It's pathetic.'
His fingers curled into trembling fists.
'I talk big, mock people who at least try, while I stay caged in comfort, afraid to bleed again.'
Another breath.
'I don't need to compare myself to others anymore. Not Zheng Xie. Not Hei Xanyu. Not anyone.'
He raised his head, and his eyes—though weary—were sharp with conviction.
'I don't want to be the best. Not yet. But I do want to become someone… someone I wouldn't despise. Someone I could look at in the mirror without shame. Someone with a spine.'
His gaze lifted to the sky—where stars blinked into existence one by one.
'I want to be better. Even if it takes me years. Even if I fall a thousand times. I'll climb back up.'
He whispered aloud, as though speaking to the world itself.
"From today onward… I, Wu Zhu, will rise."
His voice was low, but it did not waver.
"No more cowardice. No more excuses. I will become someone others can rely on. Someone I can rely on."
With one final look at the familiar cottage behind him, he turned and began walking down the winding path that led deeper toward the cave network.
…
It took him a little over an hour to reach the first cave.
Wu Zhu stood in front of the gaping black maw of the mountainside, its mouth wide open like a beast awaiting prey. The wind had long since quieted outside, but here… the silence was absolute. Not even the rustle of leaves or chirping of insects accompanied him.
Night had fully settled, draping everything in an oppressive darkness. The moon offered no light here. The path behind him was already shrouded in black, and the cave before him was darker still.
He gulped. A thin, dry sound echoed from his throat. Then slowly, he extended his palm and channeled his qi from the depths of his dantian.
With a soft hum, a glow of soft azure light emerged, coating his hand in a gentle luminance. The blue light flickered against the cave wall, It didn't chase away the fear—but at least it gave him the courage to take the first step.
He raised his illuminated hand forward, using it like a makeshift torch as he carefully placed one foot ahead of the other. The darkness parted before him in slow inches. His heart pounded—each beat echoing inside his skull like war drums.
The familiar cave walls triggered something in his chest. The memories hit like a boulder.
The image of the monstrous centipede. The feeling of those many legs scraping over his skin. The tearing of flesh. The hopeless screams. His own sobbing voice. The cold. The silence.
His knees nearly gave in.
Wu Zhu gasped, staggering backward. He clutched his chest as bile rose in his throat. His vision swam. For a moment, the azure glow of his hand flickered.
But he didn't collapse.
He gritted his teeth, his molars grinding audibly in the cave's quiet.
And he moved forward.
His breaths came short and ragged as he pressed deeper into the gloom. The air was cold—unnaturally so. Occasionally, a thin wind would snake its way through the tunnels, grazing his cheeks like the fingers of a ghost. He flinched every time.
The silence was deafening. The only sounds were his own—his breath, his heartbeat, his hesitant steps—and the mournful whistle of the wind. It made the cave feel alive.
After what felt like forever, Wu Zhu finally reached an open space.
Roughly two hundred meters deep inside the cave, the tunnel gave way to a modest chamber, its ceiling high and lost in shadow. Two additional passages branched out from it—one to the left, one to the right.
There was no sign or mark, no scent or sound to distinguish either. Just two identical paths leading deeper into the unknown.
Wu Zhu looked at them blankly.
And then, without much thought, chose the right.
The second passage led him even deeper into the mountainside. But soon, his eyes widened as the darkness began to ebb.
The passage opened into a far larger chamber—grand and unexpected. Bioluminescent plants lined the walls, their soft hues of blue and green casting a gentle radiance across the rocky floor. Delicate glowing mushrooms bloomed from the corners like clusters of tiny stars. Long, silky moss hung from above like curtains of faint light.
It was beautiful.
Wu Zhu's mouth parted in awe. He took several unconscious steps forward. His fear… momentarily forgotten.
He had never seen something like this.
It looked like a realm pulled from a dream. A shame, then—
He didn't see the danger behind him.
Buzzzzzz—!
A piercing chirp shattered the stillness.
Wu Zhu's body reacted before his mind did—he twisted his body to the side just as something whistled through the air and struck the stone where he had stood a moment ago.
The impact cracked the earth.
He spun around, face pale. And saw it.
A massive cricket, nearly the size of a dog, with jet-black carapace and serrated legs. Its obsidian eyes shimmered like polished glass, soulless and ravenous. Mandibles clicked hungrily as it charged again.
Wu Zhu froze.
His legs refused to move. His hands trembled. The memories came again. Of flesh being torn. Of blood. Of his screams.
But…
He forced himself to move.
With a grunt, he dodged sideways, but not fast enough—one of the creature's bladed limbs grazed his arm, tearing into his sleeve and drawing a thin line of blood.
"A-AHHH!" he screamed, clutching his arm.
But he didn't stop moving. He bolted across the chamber, looking for cover.
There was none.
The area was wide and open. The soft, glowing plants offered no place to hide. To make matters worse, the cricket's chirping hadn't stopped. In fact… it was growing louder.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
More were coming.
Dozens of faint lights flickered in the distant tunnel. Dozens of eyes.
Wu Zhu's back hit the wall. His breathing was erratic. He had no choice.
He raised his right hand. Azure qi surged. His palm glowed as he gathered all the courage he could summon into a single strike.
"[Stone Palm]!"
The qi-imbued strike blasted forth with a dull boom, his palm connecting with the incoming cricket.
SPLAT!
The beast exploded on impact—its black carapace bursting like an overripe fruit. Its internal fluid splattered across the mossy stone with a sickening wet sound.
Wu Zhu stood panting, his chest heaving, his eyes wide.
And then…
He laughed.
First a snort. Then a short chuckle. Then a full-blown cackle.
"Hah… haha… HAAHAHAHAHAHA!"
His laughter echoed through the glowing chamber, unhinged and relieved, manic and victorious.
He had done it.
He had killed a beast.
A real beast.
And he was still standing.
Blood dripping from his arm, his knees still shaking—yet… he was standing.
"I'm not worthless," he whispered to himself, almost disbelieving.
He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up.
But for now…
He grinned.