The vision shattered. The cosmic roar collapsed into dead silence, leaving him stranded. Li Jin was thrown backward as if struck by lightning. His head cracked against the stone floor, and the raw, physical pain dragged him back to the brutal reality of the cave.
He gasped, the icy air searing his throat. The jade-green light from the walls seemed dim now, flickering. The stone in the pool was just a white rock in clear water. Had he imagined it all? A delusion born of cold and desperation?
No. Something had changed. An unknown energy was thrumming beneath his skin, a frantic current racing through his veins. It wasn't the calm, controlled Lìng Qì of the other disciples. This was a wild, chaotic force. A storm trapped inside his body.
The power overwhelmed him. His muscles seized, arching his back in a violent spasm. A blinding pain radiated from his sternum. He brought a trembling hand to his chest. Through the rough fabric of his robe, his skin was scorching hot. He blacked out, his last breath a strangled whimper.
Soft footsteps echoed in the cave. A figure knelt over him, illuminated by a small lantern. It was Master Chen, the school's healer. His usually serene face was a mask of stern disapproval. He had seen the unnatural flare of light from his observatory.
Master Chen placed two fingers on Li Jin's neck. The pulse was a frantic, erratic drumbeat. But he felt something else. A powerful, disordered vibration emanating from the young man's body. An energy so raw it made his own skin tingle. His expression shifted from anger to profound astonishment.
He pulled aside Li Jin's robe. There, on the boy's pale chest, a mark was forming. It wasn't a burn. It was a complex pattern of lines, a green so pale it was almost silver, that seemed to be etching themselves into his skin. They were forming the outline of a tiger's eye.
The master made a swift decision. He hoisted Li Jin's inert body over his shoulders. The boy was light, almost fragile. He left the sacred cave, the silence closing behind him like a tomb. Whatever had happened here went far beyond a simple transgression.
Li Jin awoke on the cold floor of the Hall of Judgment. Polished stone slabs reflected the flickering torchlight. Before him, seated on a throne of dark wood, was the Grand Master of the school. A man so old his skin looked like parchment stretched taut over bone. His eyes, however, were sharp and piercing.
To the Grand Master's right stood Master Chen. To his left, Xiao Lie, his face glowing with malicious glee. It was he who had raised the alarm, complaining of a "disturbance in the mountain's energy flow."
"He committed sacrilege!" Xiao Lie's voice cut through the silence. "He entered the forbidden sanctum. He sullied the Mountain's Heart with his unworthy hands. The law is clear. He must be banished. His meridians must be sealed."
The Grand Master raised a withered hand. Silence fell instantly. His gaze never left Li Jin. "The law is clear, yes. The circumstances are not. Speak, disciple. Why did you disobey?"
The old man's voice was calm, like dry leaves skittering over stone. There was no apparent anger in it. That was worse. It was the voice of a judge who had already passed sentence. Li Jin forced himself to his knees, pressing his forehead to the cold floor. He offered no excuses.
"I was desperate, Grand Master," he said, his own voice hoarse. "The Threshold Trial is coming. I feel nothing. I wanted to understand. I wanted to feel what you teach us. Just once."
Xiao Lie sneered. "Desperation does not excuse blasphemy."
Master Chen stepped forward. "Grand Master, there is more. When I found him, his vital energy was in chaos. But it was not the Lìng Qì we know. It was something else. A primal force. And… he bears a mark."
At a nod from the Grand Master, Li Jin opened his robe. The mark on his chest was now clear. A stylized tiger's eye, glowing with a faint, verdant light that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.
A murmur rippled through the hall. Even Xiao Lie's arrogant smirk vanished, replaced by a look of incredulous jealousy. The Mark of the Tiger was a legend, a tale told to novices. The sign of a direct bond with the mountain's guardian spirit. Something that had not been seen for centuries.
The Grand Master rose, a thing he had not done in years. He descended the steps of his throne and approached Li Jin. He did not touch the mark. He merely observed it, his face unreadable.
