Chapter 5: Soul Reflection

The next day arrived, and so did the morning of the final test.

The sky above Tianhan Sect was veiled in a thin mist. A cold breeze whispered through the air, carrying the scent of damp leaves and chilled earth. The aspiring disciples had gathered in the spacious courtyard before the main hall, where the elders stood atop a stone platform. The air was unusually quiet. Everyone knew—this was the decisive stage.

Senior Lu Ming stepped forward, his long blue robe fluttering gently. His face remained calm, but his eyes were sharp.

"The third trial is a test of mental endurance. No swords. No combat. And yet, many fail here."

He scanned the crowd, pausing for a brief moment on Yanzhi before looking away.

"You will enter the Soul Mirror Formation. Inside, you will face the deepest shadows within yourselves—your fears, regrets, and unhealed wounds. If your will falters, the formation will reject you."

Tension thickened in the air.

One by one, names were called. Each disciple stepped into the circular formation etched with ancient symbols. When Yanzhi's name echoed through the courtyard, he took a steady breath and walked forward. But inside, his heart pounded wildly.

He stood at the center of the formation. The wind stopped. Silence fell like a blanket.

Then—

Everything changed.

He was back in that quiet forest. The place where he had once searched for medicinal herbs—before everything fell apart. But this time, the forest felt different, as if it held a shadow that wouldn't let go.

Heavy footsteps echoed from within the fog. Familiar faces began to emerge—clan members, elders, even the shadow of his father.

But instead of loving gazes, they greeted him with cold accusations.

"Why were you the only one who survived? Why did we die while you still stand?"

"You brought this curse. It all fell apart because of you."

"You're nothing but a burden. You don't deserve to live."

"You should've died with us. Why are you still walking?"

Yanzhi clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. His chest tightened. The voices weren't just filled with anger, but pain—deep, suffocating guilt that haunted his every step.

He wanted to scream, to deny it all, but no words came out.

One thing was clear: there was no running from this.

And then from behind the figures, another form appeared—his own. But with glowing red eyes, a cruel smirk, and an aura that burned.

"You can't survive without help," the shadow sneered. "Everything you're proud of is just a mask. You're a puppet filled with someone else's power."

Yanzhi gritted his teeth, but his heart trembled.

He wasn't just haunted by the deaths of his clan. The bitter truth was, he stood here not on his own strength. The fire that had saved him… wasn't his.

His pride crumbled, worn down by a voice that sounded all too honest.

He froze, overwhelmed by the weight of guilt and pressure. His legs wobbled. His vision blurred.

"Why am I still standing? Why was it me and not them?"

"I couldn't even protect anyone…"

"They fought for me, and I could only watch."

"Even now, I'm only standing because of someone else's strength… not mine."

His hands trembled. His knees buckled. The world grew distant, voices fading into meaningless echoes.

Suddenly, the fire spirit's voice thundered in his mind—rough, yet filled with resolve.

"Stop it! You're not some helpless victim drowning in regret."

"Listen, Yu Yanzhi. If you die here because you're weak, it'll be the same as betraying them."

A flicker of warmth began to spread in his veins, burning away doubt and fear.

Yanzhi shut his eyes. His breath was ragged, but slowly steadied. The spirit's words rang in his head—harsh, but undeniable.

"I… can't keep going like this."

He opened his eyes slowly. A faint glow returned to his gaze. His hands stopped shaking. Amidst the illusion, he clung to the one thing that remained—his will to survive.

"I may be weak… but I'm still alive," he whispered, as if reminding himself. "And as long as I'm alive, I'll keep moving forward."

The red-eyed shadow scoffed.

"Moving forward with borrowed strength? That's not courage. That's delusion."

Yanzhi looked up and met his other self's gaze with steady eyes.

"If it doesn't belong to me now, I'll make it mine. I won't fight to prove anything—only to stand on my own feet."

In an instant, fire burst from his body—not from the spirit, but from his own blazing determination. The shadows around him cracked like shattered glass. The voices fell silent.

"This is a trial of the mind, not a trial of the past," Yanzhi said quietly, but firmly. "I won't stay trapped here forever."

With one step forward, the illusion shattered completely. The mist and forest vanished, replaced by blinding light.

---

Yanzhi jolted awake in the trial arena, drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling fast. The elders watched him in silence as the crystal at the center glowed gold.

One elder gave a subtle nod.

"Passed."

Inside him, the fire spirit's voice returned—softer now, almost a murmur.

"You did it… even with that stubborn way of yours."

A faint smile tugged at Yanzhi's lips. He was exhausted—but relieved.

As the sky dimmed, all the candidates gathered again in the main hall of Cold Sky Sect. Their expressions varied—fatigue, anxiety, despair. Yanzhi stood among them, still heavy with exhaustion, but his gaze was sharp.

Lu Ming stood before the hall, calm as ever. Beside him, a stone board began to display the names of those who passed.

"Congratulations to those who've completed all three trials. From this moment forward, you are official disciples of the Tianhan Sect," Lu Ming declared, his voice quiet yet commanding.

Names began to appear on the board, one after another. Some sighed in relief. Yanzhi waited in silence, breathing slow and steady.

At last—

"Yu Yanzhi."

His name lit up, backed by a faint golden-red glow—an indicator of outstanding performance in the mental trial.

A few turned to glance at him—some with admiration, others with envy or cold eyes, especially those who had failed.

A lean young man with short black hair walked up to him.

"You're… Yanzhi, right?" he said casually. "I'm Mo Ran. That was one hell of a trial you pulled off. But I didn't see you during the strength test. Were you hiding something, or are you just a mental type?"

His tone was friendly, but held a teasing edge.

Yanzhi met his gaze calmly.

"If you're curious, let's see who lasts longer during training."

Mo Ran chuckled.

"Oof, sharp answer. I like that."

Elsewhere, other successful disciples began forming small groups, chatting quietly. Yanzhi watched from a distance, unsure if he should join them.

Before he could step forward, Lu Ming's voice rang out again.

"Tomorrow morning, formal training begins. You'll be split into smaller teams for further guidance. Prepare yourselves. Being accepted into this sect is not the end—it's the beginning."

The crowd dispersed. Yanzhi walked alone toward the dorms. Deep down, he knew: this was only the start. His path in the Cold Sky Sect… would not be an easy one.

The fire spirit spoke again inside him—flat, yet resolute.

"You can feel a little proud. But don't let your guard down. This world doesn't go easy on stubborn people like you."

Yanzhi exhaled and gave a faint smile.

"Good. Because I don't plan to go easy on the world either."

The day ended with heavy breaths and a weary body.

But within Yanzhi, his resolve burned brighter—fueled not by the fire spirit, but by his own will.

Tomorrow held more trials.

But today, he had walked further than ever before.

And even the spirit… stayed silent, as if in quiet acknowledgment.

That was enough.