The next morning, the ascent into the upper mountain training grounds took nearly half a day.
The paths narrowed as they climbed, carved into jagged stone and overgrown roots where older disciples still trained far from the main sect. Wind howled through crooked pines, carrying the distant cries of beasts and the dull echo of steel on stone.
Wu Chi walked at the front without looking back.
The five followed in uneven silence.
By the time they reached the basin carved into the mountainside, their breathing had grown heavy, not solely from exertion but from the unspoken awareness that this was their first true evaluation.
"Spread out," Wu Chi ordered. "Ten paces. I want space between your mistakes."
They obeyed without complaint.
The clearing was wide enough to accommodate them all, its stone floor fractured by ancient impact marks left behind by disciples who had failed or succeeded here long before them.
"We start with fundamentals," Wu Chi said, turning slowly as his gaze passed over each of them in turn. "Show me what you rely on when nothing is given to you."
His finger lifted toward Mei Qiao first.
She smiled with open provocation and stepped forward, unfastening her outer robe with deliberate slowness before letting it fall away. Tight-fitting leather hugged her frame beneath it, practical beneath the display.
Two short hooked blades slid into her palms.
"Try not to blink," she teased.
She moved in smooth predatory arcs, circling an invisible opponent as her blades traced lethal paths meant to sever tendons and arteries rather than clash against defenses. Her steps were light, her intent cruelly precise.
Wu Chi studied every movement.
"Assassin fundamentals," he concluded. "You rely on aggression to compensate for weak defense."
Mei Qiao's smile dimmed just slightly.
Next came Lin Shuyu.
She stepped forward without flair, sleeves secured, staff grounded firmly against the stone. When she attacked, there was no wasted motion. Each sweep controlled distance, each thrust aimed for incapacitation rather than spectacle.
She did not fight to impress.
She fought to conclude.
Wu Chi nodded faintly. "Your approach is very efficient."
"I prioritize outcomes," she corrected calmly.
Zhou Kai was next.
He nearly tripped stepping into the center and drew his saber with exaggerated flourish before unleashing a flurry of fast but poorly controlled cuts that favored speed over stability. It was visually impressive and tactically catastrophic.
Wu Chi stopped him with a raised hand.
"Why do you cultivate?"
Zhou Kai hesitated before answering honestly. "Strong men don't get cheated on."
Mei Qiao laughed outright.
Wu Chi did not share her amusement.
"That mindset will get you killed long before you become desirable," he said flatly.
Then Xu Ren stepped forward.
His presence alone shifted the air.
The heavy cleaver-saber in his hands moved with brutal economy, each strike meant to cripple rather than defeat. His imaginary opponents did not fall cleanly in his motions. They were dismantled.
"You enjoy breaking people," Wu Chi observed.
Xu Ren did not deny it. "It makes people think twice before they fight me."
Wu Chi said nothing.
Lastly came Gao Han.
The battle fanatic grinned and charged without weapon or form, relying solely on raw momentum and reckless aggression. He abandoned defense entirely, attacking as if pain were irrelevant and exhaustion nonexistent.
Wu Chi was forced to physically intervene when Gao Han overextended his balance in a spinning strike that would have shattered his own ribs in a real engagement.
"You will burn out before the fight is finished," Wu Chi told him.
"Then I'll make sure the fight is finished first," Gao Han replied, breathless and grinning.
By sunset, every flaw had been exposed.
No one was satisfied.
That was precisely the point.
That night, Wu Chi returned alone through the winding paths.
By the time he entered Han Ye's chamber, his hands were stained not with blood but with ink. He knelt and offered the compiled report, its contents detailed with brutal clarity: temperaments, weapons, endurance, decision-making under stress.
Han Ye read it in silence.
Long enough for Wu Chi to feel the seconds stretch uncomfortably thin.
"They are usable," Han Ye said at last.
Not praise.
Not criticism.
Only assessment.
"They lack structure."
"That will change," Wu Chi answered.
Han Ye set the report aside.
"You are dismissed."
Wu Chi rose, relief barely concealed beneath rigid discipline, and turned to leave.
At the doorway, Han Ye spoke again.
"Tomorrow morning, I begin their training personally."
Wu Chi froze for a fraction of a second before bowing deeply and withdrawing.
When the door closed, the chamber returned to silence.
Han Ye rose from his bed and made his way toward the library.
Tonight was not for rest.
It was for preparation.
By morning, the meaning of instruction would change.
.
.
.
[STATUS]
[Name: Han Ye]
[Age: 18]
[Cultivation: Dread Core Realm – Early Stage ▸ Qi Condensation - Late Stage]
[Fear Points: 7 084]
[Trauma: +795/day]
[Infamy: +27/day]
[Fear Points needed for the next stage: 12 000]
[Techniques: Shadowless Step, Thousand Faces Arts (incomplete), Silent Pulse Breathing, Crow Shroud Technique]