Lin Feng's steps were heavy as he walked away from the Hall of Discipline. Becoming an inner disciple should have felt like a victory, but it carried an oppressive weight he hadn't anticipated. The Flame Lotus Sword, secured at his side, added to the pressure. Despite its silence, he could sense its dormant hunger.
The sect grounds buzzed with life as disciples moved between towering pavilions and training fields. Lin Feng's entrance into the inner circle had drawn attention, though not the kind he welcomed. Whispers trailed behind him like shadows.
"Did you see his sword? Something's off about it."
"He barely made it out of the trials alive. How did he reach twenty-third?"
"It's just luck. He won't last long."
Lin Feng ignored them, his expression stoic. His time in the Mortal Realm had taught him that words meant nothing unless backed by power. Still, the glances from the other disciples felt like daggers.
---
The first clash came sooner than expected.
Lin Feng was making his way to the dormitories when a voice stopped him cold. "So, you're the stray dog everyone's been talking about."
He turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered young man leaning casually against a pillar. His robes bore the insignia of the Blood Talon Faction, a group notorious for its dominance among inner disciples. Behind him stood a small group of followers, their smirks as sharp as blades.
"And you are?" Lin Feng asked, his tone neutral.
"Zhao Han," the man replied, pushing off the pillar and stepping closer. His gaze swept over Lin Feng like a predator sizing up prey. "Ranked fifteenth. But you'll remember that soon enough."
Lin Feng met his gaze evenly. "Is there a point to this conversation?"
Zhao Han's smirk widened, but there was no humor in it. "Just a reminder. You're playing in a bigger league now, and this isn't the backwater village you crawled out of. Watch your step, or someone might decide to put you in your place."
Lin Feng's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Good," Zhao Han said, turning to leave. His followers snickered as they trailed after him.
Lin Feng exhaled slowly. He wasn't naive—he knew the sect was as much a battlefield of politics and power as it was one of cultivation. If Zhao Han was the first to make his move, others would surely follow.
---
The dormitories were a stark contrast to the grandeur of the sect's outer halls. Rows of simple wooden cots lined the walls, and the air smelled faintly of incense and sweat. Lin Feng found an empty corner and dropped onto the bed, his body aching from the trials and the confrontation with Zhao Han.
The next morning, Lin Feng stood among the other inner disciples at the training grounds. The arena was a massive, open space surrounded by towering stone pillars. Disciples of all ranks gathered in clusters, their voices a murmur of excitement. Today was the first sparring session, a tradition to establish dominance and solidify rankings.
Lin Feng's name was called early. He stepped into the arena, his heart steady but his mind alert. His opponent, Bai Ren, was ranked thirty-second—a position just below Lin Feng's. The wiry youth carried a sleek spear, its blade gleaming with faint spiritual energy.
"Don't worry," Bai Ren said, smirking. "I'll go easy on you. Newcomers shouldn't overexert themselves."
Lin Feng drew the Flame Lotus Sword, its crimson glow drawing murmurs from the crowd. Bai Ren's smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his confidence.
The gong sounded, and Bai Ren lunged, his spear a blur. Lin Feng sidestepped, his movements precise but cautious. He was still adjusting to the sword's weight and its peculiar energy. Bai Ren pressed the attack, each strike faster and more aggressive than the last.
Lin Feng parried and countered, his focus narrowing to the point of his blade. He could feel the Flame Lotus Sword pulsing in his hand, its power like a coiled serpent waiting to strike. But he hesitated to draw on it, the memory of the shadowy figure's voice fresh in his mind.
Bai Ren's spear grazed Lin Feng's shoulder, drawing blood. The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers, the noise a cacophony in Lin Feng's ears. His grip tightened on the sword. He couldn't afford to lose, not in his first match.
Summoning his resolve, Lin Feng launched a counterattack. His strikes were swift and relentless, each one forcing Bai Ren back. The Flame Lotus Sword's aura flared, and Lin Feng felt a surge of power. For a moment, it was as if the blade was guiding him, its energy intertwining with his own.
Bai Ren's smirk vanished as he struggled to defend against the onslaught. But just as Lin Feng prepared to deliver the finishing blow, the sword's energy recoiled. A searing pain shot through his arm, and his movements faltered. Bai Ren seized the opportunity, delivering a powerful strike that sent Lin Feng sprawling to the ground.
The crowd erupted in laughter and applause as Bai Ren stood over Lin Feng, his spear pointed at his throat. "Looks like you're not as tough as you thought," Bai Ren sneered.
Lin Feng gritted his teeth, his vision swimming. He had lost, but the fight wasn't over—not in his mind.
---
Later that night, Lin Feng sat alone in the dormitory, his body aching and his thoughts restless. The Flame Lotus Sword lay beside him, its glow cold and indifferent.
"You're testing me," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I won't break."
The sword didn't respond, but Lin Feng could feel its presence, like a shadow lingering at the edge of his consciousness. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening.
The loss had stung, but it was a reminder of how far he still had to go. If the sword was going to challenge him, he would rise to meet it. If the inner disciples were going to look down on him, he would make them regret it.
Lin Feng didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain: he wouldn't stop. No matter how many times he fell, he would rise again.