Chapter 3: First Steps, First Fists

The greasy camaraderie of the riverbank felt like a dream clinging to the edges of a nightmare. For days after parting ways with the thunderously cheerful Bao Siwen – who had, predictably, demolished Yao Jun in the eating contest before composing an impromptu, grease-smeared ode to the vanquished boar – the world seemed determined to reassert its inherent strangeness. Yet, the sheer, uncomplicated absurdity of Bao Siwen had left an imprint. The Void Flame still coiled, cold and watchful, behind Yao Jun's sternum, a constant reminder of the abyss he carried. But now, walking the increasingly well-trodden path east, the oppressive dread had lifted, replaced by a buzzing, nervous energy. It wasn't cheerfulness, not yet. It was more like the brittle alertness of a stray cat venturing into a busy marketplace – wary, but undeniably curious.

The landscape shifted dramatically. The dense forests and rolling foothills gave way to cultivated plains, dotted with villages whose smoke plumes painted soft grey lines against the vast sky. The air hummed with life – the rhythmic thud of distant hammers, the calls of farmers tending terraced fields, the rumble of laden carts on wider roads. People became frequent sights. Yao Jun kept his head down, his borrowed face carefully neutral, mimicking the purposeful stride of other young travelers he spotted, all seemingly heading in the same direction. He felt their curious glances, assessing his worn clothes, his thin frame. He felt like an imposter wearing a borrowed uniform.

The jade pendant pulsed warmly at his waist, its pull stronger, more insistent now, like a compass needle quivering true north. The distant Cloud-Soaring Peaks were no longer hazy suggestions; they dominated the eastern horizon, immense sentinels piercing the clouds. Their lower slopes were swathed in emerald forests, while higher up, sheer cliffs of glittering, quartz-veined rock gave way to snow-capped summits that seemed to scrape the dome of the sky itself. Nestled amidst them, defying gravity and logic, were glimpses of impossible architecture: pagodas with roofs like folded wings, bridges of shimmering light connecting floating islands, towers that spiraled towards the heavens. The Heavenly Sky Martial Academy. Seeing it, even from leagues away, stole Yao Jun's breath. It wasn't just grand; it was a testament to power, ambition, and a world that operated on rules far beyond his Earthly comprehension. Excitement, sharp and bright, warred with the familiar chill of terror. This was the crucible. This was where he would either learn to control the void within or be consumed by it.

The final approach was a river of humanity converging on a single point. The dusty road widened into a grand avenue, paved with smooth, pale stones that gleamed faintly in the sunlight. Young men and women, hundreds of them, streamed towards the distant gates. They came in every conceivable style: nobles in shimmering silks carried in ornate palanquins by stoic servants; rugged youths from mountain clans clad in furs and leather, bristling with weapons; scholars burdened with scrolls; quiet, intense types moving with predatory grace. The air crackled with suppressed energy, ambition, and the nervous chatter of hopefuls. Yao Jun, in his simple, travel-stained tunic and trousers, felt utterly insignificant, a minnow swimming upstream towards a dragon's den. He clutched the worn leather pouch containing the scroll tube and the jade pendant, the only anchors in this swirling sea of potential.

The Academy gates were not merely gates; they were a declaration. Towering pillars of carved white jade, each easily fifty feet high, depicted coiling celestial dragons and stoic phoenixes locked in an eternal dance. Between them hung gates forged from a metal that seemed to shift between silver and starlight, currently standing wide open. Beyond lay a vast courtyard paved with the same luminous stone as the avenue, leading towards a series of majestic archways and the first glimpses of the Academy's floating islands, suspended amidst wisps of cloud. Disciples in robes of pristine white with sky-blue trim moved with effortless grace, directing the flow of newcomers, their expressions a mix of serene authority and subtle amusement.

Yao Jun took a deep breath, trying to steady the frantic flutter in his chest – Yao Jun's chest, responding to the sheer scale and importance of the moment. Okay. Deep breaths. Present the jade. Don't trip. Don't accidentally incinerate the welcome committee. The Void Flame remained quiescent, perhaps intrigued by the sheer density of life energy thrumming around it.

