Chapter 13: The Flower Wine Monk Inheritance - Part 1
Day 41. Dawn assembly.
Seventy-three students gather in the academy's main courtyard, arranged by cultivation rank. Five elders oversee from the platform—gray-robed figures whose presence alone silences the excited chatter.
Elder Gu Yue Feng speaks. "The Flower Wine Monk's inheritance opens in three days. This is an opportunity for advancement and a test of your worth to the clan. Those who return with resources will be rewarded. Those who fail..." He lets the sentence hang. "Pack for five days. We depart within the hour."
The courtyard erupts into motion. Students rush to dormitories, gathering supplies, checking Gu, making last-minute preparations.
I've been packed for a week.
My ribs ache where Fang Zheng's blade opened them five days ago. The wound healed cleanly—Shen Cui's work is always thorough—but the scar tissue pulls when I move wrong. A constant reminder that accidents happen, even in practice.
In the inheritance, there won't be accidents. Just efficiency.
Fang Yuan stands apart from the chaos, already prepared, watching the scrambling students with those ancient eyes. He notices me watching and nods once. Acknowledgment. Warning. Permission.
I look away first.
The expedition forms into loose columns. Elders at the front, strongest students behind them, weaker students in the middle, rear guard bringing up supplies.
I position myself exactly in the center—surrounded by other mediocre cultivators, invisible in the mass.
Fang Zheng waves from the front ranks where the B-grades travel. Gu Yue Qing Shu stands beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. They've been inseparable since the engagement dissolution. Her smile is genuine when directed at him, cold calculation when she glances at anyone else.
Including me. Our eyes meet across the formation. She nods—polite, dismissive. I'm yesterday's embarrassment, already forgotten.
Perfect.
"Formation analysis: 73 students, 5 elders, standard defensive configuration. Fang Yuan positioning: Front left flank, isolated from main group. Fang Zheng positioning: Center front, surrounded by social connections. Host positioning: Optimal for observation and minimal attention. Estimated travel time: Three days at current pace."
Three days. Seventy-two hours to the inheritance ground where the real test begins.
The march starts.
FANG YUAN
The expedition moved with predictable inefficiency. Too many students, too few who understood what awaited them.
Fang Yuan walked alone on the flank, ignoring attempts at conversation. Most students gave him space now—his reputation had solidified after the monthly competition. Talented, cold, dangerous to approach.
Mo Bei moved in the middle ranks, carefully unremarkable. Smart positioning. The boy learned quickly.
He'll either die in the first hour or survive by scavenging secondary resources. Either outcome is acceptable.
Variables that knew their limitations rarely interfered with important plans.
The first day passes in monotonous travel. Forest paths, mountain slopes, the gradual transition from academy territory into contested borderlands.
Students complain about the pace. The elders ignore them.
I keep my breathing steady, my face neutral. The scar on my ribs pulls with every step, a dull ache that sharpens when the terrain gets rough.
"Physiological assessment: Minor discomfort from recent injury. Mobility: 94% of baseline. Combat readiness: Adequate with pain management. Recommendation: Avoid strain to injured area during inheritance exploration."
Evening camp. Seventy-three bedrolls arranged in defensive circles, campfires casting dancing shadows. The smell of cooking rice and preserved meat. Students huddle in groups, speculating about what they'll find.
Shen Cui sits beside me without asking. Just settles down, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
"You're tense," she observes quietly.
"Inheritance grounds are dangerous."
"Everyone's tense. You're different." She pulls out two portions of rice from her pack, hands me one. "You're tense like someone who knows exactly what's coming. Not fear of the unknown. Fear of the known."
I accept the rice. "Maybe I've heard stories."
"Stories don't make you flinch at specific sounds." She eats calmly, watching the other students. Their excited chatter drifts across the camp—theories about treasures, boasts about what they'll claim, promises to share findings with friends.
Lies, mostly. In the inheritance, those promises will evaporate the moment real resources appear.
"You already know what's inside," Shen Cui says. Not a question. "Somehow, you know what we'll find. What we'll face."
"I know enough to be more afraid than excited."
She nods slowly, accepting this. "Then promise me something else. When it gets dangerous—and it will—don't be stupid. Don't chase glory. Just survive."
"I already promised that."
"I'm saying it again." Her eyes are dark, reflecting firelight. "Because I have a feeling you're the type to break that promise if you think it'll help someone else."
Am I?
I don't know anymore. The lines keep blurring—between survival and morality, between calculation and care.
"I'll try," I say finally.
"Good." She finishes her rice, stands. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be harder."
She walks toward the medical tent where she's been assigned. I watch her go, cataloging the way she moved—confident, competent, completely unaware that she's one of the few people in this expedition I'd actually try to save if things went wrong.
