With every step forward, Li Wei draws nearer to the front, where the fates of disciples are decided. The line, once a long, has diminished. As each disciple is assessed, the numbers ebb away. The wide plaza now holds only a scattering of figures, the rest having met their judgment. Ahead, he can finally see the direct disciple clearly, a figure with the task of discerning the worth of each outer disciple.
The direct disciple stands still, his hand reaching out to rest upon the shoulder of the next in line. Li Wei watches as, with each touch, the disciple in front either is spooked and moves to safety or is snatched away by the skeletons to an uncertain end in the cauldron.
Li Wei glances at the elders at the back of the courtyard. They seem detached from the proceedings, possibly bored by the familiar chore. They converse with each other, only half-watching the ritual that unfolds before them.
As the queue shortens further, Li Wei observes the ritual with intensifying focus. The direct disciple's method is quick and composed. Li Wei notices a subtle rhythm—the reach, the touch, the brief moment of concentration where the direct disciple's brow furrows slightly, and then the release.
Li Wei realises that the direct disciple must employ a technique unknown to him, allowing a higher-level cultivator to sense the cultivation level of another.
In Li Wei's head, the thought is clear and straightforward: "The touch is key. That's how they tell someone's real level."
Li Wei thinks, "I know I'm past the threshold, but I can't shake off the nerves. I've worked hard, but who knows what the direct disciple will decide. Soon, he'll touch my shoulder. Will the technique show I'm at the fifth level or not?"
He takes a quiet breath, steadying his nerves. His hand clenches his identity token —given when he first joined the sect four years ago. It's a small comfort.
The line continues to move, and now there are only a few disciples between Li Wei and the direct disciple. He watches them go through the process, trying to glean any last-minute insights that might aid him, though he knows there's little within his control now.
Li Wei steps closer to the front, now seeing the cauldron clearly. It stands massive, its surface aged and darkened with a patina that tells of its long service. Intricate runes are carved deeply into the iron, wrapping around its circumference in bands that seem to tell a story of ancient rites. The skeletons that stand guard around it are just as still and silent. Still, there's a sense that things could spring into motion at any moment.
Li Wei is drawn to the cauldron as a thick, brown liquid oozes over its edge. The liquid drops to the ground.
"Hsss".
He watches as it eats into the stone, dissolving it and leaving behind a small smoking pit.
A disciple, five places ahead of Li Wei, steps forward. The disciple announces confidently, "Disciple of the sixth year," presenting his sect token to the direct disciple.
The direct disciple places both hands on the shoulders of the front man.
As the Direct Disciple touches him, he seems to steel himself for a moment that decides his fate. Once resigned to the outcome, his eyes spark with a final, desperate strategy. He shifts his weight, a prelude to the technique he's about to employ—a last attempt at defiance.
But as he launches his technique, his movements are sluggish, his execution flawed. His attempt is feeble, noticeably slower than one would expect from a cultivator claiming six years of training. This attempt is pitiful to the direct disciple, an embodiment of power like an ant trying to topple a mountain.
The direct disciple's hand strikes, not with a grasp but with a brutal smash to the centre of the failed disciple's face. The impact is horrific, and with a cruel flick of his wrist, flesh and bone give way, tearing free. The nose is gone, and the eyes are displaced into a grotesque arrangement, leaving a cratered ruin in the face.
The structure of his skull is no match for the direct disciple's power. It demonstrates the gulf between their abilities.
The skeletal enforcers advance. They take hold of the now-lifeless disciple, their fingers locking around his limbs. They drag him, his head lolling unnaturally.
Reaching the cauldron, they hoist the body as if disposing of refuse rather than what was once a fellow cultivator. It travels through the air with a cumbersome motion, more a dead weight than a shadow, before it drops heavily into the cauldron's dark interior.
The body lands with a heavy splash, the sound resonating against the liquid depths.
Uncaring of recent events, the direct disciple reaches out and places both hands upon the shoulders of the next disciple.
A stark recognition surfaces inside Li Wei's head: "I've risked everything, stealing the Bone Fire. The pain I've endured breaking through must count for something now."
Finally, the disciple ahead of Li Wei steps forward, and the process unfolds again. The hand on the shoulder, the inward focus of the direct disciple, and then the nod. The disciple is waved through, a shocked look in his posture as he joins the others who have passed.
And now, there is no one left in front of Li Wei. It's his turn. He steps forward, the plaza around him both vast and suffocatingly small as all eyes seem to turn his way. The direct disciple meets his gaze, and Li Wei presents his token, ready to face the judgment of his sect.
