The rain smelled like rust.
Yan Luo lay face down in the mud behind the outer sect kitchens ribs aching, breath shallow. Every inhale felt like glass cutting into his lungs. Someone had broken his arm again. He didn't bother checking which one.
It didn't matter.
Trash didn't need arms.
Hey he's still breathing.
A shadow fell over him. The voice was young, bored, and annoyed, like someone noticing a stain that hadn't washed out.
Tch. He really is hard to kill.
Yan Luo felt a boot press against his head, grinding his face deeper into the mud.
"Senior Brother, should we finish him another voice asked Elder Zhou said crippled mortals aren't allowed to stay past winter.
Yan Luo heard every word clearly.
He always did.
That was the cruelest part.
Three years ago, he had climbed the same mountain with hope in his chest and fire in his eyes. He had believed the stories cultivation changes fate, Heaven rewards effort.
They tested his talent that day.
The crystal glowed faintly then cracked.
Broken meridians.
No spiritual root.
A defect.
The elders hadn't even looked angry. Just disappointed. Like finding rot in fresh fruit.
Still, they let him stay.
Not out of mercy.
Out of convenience.
Wake up trash.
The boot lifted, then slammed down again hard.
Yan Luo coughed. Blood mixed with rain and mud. He forced his eyes open just enough to see their robes. Outer disciples. Clean. Untouched.
People with futures.
What did I tell you about looking at me one of them snapped.
Yan Luo lowered his gaze immediately.
Too slow.
The kick came anyway.
This was his daily cultivation.
Pain. Hunger. Silence.
That night, Yan Luo crawled back to the storage shed he slept in. The cold gnawed at his bones. He wrapped himself in a torn sack and stared at the ceiling.
He thought of his sister.
She had been sick. Weak. But she smiled when she saw him.
She'll be cured once I cultivate he had promised her.
He had believed it.
Two days later, Elder Zhou arrived at the shed.
The elder didn't bring guards. He didn't need them.
Your sister's condition worsened Elder Zhou said calmly. Letting her suffer would be cruel.
Yan Luo knelt.
I'll work more he said quickly. I'll do anything. Please just give me time.
Elder Zhou sighed.
You mortals are so noisy.
That was all.
Yan Luo found her body behind the infirmary, wrapped in white cloth.
No blood.
No struggle.
Just silence.
Mercy, they called it.
Yan Luo didn't cry.
He couldn't.
Something inside him had already collapsed.
That night, he walked beyond the outer sect boundary.
No guards stopped him.
Why would they.
Trash leaving was the same as trash being thrown away.
He collapsed near a cliff as thunder rolled overhead. His vision blurred. His heart felt hollow, like it had been scraped clean.
If Heaven exists Yan Luo whispered then it's blind.
Lightning struck nearby.
The ground cracked.
Something ancient surfaced.
A corpse.
Not fresh.
Not human.
Black bones jutted from the earth covered in strange, carved symbols that pulsed faintly in the stormlight.
Yan Luo dragged himself closer.
The markings burned into his eyes.
Words not meant for the living.
Heaven rejects the weak.
So the weak must refine Heaven.
The corpse's finger twitched.
Yan Luo didn't scream.
He smiled.
For the first time in his life.
Not because he was happy.
But because he understood.
As rain soaked into his wounds the symbols began to sink into his skin.
Pain unlike anything before erupted inside him.
His broken meridians burned.
Then shattered.
Then rebuilt wrong.
Twisted.
Inverse.
Yan Luo screamed until his voice tore apart.
But when it ended.
He was still alive.
A line echoed in his mind cold and absolute:
Ash Blood Method: Initiation Complete
Empathy: Degrading
Hatred: Accepted
Yan Luo pushed himself to his feet.
His body trembled.
His heart was quiet.
He looked back toward the sect lights in the distance.
Wait for me, he said softly.
Not as a promise.
As a sentence.