The first rays of dawn filtered through the pine-covered hills surrounding Bai Village, casting long shadows across the now-familiar training grounds.
It had been almost two full months since Adam and the rest of the advanced trainees began the next stage of their martial journey: sensing and absorbing dark matter. And yet, in all that time, not a single one among them had succeeded.
Each day began with rigorous physical training—sprints across snow-packed paths, log lifts, and precision forms with their chosen weapons. Their bodies were pushed to their limits. Instructor Lin emphasized that only by exhausting their physical vessels could they begin to sense the invisible dark matter that surrounded them.
"When your muscles scream and your bones ache," he would say, arms crossed behind his back, "that's when the body becomes quiet enough to feel what can't be seen."
But silence never came to Adam. Not in the way he needed.
He lay on his back in the snow one morning, chest heaving, sword planted beside him. His breath formed clouds above him, disappearing as quickly as his hope. Around him, others groaned or panted as they recovered from their drills.
Zhao Yun collapsed beside him, arms splayed wide. "I swear my ribs are cracked."
"At least yours aren't frozen," Adam muttered.
Zhao laughed hoarsely. "Another day, another bruise. Still nothing?"
Adam shook his head. " I try my best every day but still nothing. But I'm sure as long as we keep trying I'm sure we'll get there."
"Will I?" Zhao whispered. "Every day I push myself until I can barely stand, then I try to focus, to feel anything different... but there's just nothing."
Adam sat up. "Hey. None of us have sensed it yet. It's not just you."
---
By the end of the second month, the group had become quieter. Fewer jokes, fewer smiles. The snow melted slightly as spring neared, but the chill in their hearts remained.
Then, one morning, Instructor Lin stood before them, holding a list in his hand. His expression was unreadable.
"Today," he began, his voice solemn but tinged with something else, "we have a breakthrough. One among you has finally succeeded".
Murmurs spread like wildfire. Adam sat up straighter, eyes darting to Zhao, who looked just as confused.
"Xue Fan," Instructor Lin said, nodding toward a quiet boy with sharp eyes and a constant serious expression standing off to the side. He looked barely fifteen, his face grew a bit tense as the others turned to stare. "Last night, during individual practice, he successfully sensed dark matter."
Gasps echoed through the crowd. A few clapped. Some looked skeptical. Others, like Adam, felt something else, something bitter and sharp in the pit of the stomach.
Instructor Lin raised a hand to silence the crowd. "This is just the first step. Sensing dark matter means nothing without the ability to absorb it into your body. That takes even more time, focus, and strength. But it is still the first step to becoming a true martial artist. You must not give up!"
That evening, the training grounds were louder than usual, not with voices, but with silent resolve. Everyone trained harder, sat longer, tried deeper.
By the third month, a girl named Mei Rong also succeeded. She was quiet, disciplined, and barely ever spoke during practice, but when Instructor Lin announced her name, she simply nodded and returned to her place in the group.
By the fourth month, Zhao Yun broke through.
Adam still remembered the way Zhao had shouted in pure joy after meditation one night, tears freezing on his cheeks.
"I felt it!" Zhao had yelled. "I finally felt it! It was like a breeze across my skin, like the world was holding its breath around me."
When the announcement came, Adam felt genuinely happy for him, Zhao had trained hard and stayed motivated even when others slacked, but deep inside, it still stung. Zhao had started at the same time, trained beside him every day, yet he had already made it while he himself was still struggling.
"I thought you'd be the first one," Zhao said that night, his tone sincere. "You're the most focused one here."
Adam forced a smile. "I guess focus isn't enough."
"Don't beat yourself up. Everyone moves at their own pace."
Adam appreciated the words, but they didn't help much. He couldn't shake the thought that something was wrong with him. That maybe he lacked what the others had. That maybe he wasn't meant to become a martial artist after all.
---
Six months in, and five students had sensed dark matter. Xue Fan. Mei Rong. Zhao Yun. Two more followed: Jian Hao and Ru Fen.The rest still sat in the cold, eyes closed, minds open, waiting for something to happen.
That was when Instructor Lin gathered them all again.
"Six months," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "For those of you who have sensed dark matter in this time, congratulations. That qualifies you as geniuses on the path of martial cultivation. For the rest, listen carefully."
The group quieted.
"Don't be impatience and take it one step at a time. Sensing dark matter within two years still makes you qualified to be called talented," he continued. "Two to five years means you are average. If you cannot do it in five… then I advise you to reconsider your path. It does not mean you are useless. It only means your road lies elsewhere."
The words hit Adam like a slap. He clenched his fists at his sides.
Five others had succeeded.
But he hadn't.
It wasn't for lack of effort. Adam trained longer than anyone else. From the moment the sun rose until it dipped below the horizon, he was either swinging his sword, running drills, or sitting in meditation. He barely slept. He ate just enough to keep going. He repeated every lesson in his mind again and again. He did everything right.
But nothing happened.
There were no sparks. No whispers. No flickers of energy. Just silence.
Every. Single. Day.
Some nights he sat alone outside his hut long after the others had gone to sleep, his hands trembling from exhaustion, his knees sore from kneeling on hard ground.
He stared up at the sky, hoping for a sign, a message, anything. He pressed his palm over his chest, where the strange darkness once stirred when he killed the wolf, but now it was quiet, still, unreachable.
---
Two years passed by.
By now the group that was a bit more than 30 at the beginning was less than half
Adam has alread started growing desperate, not wanting to be the last in the group... not wanting to be abandoned again.
Zhao, who has already started training with different group but still visited occasionally, noticed the change in him.
"You look dead tired," he said one morning, tossing Adam an apple. "Have you been sleeping at all?"
Adam shrugged. "I've got things to do."
"Pushing yourself that hard won't make the energy show up faster."
"And slacking off definitely won't."
Zhao frowned but didn't press the issue. He knew better by now.
Adam tried to hide it, but inside he was unraveling. Watching others move forward while he remained stuck became torture. Some of the newer students even passed him.
They joined the advanced group, where they were taught how to actually absorb dark matter and begin their physical transformation.
Some of the geniuses who sensed dark matter in less than six month have already managed to absord the energy, truly becoming tier 3 martial artists. Zhao was one of them, had even started showing signs of change, his skin firmer, his movements faster and more precise.
Adam remained the same.
One night, after another failed attempt at meditation, Adam punched the ground until his knuckles bled. He sat in the dark, breath ragged, eyes stinging—not from pain, but from the weight of frustration.
He thought of Old Bai.
Of how kindly the old man had taken him in. Of the villagers who helped him build his home. Of the people who believed in him.
And he thought of the white void.
Of the thunder. The gate. The searing pain. The rejection. Being abandoned to die in the darkness.
"Was I just lucky?" he whispered to the cold wind. "Is that all it was?"
But deep down, he knew luck couldn't explain it all. Something had stirred inside him back then—something powerful, something ancient. It wasn't gone, it was just buried.
He just had to find it.
Even if it took years.
Even if it meant crawling while others flew.
Even if no one else believed in him.
He would find it.
Because this was his path—no matter how long, no matter how hard. No matter how many lifetimes.
And he would walk it alone if he had to.