"You have broken our most sacred rule," the Grand Master declared. "You have risked your life and the spiritual balance of this place out of impatience. Arrogance and desperation are two sides of the same coin. You should be cast out."
Li Jin closed his eyes, bracing for the final verdict that would end his world.
"However," the old man continued, "the mountain appears to have answered you. Whether by choice or by force, a door has opened within you. To close it now would be a greater waste than your crime."
He returned to his throne. "You will take part in the Threshold Trial tomorrow. Your sentence will depend on the outcome. If the mountain has truly chosen you, you will light the lantern. If this was merely an accident, a chaotic reaction, you will fail. And you will leave this mountain, never to return."
The sentence was passed. It was not a pardon. It was a stay of execution. A twenty-four-hour stay.
Li Jin was escorted back to his cell. Wang An was waiting for him, his face consumed with worry. He handed him a bowl of hot broth. Li Jin wasn't hungry, but he drank it so as not to offend his friend.
"A mark?" Wang An whispered, dumbfounded. "The Mark of the Tiger? Jin, that's… that's impossible."
"I don't know what it is," Li Jin replied. "I just feel… a noise. A constant noise inside of me."
He sat on his straw pallet and closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, when he focused inward, he felt something. The Lìng Qì. He no longer perceived it as an external sea, but as a river now flowing within him. It was faint, undisciplined, but it was there.
The next morning, the training court was frigid. The first-year disciples stood in silent lines. Before them, on stone pedestals, was a row of uncut jade lanterns. They were cold, inert objects.
The trial began. One by one, disciples stepped forward. They placed their hands on their lanterns and focused. For most, after a few seconds, a soft green glow would rise from the heart of the jade, illuminating the stone from within. A success.
Xiao Lie's turn came. He strode forward with theatrical confidence. He barely brushed the lantern with a single finger. The light that erupted from it was instantaneous, almost blinding. The lantern shone like a small star. He shot a triumphant look at Li Jin before returning to his place.
Then, a heavy silence. "Li Jin."
Every eye in the court turned to him. He walked forward, each step feeling like it weighed a ton. He could feel their stares—pity, contempt, morbid curiosity. He placed his hands on the cold lantern. The stone was smooth, dead.
He closed his eyes. He breathed. He searched for the river inside him. He found it, that weak and chaotic current. He tried to guide it into his hands, to push it into the lantern. He focused with all his might.
Nothing. The lantern remained dark. A minute crawled by. The whispers began. The failure was absolute, humiliating.
Despair threatened to swallow him whole once more. So that was it. A fluke. An echo of power with no control. The Grand Master had been wrong. The mountain hadn't chosen him. It had just laughed at him.
As he was about to pull his hands away, a flash of a memory seared through his mind. Two molten emerald eyes. A growl that vibrated through the universe. He understood his mistake. He wasn't supposed to push the energy. He was not the source. He was a conduit. He was supposed to call.
He stopped forcing it. He emptied his mind of will, of fear. He opened himself, remembering that terrifying connection in the cave. He didn't demand. He invited.
The response was instantaneous. It was not a river. It was a tidal wave. A raw, untamed power surged from his chest, not down his arms, but directly into the lantern.
The lantern did not glow. It detonated with light. A violent, pure-green beam of jade energy shot into the sky, accompanied by a deep, resonant boom that seemed to shake the very foundations of the courtyard. The lantern vibrated so fiercely that cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. The light was so intense the other disciples threw up their hands to shield their eyes.
As quickly as it came, the power receded. The beam of light vanished. The booming sound died.
In the stunned silence, Li Jin's lantern sat on its pedestal. It was cracked, but it was lit. It pulsed with a strong, steady, green light.
Li Jin staggered back, utterly drained. He had done it. He looked up at the Grand Master. The old man was staring at him, and for the first time, Li Jin thought he saw a flicker of something in those ancient eyes. It was not pride, nor anger, nor relief.
It was fear.