The sun had barely crested the distant ridgelines when the disciples began gathering.
The eastern gate of the Azure Sky Sect, usually silent and lightly guarded, now thrummed with life. A stream of outer sect disciples filled the courtyard beyond it, clothed in traveling robes and burdened with supplies. Some bore worn swords. Others clutched small scrolls or pouches of talismans. Faces were tense. Mouths tight. Even the early morning wind carried urgency.
Near the gate, a long wooden table stood beneath a pavilion. Seated behind it were several Foundation Establishment disciples, dressed in robes adorned with golden thread. On the table, neatly stacked, were jade plaques shimmering faintly with spiritual energy.
Xue Mo stood in line with Luo Tan, Wei Zhi, and Liang Fu, calmly observing the others as they received their plaques. Around him, he saw familiar faces—Duan Yi with his usual smirk, Nian Rou speaking quietly to two archers, and even the silent youth who had crouched sharpening his weapon for what seemed like hours.
"These plaques..." Wei Zhi whispered, inspecting the stack.
"Tracking tokens," Xue Mo replied. "More than that. Markers. Warnings."
When their turn came, the four stepped forward. A disciple handed each of them a jade plaque and instructed, "Infuse a drop of blood."
Xue Mo pricked his thumb and pressed it against the plaque. Instantly, a soft glow enveloped the token. Characters etched across it:
Lin Feng | Qi Condensation Level 6 | Outer Sect - 6th Year
"The plaque will glow red upon death," the disciple added coldly. "And if you kill another disciple, the plaque will record the final presence. Don't think feeding someone to a beast will spare you. The formation watches."
Luo Tan muttered, "Tch… might as well ask us to confess now," his voice low but dry, eyes never leaving the plaque.
The disciple ignored him.
As they stepped away, Wei Zhi ran his fingers over his plaque, eyes wide. "They really mean for this to be a battlefield."
"It's always been one," Xue Mo said.
---
All around the plaza, more groups were forming. The disciples divided themselves naturally, drawn by friendships, power, or shared fear.
Nian Rou stood with three girls Xue Mo didn't recognize, all carrying matching bows. Duan Yi had drawn a small crowd, mostly full of aggressive people who laughed loudly and boasted about hunting beast cores.
Some disciples, however, stood on their own.
Short distance away, a wiry young disciple crouched alone near the forest's edge. He wasn't sharpening his blade anymore, he had already done so meticulously. Now, he simply sat there in absolute silence, one hand resting on the hilt, the other pressed lightly to the stone floor, as if listening to something only he could hear.
His breathing was barely visible, so slow and shallow it was like he wasn't breathing at all. His eyes, however, were alert and sharp, like twin points of glass set in a statue. A jagged scar ran diagonally across the bridge of his nose, stopping just short of his cheek. The short blade at his side was peculiar, a pitted blade the color of dried ginseng root, too even to be natural corrosion, with no guard, just a hilt wrapped in blackened twine and bone fittings. It didn't look ceremonial. It looked personal.
Even the noise around him seemed to mute slightly, as though the air gave him space.
Other disciples gave him a wide berth. Even noise seemed to quiet in his presence.
Xue Mo's eyes locked onto him.
It wasn't caution he felt, it was instinctual recognition. Not of the person, but the aura. There was no Qi fluctuation, no threatening movement. And yet...
Danger.
Real danger.
A subtle pressure coiled beneath the surface of that young man like a blade in shadow, waiting for the exact moment to strike.
Luo Tan followed Xue Mo's gaze and whispered, "You're looking at him too? Gave me chills earlier. Like he's not really here to pass the assessment, more like he's hunting us."
Wei Zhi glanced over and swallowed. "He hasn't moved since I arrived. Not once."
Xue Mo didn't respond at first. His fingers grazed the pommel of his sword, an old instinct rising.
No spirit beast or martial pressure caused that feeling. It came from experience, cultivators who had fought and killed enough didn't need to see killing intent. They sensed it, like a wolf smelling blood.
