The Iron Sword Sect was a forge. Disciples were not raised; they were hammered.
Only those who survived the hammering were worthy of the blade.
Three days after Jin Mu's arrival, the outer disciples were gathered in the trial grounds — a vast canyon carved into the mountain, its jagged walls glowing faintly with sword runes. The air stank of iron and dust, thick with tension.
At the canyon's mouth, disciples crowded in lines, crimson robes bright against the stone. Some whispered with anticipation, others laughed cruelly.
The gray-haired elder stood at the front, his voice sharp as a blade.
"Disciples of the Iron Sword Sect, hear the command: today, you will face the Trial of Stones. Enter the canyon. Survive until dawn. Any who fall will remain forever as corpses beneath its rocks."
A shiver ran through the crowd. Everyone knew what lurked in the canyon: starved spirit beasts, left there to hunt.
The rival's smirk spread like oil across his face. He raised his voice, just loud enough for all to hear.
"Perhaps even trash can survive… if he hides behind stronger backs." His gaze flicked to Jin Mu, sharp as a drawn sword. "But then again… beasts love weak prey."
Laughter rippled.
The elder lifted his sleeve, silencing them. "Step forward. Enter."
The outer disciples, fifty in total, marched toward the canyon mouth. Jin Mu walked among them, silent, shoulders squared. Mocking whispers trailed him like flies.
Inside, the canyon was shadowed, the air heavy with the scent of blood. Rocks jutted like broken teeth, narrow paths twisting deeper into darkness.
The first scream came before they had walked a hundred steps. A beast lunged from the shadows — a wolf with crimson eyes and jagged fangs. It tore into one boy before he could raise his sword, dragging him down into the dust.
The others scattered, panic erupting.
Jin Mu pressed his back to the canyon wall, fists clenched. His heart thundered, the storm of qi inside him stirring. His body trembled — with fear, with rage, with hunger.
Another wolf slunk from the shadows, eyes fixing on him. Its growl rumbled low, hungry.
Jin Mu's breath caught. He had no weapon. No training. Only the storm in his veins.
The wolf lunged.
Jin Mu's fist met its skull.
The blow cracked bone. The beast yelped, staggering back, stunned. Pain shot up Jin Mu's arm, his knuckles split, but he did not stop. The storm of qi surged, heavier, denser, spilling into his fist.
The second strike smashed the wolf's skull. Blood splattered the rocks. The beast collapsed, twitching, then fell still.
Silence.
For the first time, Jin Mu stood over the corpse of a spirit beast — not as prey, but as victor.
From the shadows, more eyes gleamed. More wolves. More trials.
Jin Mu's chest heaved. His body burned, his blood spilled freely, but his eyes glowed with something fiercer than fear.
If the heavens won't grant me a path, he thought, fists tightening, then I will carve one in blood.
And he stepped deeper into the canyon.