Chapter 2: The Stone's Whisper
The road away from Xiangfeng Village was little more than a muddy track winding through ancient pines and hidden rocks. In the pale dawn, Jiang Wei's every step was accompanied by the creak of his battered pack and the distant caw of a lone crow. He dared not look back—what awaited behind was rumor and isolation. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also the faint promise of change.
The Iron Banner Sect's disciples led the small party of chosen youths in near silence. Most shuffled with wide-eyed nerves, clutching travel satchels or glancing longingly homeward. Jiang Wei walked at the rear, eyes downcast, fingers absently rolling the pebble on his wrist. Despite the cold, the stone felt strangely warm—a quiet, persistent heartbeat echoing with each stride.
Before noon, the party halted at a sharp bend overlooking a roaring river. One of the gray-robed disciples, Senior Sister Wen, turned to survey the gathered hopefuls. "This is the Crossing," she announced. The wind tangled her hair, but her gaze was steady. "For a cultivator, the first trial is always to face the unknown. The path ahead is not for the faint of heart."
The disciples beckoned for each child to approach the river's edge. A slender wooden plank lay across the torrent—slick, perilous. One after another, the children attempted the crossing, some trembling, others spurred by pride. A few faltered, clinging to the disciples' hands; none fell, but shame burned in several faces.
Jiang Wei's turn came. As he stepped onto the wavering plank, the world contracted to a narrow strip above churning gray water. Fear chewed at his resolve. His fingers tightened unconsciously over the stone. A whisper, subtle as a sigh, curled within his mind: *"You have crossed deeper rivers than this. Walk forward."*
He took a breath and moved, one step at a time, letting the stone's presence anchor him amid the dizzying noise of the waves. Each stride felt surer, lighter, until his feet found solid ground on the far bank. Only then did he realize Senior Sister Wen was watching with a sidelong smile.
As the group continued, the journey grew more arduous. The mountain path steepened, shadows lengthened, and exhaustion gnawed at muscles and spirit alike. Yet, as dusk fell, a distant glow rose above the tree line—the outer gates of Iron Banner Sect, girded in copper and blue fire. Hope shivered through the group.
Camp was made beneath the stars; the children curled beside small fires, lulled by aching bones and quiet dreams. Jiang Wei lay awake, staring into the dark, the stone still warm against his skin. That night, its whispers grew clearer—a memory of a throne veiled in mist, laughter like thunder, and a single command: *"Survive. If you would claim your fate, outlast the night."*
He closed his eyes, heart racing—not from fear, but for the first time, the quiet pulse of promise.
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