NOTE-The path ahead grows colder, and the world of Murim begins to unfold. Let's see how far Linfeng's will can carry him.
The world blurred into silence the moment Linfeng's knees struck the dirt. Blood trickled from his lip, warm and metallic, as the weight of Xiao Long's final strike crashed into his chest like a falling boulder. His vision spun — the jeering laughter of the noble youth echoing faintly through the ringing in his ears.
"You should've stayed in your filthy village," Xiao Long spat, adjusting his azure robe. The golden insignia of the Xiao family shimmered proudly across his chest — two crossed blades beneath a soaring falcon. "Did you really think a commoner could stand before me?"
Linfeng's breath came shallow and broken. His wooden sword, chipped and splintered, lay just out of reach. Every muscle screamed in protest, yet his eyes still burned — not with pain, but with refusal. He tried to stand, one trembling hand digging into the ground.
"Still trying to rise?" Xiao Long's smile twisted. "Then die crawling."
He stepped forward, qi flaring faintly around his palm. But before his hand could descend, a blur of motion cut the air.
A voice — calm, unhurried, yet carrying a weight that froze the world — followed.
"Enough."
Xiao Long's wrist stopped mid-air. A hand — pale, unyielding, and cloaked in faint azure qi — held him fast. Xiao Long turned, the mockery on his face draining into shock.
"E–Elder Hao Yu…"
The man who stood behind him wore a long dark robe lined with silver threads, his expression carved in quiet steel. Elder Hao Yu , one of the *Core Elders* of AzureCloud Martial Hall, his name alone carried authority that made even noble clans bow.
"Using martial qi against an unarmed disciple on Hall grounds," Hao Yu said, his tone neither loud nor soft, yet each word felt like a blade pressed to the skin. "Tell me, Xiao Long… do the teachings of your Xiao family permit this kind of disgrace?"
"I—he insulted—" Xiao Long stammered, lowering his gaze.
"Your pride is fragile," Hao Yu interrupted. "And a fragile pride has no place on the Martial Path."
His grip released. Xiao Long stepped back quickly, bowing low, his face burning with both humiliation and hatred. Hao Yu didn't spare him another glance. His attention shifted toward Linfeng's limp body on the ground. The young boy's breathing was faint, but steady. Even in unconsciousness, his fingers still clenched the broken hilt of his wooden sword.
"Still grasping for strength even in defeat…" Hao Yu murmured. "A stubborn one."
He turned to the group of disciples standing nearby. "You there — summon Xu Lan from the inner court. Tell her to treat him."
Within moments, a figure approached — a young woman dressed in flowing white robes embroidered with faint sky-blue petals. Her black hair was tied neatly with a silk ribbon, and her expression carried the poise of discipline.
"Elder Hao," she greeted, bowing slightly.
"Take care of this boy," Hao Yu instructed. "He'll be listed among the new outer disciples. See that he lives long enough to find his footing."
Xu Lan's gaze flickered toward Linfeng, assessing his wounds with quiet precision. "Understood, Elder."
With a motion of her hand, faint qi threads — soft blue and shimmering — flowed from her fingertips, wrapping around Linfeng's body. The air around them seemed to hum as she lifted him effortlessly, guiding his unconscious form toward the hall's inner infirmary.
Behind them, Hao Yu looked toward the path leading up the mountain, his eyes unreadable.
"Even in mud, some seeds refuse to rot," he muttered before turning away.
---
The scent of incense and crushed herbs drifted through the room. Somewhere beyond the wooden screens, the faint clang of training swords echoed — rhythmic and fierce.
Linfeng stirred, his body aching as though every bone had been hammered. He blinked, the ceiling above him carved with intricate clouds and dragons.
"You're awake."
The voice was gentle but firm. Linfeng turned his head slightly, wincing at the movement. Xu Lan sat beside him, her hands folded over a small bowl of steaming salve. Her presence felt calm — like spring water over stone.
"You're in AzureCloud Hall's infirmary," she explained. "You've been out for almost half a day."
Linfeng tried to sit up, only for pain to shoot through his ribs. Xu Lan placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't. You cracked two ribs, and your qi flow's a mess."
He looked at her — puzzled. "Who are you?"
"Xu Lan," she said simply. "Inner Disciple of AzureCloud Martial Hall. Elder Hao Yu asked me to treat you."
"Elder Hao…" Linfeng murmured, recalling the cold voice before darkness took him. "He saved me?"
Xu Lan nodded faintly. "Saved you from your own stubbornness, perhaps." Her lips curved slightly. "You challenged a second-rate martial artist without a shred of qi in your body. Most would call that suicide."
Linfeng looked down. "I didn't fight to win."
"Oh?" Xu Lan arched an eyebrow.
"I fought because I couldn't bow." His fingers tightened over the blanket. "He insulted my village… and my grandmother."
The briefest flicker of emotion passed through Xu Lan's eyes — something like understanding.
"You'll learn, Linfeng. Pride can either forge you or destroy you in this place. AzureCloud doesn't favor the weak — not in body, and certainly not in heart."
Outside, a chorus of shouts rose and fell — the morning training of the outer disciples. Xu Lan turned toward the open window, where sunlight spilled over the distant courtyards.
"This hall," she said quietly, "was built on the remnants of old Murim. Thousands of years of battles, alliances, and betrayals shaped these mountains. The Hall Master, **Shen Yan** — known across the lands as the *Divine Sword* — forged this place to gather every soul willing to walk the path of strength."
Linfeng listened, his mind slowly painting the image: vast courtyards filled with young cultivators, stone statues of ancient heroes, and roaring waterfalls laced with qi mist.
"Outer Disciples train in the lower courts," Xu Lan continued. "Only when you surpass them can you enter the Inner Court — where we study deeper martial arts under instructors and elders. Above that are the Core Disciples, chosen personally by Core Elders or even the Hall Master himself."
Her gaze returned to him. "You, Linfeng, start from the bottom. Outer Court. No family name, no backing, no cultivation base."
He met her eyes. "Then I'll climb."
A small silence stretched between them — then, to his surprise, Xu Lan smiled, though faintly.
"Then climb high enough to be seen, commoner. But remember…" She rose, setting the bowl aside. "AzureCloud Mountain is filled with countless fallen bones of those who said the same."
Her footsteps were light as she turned to leave. Just before she stepped out, Linfeng called out softly, "Thank you, Xu Lan."
She paused at the doorway, the sunlight catching in her hair.
"Then stand tall, Outer Disciple Linfeng," she said, her tone calm but edged with quiet respect.
"AzureCloud does not favor the weak."
When she left, silence returned. Linfeng stared at his calloused hands, flexing his fingers. Each ache in his body pulsed with memory — the laughter, the defeat, the humiliation. Yet beneath all that pain, something steadier stirred — a flame that refused to die.
He turned his gaze toward the open window. Beyond it, he could see the sprawling Martial Hall — pagodas rising like blades into the clouds, waterfalls pouring qi mist across courtyards where hundreds trained under the watchful eyes of instructors. The very air shimmered with energy, alive and fierce.
"This…" Linfeng whispered, his voice hoarse but certain, "…is where it begins."