Groans of agony echoed through the valley.

  On a modest stone platform at the heart of the gorge, a dozen figures stood in silence, observing.

  Several young men dressed in black robes watched the children still submerged in the medicinal baths.

  “It’s only been five minutes, and several have already given up—or started screaming.”

  “You’re being too harsh. They’re barely fourteen.”

  “Exactly… this is their first taste of the pain of cultivation.”

  Their voices blended into a low murmur as they exchanged glances and quiet remarks.

  Farther away, hidden from sight, three elders sat around a rough stone table, each resting on a carved chair. One of them poured tea from a jade set with practiced elegance, the soft sound of liquid punctuating their discussion.

  “Fifty came to the Jade Peak trial,” said Elder Shen calmly. “Only sixteen remain.”

  “That’s nothing to worry about,” replied Peak Master Mo Tianhai, draining his cup in a single motion. “We aren’t testing aptitude—this trial is about character and will. When forging the body, endurance matters as much as talent. Life doesn’t strike gently.”

  “True,” Elder Zou agreed, taking a measured sip. “Still, talent can’t be ignored. Higher aptitude leads to greater tolerance… and a stronger reaction to the medicinal bath. In the end, both are being tested.”

  “Then we simply observe,” Shen said. “By your own rules, Elder Mo, anyone who lasts more than five minutes has already passed.”

  A low chuckle escaped Mo Tianhai.

  “Yes. Those children already belong to Jade Peak. But now…” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I want to see who has the most guts.”

  A faint smile—borderline sadistic—curved his lips.

  Elder Zou sighed.

  “Poor children. They have no idea how twisted you are. At least you won’t be training them personally.”

  “Indeed,” Shen replied serenely. “New disciples walk their own path, guided only by weekly lectures. There’s no better teacher than one’s own struggle.”

  “Enough,” Mo said, his gaze sharpening. “Something interesting is happening with that boy.”

  Guided by Mo’s spiritual perception, Elder Zou focused on the child in question.

  “That one… his meridians are strange. I sensed it only briefly—I couldn’t identify what it was. And when I tried to examine him, his spiritual root rejected my sense outright.”

  “I thought as much,” Mo murmured, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I have a suspicion. For now, let’s keep watching. Elder Shen, bring me his test results later.”

  While the elders observed, Jin was fighting for his life.

  I don’t know about the others… but I feel like I’m dying.

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  Every cell screamed. Every fiber of muscle and tendon burned in protest.

  The liquid scorched his skin like molten fire. Bubbles streamed along his back as searing heat surged through his veins. Each breath came out as mist, his lungs struggling to keep pace.

  Worse still, he couldn’t move.

  His body remained locked in the meditation posture, as though the bath itself had imprisoned him. Pain flooded his senses, blurring his thoughts, threatening to drown him.

  With nothing else to cling to, Jin let his mind drift—anything to stay conscious.

  That was when he noticed it.

  An invisible energy flowed from the liquid into his body, threading through his meridians in endless cycles. With each pass, it burned away impurities—excruciating, yet oddly cleansing.

  Time slipped by. The pain didn’t vanish, but it dulled, transforming. Alongside it came something new—a faint pleasure each time the energy completed its circuit.

  Please don’t tell me I’m turning into a masochist, he joked weakly.

  Then something stranger revealed itself.

  Where his dantian should have been, threads of golden energy traced the paths carved by the medicinal liquid. This wasn’t purification—it was tempering.

  His meridians hardened, growing denser, tougher, forged by fire.

  Pain still stabbed at his consciousness, yet beneath it, strength blossomed. His body grew sturdier with every passing second.

  If anyone had been watching closely, they would have noticed a faint golden glow seeping from his skin. The liquid around him trembled, resonating with his breath.

  Though it felt like an eternity to Jin, outside, only five more minutes passed.

  At the twelve-minute mark, the final child besides Jin staggered out of his tub, face twisted in agony. The liquid he left behind had turned murky, thick with dark impurities.

  “How enviable… Even as a test, this is a gift from Peak Master Mo.”

  “That bath is a meridian-purifying liquid. Even the most basic version is a treasure.”

  “I still remember mine. If I could do it again… maybe I wouldn’t be stuck at the ninth level of Qi Gathering.”

  As the disciples chatted, a young woman with blue hair narrowed her eyes.

  “That boy… the strange one.”

  Her name was Yan Mei—the youngest direct disciple of Mo Tianhai. She had three senior brothers and one senior sister, the first disciple her master had ever accepted. Though usually composed, curiosity often betrayed her.

  Unable to resist, she extended her spiritual sense toward Jin’s tub.

  At only twenty years old, she had already reached mid–Foundation Establishment, her perception refined and precise.

  The moment her sense touched the liquid’s surface, a sharp pain pierced her mind.

  Something rejected her.

  Startled, she pulled back, confusion flickering across her face. She was about to step forward when a voice echoed directly within her consciousness—strong, yet gentle.

  “Calm yourself. Haven’t I warned you? Excessive curiosity invites disaster.”

  Her master.

  “Forget what you sensed. Just observe. And one more thing—when that boy enters the outer sect, look after him a little. Who knows… he may become your junior brother one day.”

  A teasing laugh lingered before fading away.

  Yan Mei frowned softly.

  “Master never explains anything properly…” she muttered, turning her gaze back to the final boy in the baths.

  Jin remained oblivious to everything beyond his torment.

  Around him, whispers spread among the children who had already withdrawn.

  “How can that useless guy last longer than me?”

  “I have spiritual-grade meridians and couldn’t even endure eight minutes!”

  Gasps followed. Among them stood one boy who remained silent—the one who had lasted nearly fourteen minutes.

  Coming from a cultivator family, he understood the brutality of the process. He also understood the value of the medicinal bath—and had endured to extract every possible benefit.

  “Why so quiet, Lian Xuan?” another boy sneered. “You hold the record. Doesn’t it bother you that some nobody’s stealing your spotlight?”

  Lian Xuan spared him a brief glance before turning his gaze back to Jin’s unmoving figure.

  “I don’t speak before seeing results,” he said calmly. “And if he were truly trash, he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes.”

  The other boy clenched his teeth, fury simmering beneath the surface—but he stayed silent.

  Lian Xuan wasn’t just more talented. His background made him untouchable for him.

  So he said nothing, choosing instead to glare at Jin—

  That mysterious boy, suspended between agony and transformation.