Dawn was pale and cold.
On the eastern edge of Bailin City, near the ruins of an ancient temple, more than two hundred cultivators had gathered. All were young, ambitious, hungry for glory. Some trembled with excitement, some with fear, others clenched spiritual pills in their fists.
Patshakhan stood apart, in the shadow of an ancient tree whose roots embraced broken statues. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing steady, his aura unremarkable.
The crowd buzzed—then suddenly fell silent.
From above, a jade disk slowly descended. On it stood a woman dressed in white and blue robes.
She was beautiful, like a frozen lake. Hair as dark as night, a stern gaze, arms crossed behind her back. Authority and clarity radiated from her—a Spirit Realm cultivator, without a doubt.
"I am Instructor Mei Qing," she said. "From this moment, the Trial of the Cloudsource Sect begins."
Some lowered their heads. Others stood taller.
"The rules are simple," she continued. "Ten li from here lies the forest. You must travel two hundred li through it. You have ten days."
She raised her hand, and a glowing map appeared above her palm.
"Each of you must collect at least five spiritual herbs and reach the end to become a basic disciple. Those who gather thirty will be accepted into the Outer Court. Anything beyond that may be exchanged for spirit stones, techniques, or resources."
The crowd buzzed again. Someone scoffed:
"Pft, five herbs? That's easy!"
But Mei Qing looked at him—and he instantly fell silent.
"Killing is not forbidden," she said coldly. "Those who die in the forest are your responsibility. No interference is allowed outside the forest. Inside—it's just you, the forest, and your choices."
Someone swallowed hard.
Someone else smiled.
Patshakhan raised an eyebrow.
> "Interesting. They even encourage death. Your sect is not as hypocritical as I thought, Mei Qing."
She went on:
"Observers are stationed around the perimeter, but we'll only interfere if the boundaries are violated. Elders will be watching. Those who stand out may be invited directly into the Inner Court—though that happens to no more than two or three per generation."
She slowly scanned the crowd—and for a brief moment, her gaze lingered on Patshakhan.
Just a moment.
But he noticed.
> "Already spotted me… even though I've done nothing. Good."
"Let the trial begin," she finally declared. "Those unprepared for pain, fear, and death—step away now."
No one moved.
"Then… GO!"
---
The gates of the forest swung open. The young cultivators surged forward—like a pack of wolves.
Some began forming groups immediately:
"You're from the Mountain School? Let's go together!" "I have pills, you have technique—we've got a better shot as a team!" "Rare herbs grow in the south! I heard you can find them under the corpses of demonic beasts!"
But Patshakhan stepped aside.
He had no intention of joining anyone.
He was the hunter—and these two hundred li were his hunting grounds.
> "The more victims, the stronger my path becomes."
From the bushes came the first screams. Someone had stumbled into a venomous beast. Another fell into an ambush. The forest seemed alive—breathing, whispering fear into every ear.
Patshakhan stood still at the base of a winding path.
The sun had risen.
And from that moment on, the survival game began—one he did not play, but controlled.