Blood-Forged Ascension

The wind howled along the cliffs as the last work bells tolled.

Wei Lian trudged back to the dorm path, mud up to his knees, robe soaked and heavy. He barely felt the cold anymore.

A dying brazier crackled outside the dorm.

Shen Beijun sat beside it, sharpening his sword with deliberate, patient strokes. Sparks danced in the gloom.

He didn't look up.

"Sit."

Wei Lian lowered himself onto the cold stone without a word.

They sat in silence.

Finally Shen spoke.

"You know nothing about this sect, do you?"

Wei Lian didn't answer.

Shen gave a humorless snort.

"Didn't think so."

He watched the coals glow.

"Xuandao Sect isn't some sacred temple. It's old, proud, and rotting at the edges. Low-tier for the Mortal Realm, but still the biggest power for a hundred li. No one nearby dares challenge it. But in truth? It's weaker than it pretends."

The whetstone scraped along the blade slowly.

"It's built in layers. Just like cultivation itself."

He lifted one finger.

"At the top: Patriarch Wu Zongren. Nascent Soul stage, fifth layer. Old. About to go into reclusion. When he does, the struggle beneath him will turn savage."

Another finger.

"Below him: Elders. Golden Core stage. Seventh to ninth layer. They hold the sect together—or tear it apart with their faction fights."

A third finger.

"Then there's us. Inner Elders. Lower Golden Core. I'm fourth layer. We keep the disciples in line. Handle the dirty work the true Elders don't want."

Shen's eyes lifted briefly, glinting in the firelight.

"Don't expect us to save you."

He kept counting.

"Below that: Core Disciples. Handpicked by Elders. Clan scions, geniuses. They get the best resources and personal training."

Another finger.

"Inner Disciples. Those who fight their way up from the outer ranks. They get better techniques. Some respect. A path forward."

He curled his fingers into a fist.

"And at the bottom: Outer Disciples. That's you. Waste-haulers. Floor scrubbers. Human shields if war ever comes. Most don't last a year."

The brazier hissed as the wind whipped across it.

"Any questions?" Shen asked.

Wei Lian didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was quiet.

"How many survive long enough to move up?"

Shen laughed once. No humor in it.

"One in a hundred. Maybe."

Silence settled again.

Shen studied him.

"You're no one. No clan. No root worth mentioning. The sect didn't bring you in because they care. They want to see if you're worth feeding. That's it."

Wei Lian's expression didn't change.

He kept watching the coals burn down.

Shen leaned back, letting the fire warm his knees.

"Listen well. Xuandao doesn't reward cleverness. Or kindness. It rewards strength. If you're too weak to hold your place, someone else will take it. That's the rule."

The wind roared down the path.

Wei Lian finally spoke.

"What about you?"

Shen's jaw tightened.

"Golden Core. Fourth layer. Inner Elder. Means I get to watch the slaughter instead of being in it. Don't confuse that with safety."

Wei Lian's mouth twitched, just slightly.

"Understood."

Shen sheathed the blade with a final hiss of steel on leather and stood.

"Be at Copper Hall before dawn. Don't be late. Don't die."

He walked away, boots crunching on gravel.

Wei Lian stayed by the dying brazier.

He didn't move until the last coal went black.

Thinking.

Planning.

Waiting for tomorrow.