The tunnel mouth did not look like an entrance.

  It looked like a wound carved into the mountain's ribs, smooth stone lip, darkness within, and a faint, steady breath of cold air spilling out as if the earth itself were exhaling.

  Above it, ancient array pillars stood in a half-circle. Their surfaces were layered with moss and hairline cracks, yet the carved runes remained sharp, too sharp for their age; glimmering faintly under the last light of afternoon.

  A bronze hourglass sat before Elder Chen Zhaolin.

  The sand pale and fine, started falling at the start of the trial.

  Now, only slightly more than the a handful of sand remained.

  Roughly one hour before the trial time ended.

  Near the healers' tents, the already-returned aspirants lay in orderly rows. Some unconscious, some staring into nothing, some clutching their Spirit Items like anchors.

  At the front of that row sat Chen Ba and Chen Lanyue, their waist-bond already dissolved after their earlier exit, but their presence still bound together in the minds of everyone watching.

  They had come out together.

  They had come out first.

  And the silence around them was the uneasy kind, because the tunnel had chewed up stronger-looking people and spat them out broken, yet these two sat with a strange calm that didn't match what others had endured.

  Chen Ba held his black pole across his knees like dead wood, looking normal, very normal. Chen Lanyue's breathing was steadier now, though her complexion still carried the faint pallor of someone who had walked too close to collapse and returned by stubbornness alone.

  Neither spoke.

  They listened.

  Because when something was about to happen, the world always shifted first.

  The runes on the pillars flickered once.

  The cold breath spilling out of the tunnel sharpened.

  From the darkness, two figures, still linked by the waist-bond, the light strip frayed but intact, stumbled out of the tunnel together.

  Chen Gao and Chen Yiru.

  They emerged around an hour after Chen Shun, with the trial failure time close enough to taste.

  For one breath, it looked less like victory and more like survivors crawling out of a grave.

  Chen Gao's shoulders were hunched, his breath ragged and loud. His robe had been torn open down one side, and the skin beneath was marked by bruises too deep to be ordinary, qi backlash bruising, the kind that meant his meridians had been forced open and slammed shut repeatedly.

  His axe, the Grave-Severing Earthcleaver, dragged behind him, scraping stone and leaving a shallow scar. Even exhausted, its aura pulsed faintly like a beast's heart that refused to quiet.

  His hands were shaking.

  Not fear.

  Overuse.

  Chen Yiru was paler still. Her eyes remained open, sharp, and focused... but the focus was brittle, like glass stretched too thin. Intent-based weapons were merciless... when the mind trembled, the weapon trembled.

  Her Silent Horizon Bow lay across her forearms, and the translucent "string" flickered erratically.

  She took one more step, then her knees buckled.

  Chen Gao caught her, barely. His arm locking around her shoulders as if hauling a boulder rather than a girl.

  The waist-bond pulsed once.

  They were still connected.

  Still counted as a pair who crossed together.

  Healers surged forward instantly. Outer court disciples supported Chen Gao from both sides, while another caught Chen Yiru's bow before it hit stone, careful not to disrupt its spirit imprint.

  "Backlash," one healer muttered, fingers pressing into Chen Gao's pulse point. "His qi surges, then collapses. Like waves hitting a cliff."

  "Micro-tears in the muscles," another added grimly. "He's been converting strain into force too many times."

  Elder Chen Zhaolin lifted one finger.

  The waist-bond dissolved into sparks, official exit recorded.

  A scribe wrote down the time.

  Whispers spread.

  "They made it…"

  "So late…"

  "Chen Gao… he looks like he fought a mountain."

  Chen Yiru's eyelids fluttered as if she tried to speak, but her throat only produced a thin breath. Chen Gao leaned closer, hoarse.

  "We're finally out. We made it"

  Only then did her shoulders loosen, and her eyes closed.

  She fell unconscious in his grasp.

  Chen Gao stayed upright for one stubborn moment, chin raised toward Elder Chen Zhaolin as if daring the world to deny what he'd endured, before the healers forced him down onto a stretcher.

  As they carried him away, two outer court disciples dragging his heavy axe, still scraping the floor, leaving that ugly line in the stone.

  The sand continued to fall, almost finishing.

  The tension did not ease.

  Because others were still inside.

  And the tunnel turned "missing" into "dead" in the minds of those who waited.