He joined the queue shuffling towards a registration table manned by two senior disciples. The line moved slowly, filled with whispered conversations, anxious fidgeting, and the occasional awed gasp at the spectacle above. Yao Jun kept his gaze lowered, studying the intricate patterns in the paving stones, trying to become invisible.

That's when he felt it. A sudden, sharp drop in temperature. It wasn't the internal chill of the Flame; this was external, physical, slicing through the warm afternoon air like a blade. A ripple of unease passed through the crowd near the gates. Heads turned. Whispers died.

Yao Jun looked up.

A small commotion had erupted near the grand entrance. Three young men, their clothes fine silk in garish shades of crimson and gold, their faces etched with the permanent sneer of entrenched privilege, were blocking the path of another figure. They were posturing, their voices loud and deliberately carrying over the murmuring crowd.

"...think you can just stroll in here like you own the place, Frost Moon reject?" one of them jeered, a tall youth with a carefully sculpted beard. "Your pavilion might be impressive up north, but here? You're just another piece of driftwood."

The object of their attention stood perfectly still. She was slender, clad in robes of the purest white silk, trimmed with intricate silver patterns resembling frost crystals. Her hair, black as midnight, was swept up in an elegant, simple knot, held by a single jade hairpin shaped like a crescent moon. Her face... Yao Jun's breath hitched. It was like sculpted ice – breathtakingly beautiful, flawlessly composed, and radiating an aura of such profound coldness it seemed to freeze the air around her. Her eyes, large and tilted slightly upwards, were a pale, glacial blue that held no warmth, only an unnerving, detached calm. This was no minnow. This was a glacier moving through a summer meadow.

Liu Qian'er. The name surfaced, accompanied by a jolt that felt suspiciously like recognition from Yao Jun's borrowed memories. Ice-element cultivator. Frost Moon Pavilion. The description didn't do her justice. She was winter personified.

She didn't speak. Didn't even look directly at the three nobles. Her gaze remained fixed on a point somewhere beyond them, as if they were insignificant specks of dust. Her utter indifference seemed to infuriate the ringleader even more.

"Cat got your tongue, ice witch?" he snarled, taking a step closer. "Or are you too busy freezing your own heart to—"

He never finished.

Liu Qian'er moved. Or rather, she didn't move. She simply... exhaled.

A visible wave of frigid air pulsed outwards from her, silent and devastating. It wasn't aimed; it was a release, like opening a door to the arctic. The three noble youths gasped, their sneers freezing mid-sentence. Frost exploded across their fine silks, crackling audibly. Their skin turned instantly pale, their lips blue. Their limbs locked, muscles seizing in the sudden, intense cold. They didn't fall; they simply... stopped. Frozen mid-gesture, mid-insult, transformed into three very expensive, very startled ice sculptures. The air around them shimmered with captured moisture, forming a brief, miniature blizzard before settling.

The courtyard fell utterly silent. Even the distant sounds of the Academy seemed muted. Hundreds of eyes stared, wide with shock and awe. The senior disciples at the registration tables paused, their expressions unreadable but watchful.

Liu Qian'er didn't spare her frozen tormentors a glance. She simply adjusted the fall of her sleeve, a movement as graceful and precise as a snowflake drifting to earth, and stepped around the icy tableau. Her footsteps, light on the luminous stone, seemed unnaturally loud in the stunned silence. She walked towards the inner archways, the crowd parting before her like wheat before a scythe, leaving a wake of chilled air and dropped jaws.

Yao Jun stared, his mouth slightly open. The Void Flame within him gave a distinct, curious pulse. It wasn't threatened; it felt... interested. The sheer, effortless power, the absolute control, the devastating beauty wrapped in ice – it was mesmerizing. And terrifying. Mostly terrifying. But also... wow.

He was still staring, slack-jawed, as Liu Qian'er vanished through an inner archway. The spell broke. Murmurs erupted, louder than before, filled with excited chatter and nervous laughter. Disciples moved swiftly towards the frozen nobles, their hands glowing with gentle warmth as they began the delicate process of thawing them out without causing tissue damage. The queue started moving again, the incident already becoming Academy legend.

