"A true leader does not walk ahead alone—they carry others in their storm."
When the thunder of resilience faded, Su Mengtian expected another trial to begin immediately.
But instead, silence fell again—heavy, unnatural.
Then came a change.
The sky split—not above him, but within his spirit.
He found himself standing in the Hall of Valor, or something like it—twisted, dark, filled with crumbling pillars and cracked banners.
Nine ghostly figures knelt before him—phantoms of warriors, students, companions.
Each bore a familiar face: Ji Yeyan, Rao Lin, Inara, Baojin, and the others… yet each wore expressions of despair.
Their heads hung low.
Their backs were bent.
Their voices trembled.
"You said we'd build a future."
"But we're falling apart."
"Where's your strength now?"
"Why should we follow you anymore?"
Su Mengtian looked down.
He had no power in this vision.
No aura.
No commanding presence.
Only his voice… and his truth.
Fei Wu's voice echoed across the broken hall like thunder rolling across the clouds:
"True leaders don't command by force or fear… they ignite belief."
One of the figures—Kai Chan—lifted his head, empty eyes searching.
"Why should we rise again, Mengtian?"
The silence afterward was as loud as war.
Su Mengtian exhaled.
And then, he walked forward—not towering, but calm—each footstep filled with clarity.
"Because we are not the kind to die quietly."
He turned toward them all, meeting each of their eyes.
"I fell. You all saw me fall. More than once."
"But look where I am now—not because I climbed alone, but because I believed in you. Each of you."
He pointed at Inara.
"You taught me discipline."
He nodded at Yue Mei.
"You taught me light in illusion."
He gestured to Rao Lin.
"You taught me what it means to never retreat."
The hall trembled slightly.
"You ask why we should rise again?" His voice deepened, now thunderous.
"Because together, we are not nine. We are one storm."
The phantoms stirred. Their backs straightened.
Ji Yeyan's illusion whispered:
"What if we fail again?"
Su Mengtian stepped closer, knelt in front of the illusion.
"Then we rise again."
His tone left no room for doubt.
"Because this storm isn't mine alone. It's yours. It always was. I may be the center, but you… you are its edge, its roar, its reach."
Slowly, light returned to the illusions. The broken hall mended. Cracks sealed. Pillars rose anew.
The banners reformed and flared with wind—each bearing the sigil of their Hall.
Fei Wu's voice, distant but warm this time, echoed once more:
"Words can ignite. Belief can move armies. And when storms gather under a banner of unity… not even the sky can contain their thunder."
A flash of blinding light tore through the hall—and when Su Mengtian opened his eyes again, he was back in the Thunderclad Basin.
The sixth storm had passed.
And the sky felt… quieter. Watching.
He breathed deeply.
The storm respected him now.
But it would test him thrice more.
And the next—was the mirror of self: Accountability.
---
Commander Fei Wu, ready to start the next trial and said "A leader does not fear blame—they welcome it. They do not shift burdens—they shoulder them."
The thunderstorm above Thunderclad Basin had turned wild once more, but this time it was not the fury of the heavens that loomed over Su Mengtian—it was the weight of consequences.
As the seventh trial commenced, Commander Fei Wu's silhouette emerged from the lightning. No illusions this time, no projections. He stood real, tangible, watching with cold, steel-blue eyes.
"This trial," he said, voice low like distant thunder, "does not test your muscle, your mind, or even your heart. It tests the spine of a true leader: accountability."
Around Su Mengtian, the air shimmered—and the world twisted.
Suddenly, he was standing in a grand war chamber, shadowed by flames licking the edges of a shattered fortress. The banners of his personal force—the ones he had built—lay torn, soaked in blood. Around him stood his future Hallmasters—Ji Yeyan, Rao Lin, Inara, and the others.
Except... they were different. Wounded. Hollow-eyed. Furious.
In this illusionary future, Su Mengtian had led a campaign against the invading beasts of the Northern Wastes. He had rushed it—believing in his power alone. He had chosen not to wait for weather to clear, not to coordinate properly.
And they had paid the price.
Rao Lin limped forward, sword dragging. "Twenty-seven dead in the Hall of Valor. Because you gave the charge too early."
Kai Chan's voice cracked: "You ignored my sensory pulses. I told you there were hidden nodes... and you said you knew better."
Inara didn't speak—she only held up a broken battle-standard from the Hall of Ironblood. It dripped with blood.
Baojin stepped forward last, clutching a wounded beast-child. "Collateral, right? Acceptable loss? Answer us, Lord Commander."
Su Mengtian looked into each of their faces.
This was no beast to fight. No riddle to solve.
This was failure.
His failure.
But the trial had just begun.
Fei Wu's voice echoed, from the sky, from within: "You may choose to blame others. You may twist this illusion to justify yourself. Or—you may walk the harder road. Take the burden that comes with command. Show us that you would stand before your people not just as a banner… but as a shield."
Su Mengtian took a breath.
He did not explain himself.
He did not defend the decisions made in this illusion.
He knelt.
"I was wrong," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I let ambition speak louder than strategy. I overestimated myself."
Ji Yeyan's lip curled. "So what now? Empty words? What do you want us to do—forgive you?"
"No," Mengtian replied. "I don't expect forgiveness. Not from you. Not yet. But I will earn it."
He stood.
His gaze met each of theirs.
"Strip me of rank. Let another lead. Until I have rebuilt what I broke. Not through force. But through trust."
The chamber trembled.
But he did not waver.
"I will rebuild every destroyed hall. Stand at the frontlines in every battle until the last scar fades. And I will teach the next generation why I failed—so they do not repeat it."
A long silence.
Then Ji Yeyan stepped forward and tossed him a cloak.
Not as a comrade.
But as a reminder.
"Then begin again," she said.
The illusion didn't fade yet.
Fei Wu appeared directly before him this time, face unreadable.
"You did not excuse. You took the fall. You made no hero of yourself. That is what leaders forget most. That power brings no immunity from consequences."
He nodded to the sky.
And then—
The illusion shattered.
But not into light. Into countless mirror shards.
Each shard showed another moment in Su Mengtian's life.
—Him as a child stealing food from an orphan brother.
—Him lying to his first squad about how dangerous a mission would be.
—Him failing to visit his mother on her birthday during training.
Each choice… tiny. But his.
Each consequence… real.
And yet, through them all, he remained.
Not perfect. Not unblemished.
But true.
Su Mengtian opened his arms.
The shards flew toward him—and instead of cutting, they rejoined.
Forming armor.
Silver and blue.
Stormforged.
Each piece etched with a symbol of consequence.
Fei Wu's final words rang like a war horn, "The seventh trial is complete. You have chosen to bear the storm instead of cursing it. One more path awaits before the final command may be yours."
Lightning spiraled upward, forming a staircase into the clouds.
Above it waited the eighth test.
Self-awareness.
But Mengtian paused, looking back at the broken remnants of his illusion.
Because he knew this,
You do not leave accountability behind.
You carry it with every step.