Second Trial Begins
The heavy wooden doors creaked open as Jian Mu stepped out of the infirmary. The cold air of the academy grounds brushed against his skin—sharper than before. But it wasn't the wind that had changed. It was him.
His steps felt heavier, but his body had no wounds. Every injury he suffered during the first trial had vanished—almost like they never existed. Yet, beneath his skin, he felt something… unfamiliar. Yin qi, stirred deep inside, faint but undeniable, like a beast coiled and waiting to strike.
And for the first time, he could feel a fraction of control.
Jian Mu clenched his fists. The Path of Yin…
He had begun the first step—but it was only the beginning. If he wanted true power, if he wanted revenge, there was no turning back now.
"You're finally up," a familiar voice called out.
Jian Mu turned to see Zhao Lin leaning against a nearby pillar. His friend's usual carefree demeanor was shadowed by something sharper. "Took you long enough. I thought you were going to sleep through the next trial."
Jian Mu exhaled, brushing his hair back. "I'm here. That's what matters."
Zhao Lin pushed off the pillar, eyes narrowing. "What happened to you in there? You feel… different."
Jian Mu hesitated. He couldn't explain it—not yet. "I survived."
Zhao Lin shook his head, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Whatever you say. Just don't die on me. The instructors are calling us to the Grand Hall. The second trial's starting."
---
The Grand Hall…
The hall was packed. The air hung heavy with tension—fear, pride, and bloodlust mingling together. Of the hundreds who had entered the first trial, only a small fraction remained. Many bore wounds from the brutal survival test, while others stood tall and confident.
At the front stood Jian Yuren—Jian Mu's half-brother. His white robes were pristine, his expression cold as ever. Around him, the heirs of the great clans gathered like wolves, their arrogance filling the room.
Jian Mu's jaw tightened. 'They think they own this place. Damit...'
A heavy thud echoed through the hall as Elder Bai stepped onto the central platform. His presence alone silenced the whispers. Beside him stood instructor Han, with his calculating gaze, and the cold-eyed female instructor Mei—her face unreadable.
"You survived the first trial," Elder Bai's voice rang out, cold and commanding. "But survival alone is meaningless. True strength is proven in combat."
Elder Mui stepped forward, his lips curving into a cruel smile. "The second trial is simple: The Arena of Blood."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"You will fight another participant in single combat," Elder Mui continued. "Victory means advancing—defeat means failure. There are no rules. If you wish to kill your opponent…" His smile deepened. "Do it."
Jian Mu's heart pounded. This wasn't just a test. This was a bloodbath.
Zhao Lin let out a low whistle beside him. "They're not holding back, huh?"
Elder Bai raised his hand. "Let the first match begin!"
A large, circular platform rumbled to life in the center of the hall. Black steel blades lined the edges—jagged, unforgiving. Above it, a glowing tablet flickered to reveal two names.
Zhao Lin vs. Luo Heng.
Zhao Lin groaned. "Of course, I'm first."
Jian Mu's fingers tightened on his sleeve as Zhao Lin stepped forward. "Don't hold back," he warned.
Zhao Lin grinned. "Don't worry... I'll be quick."
---
The Arena of Blood—Zhao Lin vs. Luo Heng
Zhao Lin stood calmly on the platform, his posture relaxed. Across from him, Luo Heng —a hulking brute with thick arms and a scarred face—cracked his knuckles.
"I've been waiting for this," Luo Heng growled, his voice dripping with malice. "I'll crush your bones and feed you to the dogs."
Zhao Lin tilted his head. "Big talk for someone about to lose."
The gong sounded.
Luo Heng charged like a bull, his right fist glowing with ki as it hurtled toward Zhao Lin's head. But in the blink of an eye—he missed.
Zhao Lin had already moved.
Jian Mu's eyes widened. He's fast.
Luo Heng's punch smashed into the ground, shattering the stone beneath him. But before he could recover, Zhao Lin was behind him.
"Too slow," Zhao Lin murmured.
His elbow crashed into the back of Luo Heng's neck. The force sent the brute sprawling across the platform, blood dripping from his mouth.
"You asshole!" Luo Heng roared in fury, lunging again with both arms wide.
This time, Zhao Lin didn't dodge. He met the attack head-on.
Their fists collided. For a moment, the air trembled under the clash of qi—then Zhao Lin twisted, catching Luo Heng's wrist and driving a palm strike into his ribs. A sickening crack echoed as Luo Heng's body crumpled to the ground.
Zhao Lin crouched beside his fallen opponent, his voice low. "I told you. Too slow."
Silence fell over the hall.
Even Elder Bai seemed impressed.
The cold-eyed female instructor finally spoke. "Winner—Zhao Lin."
Zhao Lin stood up, brushing dust from his robes. "Well, that was boring."
---
The Nobles Enter the Stage…
Zhao Lin returned to Jian Mu's side, barely winded. "Your turn soon," he said with a smirk.
Before Jian Mu could reply, the glowing tablet flickered again. This time, it showed two names that sent a chill through the crowd.
Jian Yuren vs. Fang Lei.
The hall stirred with anticipation. These weren't just any participants—Jian Yuren, the heir to the strongest Jian clan, and Fang Wei, a prodigy from a second class the Green Leaf Clan.
Jian Mu's heart pounded as the two figures stepped onto the arena.
Jian Yuren stood tall, his expression cold and distant. His qi flared around him—a pristine silver aura that radiated power.
Fang Lei, by contrast, was lean and sharp, his black robes fluttering as a faint green mist coiled around his fingers. The air grew heavier, natural yet dangours by his presence.
"You've already lost," Jian Yuren said quietly, unsheathing his sword.
Fang Lei responsed in anger. "You cocky Bastered!."
The gong rang out.
Their battle began.
Jian Mu's fists tightened as he watched. This wasn't just a fight—it was a reminder.
A reminder of how far he still had to go.
And what he was willing to do to surpass them all.
End of Chapter 15