The night stretched deep over the Nine Hells Demon Sect, shrouding the mountains in an eerie silence. Most of the outer disciples had retired to their quarters, their injuries from the day's brutal training weighing heavy on them.
Zhang Yan, however, did not sleep.
He sat cross-legged beneath a dead, twisted tree at the edge of the training grounds, his gaze fixed on the moonlit steel in his hands—a simple, unadorned dagger, no different from a thousand others. Yet, to Zhang Yan, it was his first true weapon.
In the sect, treasures were earned through blood, not given. He had nothing—no powerful techniques, no secret arts, no master.
But he had his mind, his instincts, and the dagger he had stolen from a fallen acolyte's corpse.
The blade was old, its edge slightly dulled, but Zhang Yan had honed it on rough stone until it gleamed under the pale moonlight. He ran a thumb along its surface, feeling the cold bite of steel. It was not the finest weapon, but it was his.
A quiet voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You fight well for someone so new."
Zhang Yan's grip tightened on the dagger as he turned. A girl stood a few paces away, her black robes billowing slightly in the night breeze. She was about his age, her face delicate but marred by a faint scar along her jaw. Her eyes, dark and sharp, watched him with something between curiosity and amusement.
"I've seen you train alone every night," she continued, stepping closer. "Most new disciples would be licking their wounds after a fight with Wei Tian, not sharpening a stolen blade."
Zhang Yan remained silent. In the Nine Hells Demon Sect, trust was a dangerous thing.
The girl smirked. "No need to be so wary. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't bother talking first."
She crouched beside him, pulling out a thin needle-like dagger from her sleeve and spinning it between her fingers with practiced ease.
"Shi Lihua," she introduced herself. "Like you, I had to carve my place here. But unlike you, I don't pick fights in the open. That's why I'm still alive."
Zhang Yan studied her carefully. She moved with the grace of a shadow, her every motion controlled and precise. She was no brute like Wei Tian—she was a snake, dangerous in a different way.
"And what do you want from me?" he asked finally.
Shi Lihua chuckled. "I like knowing the strong before they become too dangerous to ignore. You'll rise quickly—unless someone kills you first."
Zhang Yan met her gaze. "Then I just have to make sure no one does."
She tilted her head, then smiled. "Good answer. Let's see if you can keep up with that statement."
With that, she rose, turning to leave. "One last thing," she added over her shoulder. "The next trial is in three days. The Sect Elders will throw us into the Bone-Eating Forest. You should prepare. It's not just the beasts you'll have to worry about."
Zhang Yan frowned slightly. The Bone-Eating Forest—a cursed place where demon-infested creatures lurked, their bodies twisted by corrupted qi. But that wasn't what concerned him.
It was the warning in Shi Lihua's voice.
The real danger wouldn't come from the beasts.
As she disappeared into the shadows, Zhang Yan turned back to his dagger. His grip tightened as he once more returned to his rhythmic honing of the blade.
Three days.
This was all the time he had to sharpen his blade—both the one in his hand and the one within his heart.
Because in the Bone-Eating Forest, hesitation meant death.