Morning arrived not with peace, but shouting.
"Up! You lazy brats, the sun's already yawning! MOVE!"
Instructor Gao's voice ripped through the quiet courtyard like a blade through cloth. Somewhere, a startled sparrow flapped out of a nearby tree.
Half-dressed disciples tumbled out of wooden dorms, some still dragging on robes, others blinking blearily into the morning light. A few muttered curses under their breath — softly, so the instructor wouldn't hear.
This part of the Azure Feather Sect was not what came to mind when people imagined legendary cultivation halls. There were no floating peaks, no radiant immortal monuments. Just a cracked stone yard, splintered training posts, and a dusty weapons rack where the wooden swords had more splinters than handle.
This was the Trial Yard.
Where failures trained.
The disciples here were those who hadn't passed their first-year assessment — those who, after a year in the sect, still hadn't shown enough progress. Most sects would have expelled them outright. But Azure Feather was kinder than most. It gave them a final week.
A final chance.
Li Fan stood quietly at the edge of the group, arms crossed over his thin chest, head slightly lowered. The morning breeze tugged at his robe, which was faded from too many washes and stitched at the cuffs with mismatched thread.
He didn't look like much.
Behind him, two disciples whispered just loud enough to be heard.
"Look, the scarecrow's still standing."
"Thought the wind would've carried him off by now."
"Maybe he's cultivating the Path of Sleep," another chuckled.
Li Fan didn't turn around. He'd heard worse. Still, his grip on his sleeve tightened a little.
---
Instructor Gao stalked to the center of the yard, hands clasped behind his back. He was short, broad-shouldered, with a voice like gravel and a sharp tongue that had sent many a disciple to tears.
"You lot have six days left," he said, turning a slow circle. "Six days to prove you're not complete wastes of space. If you fail the final assessment, you're out. No appeals. No crying to your elders. You'll walk down the mountain with your bags. Simple."
He stopped abruptly, turning to look directly at Li Fan.
Somehow, the silence grew heavier.
"And some of you—" he smirked, "—won't even make it that far."
Laughter rippled through the group.
Li Fan looked up. His eyes met Gao's for only a moment — but in that moment, he felt like he was standing bare before a thunderstorm.
Then the instructor turned away, shouting, "Warmups! Ten laps. Move!"
The disciples groaned but obeyed, feet slapping against stone as they took off running.
Li Fan fell to the back almost immediately.
---
By the fifth lap, his breath came in short, ragged bursts.
By the eighth, his legs felt like sacks of wet rice.
By the tenth, he was staggering, sweat pouring down his back, vision narrowing with each step.
But he didn't stop.
---
Training continued.
Forms. Breathing drills. Sparring footwork. Every strike, every motion — the same as yesterday, and the day before that. And every day, Li Fan moved like he was drowning.
It wasn't for lack of trying. He tried harder than anyone.
But his body simply wouldn't listen.
"Straighten that back!" Gao barked. "Lower your stance! Stop moving like a drunk chicken!"
At one point, Li Fan stumbled during a footwork drill and fell hard on his elbow. A few snickers followed, but he only grimaced, got up, and continued.
---
Later, as the group paused for a brief rest, Zhao Kun approached with a confident swagger, wiping his face with a silk cloth.
"You know," he said, glancing down at Li Fan, "it's almost impressive how bad you are."
Li Fan didn't look up. He sat on the edge of the platform, clutching a water gourd.
"You know, there's no shame in quitting," Zhao went on. "Some people are born to fight. Others... well, maybe your destiny's to sweep streets. Or clean latrines."
One of his lackeys chuckled. "Maybe he'll awaken a spiritual root for broom cultivation."
Li Fan took a slow sip, staying silent.
Another disciple leaned in, laughing. "Heard his mom runs a noodle stall. Maybe he'll be back in the market, handing out flyers."
Li Fan exhaled slowly through his nose, then looked down at his shaking hands. He didn't argue. What was the point?
---
The final segment of the morning was always the same — duel training.
Gao clapped his hands sharply. "Pair up!"
The disciples began choosing partners. Most looked toward their friends or someone close to their level.
Gao's voice cut through them. "Li Fan, Zhao Kun. Platform. Now."
Zhao's smile returned, sharper this time.
"Oh good. I was getting bored."
Li Fan's heart sank. He didn't flinch, but he felt it — that familiar knot of dread tightening in his chest.
He climbed the stone platform in silence. The crowd circled quickly, all too eager to see the entertainment.
Zhao cracked his neck and bounced on his feet.
"I'll make it quick," he said, smiling. "Wouldn't want you to wake up in the infirmary again."
Li Fan didn't respond.
"Begin!" Gao barked.
---
Zhao moved like a striking snake.
A blur of motion — a palm to the chest.
Li Fan blocked, barely.
Then a sweeping kick.
He barely blocked it, the force sending him stumbling.
Another punch — this one slammed into his ribs.
White-hot pain exploded through his side. He gasped, doubling over.
But Zhao wasn't done. He stepped forward, spinning, and drove his foot hard into Li Fan's shoulder.
Li Fan flew backward, landing with a hard thud on the stone.
The crowd murmured.
"Is it over already?"
"Same as last time."
Li Fan tasted blood in his mouth.
He tried to rise. His arms shook. His vision swam.
Zhao walked toward him. "Stay down. Just stay down."
Li Fan planted a palm on the stone, lifted himself inch by inch.
And Zhao drove his knee into his stomach.
Li Fan crumpled.
The sky above spun. His breath wheezed. Pain coiled through every inch of his body like fire.
And then…
Everything slowed.
Time… stretched.
The pain… changed.
It didn't numb. It deepened. Became something else.
Like a drumbeat inside his bones.
Like a whisper in the dark.
[Pain levels critical…]
[Resonance detected.]
[Heaven-Defying Body System: Activation Sequence Initiated.]
[Analyzing host constitution…]
[Body Tempering Energy Acquired: 34 units]
[Current Realm: Skin Tempering – 4%]
Li Fan blinked slowly.
The voice wasn't real.
Was it?
His vision dimmed further. The last thing he saw was Zhao's foot rising again — and then…
Blackness.