The sect was alive with tension.
After Elder Ming's announcement, the entire Azure Sky Sect shifted. The heavy stillness that had followed the first trial had been swept away by new urgency. Disciples flooded the various halls, courtyards, and storage dens, their minds occupied with what came next.
Three weeks in the Southern Spirit Forest. Three cores minimum. No exceptions.
In the shared dormitories and private caves, outer sect disciples were moving with frantic energy. Weapons were sharpened, maps were studied, and friendships were tested. Conversations sprang up like sparks off steel, whispers about spirit beasts, forbidden zones, and the names of those most likely to die.
Xue Mo walked through this frenzy like a ghost, present, but unnoticed.
He had returned to his cave dwelling with a single purpose. Prepare.
The sword he carried wasn't special. It had no formations and it wasn't sharp or even really strong. But he had grown accustomed to it and now it felt a little like a part of him.
He placed it across two stones and sat before it cross-legged. Slowly, he unwrapped a cloth bundle he had hidden beneath a loose floor tile.
Inside were small vials, black herbs, some powdered stone dust, and a thin metal file. Each was marked, categorized, and precisely chosen. This wasn't just weapon care, it was a ritual.
Over the next hour, Xue Mo worked in silence. He filed the edge to remove chips. Polished the flat with a solution of powdered fangroot and riverstone oil. Using a small heating charm, he warmed the blade to draw out lingering impurities. Then, he rubbed a concentrated paste made from demon-thistle root along its edge.
As it sank into the grain of the metal, the paste would give the blade an edge that could slash through hardened beast hide.
"Not enough," he murmured, voice low and calm. "Not for what I need to do."
He placed a shallow iron bowl in front of him and filled it with dried vine ash, blood mist herbs, and three drops of basilisk venom he had collected in secret weeks ago. Carefully, he heated the mixture with spiritual energy until it hissed. When the mixture cooled into a greenish-black gum, he rolled it into tiny wax-like beads and stored them in a hidden compartment of his belt.
Touch-activated poison. It wouldn't kill outright, but it would slow reaction time, dull senses, and make prey easier to finish.
Not every battle would be fair.
Nor should it be.
He looked at the sword again and muttered, "No longer dull enough to be overlooked."
When it was done, he ran a finger along the edge of the blade. It hummed softly, as if whispering its readiness. It was no longer the dull tool of a forgotten disciple. It was his weapon now.
A reflection of him.
---
Just before dusk, Xue Mo made his way toward the south courtyard. He moved through the outer sect path without speaking. When he arrived at a shaded bench beneath an old pine tree, he found Wei Zhi alone.
The boy was packing, carefully measuring dried food into cloth satchels and inspecting each piece of his gear twice. He looked up when Xue Mo approached.
"Senior brother Lin," he said, voice quiet.
"You're preparing well."
"I'm not good at fighting, so I want to be good at surviving."
Xue Mo nodded, sitting on a flat rock nearby.
"You planning to join a group?"
Wei Zhi hesitated. "Maybe. Liang Fu asked. But I'm not sure."
"If you go, don't follow anyone too closely. Keep your distance. Watch. Move when others stop. Retreat when they go forward."
Wei Zhi looked at him, brow furrowed. "You think people might kill for cores?"
"I think people kill for less."
Silence.
"Did I… do something wrong before?" Wei Zhi asked suddenly.
"No."
"Then why… why do I feel like I forgot something important?"
Xue Mo didn't answer. He stood.
"If it ever returns to you, come find me first."
Wei Zhi nodded, subdued.
---
Further up the mountain slope, laughter rang out near a shed lined with tools and spare training gear.
Luo Tan sat like a lord beneath the overhang, several disciples standing around him as he waved his hands theatrically.
"I'm telling you, this incense right here"—he held up a crooked green stick—"is made from actual wind-biting lotus. It repels low-grade mortal beasts and smells like fresh peach buns."
One disciple took a sniff. "Smells like old socks."
"Exactly. Beasts hate it!"
Xue Mo appeared at the edge of the gathering. Luo Tan noticed him and waved excitedly.
"Brother Lin! I saved you one of the Mystic Vines!" He handed over a coiled rope tied with a metal clip. "Strong enough to hold a charging pig-boar!"
Xue Mo inspected it. "Where'd you get all this?"
"I trade favors. Gave a guy my turn in line at the fire well. Helped someone clean the furnace chamber. And this?" He tapped a small satchel tied to his belt. "This I won in a rock-paper-spirit match. My luck's been golden."
"You seem prepared."
"I may die out there, but I won't die stupid."
A nearby disciple, a lean girl named Nian Rou, looked up from sharpening her dagger. "I thought you didn't take things seriously, Luo Tan."
"I don't take them lightly either," he said, flashing a grin. "Besides, I have a backup plan."
"What's that?"
"I won't say."
Everyone looked at him and laughed. Only Xue Mo wasn't really in the mood for laughter.
He gave a faint nod. "Meet me at the eastern gate tomorrow."
Luo Tan's eyes lit up. "So we're going in together?"
"For now."
As Xue Mo turned to leave, Luo Tan called out, "You're a strange guy, Brother Lin. But I like strange."
Nian Rou watched Xue Mo leave. "He's quiet."
Luo Tan shrugged. "But he listens. That's rare around here."
---
That evening, the atmosphere across the sect was like the moment before a storm. Quiet, but not calm. Tense, but contained.
Disciples checked and rechecked their weapons. Some sparred under torchlight. Others whispered plans for teaming up, ambushes, or which beast cores would be easiest to gather.
In one hidden alcove, Duan Yi stood with three other disciples. He tapped his sword against the ground, smirking.
"There's talk that someone jumped two realms in one month," he said softly.
"You believe that crap?" one replied.
Duan Yi's smirk didn't fade. "Doesn't matter. Rumors are sometimes true. If anyone's found a treasure… maybe we'll find it too."
He turned, walking away. His eyes glittered as he awaited tomorrow.
---
In his cave, Xue Mo sat before a single candle.
The flame danced in silence.
He removed the sword from its wrapping, now oiled, reinforced, and ready.
He stared at the blade, his reflection caught in the dark sheen.
"Too dull to be called a weapon," he murmured.
Still, he ran his thumb along the edge and smiled faintly.
"But just sharp enough to kill."
He closed his eyes, mind shifting to Yan Qingyue.
She hadn't approached again. She was too cautious. But he already had plans for her and he won't allow anything to get in his way again.
She had to die.
Not now.
But soon.
Xue Mo doused the flame. The darkness greeted him like an old friend.
Tomorrow, the hunt would begin.