Kieran moved on, following a faint, crystalline shimmer his System detected pulsing from deeper in the fog. It led him into a narrow canyon. The fog here was thinner, and the walls were strange they seemed to hold faint, ghostly after-images of two cultivators locked in a centuries-old duel, their movements repeating on a loop.At the canyon’s end was a small alcove. On a natural stone pedestal rested a ‘Reflection Shard.’ It was a jagged piece of crystal, glowing with a soft, internal light, reflecting the ghostly duel on the walls around it.He was ten steps away when a voice spoke from behind him.“I knew you’d go for the isolated ones. Too cowardly to fight where anyone can see.”Kieran turned. Three outer disciples stood blocking the canyon entrance. They weren’t from Marcus’s group. They looked older, harder. Opportunists. The leader, a sharp-faced youth with a scar across his chin, smiled.“The custodian. The free token. Hand over your participation medallion and crawl back th

The murmurs on the ledge rose to an outright buzz. Alistair Reed. The name carried weight. He was the tall, handsome disciple who’d been speaking with Marcus. He was also a top contender for promotion, a 4th Stage Qi Condensation cultivator known for his precise, elegant swordsmanship and icy composure. He was the last person a ragged custodian should face in the first duel.Kieran watched as Alistair stepped gracefully into the designated fighting circle drawn on the stone. He drew his sword with a soft, clear ring a blade of pale blue spirit-steel that seemed to hum with contained frost. His expression was serene, but his eyes held the sharp focus of a predator.This was no accident. The System’s prediction was right. Marcus’s fear had driven him to use his influence, and Alistair, for reasons of his own, had obliged.Elder Willem gestured for Kieran to enter the circle. “No fatal strikes. Yield or incapacitation ends the match. Begin.”Kieran stepped into the ring, the heavy Slag

The moss-giant towered over him, a titan of compressed vegetation and stagnant water. Its single human eye, Sylvia’s eye, blazed with a pain that had curdled into fury. The Grove’s whispers were gone, replaced by a deep, grinding roar of roots and rushing sap.“YOU TAKE. YOU SILENCE. YOU ARE A CANCER IN THE MEMORY.”It took a step forward, the ground trembling. A massive, root-and-moss fist the size of Kieran’s torso swung down.He couldn’t block that. He dove sideways, the fist smashing into the stone where he’d stood, cratering it and sending up chunks of rock and dead grey moss.The problem was the sheer scale. His nullifying touch worked, but it was like trying to put out a forest fire with a cup of sand. He could kill a patch of moss on contact, but the giant was constantly renewing itself, drawing from the concentrated life-force Sylvia had merged with.He rolled to his feet, circling. The giant was slow, ponderous. But it was also relentless, and the grove was a closed circle

The silence was broken by Elder Willem clearing his throat, the sound unnaturally loud. “Victory to Kieran. The Trials are concluded. Top rankings will be posted by dawn.”There were no cheers. No applause. The remaining disciples looked at Kieran as one might look at a natural disaster that had, by some miracle, spared them. Garrick was helped to his feet by two others, his face pale and hollow, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.Kieran stood alone in the center of the ledge, the Void-Hearth Staff cold in his hand. The rush of stolen Essence from Garrick still hummed in his veins, a sickeningly sweet power. He felt strong. Invincible, even. And deeply, profoundly wrong.He had crossed a line he hadn’t even seen. He hadn’t just defended himself or outlasted an opponent. He had consumed their cultivation, their hard-won strength, as if it were trash. He was no longer just a scavenger of waste. He was a parasite of progress.An inner sect disciple in finer robes approached, his face carefull

The three figures vanished into the trees as soon as Kieran moved toward his door. A message, not an attack. We are watching. We have not forgotten.Sleep was impossible. The vast sorrow from the Weeping Caves was a quiet ocean inside him, and the sharp, jagged fear of Marcus was a needle pricking his skin. He spent the night sitting on the floor, the Void-Hearth Staff across his lap, cycling the dense Essence in his core just to feel the familiar, cold power. It was a comfort, even if it was born of poison.At dawn, Hall Master Vex arrived without ceremony, a scroll tucked under his arm. His expression was grimmer than usual.“Change of plans,” Vex said without greeting. “The mining outpost contamination is on hold. You have a new assignment. Urgent.”He unrolled the scroll on Kieran’s small table. It was a map of the sect’s western border, marked with a red X near a place called the ‘Blighted Thicket.’“A patrol of three outer disciples failed to return two days ago,” Vex explained