The courtyard fell silent after the last candidate stepped down from the Heavenly Pulse Array.
In total, sixty-seven participants had passed.
Now, only one task remained between them and outer disciple status—a test of survival.
A grey-robed disciple raised his voice again, this time without ceremony.
"The second part of the trial will test more than talent. It will test your will in action. Your ability to survive when no one is there to protect you."
Behind him, a massive formation disk began to glow—ancient stone engraved with countless lines, humming faintly with spirit energy.
"This is the entrance to the Outer Spirit Field, a sealed region of our sect grounds. Inside, you will find wild spirit beasts and hidden spirit tokens. You have until dawn tomorrow to retrieve a token and return alive."
A few participants tensed.
The disciple continued, expression unreadable. "Let me be clear. Spirit beasts in the Outer Spirit Field are real. They will not hold back. Many are first-rank, roughly equal to Qi Refining cultivators. There are also a few second-rank beasts—which possess strength close to the Foundation Building realm."
A hush spread.
"We expect you to survive. But not all of you will succeed. There are fewer tokens than participants. Those who return without one—fail."
He let that sink in.
"You are allowed to use any weapons, pills, or talismans you possess. But harming fellow trial participants will result in immediate disqualification—or worse."
With that, the formation surged.
Rings of light formed at the edge of the platform. Groups of five stepped into each, vanishing in bursts of spiritual light.
Dawn stood alone, as always. When his group was called, he stepped in with four others.
Light engulfed them.
---
They landed in a forest thick with mist.
Tall trees towered above them, their bark marked with claw gouges and strange moss. Vines slithered like snakes in the wind, and the distant cry of beasts echoed through the trees.
Spiritual energy hung heavy in the air—wild and untamed.
The five cultivators exchanged looks.
The tallest among them, a lean youth in red robes, gave a cold snort. "Don't get in my way."
He vanished into the forest before anyone could respond.
Two more followed, moving cautiously. The fourth, a boy barely thirteen, trembled before darting into the underbrush in a panic.
Dawn was alone again.
He crouched low, placing his hand against the earth. Warm. Fresh beast tracks.
Two legs. Heavy. Probably a Blood-Clawed Crane. First rank. Hungry.
He rose slowly and began to walk—not fast, not slow. Silent.
---
Time passed. The forest lived.
From the shadows, low-ranked spirit beasts lunged.
A Steel-Backed Boar charged from the thickets.
Dawn shifted his stance.
One clean step. One clean strike.
The beast fell, its spirit core removed with surgical precision. He didn't even glance back.
He moved deeper.
A Wind-Spike Lizard hissed from a rock shelf. Venom shimmered on its tongue.
He threw a stone—perfect angle. The lizard dropped before it could screech.
He paused under an ancient tree, found the spirit token tucked into a hollow root, and pocketed it.
---
Hours passed.
Distant cries echoed as other participants clashed with beasts—or with each other. Some used talismans to escape, their jade charms flashing before they vanished in protective light.
Dawn did not need one.
He had already found what he needed. But he did not leave.
Instead, he climbed higher into the rocks and sat, letting the cold night wind settle over him. He closed his eyes, listening.
That was when the growl came.
Low. Guttural. Wrong.
A Second-Rank Beast.
Dawn opened his eyes slowly.
In the clearing ahead, something stirred.
A hulking Bonehorn Wolf stalked the trees, its fur grey-black and matted with dried blood. It sniffed the air and bared jagged fangs.
Any ordinary Qi Refining cultivator would be shredded within seconds.
Even a Foundation Building disciple might hesitate.
But Dawn's expression didn't change.
He stepped off the rock and walked into the clearing.
The wolf turned.
Its eyes locked with his.
It lunged.
Dawn's foot shifted.
His right hand moved—not fast, not forceful—but precise.
And just before the wolf's fangs reached him—
The scene cut to black.
---
End of Chapter Three