Winter deepened over the Eastern Jade Sect, and with it came the first true test of the Outer Court disciples' determination.
The cold itself was manageable—Eric had spent enough mornings training in Greenbrook's winter forest to handle freezing temperatures. But the sect's heating formations, like everything else of value, were allocated by status. Inner Court dormitories remained comfortably warm. Core disciples' quarters were practically luxurious.
The Outer Court building had exactly three functioning heating formations for two hundred students, and they barely took the edge off the chill.
Eric woke each morning to frost on the inside of his window and breath misting in the air. Some students complained. Others gave up on morning training entirely, staying huddled under thin blankets until the last possible moment before classes.
Eric trained harder.
He'd discovered something in those frozen pre-dawn hours: when the training grounds were empty, when no one was watching, when even the instructors were still in their warm beds, he could practice freely. The dragon's guidance could be followed without fear of revealing too much. The techniques from the Iron Body Refinement Method could be pushed to their limits without questions.
**"The cold is an opportunity,"** the dragon said one morning as Eric moved through his forms, his breath coming in white clouds. **"It forces your body to work harder, your qi to circulate more efficiently just to maintain warmth. This is tempering—not just of the body, but of the will. Those who train only in comfort will never reach true heights."**
Eric believed it. He could feel the difference—each movement in the cold required more energy, more focus, more determination. And that struggle was making him stronger.
By the end of his second month in the Outer Court, Eric had reached the peak of Eighth Stage Body Refinement. One more push, and he'd break through to Ninth Stage—the final step before attempting Qi Condensation.
But that push required resources he couldn't afford.
The problem was clear: to break through to Ninth Stage properly, he needed either exceptional natural talent (which the sect had already determined he lacked, despite his solid foundation), extensive time (which the competitive environment didn't allow), or cultivation resources (which cost contribution points he didn't have).
The dragon had explained the bottleneck during one of their meditation sessions. "Your body is like a vessel approaching its limit. You've filled it to capacity with Eighth Stage cultivation. To advance, you must compress that energy, refine it, and expand your vessel's capacity. This requires either perfect technique executed over many months, or external assistance to accelerate the process."
"How many months without resources?" Eric had asked.
**"Six to eight, if you maintain perfect discipline. But the sect evaluates disciples every three months. Those who show no advancement risk being demoted or expelled. You don't have six months."**
Which meant Eric needed contribution points.
The sect offered three primary ways for Outer Court disciples to earn them: missions, competitions, or service work.
Service work paid poorly—copying texts in the library for two points per day, cleaning training equipment for one point per day, running errands for Inner Court disciples who might or might not pay. It was steady but barely covered basic expenses.
Competitions happened monthly—combat tournaments, formation puzzle challenges, cultivation speed contests. Winners earned significant contribution points, but the tournaments were dominated by students from powerful families who'd been consuming resources since childhood. Eric had watched the last combat tournament from the stands. The finalist who "struggled" his way to second place was someone Eric could probably have defeated. The winner, a clan heir named Marcus Feng, had casually demonstrated techniques that would have cost fifty contribution points just to view in the library.
Which left missions.
The mission board was located in the Outer Court administrative building—a large wooden board covered in posted assignments. Most were menial tasks: deliver messages, gather common herbs, patrol the outer sect grounds. They paid one to three contribution points and posed minimal risk.
But there were always a few higher-paying missions at the bottom of the board, marked with red seals. These were dangerous—hunting specific beasts, retrieving rare herbs from hazardous locations, investigating spiritual anomalies in remote areas. They paid ten to thirty contribution points, but disciples who took them didn't always come back.
Eric stood before the mission board on a gray morning, studying his options while other students milled around, most gravitating toward the safe missions at the top.
"Don't even think about it."
Eric turned to find Finn standing beside him, his expression serious. The quiet farm boy had become something of a friend over the past months—someone who understood the value of hard work and kept his mouth shut when he should.
"Think about what?" Eric asked.
"The red seal missions. I can see you looking at them." Finn shook his head. "They're death traps. The sect posts them knowing most Outer Court disciples can't handle them. They figure it's cheaper to let us die trying than to pay Inner Court disciples proper compensation."
"Then why post them at all?"