Yao Jun finally remembered to close his mouth. He shuffled forward with the line, his mind racing. Okay. Note to self: Frost Moon Princess. Beautiful. Scary. Do not annoy. Especially do not block her path while sneering.

He reached the registration table. The senior disciple, a young woman with sharp eyes and an efficient demeanor, looked up. "Name and Sect Affiliation?" she asked, her voice crisp.

"Yao Jun," he said, forcing his voice steady. "No formal sect affiliation." He hesitated, then fumbled with the leather pouch. "My master... Wu Tian. He instructed me to present this." He pulled out the jade pendant, its pale green surface glowing faintly in the sunlight.

The disciple's efficient expression flickered. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly as they landed on the pendant. She didn't touch it, but her gaze sharpened, sweeping over Yao Jun with renewed intensity. A subtle ripple of surprise passed between her and the other disciple at the table. They exchanged a glance filled with unspoken meaning.

"Wu Tian," the disciple repeated, her voice dropping slightly. She picked up a brush and meticulously noted something on a scroll thicker than Yao Jun's arm. "Understood. Proceed through the Azure Archway." She pointed towards a specific archway, its frame carved from deep blue stone swirling with silver veins. "Your evaluation begins there. Hold onto that pendant."

Yao Jun nodded, tucking the jade away, a fresh wave of nerves crashing over him. Evaluation. Right. He moved towards the Azure Archway, joining another, smaller stream of candidates. He glanced back once. The three nobles were thawed, shivering violently and looking profoundly humiliated, surrounded by snickering onlookers. He suppressed a smirk. Served them right.

Passing under the Azure Archway felt like stepping through a membrane. The air changed, becoming crisper, charged with a subtle energy that made his skin tingle. It smelled of ozone, crushed herbs, and ancient stone. He emerged into another vast courtyard, but this one was different. It wasn't paved; it was a perfectly level expanse of hard-packed earth, ringed by tiered stone seating that was rapidly filling with senior disciples and what looked like instructors. At the far end stood a raised platform where several imposing figures sat, observing the arriving candidates with impassive eyes. This was the proving ground.

A disciple in the distinctive white and blue robes directed him towards a group of about fifty other young men and women milling nervously near the center of the field. Yao Jun spotted familiar faces: the brawny frame and cheerful grin of Bao Siwen, waving enthusiastically at him from across the group. Bao Siwen looked completely at ease, his colossal hammer resting casually on his shoulder as if it were a walking stick. Nearby, a slender young man with sharp, intelligent eyes behind round spectacles was meticulously adjusting the straps of a heavy-looking satchel filled with scrolls, his lips moving silently as if reciting equations. Tang Huai, the tactician. And leaning against a pillar, seemingly oblivious to the nervous energy, stood a young woman with a simple blindfold covering her eyes. Her posture was relaxed, yet exuded a stillness that was almost unnerving. She held a slender, unadorned sword loosely in one hand. Mei Ling, the blind swordswoman. The synopsis characters were assembling.

"Jun! Over here!" Bao Siwen boomed, his voice cutting through the murmur. Heads turned. Yao Jun winced slightly but made his way over, offering Bao Siwen a hesitant grin.

"You made it!" Bao Siwen clapped him on the shoulder with a force that nearly sent him sprawling. "Told you we'd be famous! Ready to smash some tests?" He hefted his hammer meaningfully.

"Trying not to get smashed by the tests," Yao Jun muttered, rubbing his shoulder. He nodded cautiously at Tang Huai and Mei Ling. Tang Huai gave him a brief, appraising look over his spectacles, a flicker of calculation in his eyes, then returned to his silent recitation. Mei Ling didn't turn her head, but Yao Jun felt a strange sensation, as if her attention had briefly brushed over him despite the blindfold. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips for a fleeting second before fading.

Before they could exchange more than nods, a gong sounded, deep and resonant, silencing the crowd. A tall, stern-faced man with close-cropped grey hair and eyes like chips of flint stepped onto the platform. His presence radiated authority, quieting the last murmurs instantly.

