The outer disciple platform was shaped like a flattened lotus—carved into the stone cliffs of Ironcloud Mountain, with viewing terraces carved into every layer. A thousand disciples gathered that morning. They came for spectacle. For drama. For blood.
The sun hadn't yet risen, but the sky was crimson.
A bad omen.
Yet somehow fitting.
---
Yun Mu stood at the center of the platform.
He wore no armor.
No clan robes. No insignia. Just black cloth stitched from servant linen, a sash of cracked bone, and the strange weapon strapped across his back—a whip-blade made of vine, fang, and steel splinters, held together by flickering Hollow Qi.
He called it the Remnant Fang.
It wasn't beautiful.
It was wrong.
It was alive.
---
Opposite him stood Lin Yu.
Senior outer disciple. Third year. Inner meridian stage.
Flowing blue silk robes. A twin-etched longsword. Gleaming talismans hovering at his side like guardian stars.
Handsome. Calm. Perfectly poised.
He was what the sect expected.
Yun Mu was what it feared.
---
"Yun Mu," Lin Yu said, stepping forward. "You had your chance to kneel. I will enjoy what comes next."
Yun Mu said nothing.
The duel master stepped between them, face like stone.
"Terms of the duel are clear. No interference. Fight ends at surrender, death, or incapacity."
He raised a red fan.
Dropped it.
"Begin."
---
Lin Yu moved first.
His longsword struck like lightning—fast, clean, brilliant.
Yun Mu vanished sideways, Flicker Step activated with no warning. His afterimage shattered where the blade passed.
Lin Yu twisted in midair, launching a talisman—
> Binding Chains: Spirit Grade
Thick gold links erupted from the scroll, chasing Yun Mu's body like serpents.
Yun Mu didn't dodge.
He let them catch him.
Chains locked around his arms, legs, throat—
The crowd gasped.
But Yun Mu grinned.
He opened the Hollow Seed.
The chains melted.
Literally—liquefying under the tainted aura erupting from his body. Gold turned to black mist. Talisman shattered.
Lin Yu blinked.
"What—"
Yun Mu answered by unsheathing the Remnant Fang.
The whip-blade screamed as it unraveled—snapping through the air like a spirit in agony.
He struck.
Once.
Twice.
Lin Yu parried both—but his blade chipped on the second clash.
The vine-whip had poisoned barbs.
Each strike drained qi.
---
Lin Yu backed away, muttering an incantation.
A ring of wind erupted beneath his feet—his spirit technique: Cloud Vault Steps.
He launched into the air, sword flashing in a six-strike pattern.
Each slash created an arc of spiritual pressure, aimed to corner Yun Mu.
But Yun Mu didn't dodge.
He devoured.
Raised both hands—let the Hollow Seed pull the spiritual pressure inward. His Bone Sigils burned.
The attacks dissolved before impact.
> [Spiritual Energy Absorbed: 12 units.]
[Void-Breath Cycle Activated.]
Yun Mu's wounds closed slightly.
The crowd had gone quiet.
---
Lin Yu snapped.
"You dare mock the heavens with this foul path?!"
He threw away his sword—summoned his spirit form.
A giant hawk formed from silver qi, wings wide, eyes glowing.
The sky cracked.
He dove.
A full-on spirit dive—meant to crush Yun Mu like a mountain.
Yun Mu, for the first time, spoke aloud.
"I don't mock the heavens," he whispered.
"I simply don't worship them."
He lifted the Remnant Fang one final time.
His voice layered with Hollow resonance:
> "Fall."
The whip-blade extended—struck the hawk through the core.
Qi exploded outward in a burst of black and silver.
The spirit screamed as it unraveled.
The shockwave shattered stone. Several watchers were flung back. Dust choked the air.
When it cleared—
Lin Yu was on the ground.
Bleeding.
Eyes wide.
Remnant Fang pierced clean through his chest, pinning him to the platform.
He was still alive.
Barely.
---
Yun Mu stood over him.
Expression blank.
The duel master stepped forward.
"Victory to Yun Mu."
Silence.
Then murmurs.
Then an explosion of noise.
The sect was watching now.
Everyone would know his name.
---
But Yun Mu didn't celebrate.
He turned.
Walked off the platform.
As he passed the crowd, disciples stepped aside.
They didn't bow.
They didn't cheer.
They simply moved.
Because something had changed.
He wasn't just a competitor now.
He was a force.
---
Back in the Soul Annex that night, Yun Mu placed his hand on the jade slab.
The stone pulsed.
A phrase burned across it like fire:
> A blade made of broken things can never be sheathed.
It must feed.
Or it will turn on the hand that forged it.
The Hollow Seed's fourth blade began to form.
Curved.
Thin.
Almost translucent.
Like a whisper of death.
---