Finally, Xue Mo muttered quietly, "Watch him. But don't approach."
Luo Tan nodded solemnly. "You don't have to tell me twice."
Then, the boy, still unmoving, tilted his head, just a fraction.
As if he heard them.
Xue Mo and him locked eyes and just as the tension reached it's peak.
BOOM!
A deep, thunderous gong reverberated across the courtyard, the shockwave tore the disciples, rattling teeth in skulls The very stones beneath their feet seemed to hum in response.
A blinding arc of golden light descended from the sky, then unfurled like a banner before crashing onto the high platform at the front.
Elder Ming appeared within the gleam, his crimson robes billowing, his presence undeniable.
Silence reigned.
Every disciple, even those mid-step, froze.
With a single hand gesture, Elder Ming silenced even the wind. His voice carried through the square, clear and commanding, imbued with spiritual force:
"By tomorrow, half of you will be gone. Not dead. Vanished. Like dew under the sunlight."
As he spoke, a massive projection unfurled above the platform. Golden light coalesced into a rotating topographical map of the Southern Spirit Forest, not as scribes might draw it, but alive with pulsing qi.
Deep emerald thickets breathed like sleeping dragons. Pale mists swirled in unnatural spirals over jagged cliffs. Most unsettling were the glowing clusters scattered throughout, pulsing faintly crimson where the terrain buckled inward as if hiding wounds in the earth itself.
Even the arrogant disciples fell silent. This wasn't just a map. It was a living testament to something ancient watching back.
"There are four regions within the safe zone," Elder Ming continued, his voice cutting through the awe. He gestured to the seething image
"The Thickets harbor swift, low-tier beasts. Ember Hills are dry, fire-aligned. Jade Bloom Grove houses aggressive herbivores and rare flora. The Misted Hollow... illusions, wetlands, danger."
A pause.
"Stay within the silver borders. Step beyond, and we do not guarantee your return."
Some disciples shifted uncomfortably. Others rolled their shoulders, eager.
"Groups are allowed. Betrayal is not. Your tokens will record everything."
He let the words hang. Then, quietly:
"Begin."
For a heartbeat, no one moved. The weight of his words pressed down like a physical force. Then, as if breaking from a spell, the first disciple bolted, and the dam burst."
Thud-thud-thud!
Then, like a snapped bowstring, the courtyard erupted. The desperate lunged first, shoving toward the gate. The cunning hung back, letting the reckless clear paths. A handful stood rigid, their plaques trembling in white-knuckled grips.
Chaos.
Swords clinked. Packs jostled. Curses flew. Some disciples leapt over rocks to gain advantage, others shoved through.
Wei Zhi clutched his bag tighter. "This is madness."
"Let them burn out first," Xue Mo said.
He, Luo Tan, Wei Zhi, and Liang Fu remained still, letting the chaos pass. After minutes of frenzy, the square thinned.
Then, they moved, passing under the archway marking the boundary of the sect. Ahead, the forest loomed.
Tall pines and wide oaks blanketed the horizon. Vines draped from branches like serpents. Strange birdcalls echoed between trunks. Mist hung low over the undergrowth.
The air changed. It smelled wild. Untamed.
"This," Luo Tan muttered, "is where stories start. And where people vanish."
Xue Mo led, steady. His eyes swept left, right, up. He wasn't just looking for paths. He was looking for patterns. Trails. Tracks. Territory marks.
Liang Fu tightened his bracers. "So, what's the plan?"
"Avoid direct paths. Stay near the edge. Hunt small. Move often," Xue Mo replied.
"We setting traps?" Luo Tan asked.
"Eventually. But first, we learn."
The forest welcomed them lovingly, like a mother with her child, warm loam underfoot, air sweet with decay.
Somewhere deep in the canopy, wood groaned, a long, splintering sound that wasn't quite a tree falling.
But not for long.