Morning came gray, the sky heavy with clouds that refused to rain. The Borderlands smelled of ash and old smoke. Disciples trudged, armor stained, eyes hollow. The serpent's roar and Yue Shuang's frost still haunted them.
Lin Xuan walked as he always did—quiet, steady, his spear resting on his shoulder. Wu Ming limped behind him, muttering complaints about sore legs, though he still carried the largest pack. Chen Yu kept sharp watch. Li Mei's gaze swept the treeline, sword always half-ready.
The column dragged on in uneasy silence. No one dared accuse Lin Xuan openly now. No one praised him either. They whispered instead—low, sharp words about Yue Shuang, about the serpent, about "a cripple who stands where storms fall."
And above all, about the elders.
"Why hasn't the trial ended?" one boy muttered. "We've lost half already…"
"Because the sect wants more dead," another whispered, eyes darting.
By noon, the column reached a ridge where burned ground stretched wide. A pavilion of black wood stood at its center, stark and unnatural, its banners snapping with the sect's azure sigil. Elders in flowing robes waited beneath its eaves, their presence heavy as mountains.
Disciples stiffened. Some dropped to their knees in awe. Others bowed clumsily, sweat breaking across their brows.
Elder Ji stood like stone at the center, silent and unreadable. To his right, the hawk-eyed elder, gaze sharp as a drawn blade. And to the left, the silver-haired elder, her staff resting lightly as if she had only paused mid-journey.
"Outer disciples," the hawk-eyed elder's voice rang like iron, "you are called here not for rest, but for evaluation."
Murmurs broke like sparks.
"Evaluation? Here—?""In the Borderlands?""We've already bled—!"
The elder's gaze silenced them.
"Survival is the first test. Strength in the storm is the second. You will prove yourselves here. Or you will remain here forever."
A steward unrolled a scroll, his voice thin. "Groups of disciples will enter the Ash Hollows. There, beasts linger still, drawn by last night's runes. You will retrieve marked beast cores. Only those who return with three or more will be acknowledged as having passed."
The disciples paled. The Ash Hollows were a known deathground, where even Spirit-tier hunters walked cautiously.
"And," the hawk-eyed elder added smoothly, "you will be observed. Any who collude to hoard strength, or who lean upon crutches unfit for cultivation, will be… noted."
His eyes flicked—too obviously—toward Lin Xuan.
Zhou Ren's lips curled faintly.
As the column broke into groups, the air thickened with whispers.
"They mean him…""He'll be crushed.""The elders themselves are watching—if he cheats, he's finished."
Wu Ming tugged at Lin Xuan's sleeve. "Senior Brother, is it just me, or does this feel less like a test and more like a funeral with extra steps?"
Chen Yu's jaw tightened. "They've turned this mission into execution. If we go in blind, we'll be surrounded."
Li Mei's voice was low, firm. "Then we don't go in blind. We follow Senior Brother's lead."
Lin Xuan looked at their faces—fearful, fierce, faithful. His gaze drifted beyond them, to the disciples edging closer, knives in their eyes. Zhou Ren's group smirked like wolves.
He said only: "Breathe. We'll return with more than three."
The Ash Hollows yawned before them—blackened ground, trees burned to stumps, smoke still curling from cracks in the earth. The air was thick, choking, laced with old fire qi.
Disciples scattered into groups, some clinging together, others rushing to prove themselves. Screams soon rose as beasts erupted from ash mounds—charred wolves, ash-scaled lizards, carrion birds with burning wings.
Lin Xuan's circle moved carefully, his steps deliberate, tracing invisible arcs. The System pulsed softly.
[System Notice: Area corrupted by residual Fire Qi.Danger Level: High.Opportunity: Fusion potential (Fire → existing hybrid pathways).]
His eyes narrowed. Another chance.
The first wave came—a pack of ash-lizards, scales hot to the touch, eyes glowing embers.
Chen Yu struck with precision, blade biting between scales. Li Mei cut across throats, ash blood spraying. Wu Ming shrieked, swung his staff, and knocked one beast into another—accidentally but effectively.
Lin Xuan's spear traced arcs that seemed almost gentle, redirecting lunges into one another, letting beasts break themselves on their allies' claws.
In minutes, the ground smoked with corpses. Three cores glowed faintly in the ash.
Wu Ming bent to pick one up, muttering, "That's one third of not dying horribly—"
But Lin Xuan's hand lifted, stopping him. His eyes swept the hollows.
"Not yet."
From deeper in the Hollows came voices. Zhou Ren's faction, laughing, jeering.
"Lin Xuan! Why hide? Come earn your cores like the rest of us!"
A shadow moved behind their taunts. More beasts, larger—ash-boars with tusks glowing red, ash-wolves the size of horses. Too many for one group to have drawn alone.
Zhou Ren's smirk gleamed in the haze. "Perhaps you'll borrow a Core girl to save you again?"
His disciples laughed, blades glinting.
The beasts charged.
Wu Ming's face drained of blood. "Senior Brother, that's—"
"Work," Lin Xuan said.
He lifted his spear, the ash-stink heavy in his lungs. Behind him, his circle braced. Around him, disciples sharpened blades against him as much as beasts.
Above, three elders watched, their judgments heavy as sky.
The ash cracked. The beasts roared. Zhou Ren raised his hand to signal the charge.
And Lin Xuan's spear lowered, steady as an anchor.