"Zhao Feng tells me you've made good progress," Elder Guo said. He stepped forward and placed a hand briefly on Li Wei's shoulder.
Li Wei felt the Qi flow into him—measured, clinical, exact.
"Foundation Establishment, level three," Elder Guo murmured. "Good. That's good. That's very good. Much better than the last one. I was worried you'd embarrass me."
He didn't sound like he was joking.
"I'm sorry to say you're the only new inner disciple under me this year," the elder added. "A lot of eyes will be on you."
Li Wei kept his tone neutral. "I'm happy to be alone, Master."
Elder Guo gave a short laugh. "Good. That'll serve you well—so long as you don't get too cocky."
He didn't elaborate, but his expression shifted—just slightly. A flicker of something behind the eyes. Not warmth, not approval—just a momentary pause, like he was looking at something familiar.
His voice lowered a notch. "Don't trust the quiet ones. Or the loud ones. Or anyone, really. Most of the damage done starts with a smile."
He adjusted his sleeve absently, as if brushing off a memory. Then his tone returned to level.
"There's always some exotic technique, some trick item. Don't assume strength guarantees survival. It doesn't. Just gives you longer odds. Experience builds judgement. But only if you live long enough to reflect on it."
"Come. It's time."
He turned back toward the mouth of the cave, posture unhurried.
Li Wei didn't reply. But he understood.
He turned, gesturing for Li Wei to follow.
Elder Guo paused at the entrance of the cave and looked back. "You've got everything?"
Li Wei gave one last glance around the chamber. His bone slave stood motionless by the wall. All equipment—pills, bone dust, the Rust Grasp—was secured in his storage pouch.
"Yes, Master."
Without further comment, Li Wei followed him out.
They stood outside the cave. The air was still, heavy with moisture.
Elder Guo moved abruptly—unexpected—and with a sharp pulse of Qi, two bone wings tore free from his back. Not grown, not summoned—pierced. The sound was wet and clean, like cartilage splitting. Pale, angular, and rigid, they extended fully within moments, jointed like blades, each segment gleaming with a dull ivory sheen.
Then, without warning, Elder Guo reached out and grabbed Li Wei by the collar.
The ground dropped away as they surged into the air. Wind hammered Li Wei's face, and for a moment he tensed, genuinely concerned he might slip out of his own robes. Dangling like cargo from the hand of a Golden Core cultivator was not how he imagined the day going.
But the grip was solid, and the ascent continued.
They rose sharply, wind whistling past.
From above, the sect unfolded in fragmented layers across multiple peaks—each one connected loosely by paths. There was no single, massive structure—just clusters of stone buildings, halls, and platforms carved directly into the mountainside.
Toward the centre of the formation, nestled between the tallest peaks, was the largest concentration of buildings. Even from this height, Li Wei easily recognised the structure of the Pill Hall. Just beyond it, the open plaza where the sect assessments were held stood out like a burn mark on the landscape—flat, symmetrical, and empty. Other areas were harder to place.
Cultivators moved in lines and clusters—tiny, shifting dots traversing narrow paths or gathered in corners. Some trained in open spaces. Others lingered in quiet meditation. From this altitude, they looked fragile. Far away.
Li Wei felt every jolt of motion. Elder Guo's grip on his collar was firm, but the angle was wrong—his robes pulled tight across his ribs, and the constant sway made his arms go numb. Wind tore past his ears. The speed was staggering—Elder Guo moved like a thrown spear, silent and absolute. It was a struggle not to look down.
As they gained altitude, the terrain broadened.
A few minutes later.
Below them, a massive crater came into view—broad and circular, carved into the earth like a scar. Its edges were too clean, too symmetrical to be natural. Jagged black stone ringed the perimeter, forming uneven walls that dipped sharply into a flattened basin below.
Li Wei couldn't make out the finer details, but he recognised the distinct colouration of pine forest below. Dense clusters of tall, dark green trees filled the interior, their tops still under the warm sunlight. No mist, no movement—just the sharp lines of summer pine under open sky.
It reminded him of highland woods he'd passed once: dry underfoot, full of brittle needles and hidden undergrowth. Except this wasn't natural. The symmetry was too exact, the location too deliberate.