"Welcome, Aspirants, to the Heavenly Sky Martial Academy's Entrance Trials," his voice, amplified by some unseen means, rolled across the field. "I am Elder Kael, overseeing your first evaluation." His gaze swept over them, cold and assessing. "Talent is common. Discipline is rare. Potential is meaningless without the will to forge it. Today, we test not your strength, but your spirit. Your resolve. Your ability to face the darkness within."

He gestured towards the center of the field. Disciples wheeled forward a large, dark object covered by a heavy black cloth. With a flourish, they pulled the cloth away.

It was a disc. About ten feet in diameter, crafted from a single piece of deep, almost black jade. Its surface wasn't smooth; it swirled with faint, internal patterns that seemed to shift and writhe if stared at for too long. It rested on a simple stone pedestal, humming with a low, subsonic vibration that Yao Jun felt in his teeth. It radiated an aura of... anticipation. And dread.

"This," Elder Kael announced, "is the Jade Disc of Mirrored Truth. It does not lie. It does not flatter. It reveals your deepest fear. The trial is simple: place your hand upon the disc and hold it there. Endure the vision it grants you for the count of ten breaths. Fail to endure, or remove your hand prematurely, and your journey ends here."

A collective intake of breath swept through the aspirants. Facing your deepest fear? As a test? Yao Jun felt the blood drain from his face. His deepest fear? Which one? Drowning in the Void Flame's darkness? Being unmasked as an imposter? The cold, dead eyes of the hospital machine from his forgotten past? The possibilities were all horrifying.

"Who will be first to test their spirit?" Elder Kael asked, his voice devoid of inflection.

Silence. Thick, heavy silence. No one moved. The swirling darkness of the Jade Disc seemed to pulse, waiting.

Then, a figure stepped forward. Tall, proud, clad in shimmering silks – one of the thawed nobles from the gate, his face still slightly pale but set in arrogant determination. He strode confidently towards the disc, throwing a disdainful glance back at the hesitant crowd. "Weaklings," he muttered, just loud enough to be heard. He placed his palm firmly on the dark jade surface.

Instantly, his body stiffened. His eyes flew wide, pupils dilating until only black remained. A choked gurgle escaped his throat. His confident posture vanished; he began to tremble violently. Sweat beaded on his forehead, then turned to ice crystals as his skin paled to a sickly grey. He whimpered, a high-pitched, animal sound of pure terror. At the count of five breaths, he screamed – a raw, ragged sound that echoed across the silent field – and ripped his hand away as if burned. He stumbled back, collapsing to his knees, gasping and sobbing, his fine silks soiled. Disciples moved forward impassively to guide him away.

The silence returned, heavier than before. The Jade Disc pulsed, satisfied.

Bao Siwen let out a low whistle. "Nasty bit of jade, that."

Tang Huai adjusted his spectacles, his eyes narrowed. "Fascinating. A psycho-reactive resonance field, likely keyed to the amygdala and prefrontal cortex... the neurological implications..."

Mei Ling remained still, her head tilted slightly, as if listening to the disc's hum.

Yao Jun's mouth was dry. His heart hammered against his ribs. The Void Flame stirred, not with hunger, but with a cold, watchful curiosity. Deepest fear. He clenched his fists. He had to do this. He had to endure. For the Master. For the path. To prove he wasn't just a vessel for oblivion.

He took a step forward. Then another. He felt hundreds of eyes on him – the aspirants, the seniors, the imposing figures on the platform. He saw Bao Siwen's encouraging nod, Tang Huai's analytical gaze, Mei Ling's unnerving stillness. He walked towards the swirling darkness of the Jade Disc, each step echoing his own frantic heartbeat.

He stopped before the pedestal. The dark jade seemed to drink the light. The faint, shifting patterns writhed like trapped serpents. He could feel its psychic pull, a whisper of promised terror. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to find the borrowed courage of Yao Jun, the cheerful disciple. He raised his hand, fingers trembling slightly.

Deepest fear.

Show me.

He placed his palm flat on the cold, smooth surface of the Jade Disc.

The world vanished.