Blood-Forged Ascension

Morning broke in the mountains like a blade drawn slow through old scars.

Fog clung to the ground in dirty strands.

Wei Lian hadn't slept.

He sat cross-legged in the corner of the dorm all night. No mat. No blanket. Just the stone floor leeching the heat from his bones.

He didn't care.

The ember in his dantian burned dimly but steady, fed by his slow, ragged breathing.

Every breath hurt.

He accepted it.

When the bell tolled, he rose.

Muscles stiff, skin scraped raw from work.

The other outer disciples eyed him with disdain, pity, or blank dismissal as they filed out into the fog.

No one spoke to him.

He liked it better that way.

Copper Hall loomed on the cliff edge, black and squat, ancient carvings half-worn by centuries of wind.

Wei Lian was first through its open doors.

He chose his corner mat and sat, pulling his knees in close.

He watched the hall fill.

Disciples from local clans with their finer robes and better posture.

Farmers' sons who'd scraped the fee to join.

Street orphans who wore every bruise like armor.

He memorized faces.

Names whispered too loudly.

Affinities talked about like coin.

Jin Xiu swaggered in with his hair freshly tied and his sleeves clean. He flashed the casual smirk of someone who knew he was better.

An Earth Root.

Wei Lian studied him without blinking.

Then lowered his gaze.

Elder Mu arrived with no ceremony.

His robes were brown with age, the hem stiff with old blood that no one bothered to scrub out.

He sat.

Silence spread like frost.

"Breathe."

The command was soft but cut like a blade.

Everyone obeyed.

Even the ones who hated him.

Wei Lian shut his eyes.

Drew in air slow and thin, every rib creaking in protest.

He felt Qi swirl in the room.

It went to the others easily, flowing along channels their bodies had from birth.

Human Root. Earth Root.

Even that was better than what he had.

What he was.

He had to drag Qi to himself like hauling water from a poisoned well.

It resisted.

It hurt.

He pulled harder.

He didn't hear Elder Mu's muttered insults to the back row.

Didn't hear the coughs or stifled laughter.

All he heard was the blood roaring in his ears and the harsh drag of his own breath.

The ember in his core flickered.

Dim.

Dying.

No.

He squeezed it with every breath.

Fed it pain.

Fed it anger.

Fed it the memories of the cold floor. The latrine stench. The taste of blood in his teeth.

Something inside him shifted.

Crack.

It was so quiet it might have been imagined.

But he felt it.

A tiny fracture.

The ember split.

Qi flooded in.

Not much.

But more.

Enough.

The pain hit next.

White-hot.

Like claws raking his spine.

He didn't scream.

His jaw locked so hard his teeth ached.

He forced himself to keep breathing.

The ember in his dantian pulsed.

Expanded.

Became a flame.

Qi Refinement. 2nd layer.

He exhaled, shaking.

Opened his eyes.

The room looked the same.

The other disciples oblivious.

But inside?

He felt it.

The crack was still there.

Waiting.

Elder Mu's voice droned on.

"Remember. Cultivation is survival. There are nine stages in the Mortal Realm. Each with nine layers. Qi Refinement. Foundation Establishment. Golden Core. Nascent Soul. Soul Formation. Refined Spirit. Transformation Spirit. Body Integration. Tribulation Transcendence."

Wei Lian listened.

He burned the words into his skull.

He didn't care about Heaven Roots.

He cared about steps.

One.

Then another.

Until there were none left.

Class ended.

Elder Mu read names for advanced instruction.

Wei Lian's name was never on the list.

He stood last.

Limbs trembling from the breakthrough.

Chest raw from forced breathing.

Outside, the work board awaited.

LATRINE DUTY – WEI LIAN

The ink was old. The strokes almost mocking.

He picked up the shovel.

The latrines were worse after the rain.

Mud swallowed his ankles.

Waste splashed up his legs.

The cart was half-rotted, wheels squealing.

He shoved it anyway.

Hands split open anew on rusted iron.

Blood mixed with filth.

He didn't stop.

At one point he fell.

He lay in the muck.

Mud filled his mouth.

For a moment he wanted to stay there.

Sink into it.

Be done.

Then he spat it out.

Pushed himself up.

Grabbed the shovel.

Kept going.

Shen Beijun found him at dusk.

Wei Lian was washing in the creek.

Water was black with runoff.

Shen watched him in silence.

Finally spoke.

"You look worse than yesterday."

Wei Lian didn't answer.

He dunked his head under, scrubbing blood and grime.

When he surfaced, breath steaming, he caught Shen's gaze.

Neither looked away.

Shen's voice was flat.

"You're still here."

Wei Lian's voice was hoarse.

"Yes."

Shen studied him.

"They think you'll break."

Wei Lian turned back to the water.

"Let them."

Shen actually huffed a laugh.

"Copper Hall. Before dawn. Don't be late."

Then he walked away.

Wei Lian stayed in the water until he couldn't feel his fingers.

Then he climbed out.

Sat on the bank.

Pressed his hands to his dantian.

Closed his eyes.

Inside him the flame of Qi burned stronger.

2nd layer.

Real.

But there was also the crack.

Just a hairline.

Waiting.

He didn't know what it meant.

Didn't care.

He just whispered to the dark:

"Break."

Then he stood.

And walked back to the dorm.

Because tomorrow, he knew, they'd try to break him again.

And he would let them try.