The moment they passed over it, Li Wei felt it. A pressure in the air—subtle, but unmistakable. The Qi here was different. Heavier. Dry, iron-tinged. Not hostile, but wrong. His body responded before his thoughts could catch up—his breath slowed, muscles tensed slightly, spine tight.
Below, the pine forest looked perfectly ordinary. Sunlight filtered through the green canopy, casting neat shadows across the ground. Birds moved through the upper branches, and from this height, it could have passed for any untouched woodland.
But Li Wei knew better. There was a stillness in the Qi, like something had pressed down on the land a long time ago and it hadn't recovered.
Figures were already gathering. Small groups, all inner disciples
Elder Guo angled downward.
They landed near the central zone of the basin—a wide clearing cut cleanly into the heart of the pine forest.
Elder Guo didn't bother with a gentle descent. Midway down, he simply let go.
Li Wei dropped the final five meters, hitting the ground with a solid thud. He stumbled slightly but recovered quickly, straightening and brushing dust from his robe. No real harm done.
Elder Guo touched down lightly a moment later, bone wings folding back into his back without a word. He stood silently, scanning the area.
Since no instruction came, Li Wei looked around.
The clearing was wide, circular, the pine forest pressing in from all sides. The treeline stood a short distance off—thick, orderly, but deceptively quiet. The air was warm, the sun still out.
Several groups had already gathered. Each was composed of inner disciples, all accompanied by their respective elders.
Most groups stood in compact formations, five to ten strong. One was notably larger—nearly twenty inner disciples gathered around an elderly-looking man, presumably their elder.
Only one other cultivator stood alone with an elder.
Like Li Wei, he was alone.
As Li Wei watched, two more groups arrived.
The ground began to vibrate faintly beneath Li Wei's feet—a slow, rhythmic thump that grew steadily stronger. At first, it sounded like distant drums. Then the trees began to sway, birds burst from the canopy, and something large moved through the forest.
A moment later, a massive skeletal beast emerged from the treeline. Towering on four legs, it resembled a mutated ox—its joints reinforced with polished bone, its spine crowned with thick ridges. Across its back stood a platform fitted with iron railings, upon which a dozen disciples rode in silence. Matching gear, proper weapons, and cautious expressions. The beast came to a halt at the edge of the clearing with a slow grinding snort, settling on its knees to let the rider's dismount.
Li Wei watched carefully, noting the confidence in their movement.
Minutes later, the shadows overhead shifted.
A flying beast arrived. It descended in a steady spiral, wings spread wide to catch the air. The creature resembled a giant kite-hawk—broad-winged, long-tailed, and narrow-bodied, its feathers a muted ash-grey that shimmered subtly in the sunlight.
Balanced along its back were several figures. One at the front—clearly the rider—stood with practiced ease, robes streaming behind him. The rest, a small group of disciples, crouched low for stability, holding onto embedded grips as the bird coasted downward.
The creature touched down with precision near the clearing's edge, talons digging into the compacted soil. None of the riders spoke as they dismounted. The one at the front—likely the elder—stood still for a moment, surveying the terrain before motioning his disciples to follow.
Li Wei glanced around, counting.
Including himself, there were now eleven distinct groups gathered around the clearing. Most were compact—clusters of five to ten inner disciples, each loosely arrayed around their elder. A few were larger, one in particular boasting nearly twenty cultivators.
Only he and one other stood apart—alone.
Only Li Wei and one other disciple stood apart—each alone, brought by their respective elders. The sight left a bitter edge. It felt like being picked last for a game no one wanted to play.
Li Wei scanned the clearing, noting the groups—most clustered behind their respective elders, some loose, others tight formations. Then he caught sight of a few familiar faces. A handful of them had been present at the Bai Gu. Not all, but enough to confirm that multiple such events had taken place. There were nearly a hundred gathered here. That meant several rounds had occurred across the sect's peaks.
Across the clearing, several elders had begun to gather in loose clusters, exchanging a few quiet words or surveying the arriving groups.
Li Wei spotted him early. The elder standing at the head of the largest group—easily twenty disciples strong. Even from a distance, the man's age was clear. His face was deeply lined, eyes set in heavy sockets, and his long grey beard moved faintly in the wind. His robes were layered but worn, and he leaned heavily on a crooked staff capped with dull jade.