The barracks reeked of sweat, rot, and smoke.
Yuan Zhi entered with the jade token clenched in his hand. Around him, the other survivors — those who had passed the Bone Trial — staggered toward the open bunks. Twelve had survived out of thirty-one. Some were bandaged, others limping. One boy still had beast claws embedded in his back, and no one helped him remove them.
The outer sect was not built on kindness.
Wooden planks creaked underfoot as Yuan Zhi passed rows of narrow bedding, each barely wide enough to lie flat. The walls were damp and cracked. Mold grew between stone joints like creeping veins. Flies buzzed over a bucket of coagulated soup near the back wall.
This wasn't a resting place.It was a holding pen for livestock too valuable to slaughter — yet.
"New meat," someone sneered from the shadows.
Three figures rose from their bunks. All wore the same ash-grey robes, but the one in front bore a bronze token around his neck — higher rank than the rest. His arms were thick with muscle, his jaw bruised from previous fights that never healed cleanly.
"You look calm for a first day," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Think you're special? Let me guess... Razor Fang?"
Yuan Zhi didn't answer.
"You're not the first to crawl in here full of pride," the bronze-token disciple continued, stepping closer. "And if you want to stay breathing, you better learn to bow when it matters."
He jabbed a finger toward the only empty bunk."That's mine. You sleep on the floor."
Still silence.
The man's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you hear me, pup?"He reached for Yuan Zhi's token.
In one motion, Yuan Zhi moved.
A snap of the wrist, a twist of the hips — his hand cracked against the older disciple's throat with a dull thunk. The man staggered, choking, before Yuan Zhi stepped in and drove his knee into his stomach, followed by an elbow strike to the side of the neck. He crumpled, gasping, the bronze token clattering to the ground.
The other two disciples froze.
"Pick it up," Yuan Zhi said flatly.
Neither moved.
Yuan Zhi grabbed the token and shoved it into the older man's mouth as he writhed on the floor. "Don't teach unless you've learned survival first."
Still no intervention. Still no rules.He sat on the claimed bunk. No one dared challenge him again.
Later, as the barracks returned to its dull quiet, Yuan Zhi inspected the bruises under his robe. Purple swelling lined his ribs from where he'd been thrown in the cage. His arm ached. Blood crusted at the edge of an old cut.
He began to wrap a strip of cloth around his side when a thin hand passed him a cleaner one.
A girl. Pale skin, hollow eyes. She said nothing.He nodded once. No thanks. No words.This place punished empathy. It was safer not to speak.He tied the bandage tighter, anchoring himself against the pain.
That night, a deep bell rang three times.
Not for sleep. For blood.
A shrill voice echoed from a stone spire across the cliff face:
"Outer disciples report to the Bone Hall. Immediate gathering. Attendance mandatory."
A groan passed through the barracks, but everyone stood. Some limped. Others coughed blood into their sleeves. But none disobeyed.
Those who disobeyed disappeared.
The Bone Hall was carved directly into the cliff edge — a wide, open-air platform hanging over the void. Its floor was a circular slab of cracked stone, soaked dark from generations of trials. The night wind whistled through iron wind chimes that hung from the corners, sounding like the screams of the dying.
Elders stood at the perimeter, silent, their robes unmoving despite the wind.
One man stepped forward.
He looked no older than thirty — but the pressure he radiated was suffocating. His robes were ink-black, and a string of bone beads circled his left wrist.His eyes were silver. Cold. Empty.
"I am Elder Mo. I oversee the marrow trials," he said quietly.
No one dared speak.
"You survived your beasts. Some of you even killed them. That does not mean you're cultivators."
He raised a hand, and dozens of floating jade bowls rose from the ground, glowing faint green.
"These contain Ironroot Elixir. You will drink them. If your bones are worthy, they will harden. If they are not… they will rot."
Murmurs began to rise — quickly silenced by a look from the elder.
"Drink," he said simply.
No speech. No explanation. No promise of reward.
Yuan Zhi didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and took a bowl.It smelled of iron and mold. He tilted it back and drank.
It hit his gut like fire.The world spun. Then the pain came.Not on the skin. Not in the flesh. In the bone.It was like molten metal had been poured into his marrow. Every nerve felt like it was splintering.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping.
All around him, others screamed. A girl began clawing at her arms until skin came off in strips. One boy foamed at the mouth before he fell still. Two more vomited dark blood.
The elixir wasn't medicine. It was destruction. It burned weakness out by force.
Rotten roots must be destroyed before iron can grow.That's what this was.
A ritual of pain.
Yuan Zhi clenched his fists. He felt his teeth grinding, his vision blurring. His limbs spasmed, but he forced them still.
He wouldn't scream.
He wouldn't break.
He wouldn't die here.
Visions surged — fractured and strange.
He saw snow falling over a burning pagoda. A pair of bloody hands clawing through mud. A man laughing as his heart was crushed by a golden hand.
Memories that weren't his.
Or maybe they were. Echoes. Remnants. Or the elixir burning open something older.
Eventually, the pain dulled. Yuan Zhi's body trembled. He tasted iron in his mouth. But he was still breathing.
He sat up.Seven others still moved. The rest… didn't.
Elder Mo nodded.
"Seventeen entered," he said. "Seven remain."
He stepped forward and placed a jade talisman in front of each.
"You are now worthy of the next stage. The first step toward bone refinement."
He looked at Yuan Zhi a moment longer than the rest.
Then smiled.
It was not kind.
"Let's see how long that lasts."