The massive stone doors of the Disciplinary Hall closed behind Siddharth with a dull echo.
The hall was cold and austere, carved with ancient symbols of law and punishment. At the centre stood the judges' platform, while cultivators in dark robes lined the sides like silent sentinels.
But Siddharth's eyes widened in surprise.
Standing at the front, arguing heatedly with the elders, was Devdutt.
"There is no way this boy stole medicinal herbs," Devdutt said firmly. "I teach the Normal Class. I know Siddharth. He is not that kind of disciple."
One of the disciplinary elders frowned. "Teacher Devdutt, the evidence was found in his room."
"Evidence can be planted," Devdutt shot back. "And you know that as well as I do."
Siddharth felt a tightness in his chest.
After his parents died two years ago, many people had distanced themselves from him. Some pitied him. Some mocked him. Others simply forgot him.
But Devdutt never did.
Even when Siddharth's cultivation stagnated, even when others called him a failure, Devdutt continued to treat him with kindness. He corrected his theory personally, defended him during assessments, and—most importantly—never lost hope in him.
"I saw potential in him then," Devdutt said quietly. "And I still do."
The hall fell silent.
Then the trial began.
Arguments flew back and forth. Garvit's testimony. The herbs are found under the bed. Siddharth's lack of explanation. Devdutt's insistence that the boy was being framed.
But in the end—
"The evidence exists," the presiding elder said heavily. "Whether planted or not, rules must be upheld."
Siddharth's heart sank.
"Therefore," the elder continued, "Siddharth of the Normal Class is sentenced to fifteen days in the Forbidden Beast Mountain."
Gasps echoed through the hall.
"That area is infested with Shishya and Sadhak-realm monsters," another elder added. "You will be sent alone."
Siddharth clenched his fists as the conditions were announced.
"No weapons will be allowed."
"No food or water will be provided."
"You will survive by your own strength."
Fifteen days.
Alone.
In a forest meant to kill the weak.
Many disciples looked at Siddharth with pity. Some with fear. Others with quiet satisfaction.
This was a punishment bordering on exile.
But deep inside—
Siddharth felt something entirely different.
Excitement.
If I can hunt monsters…
I'll have access to their blood.
I can continue the Beast Transformation Art.
Before he was escorted away, Devdutt approached him quietly.
Without a word, he pressed a small jade bottle into Siddharth's palm.
"Fifteen appetite-suppressing pills," Devdutt whispered. "They'll dull hunger and thirst. Hide in a cave if you must. Just… come back alive."
Siddharth bowed deeply.
"I will," he said softly.
As he was led out, Garvit stepped forward, his voice dripping with malice.
"Don't bother trying to survive," Garvit said calmly. "Just die there. It'll save everyone the trouble."
The hall fell silent.
Siddharth stopped walking.
He turned around slowly and met Garvit's gaze—without fear.
"If I come back," Siddharth said evenly, "I challenge you to a duel."
Garvit laughed. "You?"
"After fifteen days," Siddharth continued, his eyes steady, "you and me."
Something flickered in Garvit's eyes—then contempt returned.
"Fine," he sneered. "If you're still alive, I'll kill you myself."
Siddharth turned away.
The doors of the Disciplinary Hall opened once more.
Beyond them lay the Forbidden Beast Mountain—
And the beginning of his true rise.