Dangerous. Attachment is dangerous.
But the thought of her dying in the inheritance makes my chest tighten in ways that have nothing to do with sword wounds.
Day 42. Second day of travel.
The terrain gets rougher. Mountain paths narrow, forcing the column to stretch into a thin line. Elders call warnings about staying together, not wandering off into the forest.
Three students ignore the warnings. Wander off to "scout ahead."
We find two of them an hour later. Dead. Territorial beast markings on the corpses—deep gouges, flesh torn, essence drained.
The third student never returns.
The expedition continues. Seventy students now instead of seventy-three.
"Mortality rate: 4.1% before even reaching inheritance. Projected final survival: 38-45% of original count. Recommendation: Maintain conservative positioning."
Evening camp is quieter. Less boasting. More students staring into fires, processing that this isn't an adventure. It's a culling.
Fang Yuan walks past my bedroll. Stops. Stands there for four minutes without speaking.
Every student nearby goes silent. Watching. Waiting.
Finally, he speaks. "You're not planning to compete for the main inheritance."
Not a question. A confirmation.
"I know my limits," I say carefully.
"Smart." His gaze shifts toward the other students—the ones still dreaming of glory, of claiming the Flower Wine Monk's legendary Gu. "The ones who overreach will feed the inheritance ground. The ones who survive will be those who knew when to retreat."
He walks away. Conversation over.
But the message was clear: Fang Yuan just predicted mass death without saying the number. Just confirmed that the inheritance will be a slaughterhouse, and only the cautious or the powerful will escape.
Great Sage logs the interaction. "Analysis: Subject Fang Yuan approves of host's survival-focused strategy. Interpretation: Host designated as 'acceptable loss if eliminated, acceptable asset if survived.' Threat level: Passive. Recommendation: Continue conservative approach."
I lie on my bedroll that night, staring at stars through tree canopy, and think about numbers.
Seventy students remaining. Historical survival rate: forty percent.
Twenty-eight survivors. Forty-two deaths.
I'm going to watch people I know die. People I've trained with, eaten with, ignored in hallways.
And the only way I survive is by letting them.
FANG ZHENG
Mo Bei looked haunted tonight. More than usual.
Fang Zheng wanted to offer encouragement, solidarity, something. But Qing Shu had monopolized his attention all evening, and by the time he looked for Mo Bei, his friend was already asleep.
Friend. Is that what we are?
They'd sparred together, shared meals, talked about cultivation philosophy. But Fang Zheng realized he knew almost nothing about Mo Bei beyond the surface. The boy kept everything locked away behind layers of careful mediocrity.
After the inheritance. I'll make more effort after we survive this.
The thought came with unconscious certainty: they'd both survive. Had to. Righteousness demanded it.
Reality rarely cared about demands.
Day 43. Final approach.
We crest a hill at noon and see it.
The inheritance ground entrance dominates the valley below—a massive stone arch easily thirty meters tall, covered in formations that shimmer with contained power. The spiritual energy is visible even from this distance, distorting the air like heat shimmer.
And surrounding it: camps. Hundreds of cultivators from dozens of factions.
Bai Clan has the largest presence. Thirty Gu Masters, three command tents, fortified positions. Several Rank 3s identifiable by their spiritual pressure.
Five minor clans with smaller camps. Opportunists, scavengers, treasure hunters.
And rogue cultivators—individuals or small groups, desperate enough to risk inheritance grounds without clan backing.
"Total estimated participants: 240. Projected survival rate: 38-45%. Expected deaths: 130-150."
One hundred and fifty corpses. Minimum.
The stone arch pulses. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Inheritance activation: Confirmed. Opening window: Estimated 24-36 hours. Recommendation: Establish secure position, avoid inter-faction conflicts, prepare for entry chaos."
The Gu Yue elders lead us to a clearing northeast of the entrance. We establish camp quickly—defensive formations, supply distribution, final equipment checks.
Students sharpen weapons. Activate Gu for testing. Make final prayers to ancestors.
I sit alone, checking my inventory one last time.
Four Gu: Moonlight, Leaf Scent, Shadow Step, Iron Skin. Primeval stones: Sixty percent capacity. Void Stability: Seventy-six percent. Intelligence: Complete mental map of exterior, partial knowledge of interior layout from canon memory.
And my checkpoint is three days behind me at the academy. If I die here, I reset to Day 41. Lose everything gained in the inheritance. Have to make this journey again.
Can't die. Can't afford to die.
The stone arch pulses again. Stronger this time.
Tomorrow. It opens tomorrow.
And then the real test begins.
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