  Minutes passed.

  The array pillars flickered twice, unevenly, like a heartbeat skipping.

  Then...

  A single figure staggered out.

  No waist-bond.

  No partner.

  Chen Xueyin.

  She did not stumble like someone merely exhausted.

  She stumbled like someone whose soul had been dragged through mud.

  Her robe was shredded at the hem. Thin crimson lines marked her arms, whip recoil wounds, the kind that appeared when control faltered for even a breath. Her face was cold, unnaturally so, like someone who had walked out of winter and never fully returned.

  Her Scarlet Coil of Binding Resolve hung at her side, coiled tight, trembling faintly.

  Not aggressive.

  Restrained.

  As if forced into obedience against its own nature.

  Her eyes were red.

  Not from strain alone.

  From tears she could not contain.

  She took three steps onto the testing ground, and collapsed.

  Not gently.

  Stone met flesh with a dull sound that made several aspirants flinch.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Healers rushed forward.

  Someone from the gathered crowded, unable to stop themselves, blurted, "Where is your partner?!"

  Chen Xueyin's breath hitched.

  She did not answer, eyes closed.

  Her lips trembled, then parted.

  A sound came out... half laugh, half sob.

  And then the tears spilled, hot against the coldness on her cheeks.

  Elder Chen Zhaolin's gaze sharpened. He did not ask again. He didn't need to.

  The missing waist-bond told him everything, someone had been left behind.

  He lifted his hand.

  A gentle pressure settled over Chen Xueyin, not judgment, not suffocation but just enough to still her shaking and calm her down.

  "Carry her to the healers," he said quietly.

  Two outer court disciples moved to lift her.

  For a heartbeat she resisted, then her grip loosened.

  Her whip slipped from her fingers.

  And that, more than her tears, made the watching aspirants fall silent.

  Because Chen Xueyin was the kind of person who never let go.

  The scribe recorded her time.

  Only moments remained before the sand finished.

  A deep vibration rolled through the ground.

  The runes on the pillars brightened in unison, hard white, absolute.

  Time had concluded.

  Elder Chen Zhaolin stepped forward and placed two fingers on the central array seal.

  The stone beneath him responded instantly. Runes flared beneath the tunnel mouth.

  And the darkness within moved... not like wind, but like something forced out.

  Four figures appeared at once, spat out by the formation, landing in a row on the testing ground like offerings before an altar.

  They were alive.

  All four.

  But "alive" was a technicality.

  One lay limp, lips blue with lingering frost qi, chest rising shallowly. One had blood at the corners of his mouth, eyes rolled back. One convulsed once, then went still, spiritual exhaustion so severe it looked like seizure. And the last was awake, but barely, with a gaze so empty it seemed their mind refused to hold what they had seen.

  Healers surged forward. Needles. Pills. Qi pressure points. Practiced urgency. First Aid. and Water.

  Relief came in a delayed wave.

  They're alive.

  But the relief was poisoned by the shape of that survival.

  Elder Chen Zhaolin's voice cut cleanly through the murmurs.

  "The Dao is not gentle," he said. "But the Chen Clan does not waste life in a selection trial."

  His gaze swept the survivors.

  "Those who did not exit before the sand emptied out are eliminated from this outer court selection, regardless of reason or condition"

  No cruelty.

  Just fact.

  Then his gaze shifted, briefly, precisely towards Chen Xueyin's stretcher.

  Her lashes fluttered. Her lips parted.

  A whisper escaped.

  "…I'm sorry."

  A Flashback: The Fourth Winter trial.

  Even as Chen Xueyin lay outside, part of her mind was still inside.

  Still running.

  Still trapped beneath the fourth stage sky.

  The tunnel's winter was not snow falling from clouds.

  It was absence, warmth drained from the world, sound muffled, light turned gray. The path became a narrow frozen bridge stretched over darkness so deep it looked bottomless.

  Each step stole heat from the bones.

  The air didn't just freeze skin, it gnawed at spirit.

  Her breath came out as mist. Her whip's red glow dimmed under the cold, struggling against the season's suppression.

  Beside her, Chen Fanyu the guy bonded to her at the start of the tunnel, no prodigy, no famed awakener. He had bled in the earlier stages and nearly fallen in autumn. Yet, he still moved together with her, because the waist-bond made have linked their fate in one.