"Because occasionally someone survives and brings back what they want. And if disciples die?" Finn shrugged. "There's always more where we came from. Villages sending their hopefuls every year, most of whom wash out anyway. We're expendable."
Eric studied the red seal missions more carefully. One caught his eye:
*Mission: Retrieve Frost Lotus from the Shattered Peaks. Requirements: Body Refinement Eighth Stage minimum. Reward: 25 contribution points. Warning: Area inhabited by D-rank beasts and higher. Survival not guaranteed.*
Twenty-five contribution points. Enough to buy five Meridian Cleansing Pills, or rent a decent cultivation chamber for a week, or access the restricted library section multiple times. Enough to break through to Ninth Stage with resources to spare.
"I'm taking it," Eric said, reaching for the mission slip.
"Eric—" Finn grabbed his arm. "Listen to me. I've heard about the Shattered Peaks. It's not just D-rank beasts. The terrain is treacherous, the cold is lethal even for cultivators, and people have died up there. Multiple people. Is it really worth your life?"
Eric met his eyes. "How many contribution points do you have saved?"
Finn's jaw tightened. "Eighteen."
"How long did it take you to earn them?"
"...Two months."
"And how much of that went to just surviving? Food, basic supplies, healing salves when you got injured on other missions?"
"Most of it," Finn admitted quietly.
"Then you know as well as I do—we can't advance at this rate. Not before the three-month evaluation. We either take risks now, or we fall so far behind we'll never catch up." Eric pulled the mission slip from the board. "I've fought D-rank beasts before. I know what I'm doing."
**"Do you?"** the dragon asked, his tone amused. **"The beasts in the Shattered Peaks are not the same as those in your village forest. They've adapted to hostile terrain, developed survival instincts honed by competition with other predators. This will not be easy."**
*I know,* Eric thought back. *But neither was anything else I've done.*
Finn watched him take the slip to the administrative desk, his expression conflicted. "If you're going, at least take supplies. Proper cold-weather gear, emergency healing pills, signal flares in case you need rescue."
"That would cost the contribution points I'm trying to earn."
"It might save your life."
"Or it might be wasted money when I succeed anyway." Eric saw Finn's expression and softened slightly. "I'll be careful. I promise."
Finn didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "Good luck. And Eric? If you don't come back, I'm keeping your meditation mat. It's slightly less terrible than mine."
Despite everything, Eric smiled. "Deal."
---
The Shattered Peaks were a three-hour journey north of the sect, accessible by a winding mountain path that grew progressively more treacherous. Eric left before dawn, his pack containing only essentials: his dagger, dried rations, water, basic medical supplies, and rope.
The temperature dropped steadily as he climbed. By the time the sect disappeared from view below, frost coated every surface, and the wind cut through his robes like knives. Eric cycled his qi to maintain warmth, but even that required constant focus.
**"The Frost Lotus grows only in the highest elevations,"** the dragon explained as Eric navigated around a particularly icy section of path. **"It thrives in extreme cold, drawing power from the frozen qi that accumulates in these peaks. The sect uses it to create pills that help disciples adapt their cultivation to extreme environments."**
"How do I identify it?"
**"Pale blue petals with silver veins. It grows near ice formations, usually in crevasses or sheltered spots. But more importantly, it will be guarded. Frost Lotuses emit qi that attracts ice-aligned beasts. You won't find one without a fight."**
The first beast Eric encountered was a Glacial Hare—a D-rank creature about the size of a large dog, with white fur that made it nearly invisible against the snow and claws that could tear through rock. It burst from a snowbank as Eric passed, going straight for his throat.
Eric's combat instincts, honed through countless beast fights, saved him. He twisted aside, the hare's claws missing by inches, and countered with his dagger. The blade scored across the creature's flank, drawing blood that steamed in the frigid air.
The hare recovered instantly and attacked again, faster this time. Eric blocked with his forearm—a mistake. The creature's claws raked across his bracer, the impact sending numbing cold through his arm. The hare's attacks carried ice qi that sapped warmth and slowed reactions.
