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Morning mist descended slowly, hanging low between the stone buildings and towering pines surrounding the Verdant Vein Sect.
The scent of damp earth and pine needles saturated the air, slipping into the breaths of every disciple who had risen early to train.
Under one of the oldest pine trees, a young man stood with a wooden staff in hand.
The staff's tip was cracked, yet he held it tightly—as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded.
That young man was Ruan Aztar.
He drew a deep breath and attempted the basic staff form again.
The staff lifted, turned slightly, but the motion broke midway—far from smooth.
Its end struck the wet soil, splattering mud onto his already wrinkled robe.
"Not yet… almost," he murmured softly, trying to convince himself.
But the moment his whisper faded, footsteps sounded behind him.
Gravel scraped beneath boots, followed by a laugh—soft enough to pretend innocence, yet dripping with mockery.
"Well, look who's up already," said a tall male disciple, folding his arms.
"Little Ruan is working hard again."
Ruan turned.
Three disciples stood several steps away, each wearing the expression of someone who had come not to observe, but to ridicule.
"I'm just practicing," Ruan replied quietly, mustering a polite smile.
The girl among them—always the one with the sharpest tongue—raised a brow.
"Practicing? Ruan, you still can't perfect the first movement. You've been here two years. Two years, Ruan."
The second boy added, tapping Ruan's shoulder mockingly,
"I think the staff is more talented than you."
The first one laughed.
"No. The staff just pities him."
Ruan pulled his staff slightly closer and said, voice barely steady,
"I just want to fix one thing. Just one."
But the girl stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over Ruan's worn robe with scorn.
"The problem, Ruan, is that you don't even know what needs fixing."
Ruan's chest tightened.
Before he could answer, a loud voice boomed from the main hall.
"All disciples! Gather in the central ground immediately!"
The tone was tense—urgent.
Passing disciples exchanged uneasy glances.
"What's going on?" one of the trio asked.
"No idea," another whispered. "But it sounds serious."
The girl cast Ruan a thin smile.
"Let's see what trouble surfaced today. Hopefully something interesting."
Ruan followed them from behind.
Along the path, whispers spread like wildfire.
"I heard the sect treasure is missing."
"No way…"
"The core treasure?"
"They said suspicious Qi traces were found."
"If that's true… we're all in danger."
By the time Ruan arrived, the training ground was filled with disciples of every rank.
The elders stood in the center of the wide circle.
Elder Varun held an open black box—
the box that normally housed the Life Spirit Relic.
Ruan felt cold crawl up the back of his neck.
Elder Varun raised his hand, and the disciples immediately fell silent.
"The sect's core treasure has vanished," he announced.
His voice was calm, yet every word weighed like stone.
Panic exploded instantly.
"Impossible!"
"Who stole it?"
"The guards would never slip!"
Varun continued,
"We found Qi traces near the treasury. After tracking them, the trail led to one disciple's dormitory."
Silence swallowed the courtyard.
Ruan felt his breath catch.
Elder Varun scanned the disciples with sharp eyes, then spoke the name.
"Ruan Aztar. Step forward."
It felt as if the entire ground shifted as every head turned toward him.
Whispers followed like daggers.
"Him?"
"Not surprising."
"He's always been suspicious."
Ruan felt the world shrinking, but he stepped forward.
Each step weighed like lead.
When he reached the elders, Elder Varun held up a torn black cloth—dirty, ragged.
"This was found at the treasury entrance," he said.
"And it came from your robe."
Ruan shook his head quickly.
"Elder… my robe was torn, yes. But I threw the scrap away. I didn't—"
One of the boys from earlier cut him off loudly,
"Oh, convenient story. The cloth magically walks itself to the treasury?"
Another disciple chimed in,
"He's strange. What if he really did it?"
The girl added coldly,
"He's quiet and weak. People like that usually hide something."
Ruan's stomach twisted.
"I didn't leave my dorm last night. I was asleep. I didn't go anywhere."
Elder Nira—the gentlest of the elders—asked softly,
"Is there anyone who saw you there?"
Ruan lowered his gaze.
"No…"
And the murmurs rose.
"He's lying."
"No witness? Suspicious."
"He should know his place."
Then the Sect Master stepped forward.
Sect Master Thalmar—his Qi so immense that air itself thickened.
Ruan had to brace himself to remain standing.
"Ruan Aztar," Thalmar said,
"You have committed the gravest offense in this sect."
"I didn't—" Ruan tried, but his voice was swallowed by the Master's spiritual pressure.
"The core treasure is not something a disciple can touch," Thalmar continued.
"And the evidence points directly to you."
Desperation pushed Ruan to speak.
"Master… please listen. Someone set me up. I swear I didn't—"
But Thalmar raised his hand.
"The elders have reached a decision. From this moment on, you are no longer a disciple of the Verdant Vein Sect."
The courtyard erupted.
"Finally!"
"As he should!"
"A thief doesn't belong here!"
But Thalmar was not finished.
"You will be cast into the Ancient Corpse Valley."
Silence crashed onto the courtyard.
Even the distant birds seemed to stop singing.
Ruan stared, eyes wide.
"No… Master… that valley is death…"
Two sect guards seized him by the arms.
Ruan struggled.
"Wait! Please—listen to me! You're all wrong! I never touched the relic!"
The disciples only laughed.
One of the trio smirked,
"Goodbye, Ruan. You finally have a home that suits you."
Another added mockingly,
"The valley's corpses will welcome you warmer than we ever did."
Ruan's chest felt like it might shatter.
"I… am innocent," he whispered—more to himself than anyone else.
But no one cared.
The guards dragged him through the north gate.
The valley winds were colder there, carrying a faint, rotten stench.
The ground near the cliff edge was damp, the thick fog below shifting like a living creature.
Ruan stood at the brink.
He swallowed hard, trying not to tremble.
"If even one person believed me…" he whispered.
The first guard stared blankly.
"No one does."
Without another word, they pushed him.
The thick fog opened like a gaping mouth.
Ruan fell—his body swallowed by the darkness below.
And the world above
left him behind
in silence.