The Ascension Ceremony

The path down from Cloudrest Peak narrows as I descend, forcing me to slow my pace. Jagged rocks tear at my already tattered robes, and twice I nearly lose my footing on loose stones. The spirit bird continues to follow, darting between trees and occasionally circling my head with curious chirps.

"Shoo," I mutter, waving it away. "Find a proper cultivator to bother."

It merely tilts its azure head, its golden eyes unblinking. Something about those eyes unsettles me—there's an intelligence there that seems almost... watchful.

As I emerge from the treeline, the full splendor of the Sacred Lotus Sect unfolds before me. Seven circular lakes connected by flowing streams form the shape of a blooming lotus flower when viewed from above—a massive formation that draws spiritual energy from the earth. At the center stands the Grand Pavilion where the Sect Master resides, its golden roof catching the morning sun.

Around the lakes, disciples have already gathered for the Ascension Ceremony. Hundreds of white robes with varying colored trim indicating their ranks—white for outer disciples, azure for inner disciples, silver for core disciples, and the rare gold of personal disciples to the elders.

My stomach tightens. I don't belong here anymore. Perhaps I never did.

A group of outer disciples passes nearby, their excited chatter carrying on the wind.

"Elder Wei is overseeing the Spirit Veil Crossing this year!"

"I heard only one in ten succeeds on the first attempt—"

"Zhang Min has been practicing the Lotus Petal Breathing Technique for months. He's certain to—"

They fall silent as they notice me, recognition dawning in their eyes. One of them—a stocky boy named Chen whose chamber pot I've emptied more times than I can count—sniggers behind his hand.

"Look who's still here," he says, loud enough for me to hear. "Shouldn't you be packing your things, Fallen Star?"

The others laugh, a sound that would have cut deep yesterday. Today, I feel something different stir within me—that cool, dark energy responding to my anger. It rises unbidden from that strange shadow meridian, flowing through pathways long dormant.

My vision sharpens suddenly, colors becoming more vivid, sounds more distinct. I can hear Chen's heartbeat quickening, see the tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow despite the cool morning air.

I step toward him, and something in my expression makes him take an involuntary step back.

"Chen," I say, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears. "Tell me, how does it feel to be so utterly average? To know that despite advancing to the third level of Body Tempering, you'll never rise above the rank of outer disciple?"

His face reddens. "You—"

"I've watched you struggle with the simplest formations for years. Your spiritual roots are so weak that even Master Liu, who takes pity on the least talented, refused to accept you as a direct disciple."

The words flow from me with a cruelty I never knew I possessed. Worse, I can somehow sense the truth of them hitting their mark. The dark energy allows me to feel his humiliation, his fear, his hatred—emotions flooding from him like blood from a wound.

And some part of me... savors it.

I pull back, horrified at my own thoughts. What's happening to me?

Chen's face contorts with rage. "At least I'm not a cripple!" He draws spiritual energy into his palm—a pitiful amount, barely enough to form a glowing sphere the size of a plum—and hurls it at me.

I should dodge. I should run. Instead, I stand motionless, watching the energy ball hurtle toward my chest with detached curiosity.

Just before impact, instinct takes over. My hand rises, fingers splayed, and I reach not for spiritual energy that isn't there, but for the shadow meridian within me.

The response is immediate. Darkness flows through my arm, not visible to the eye but palpable in the sudden chill that descends around us. When Chen's spiritual attack touches my palm, it doesn't bounce off or explode as expected.

It simply... vanishes. Absorbed into nothing, like water poured into sand.

Chen's jaw drops. His companions step back, confusion written across their faces.

"What did you just do?" one of them whispers.

I have no answer. I'm as shocked as they are.

The spirit bird chooses this moment to swoop down, landing on my shoulder with casual familiarity. Its weight is barely noticeable, but its presence seems to magnify the strange energy coursing through me.

"Get away from me," Chen hisses, backing away. "There's something wrong with you—something unnatural."

They hurry away, casting frightened glances over their shoulders. I stand frozen, staring at my palm where Chen's attack disappeared. There's no mark, no sensation of absorbed energy—just that strange crescent moon symbol, now faintly glowing with a silver light that only I seem to notice.

The gong sounds from the central pavilion, calling all disciples to the Ascension Ceremony. I should turn away, begin my journey down the mountain and away from the sect. That was the plan.

Instead, my feet carry me toward the ceremony grounds. The shadow meridian pulses with each step, as if eager to reveal itself.

"The void hungers for recognition."

Again, that strange thought—words that feel planted in my mind rather than born from it. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but the whisper lingers like cold breath on the back of my neck.

The Ascension Ceremony is held in the Verdant Heart Courtyard, a massive space between the three innermost lakes. Thousands of lotus flowers float on the surrounding waters, each one glowing with stored spiritual energy. At the center of the courtyard stands the Meridian Pillar—a column of white jade carved with the complete cultivation pathway of the Sacred Lotus Sect, from Body Tempering to the legendary Void Transcendence realm that no one in the sect has reached in eight hundred years.

Disciples are arranged by rank, forming concentric circles around the pillar. Outer disciples stand at the perimeter, inner disciples form the middle ring, and core disciples create the innermost circle. Beyond them, on an elevated platform, sit the elders and the Sect Master—ancient cultivators whose power can split mountains and divert rivers.

I slip into the back row of outer disciples, ignoring the startled looks and hushed whispers. The spirit bird remains on my shoulder, granting me an unexplained legitimacy that prevents anyone from openly challenging my presence.