  And because the formation tested something deeper than strength:

  Whether you would abandon someone when it became convenient.

  On the frozen bridge, shadows moved beneath the ice.

  Not monsters intended to appeal in this stage.

  Fears given shape to something not of this world, shadow hands rising out of the dark, whispering not to ears but directly into thought.

  You will fail.

  Your blood will betray you.

  Suppress no more.

  Suppress will only weaken you.

  Suppress until you break.

  Chen Xueyin's control began to slip, not into rage, but into panic.

  Her whip twitched.

  A reflex lashed out unintentionally...

  The recoil bit into her forearm, a thin crimson line opening.

  Chen Fanyu stepped in front of her without thinking.

  Another shadow-hand burst up through the ice and grabbed, not his leg, but directly onto...

  His waist-bond.

  The tether between them flared and trembled as the formation found the simplest way to break them.

  Pull one down.

  Force the other to choose.

  The boy's feet slid toward the edge. His eyes met hers.

  "Break it," he rasped.

  "No!" Chen Xueyin choked.

  The shadows tightened. The waist-bond stretched like a cord about to snap.

  Chen Fanyu forced a sharp strike to his own chest, brought blood to his lips, and he immediately passed out, leaving no choice for Chen Xueyin.

  The whispers swelled.

  Abandon him, or die together.

  Her hands shook as she reached for the seal.

  Chen Fanyu face was still smiling, tired human.

  Tears blurred her vision.

  Then she did it.

  She broke the waist-bond.

  Light snapped between them.

  The tether dissolved.

  And the moment it did,

  The shadows laughed, the shadows rejoined.

  The shadows dragged him down.

  He vanished beneath the bridge like a stone swallowed by a black sea.

  Chen Xueyin screamed, tears rolling down.

  Deep distress, disappointment, and sadness

  The winter wind stole the sound.

  Ahead, the formation opened a narrow passage.

  She ran, not because she was brave or afraid, but because stopping would make his sacrifice meaningless.

  And when she finally burst out of the tunnel, alone, shaking, tear-streaked.

  The world outside looked too bright.

  Too normal.

  Too indifferent.

  And the voice of the shadows was no more.

  The Complaint

  As healers worked, the surviving aspirants gathered in a loose semicircle.

  Chen Shun stood among them, cleaner than most, posture straight, spear resting lightly in his hand. His Heaven-Subduing White Fang looked pristine, its presence cold and dominating.

  He looked forward, waiting for the elder announcement to finally signal the end of this test.

  But before Elder Chen Zhaolin could speak...

  A figure staggered from the healers' side.

  Chen Shun's partner, Chen Haoran.

  His face was pale with fury, not weakness. One arm was wrapped in suppressive cloth to restrain internal bleeding.

  He pointed at Chen Shun with a shaking hand.

  "Elder! Chen Shun pushed me!"

  The crowd snapped toward him.

  "He pushed me at the Autumn Round!" Chen Haoran shouted, voice cracking. "The path narrowed to only one line! He shoved me off so he could cross first!"

  Chen Shun's expression did not change.

  Flat. Almost bored.

  The accusation alone was enough to poison perception.

  "That trial is supposed to test teamwork and partnership!" the boy cried. "He treated me like a stepping stone!"

  Elder Chen Zhaolin did not argue. He did not ask for proof.

  He simply lifted his hand in a small, dismissive gesture.

  Two outer court enforcers stepped behind the boy and gripped his arms.

  The boy's eyes widened. "Elder, you have to..."

  Elder Chen Zhaolin looked at him calmly.

  "This trial does not measure morality," he said. "It measures result."

  Chen Haoran froze, then struggled harder, rage spilling out.

  "So people can do anything inside and you won't..."

  Elder Chen Zhaolin's gaze sharpened slightly.

  "Bring him away."

  The enforcers dragged Chen Haoran aside, not to punish anyone, but to silence the disruption.

  The crowd watched.

  And in the silence that followed, Chen Shun's reputation shifted.

  Not in Elder Chen Zhaolin's eyes.

  In everyone else's.

  Ruthless.

  Dangerous.

  A person who would step on you if it got him ahead.

  Chen Shun finally turned his head slightly, gaze following Chen Haoran back as he was being dragged away.

  His lips curved upwards, barely.