**"Don't let it touch you,"** the dragon advised unnecessarily. **"Each contact will drain your body heat. Enough strikes and you'll freeze even while circulating qi."**
Eric adjusted his strategy, using footwork to avoid rather than block. The hare was fast, but it followed predictable patterns—lunge, rake, retreat. After the third exchange, Eric had the timing down. When it lunged again, he sidestepped and drove his dagger through its spine.
The creature dissolved into ambient qi, leaving behind a small core that Eric pocketed. D-rank cores sold for decent money, and every contribution point helped.
Three more encounters followed as he climbed higher. A Frost Serpent that tried to ambush him from above. An Ice Wolf pack that he avoided entirely by skirting around their territory. A Crystalline Spider whose web nearly caught him before he spotted the tell-tale shimmer.
By the time Eric found the first Frost Lotus, the sun was past its zenith and his body was exhausted from maintaining qi circulation against the cold.
The flower grew in a crevasse, exactly as the dragon had described—pale blue petals with silver veins, radiating cold qi so intense Eric could feel it from twenty paces away. Beautiful and deadly, like most things in the cultivation world.
And guarding it was a beast unlike any Eric had fought before.
The Frost Wyrm was easily twelve feet long, serpentine but with four muscular legs ending in claws of pure ice. Its scales were translucent, showing the flow of freezing qi beneath its skin, and its eyes held unmistakable intelligence. A mid-rank D beast, possibly higher.
It was coiled around the Frost Lotus, watching Eric with the patience of a predator that knew it held the advantage.
**"This is beyond what you've faced before,"** the dragon said seriously. **"That creature is on the cusp of C-rank evolution. Its ice qi could freeze your blood if you're careless. Your dagger will barely scratch its scales. This fight will require everything you've learned."**
Eric circulated his qi, preparing himself. "Any advice?"
**"Yes. Don't die."**
"Very helpful."
**"I'm serious, Eric. This beast can kill you. If you're not confident, retreat. Live to try another day."**
But retreating meant no Frost Lotus, no contribution points, no breakthrough to Ninth Stage, no hope of keeping pace with students who had resources. Retreating meant accepting his place at the bottom of the hierarchy, scraping by on scraps, forever weak.
Eric had been weak once. He'd sworn never to be weak again.
"I can do this," he said, more to himself than the dragon.
The Frost Wyrm uncoiled slowly, sensing his decision. It rose to its full height, frost forming in the air around its body, and released a hiss that resonated with killing intent.
Eric met its gaze, suppressed his fear, and charged.
The wyrm struck like lightning, its head snapping forward with jaws wide enough to swallow Eric whole. He rolled aside, the creature's teeth closing on empty air where he'd stood. Its tail whipped around, faster than he'd expected, catching him in the ribs and sending him flying.
Eric crashed into the ice wall hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. Pain exploded through his side—cracked ribs, possibly broken. The cold from the impact sank deep, making his entire right side sluggish.
The wyrm advanced, taking its time. It knew it had won.
**"Get up,"** the dragon commanded. **"NOW."**
Eric forced himself to move, rolling aside just as the wyrm's claws slammed down where his head had been. Ice shattered, sending shards flying. One caught Eric's cheek, opening a cut that bled freely.
He couldn't win this fight with strength. The wyrm was too powerful, too fast, too well-armored. He needed to be smarter.
**"Its underbelly,"** the dragon said. **"The scales are thinner there. And its eyes—they're vulnerable. But you'll only get one chance. Miss, and you die."**
Eric circled, staying mobile despite his injuries, letting the wyrm think it was herding him. The creature's movements were confident, almost lazy. It had no doubt about the outcome.
Good. Overconfidence was a weakness Eric could exploit.
He feinted left, drawing the wyrm's attention, then dove right and under its body in one smooth motion. The creature tried to twist, realizing its mistake, but Eric was already striking upward with his dagger, driving the blade into the soft scales of its belly with all his remaining strength.
Hot blood poured over his hand as the dagger sank deep. The wyrm screamed—a sound like shattering ice—and thrashed violently. Its tail caught Eric again, sending him tumbling across the frozen ground.
But the wound was mortal. The wyrm's movements grew sluggish, its blood pooling beneath it, steaming in the cold. It made one final attempt to reach Eric, dragging itself forward with fading strength, before finally going still.
