Chapter 22: Passing the Threshold
The high halls of the Iron Banner Sect buzzed with uneasy energy as dawn crept across tiled roofs and painted banners. Jiang Wei, back from the depths of the Secret Realm, found no peace waiting for him. Instead, a heavy hush hung in the air—equal parts reverence, suspicion, and the whispered rumors of the ambitious.
He walked through the outer courtyards, feeling stares digging into his back. Where once there had been open contempt, now there was wary deference and a new edge—envy. Some recognized a fellow disciple who had returned from legend; to others, he was a challenge to the established order, a threat that must be contained.
Ming Xue met him outside the dormitory, eyes searching his face for traces of change. "You're back," she said softly. "But not as the Jiang Wei who entered. Did you… see it? The heart of the Realm?"
Jiang Wei nodded, remembering the shimmering lotus, the echoing voice of the Monarch, and the moment when he accepted—not just power, but the burden and beauty of walking a path no one else could define for him.
"I saw enough," he replied. "What comes next will not be easier."
Beside her, Yao Ping grinned nervously. "Word is spreading already. Some say Elder Hui wants to make you an inner disciple; others claim the Council fears what you found."
Han Zhi stepped forward, concern furrowed into his brow. "Will they let you stay?"
Before Jiang Wei could answer, Senior Sister Wen approached at a brisk pace, her expression serious but warm. "Come. The elders require you."
They led him through winding corridors and up broad steps to the upper council chambers, where the Sect Master and the full council awaited. Sunlight slanted through latticed windows, throwing sharp lines across ancient rugs and scroll-laden desks.
The Sect Master's gaze was cool and measured. "Jiang Wei. You returned whole—and changed. Describe what you claimed in the Secret Realm."
Jiang Wei kept his voice steady. "I faced shadows of my weakness and memories of power not my own. But I did not yield. I took only what I could earn, and chose to walk forward by my own will."
Elder Zhu studied him intently. "Did you commune with the Monarch's spirit?"
His memory flashed: the Monarch's cracked crown, the voice rising like thunder in his veins. "I faced my own shadow. The legacy is not possession—it is a mirror."
A thoughtful silence followed.
Lady Lian folded her hands. "Many have dared the Realm and returned empty. You bring back something more—resolve, insight, and a power few can comprehend."
An elder in gray leaned forward. "We must decide: reward you, contain you, or drive you from the Sect."
Every eye in the chamber turned to the Sect Master, who waited until the silence grew thick. At last, he spoke: "The Iron Banner is not a cage but a crucible. We do not build legends only to bind them. Jiang Wei, for passing the greatest of our trials, you are promoted to inner disciple. You will have resources, access—and responsibilities far greater than most."
Relief and dread mingled in Jiang Wei's chest. He bowed deeply. "I will serve the Sect with the strength I have earned."
The Sect Master nodded. "But know this: the eyes of our enemies are on you now. And inside our walls, not all share our faith in new beginnings."
By afternoon, the news had swept the sect. Old friends hailed him with awe, rivals studied him through narrowed eyes, and the ambitious began to circle—some seeking mentorship, others alliance, a few whispering threats.
When Jiang Wei entered the training court reserved for inner disciples, his arrival drew a ripple of surprise. Ancient murals loomed overhead; the air shimmered with the aura of long-matured qi. Among the gathered elite, he recognized only a handful—Shen Ru, now healed but solemn; Cai Fen, prideful and sullen; and a handful of elders watching with hawkish interest.
A senior inner disciple, tall and polished, stepped forward. He looked Jiang Wei up and down, his respect calculated but genuine. "I am Zhou Qing. You made quite a stir, outsider. Prove you belong."
Jiang Wei straightened, holding Zhou's gaze, feeling the pebble's pulse in his blood. "I have passed the Sect's crucible and faced my own doubts. I am ready."
Zhou smiled thinly. "Good. Here, we push limits—no illusions, no mercy. But those who endure become legends, not footnotes. May your flame withstand the wind."
Jiang Wei nodded, aware that this was another threshold, another arena—one with higher stakes, subtler battles, and a crowd that would cheer his fall as readily as his ascent.
That night, as moonlight spilled like silver across the inner court, Jiang Wei sat alone atop the highest step, the pebble pressing warm and insistent into his palm. He felt the well of expectation, the weight of secrets, and, beneath it all, the steadfast certainty that his path, whatever storms it crossed, would remain his own.
He had survived the Realm. Now, he would endure the world that watched him—one test, one day, one unbroken will at a time.