  Not a smile.

  Contempt.

  As if weakness always screamed when it lost.

  Elder Chen Zhaolin stepped forward again.

  "The second test, Four Seasons Burial Tunnel, concluded."

  He gestured to the scribe.

  "Ranking is determined by total time taken to exit. The tunnel does not care for fairness. Only completion."

  A parchment unfurled.

  Elder Chen Zhaolin read, voice steady:

  "First, Chen Ba and Chen Lanyue."

  A murmur rippled instantly.

  They had exited together. Their time was one. Their result was one.

  "Time taken, two hours and thirteen minutes."

  Elder Chen Zhaolin continued without pause, deliberately.

  "Second, none."

  The crowd stilled at the formal skip. Then understanding spread.

  Two people held first. The rank after that was displaced.

  "Third, Chen Shun."

  Chen Shun's fingers tightened on his spear.

  "Time taken, six hours and forty-seven minutes."

  The comparison struck like a slap.

  More than three times longer than the joint first.

  Chen Shun's face went still... His jaw tendon tightening once, then disappearing beneath control.

  Elder Chen Zhaolin continued:

  "Fourth, Chen Gao and Chen Yiru."

  Both had exited together, linked. Both shared the same placement.

  "Fifth, none."

  Another skip.

  "Sixth, Chen Xueyin."

  No applause.

  No celebration.

  Only the uncomfortable recognition of what it had cost her.

  The parchment rolled closed.

  The hierarchy settled into the minds of the young.

  And so did the poison.

  Chen Shun's gaze snapped... briefly and sharply, toward Chen Ba…and then toward Chen Lanyue.

  For the first time since they returned, he looked at them as if seeing them properly.

  Not annoyances.

  Not footnotes.

  Threats.

  He have already decided in his heart that one day, he will step over Chen Ba, and rise above him.

  Elder Chen Zhaolin raised one hand.

  "The third test will begin in one month."

  A collective exhale ran through the survivors. Most of the participants of the third test carried injuries that would worsen if ignored, backlash, fractured focus, spiritual trauma, hidden strains that pills alone could not fix.

  "A month," Elder Chen Zhaolin repeated, "is not mercy. It is preparation."

  He turned toward the dormant platform at the far end of the ground, currently covered by heavy cloth marked with old seals.

  "The third test is called Dao Heart Illusory Realm."

  The name alone made several aspirants stiffen.

  Because physical injury could be treated.

  But Dao Heart was where demons grew.

  "In this test," Elder Chen Zhaolin said, "you will enter an illusory formation powered by ancient sect arrays. The illusions will not be shared. They will not be identical."

  His gaze sharpened.

  "They will be personalized, drawn from your deepest fears, regrets, and temptations. The environment will shift dynamically: serene bamboo groves that hide demonic whispers; chaotic battlefields that replay your failures; faces from your past speaking words you never resolved."

  "To pass," he continued, "you must maintain clarity of mind. You must resist heart demons. You must emerge with your cultivation base intact."

  He paused.

  "And you will confront an inner devil manifestation, a simulated form of yourself twisted by what you refuse to face."

  A cold silence answered him.

  "The Dao Heart Illusory Realm weeds out those with unstable foundations," Elder Chen Zhaolin concluded. "Only those with a firm Dao hearts join the outer court."

  Then, his tone turned faintly toward reward,

  "For those who succeed, you will be granted a foundational technique from the sect inheritance. It will be one that resonate with your Spirit Item. This is not charity. It is a confirmation that your path aligns with the sect's heritage."

  He looked over them one last time.

  "Recover. Stabilize. Prepare."

  "In one month," he said, "you will learn whether your body merely endured…or whether your heart can stand."

  He turned away.

  The announcement was over.

  But the aftermath was only beginning.

  Chen Ba rose quietly, the black pole balanced across his shoulder.

  Chen Lanyue shifted beside him, steadying herself, still recovering, still refusing to look weak in front of a crowd that measured worth by blood and brilliance.

  Behind them, Chen Shun's gaze burned like a blade.

  Fury.

  Humiliation.

  Obsession.

  Chen Ba didn't turn. He didn't need to. He only have one goal in mind,

  To pass the third test and enter the Outer Court successfully.

  And whatever waited in the Illusory Realm would not care who ranked first.

  Only who broke last.