The Azure Heaven Pavilion was rarely still, yet when the elders announced the annual Blood Moon Trial, even the wind seemed to hush.
For centuries, disciples had entered the trial realm—a shard of ancient battlefield preserved within the folds of space. Within, beasts warped by spiritual energy roamed, treasures lay hidden, and dangers surpassed anything found in the mortal wilds. To the Pavilion, it was a crucible. To the disciples, it was life and death.
At thirteen, Feng Xieyun stood among the gathered Outer and Provisional Inner Disciples. The crimson insignia of the Pavilion fluttered on their robes. Each carried a wooden plaque inscribed with their name and cultivation stage. The plaques were not mere records—they were life markers. If shattered within the realm, they would forcefully eject the bearer back to the Pavilion… broken, disgraced, and forever marked as a failure.
Xieyun's plaque glowed faintly in his palm: Feng Xieyun – Early Qi Refining.
A perfect disguise.
---
"Remember," boomed Elder Mo as he stood before the glowing portal of shifting light, "the realm rewards courage but punishes arrogance. Take what you can, survive what you must, and return alive. Only then shall the Pavilion deem you worthy of advancement."
His eyes swept across the disciples before lingering on Xieyun for the briefest moment. No words were spoken, but Xieyun felt the weight of that gaze—piercing, patient, as though watching a seed waiting to sprout.
"Enter!" Mo commanded.
The disciples surged forward.
---
The realm swallowed them in a blaze of crimson light.
When Xieyun's vision cleared, he stood in a land beneath a scarlet sky. Jagged mountains rose in the distance, their peaks black against the blood-red moon that loomed impossibly close. The air tasted metallic, thick with Qi that pressed down like invisible chains.
Disciples scattered into the wilderness, eager to seize treasures or slay beasts for merit. Xieyun, as always, drifted toward the shadows, his steps measured, aura carefully suppressed.
The System hummed in his mind.
> [Trial Environment Detected: Residual Battlefield Fragment.]
[Warning: traces of Demon God Qi active.]
So it was true—the Pavilion's trial grounds were not random. They were remnants of the ancient war he had glimpsed in the Shadow Veins.
He clenched his fists. The Pavilion keeps its disciples blind, feeding us legends while hiding the truth.
---
Hours passed as he moved silently through the realm, gathering herbs others overlooked—blood grass, marrow root, and a lotus blooming in stagnant crimson water. Each pulsed faintly with demonic Qi.
That night, under the bloody moon, he sat cross-legged beside a shallow stream. He crushed the blood lotus, letting its essence seep into his meridians. The Shadow Veins within him drank greedily, the crimson Qi threading into his body.
Pain lanced through him—searing, biting—but he endured. His breath slowed, his mind steady.
The System's voice chimed:
> [Blood Lotus Essence Absorbed.]
[Shadow Veins Refinement: 29%.]
[New Passive Skill: Blood Sense.]
Suddenly, he could hear more than the stream. In the darkness, to his left, he heard footsteps—three sets, faint, but too deliberate to be beasts.
---
Xieyun's hand slid to his sword just as shadows emerged from the undergrowth. Three disciples—faces familiar. Xu clan retainers.
One sneered. "So it's true. The Pavilion's 'stone-faced weakling' came here alone."
Another stepped forward, blade glinting under the crimson light. "Our cousin Liang vanished the night he fought you. Did you think no one would notice?"
Xieyun kept his expression calm, lowering his blade. "Accidents happen. The trial realm is dangerous. Perhaps you should be careful yourselves."
The leader's eyes narrowed. "Careful? Or perhaps we should make sure you don't walk out of here."
They lunged.
---
The fight was brief but brutal. The Xu disciples were older, stronger, their cultivation in mid to late Qi Refining. To any onlooker, Xieyun should have fallen instantly.
But under the Mask of Thousand Faces, his body flowed like shadow. He let their blades cut air, his sword flashing not to kill but to disrupt their balance. At the same time, the Shadow Veins pulsed, and his Blood Sense whispered each of their movements before they struck.
One stumbled, his aura fraying. Another's strike faltered when unseen weight pressed on his meridians.
Xieyun's blade slid once, twice—clean cuts to vulnerable veins. The disciples collapsed, choking on blood.
As they writhed, the System chimed:
> [Optional Path Activated: Soul Refinement.]
[Absorb fallen cultivators' essence? Y/N]
His hand trembled for only a moment before he whispered, "Yes."
Crimson mist rose from the dying Xu disciples, funneling into his veins. Strength surged, his soul deepening.
When silence returned, only corpses remained.
---
By morning, the Pavilion believed the three had been slain by beasts. Their broken plaques returned to the elders, who shook their heads but spoke no further.
Only Elder Mo looked thoughtful, his gaze drifting often toward the scarlet moon.
---
At the trial's end, Xieyun returned with modest spoils—blood herbs, a cracked beast core, little more than any struggling disciple might gather. His peers laughed and mocked, content to see him as the "lucky weakling."
But within, his Shadow Veins now coursed at nearly half-integration. His senses sharpened, his soul nourished by stolen essence.
He was no longer simply hiding. He was hunting.
And the Xu Clan, though blind to the truth, had already declared silent war.
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