Li Wei reaches into his robe and retrieves the small token, the symbol of his time and progress within the sect. Holding it out towards the direct disciple, he states his position clearly, "Fourth-year disciple."
The direct disciple examines the token briefly before giving a slight nod, acknowledging Li Wei's claim.
The direct disciple extends his hands firmly on Li Wei's shoulders. In an instant, the world around Li Wei blurs, his vision swimming. A wave of nausea overcomes him as an immense surge of Qi bursts through him, flowing deep into the marrow of his bones. It rattles his core, leaving his connection to his own Qi momentarily severed, disrupted by the overwhelming influx. The disorientation sensation leaves Li Wei vulnerable and exposed as a puppet to the direct disciple's probing energy.
A skeleton reaches out and shoves Li Wei away from the line. The unexpected force sends him off to the side, his feet shuffling in the dirt to catch himself from falling. As he moves away from the queue, the initial shock of the push lingers in his muscles. Standing to the side of the commotion, it takes him a minute to gather himself and shake off the disorientation. Slowly, the connection to his Qi begins to mend, the world comes back into focus, and Li Wei starts to feel steadier on his feet.
The lines of outer disciples gradually diminish as each takes their turn with the direct disciples. One by one, they step forward, present their tokens, and receive the touch on their shoulders that determines their fate. Some walk away. In contrast, others do not.
Eventually, the last of the disciples is done.
Immediately after the last disciple completed his test, Li Wei turned his attention to the elders. He watches as something begins to happen with the elders' backs. Bones emerge, forming wings. These wings are large. They look solid and heavy. The bones unfold, reaching outwards on either side of each elder.
Li Wei notices the details of these wings. The bones are white and long. They do not have feathers. They are just bones. There are many bones in each wing, joined together in a way that makes Li Wei think of the branches of a tree.
He looks closer and sees that the wings do not move like bird wings. They do not flap. They are still. They are too heavy and not shaped right for flying. Yet, as Li Wei watches, the elders lift off the ground. They go up, away from the courtyard, moving into the sky.
The elders do not move much as they rise. Their bodies are straight. Their arms are by their sides. The wings stay still and open. Li Wei can hear a sound as they go up. It is not loud, but it is there. It is not the sound of wings beating the air.
Li Wei keeps watching as the elders get higher. He does not understand how the wings work. He looks around at the other disciples. They are watching, too. No one speaks. The elders get smaller as they go up and up. In a short time, they are high above the courtyard.
The elders' ascent is smooth, their bodies motionless except for the gradual lift. They hover higher, commanding the space above the disciples. They seem at ease in the air, their conversation continuing as if the act of levitating is an everyday occurrence.
Li Wei observes the impossible mechanics, the wings defying what he knows about flight. The elders maintain their hover, their presence above the courtyard like silent sentinels. The wings, intimidating in their size and form, are a testament to something beyond ordinary understanding.
The elders remain hovering, displaying their status and power within the sect. Their altitude allows them a clear view of everything and everyone below. Yet, they seem detached and uninterested even from their elevated vantage point. Li Wei and the rest can only watch in silent wonder as the elders float above them, held in the air by wings that should not carry them.
"You've passed," Elder Guan addresses the successful ones, his voice echoing across the open space. He then turns his gaze at the cauldron, his words sharp and unforgiving. "Those who failed are an embarrassment to the sect."
"At least they might be useful in death," he remarks coldly.
Their words fall from the sky like stones. "Be thankful, you weak fucks, that the sect leader is so merciful," Elder Shen pronounces with disdain. There's a dangerous edge to his speech as he considers their fate. "If it were me, I'd have turned you all to bone pills today."
Elder Guan and Elder Shen turn, and their wings carry them away. They go smoothly, leaving the plaza behind. All the direct disciples follow them. They walk away quickly, leaving the space where the tests happened.
The outer disciples drift away, some still dazed, lingering in the aftermath. A few dart off quickly, eager to escape, while others remain, slow to shake off the plaza's heavy air. The crowd thins unevenly, the plaza gradually becoming more deserted.
Li Wei is one of the quickest to depart.
Li Wei mutters, "Time to go, I need to get the fuck out of this plaza."
He starts to walk. His steps are quick. He wants to put distance between him and the plaza. As he walks, he turns his head to look back.
The cauldron is still there. It is at the centre of the plaza. It is big, and it is alone. It is the last thing left where all the tests happened. It is where the failures ended.
Li Wei keeps walking. He does not stop. He does not want to be here anymore. He leaves the plaza and the cauldron behind. He moves towards a place that is not here, away from the tests, the elders, and the cauldron. He wants to be anywhere else. He keeps going until the plaza is out of sight.