From my position, I can see Master Zhu on the platform, his wizened face impassive as he surveys the gathered disciples. When his gaze passes over me, I see a brief flicker of surprise, quickly masked. He makes a subtle gesture to a nearby elder—Elder Ming, whose diagnosis confirmed my shattered dantian years ago.

Elder Ming nods and disappears from the platform, only to reappear moments later at my side, moving with the speed only high-level cultivators can achieve.

"Lin Feng," he murmurs, his voice carrying no further than my ears despite the hundreds of disciples packed around us. "You were advised to depart before the ceremony."

I bow, the motion automatic after years of conditioning. "Yes, Elder."

"Then why are you here?"

The question hangs between us. Why am I here? To humiliate myself one last time? To satisfy some perverse need to witness what I can never have?

Or is it because of the shadow meridian now flowing through me, urging me toward something I don't yet understand?

"I wished to pay my respects before leaving," I say finally. "Seven years in the sect deserves a proper farewell."

Elder Ming's eyes narrow, searching my face for insolence. Finding none, he sighs. "Very well. But you will not participate in the evaluations. When the ceremony ends, you will gather your belongings and leave without further delay. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Elder."

He nods and vanishes again, returning to the platform in a blur of motion.

The Sect Master rises, his presence immediately silencing the assembled disciples. Master Feng Yuzhe, the Ninefold Lotus Sovereign, stands unassumingly—a slender man with a neat white beard and simple robes that belie his status as one of the ten most powerful cultivators in the Eastern Realms.

"Today," he begins, his voice carrying effortlessly across the courtyard, "we gather to celebrate growth. The path of cultivation is not measured in years but in understanding. Some progress quickly, others slowly, but all who persist with sincere hearts will eventually glimpse the true nature of heaven and earth."

His gaze seems to linger on me for a moment, though that must be my imagination. What would the Sect Master know or care about a failed disciple?

"Let the evaluations begin with the outer disciples who seek to cross the Spirit Veil."

Twenty disciples step forward from the outer circle, Chen among them. Each approaches the Meridian Pillar and places their palm against it. The pillar evaluates their cultivation base, glowing with varying intensities to indicate their progress.

Chen's turn comes. He places his hand on the pillar, and it glows with a faint azure light—just enough to qualify for inner disciple status. His face splits into a triumphant grin as he takes his new position in the second circle, now wearing an azure sash hastily provided by an attending disciple.

As the evaluations continue, I feel a strange resonance between the Meridian Pillar and my shadow meridian. Each time the pillar activates, the dark energy within me pulses in response, growing stronger with each fluctuation.

The spirit bird on my shoulder grows increasingly agitated, its claws digging into my flesh through my thin robes.

By the time the outer disciple evaluations finish, my entire body is trembling with contained energy. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the cool morning air. Something is building inside me—a pressure seeking release.

"Next, inner disciples who seek core disciple status," the Sect Master announces.

As the inner disciples begin their evaluations, Master Zhu catches my eye from the platform. He makes a subtle gesture toward the exit. Clear meaning: leave now, while everyone is distracted.

I should obey. Every instinct for self-preservation tells me to slip away quietly.

Instead, I find myself moving forward, pushing through the crowd of outer disciples toward the Meridian Pillar. The shadow meridian guides me, pulling me forward like a puppet on strings.

"The void between stars calls to its own."

Whispers erupt around me as disciples notice my movement. Even some of the elders shift in their seats, frowning at the disruption.

"Lin Feng!" Master Zhu's voice cuts through the murmurs. "Return to your place!"

I can't. Something compels me forward—the shadow meridian now fully awake and hungry. The spirit bird launches from my shoulder, circling above the pillar with frantic calls.

Before anyone can stop me, I stand before the Meridian Pillar. The carved jade gleams in the morning light, each inscription representing a milestone in cultivation I failed to achieve.

"Remove yourself immediately," Elder Ming commands, rising from his seat.

My hand rises of its own accord, palm facing the pillar. The crescent moon mark now pulses visibly, drawing gasps from nearby disciples.

"What is he doing?" "Is that a spirit brand?" "The Fallen Star can't possibly—"

I touch the pillar.

For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then—

Darkness erupts from my palm, flowing into the white jade like spilled ink. The pillar, designed to measure and display spiritual energy, encounters something it was never meant to evaluate. Black veins spread through the jade, climbing upward toward the higher cultivation realms carved into its surface.

Pain lances through my arm as the shadow meridian floods outward, draining me faster than I can control. The pillar begins to vibrate, then crack, splinters of jade flying outward as the incompatible energies clash.

"Stop him!" someone shouts.

Too late. The darkness reaches the top of the pillar, where the highest realm—Void Transcendence—is inscribed. For an instant, the entire pillar turns pitch black, absorbing all light around it.

Then it shatters explosively.

The blast throws me backward. I collide with several disciples before skidding across the stone courtyard, my robes torn and smoking. All around, chaos erupts as disciples flee the falling jade shards and the elders rush to contain the spiritual backlash.

Through blurred vision, I see Master Zhu leaping from the platform, his face twisted with concern. Behind him, the Sect Master stands utterly still, his eyes fixed on me with an expression I cannot read.

The spirit bird descends through the chaos, landing once more on my chest as I lie stunned on the cold stone. It peers into my eyes, and in that moment, I swear I see recognition in its gaze.

"You knew," I whisper to it. "You knew what would happen."

Its only response is a soft trill that somehow sounds like laughter.

As darkness claims my consciousness once more, the last thing I see is the Sect Master's face, now looming above me. His lips move, forming words I barely comprehend:

"The Shadow Cultivator returns. Heaven help us all."