Eric lay on the ice, gasping, his vision swimming. Every breath sent pain through his cracked ribs. His right side was numb from repeated cold impacts. Blood from the cut on his face dripped onto the ice beneath him.
But he was alive.
And the Frost Lotus was his.
**"Well done, young heir,"** the dragon said with genuine approval. **"That was closer than I would have liked, but you showed wisdom in your tactics. Now collect your prize and leave before something worse appears."**
Eric dragged himself to the crevasse and carefully harvested the Frost Lotus, wrapping it in cloth to preserve its qi. The wyrm's core was too large to easily carry, but it would fetch a premium price—he extracted it with shaking hands.
The journey back down the mountain was a blur of pain and determination. Eric moved on autopilot, using his qi to stay warm despite his injuries, keeping alert for predators that might sense his weakness. By the time the sect came into view, the sun was setting and his legs were barely supporting his weight.
He staggered into the Outer Court administrative building and dropped the wrapped Frost Lotus on the desk. The attendant's eyes widened.
"You actually retrieved it."
"Twenty-five contribution points," Eric managed, his voice hoarse. "As posted."
The attendant verified the flower's authenticity, then updated Eric's account. "Points transferred. You should see a healer—you look half-dead."
"I'll manage."
But Eric's legs chose that moment to give out. He caught himself on the desk, breathing hard, his vision graying at the edges.
"Stubborn village idiots," the attendant muttered, but flagged down a passing disciple. "Get him to the healing hall. Tell them it's mission-related injuries—sect will cover basic treatment."
Eric wanted to protest that he could walk, but his body had other ideas. The last thing he remembered was being half-carried through corridors, someone saying something about hypothermia and fractured ribs, and the distant approval in the dragon's voice: **"Rest now. You've earned it."**
---
Eric woke two days later in the Outer Court healing hall—a drafty building with barely functional heating formations and beds that smelled of old medicine. His ribs were wrapped tightly, and warmth had returned to his previously frozen limbs, though they ached like he'd been beaten with clubs.
Finn sat beside his bed, carving something from wood with a small knife. He looked up when Eric stirred. "You're awake. Good. I was starting to worry you'd freeze your brain along with everything else."
"How long?"
"Two days. The healers said you came in with hypothermia, three cracked ribs, various lacerations, and qi depletion. They were impressed you made it back at all." Finn set aside his carving. "Was it worth it?"
Eric thought about the twenty-five contribution points now in his account. About the Frost Lotus delivered and the mission completed. About proving to himself that he could face death and still come back.
"Yes," he said. "It was worth it."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
Finn smiled despite himself. "Well, your insanity is inspiring. Three other students took red seal missions after seeing you survive. Two came back successful. One is still missing."
"That's..." Eric wasn't sure how to feel about that.
"The cultivation world," Finn finished. "Risk and reward. Speaking of which—" He pulled something from his robe and tossed it to Eric. A small jade slip. "Aria Blackwood asked me to give you this. She's been promoted to Inner Court, so she has library access now. That's a basic movement technique scroll she copied. Won't cost you any points."
Eric held the jade slip carefully. Movement techniques were expensive, usually costing fifteen to twenty contribution points in the library. This was a gift worth more than he could easily repay.
"Why would she—"
"Because unlike most people in this sect, she actually has honor. And because she thinks you have potential." Finn stood, collecting his things. "Recover quickly. The three-month evaluation is in two weeks. If you're not at Ninth Stage by then, all this was for nothing."
He left before Eric could respond.
Two weeks. Eric had twenty-five contribution points, a movement technique, and a cracked ribcage. Time to break through or wash out.
No pressure at all.
**"You can do this,"** the dragon said. **"Your foundation is solid, your will has been tested, and you now have resources. The path to Ninth Stage is clear."**
Eric closed his eyes and began circulating his qi despite the pain in his ribs. The dragon was right—he'd come too far to fail now.
The breakthrough would happen. It had to.
Because the alternative was unacceptable, and Eric Chen had already decided that being weak was no longer an option.
The Outer Court had tried to break him. The missions had nearly killed him. The system was designed to eliminate students like him.
But Eric had died once already and come back stronger.
This was just one more obstacle in a long path of impossible challenges.
And like all the others, he would overcome it—or die trying.
Again.