The moment Kael's boots touched the soil, the world bled into silence.
The forest was unlike anything he'd seen.
Stone trees jutted from the ground like jagged spears, their bark veined with faintly glowing runes. A violet mist clung low to the ground, whispering across his ankles like curious fingers. Overhead, the sky wasn't sky—it was a shifting mosaic of ink and stars, watching, waiting.
"First Trial: Survive until dawn."
The voice rang again through his bones, not his ears.
He looked around. No sign of Lin, or any other participant. Which meant—
They were all separated.
Kael exhaled slowly and moved.
Hour One
He didn't run. Running was for those who feared. And fear was something Kael had buried long ago.
Still, his instincts tingled.
Something was near.
He passed beneath a leaning spire of stone, eyes flicking to every movement in the mist. Spirit beasts were common in trials like this. But here? Something darker was at play.
He felt it.
The air was too still.
Then—
A whisper.
Not in the wind. In his mind.
"You don't belong here..."
Kael spun, shadows condensing at his fingertips.
A creature stepped from the trees.
It had no face—only a shifting mask of shadows. Its body was humanoid, but stretched unnaturally tall. Its limbs bent wrong. And worst of all—it smiled.
Not with lips, but with presence. With hunger.
"A wraithspawn," Kael muttered.
He'd read of them. Rare. Deadly. Souls corrupted by ancient bindings, turned into hunters of qi.
It lunged.
Kael sidestepped and struck. His palm found its ribcage, sending a silent ripple of force through the creature. It stumbled—then dissolved into mist, only to reform behind him.
He expected that.
He was already moving.
A technique from the Shadow Lotus Sect—Flicker Step. His body vanished, reappearing mid-air, palm laced with void qi.
He struck the creature's chest again—but this time, the strike sank in. The wraithspawn writhed, then screamed—not in pain, but in warning.
Kael landed in a crouch.
From the trees, more shapes emerged.
Three. Five. Seven.
They circled him like wolves.
Kael wiped blood from his lip, not his own.
He smiled.
"Finally."
Hour Three
By now, the grove reeked of dark qi and ash. Seven corpses—if they could be called that—lay crumbled into withering smoke.
Kael sat beneath a half-shattered stone tree, breathing slowly, letting the void settle again within his core.
His techniques had drawn attention. He could feel more presences circling, hesitant now. Watching.
Some weren't beasts.
They were human.
Hour Four
The mist thickened.
Kael moved like a whisper.
He came across a scene of carnage. Four disciples—cloaked in the robes of a southern sect—lay torn apart. Not by monsters.
By something smarter.
The killer had taken their badges—the tiny jade tokens that recorded one's performance in the Trials.
Kael's hand brushed over the blood-marked badge of one boy. Still warm.
He stood, eyes narrowing.
Then a voice rang out.
"Well, well. The dark horse."
Kael turned.
A girl stood there, arms folded, black hair like a river of ink. Her eyes were sharp—razor sharp. Her robe bore the insignia of the Crimson Whisper Hall.
"You're Kael," she said. "The one who beat Hualing."
He said nothing.
She smiled. "I'm not your enemy. Not yet."
She tossed him a small vial.
"Spirit resistance. That mist gets thicker after midnight."
Kael caught it. "What's the price?"
She shrugged. "We all want to live. Allies make sense—until they don't."
She walked off before he could reply.
Kael watched her vanish into the fog.
Interesting.
Hour Six
It was growing colder.
Kael's breath fogged. He saw things in the mist now—echoes. Not creatures, but memories.
They whispered.
"Kael…"
"Kael, run…"
"Don't leave me—"
He closed his eyes. Those voices weren't real. They came from the fragment—the void within him feeding off the realm's spiritual instability.
But they weren't just illusions.
They were doors.
If he listened too long, he'd fall through.
He pressed his hand to his heart and whispered the incantation.
A shield of silence surrounded him.
The whispers fell away.
Hour Eight
The grove began to tremble.
Kael crouched beside a corpse—another challenger—and noted the burns across the skin. Not elemental. Spiritual.
Soulburn.
And then—
A shriek tore through the sky.
Every beast, every ghost, every disciple in the realm must have felt it.
Kael stood and turned to face the sound.
A figure landed twenty feet away.
Tall. Wrapped in red-gold qi. Smirking.
"I've been looking for you."
Kael recognized him. The Phoenix Bone Blade.
He smiled darkly.
"So have I."
The Duel
There were no pleasantries.
No introductions.
Only motion.
The red-cloaked youth moved first—drawing his blade in a blur of flame. It carved a crescent of phoenix fire across the grove.
Kael vanished before it struck.
He reappeared behind the youth, palm raised—only to find the youth gone.
An afterimage.
They clashed again—flame and void, speed against silence.
For minutes, nothing but shockwaves echoed.
Then—Kael landed a hit.
A solid blow to the chest that cracked ribs.
But the boy laughed. "You're better than they said."
Kael's voice was cold. "You're not."
A final exchange—
Then Kael's shadow moved.
From it, a second Kael emerged—an echo technique. One strike. Clean. Behind the neck.
The boy fell.
Not dead.
But broken.
Kael knelt, took the badge, and walked away without a word.
Hour Nine
Kael stood again at the grove's edge.
The mist parted before him now.
Not out of fear.
But respect.
He was no longer prey.
Not to this realm.
Not to them.
Above, the mosaic sky shimmered.
A voice echoed once more.
"Second Trial: Begin."