The Weight of Blood

Jian Mu's hands trembled.

His fingers were slick with blood—not his own, but that of those he had cut down. The scent of iron clung to him, mixing with the cold night air. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he looked down at the fallen bodies around him.

Some groaned in pain, clutching their wounds. Others… didn't move at all.

He hadn't even realized it at first. His body had moved on its own, dodging, striking, reacting to danger. But now that the battle had paused, reality came crashing down on him.

'I killed them...'

His stomach twisted. A wave of nausea crept up his throat, but he forced it down. His mind felt like a storm—rage, guilt, exhaustion, and something else.

A whisper.

'This is only the beginning.'

His vision blurred for a moment. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, suffocating. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and for a second, he felt as if he might collapse.

Then, voices echoed from above.

"Interesting…"

High on the cliffs, the instructors observed in silence. Elder Bai, standing with arms crossed, narrowed his eyes. "That boy… he was barely moving before. But now?"

Instructor Han scoffed. "At first, he was nothing but a struggling rat. His movements were sluggish, unrefined—he was prey. But now…"

His gaze followed Jian Mu's every movement.

"There's something different. His body is still weak, his techniques nonexistent… yet he fights."

The other instructors murmured in agreement. They had seen many young warriors before—prodigies, trained killers, and those who relied on bloodline techniques.

Jian Mu was none of those.

Yet he had survived.

"Pure instinct," Elder Bai muttered. "Something is guiding him, but it's not technique. It's not training." His gaze sharpened. "It's something else."

It was the will to survive.

Some of the younger instructors scoffed. "A boy relying on instinct alone? That won't last. Once he faces a true warrior, he'll crumble."

Elder Bai didn't disagree. But then why did it feel like something was watching?

---

A New Foe appeared before Jian Mu

Jian Mu dragged himself forward, each step feeling heavier. He had to keep moving—if he stopped now, someone would come for his Golden Talisman.

'Get up. Get up!' he murmured to himself in anger.

'I'm so close...'

He reached a clearing, barely keeping himself upright. His arms ached, his legs threatened to give out. He was at his limit.

And then—

A presence.

He barely had time to react before a pressure unlike anything before weighed down on him. His head snapped up, instincts screaming at him to move.

A girl stood before him.

She was tall, her posture straight and composed. Her black hair was tied back, and her sharp, cold eyes assessed him with calculated interest. Unlike the other desperate fighters, she wasn't panicked. She was staring him down, looking at his talesmans.

She didn't have one.

Jian Mu sensed immense danger from the girl that was infront of him.

And yet, she wasn't even from the great clans but he sensed she was very dangerous.

Jian Mu's breath caught in his throat. She was different. Her ki was controlled, steady—nothing like the wild, erratic energy that coursed through his own body.

A true martial artist.

The girl tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "You're still standing?"

Her voice wasn't mocking. It was a simple statement. A curiosity.

Jian Mu clenched his fists. His mind screamed at him to back away, to avoid this fight. He wasn't ready.

But then—

'Kill her. Your so close. One step left.'

The whisper. The same voice that had guided him before. It wasn't controlling him. It wasn't demanding.

It was advicing after all it wasn't lying to Jian mu, the exit of the forest was infront of very his eyes all he had to do was kill another person.

Jian Mu exhaled slowly. He had no technique. No training. But he had survived this long.

'I can't lose not now...'

And if he wanted to pass this trial… he had to keep fighting.

He lifted his hands into a clumsy stance, his breathing uneven. His heart still felt heavy from the lives he had taken. But there was no turning back.

The girl studied him for a moment, then slowly raised her own hand.

A proper stance. A fighter's stance.

"…Show me," she said.

The battle was about begin.

---

End of Chapter 8