The restless murmurs that filled the arena did not fade on their own.
They were cut short.
Madam Yan's voice descended across the colosseum like the measured toll of a ceremonial bell, calm in tone yet carrying an authority that allowed no defiance.
"Candidates of the Golden Sparrow Guild," she began, her words clear and evenly spaced, "the trial begins."
The change was immediate. Conversations broke apart mid-sentence, shifting feet came to a halt, and the restless energy that had been spreading among the gathered youths seemed to draw inward, settling into a quiet, coiled tension.
"Today, you will face the first test—the measure of your Qi."
Lu Mao exhaled slowly as her words spread through the arena. His gaze lifted, not in haste, but with quiet intent, moving across the vast expanse as though he were committing it to memory.
The colosseum felt larger in silence. The curved stone walls rose high into the sky, enclosing the arena beneath an open sky, while layered balconies circled above, filled with elders and senior disciples. They remained still, their robes barely stirring, yet their presence weighed upon the space in a way that could not be ignored.
They were not here for spectacle.
They were here to judge.
Lu Mao felt it in the stillness, in the subtle heaviness that lingered in the air, as though every movement below was being measured against an unseen standard.
At the center of the arena stood the object of the trial.
A crystal pyramid, no taller than a man's chest, resting upon a carved stone base.
At first glance, it seemed unremarkable. Yet the longer one looked, the more unsettling it became. Light struck its surface and fractured into precise reflections, too clean to be natural, as if the crystal did not merely reflect what stood before it but revealed something beneath it.
A figure stepped forward.
High Elder Ji Han.
His presence filled the arena without effort, vast and steady like a quiet sky that needed no acknowledgment to exist.
"Step forward one by one," he said. "Place your hand upon the stone, release your Qi, and let the trial reveal your nature."
The first candidate approached.
Then the next.
And the next.
The rhythm settled, steady and unchanging. Yellow lights flickered weakly, orange glows followed with slightly more stability, but nothing yet broke beyond that boundary. Each result passed like a quiet judgment, shaping the unseen hierarchy among the candidates.
Lu Mao observed without comment. He noted the tension in shoulders, the hesitation in steps, the instability in breath before Qi was even released. The test was simple, yet it revealed more than strength.
It revealed control.
It revealed composure.
It revealed nature.
The pattern continued until Yan Mei stepped forward.
She did not announce herself, yet the space seemed to shift subtly as she moved. Her steps were measured, her posture relaxed, and there was a quiet certainty in her presence that did not need display.
Lu Mao's gaze followed her.
She placed her hand upon the crystal without hesitation.
Her Qi flowed.
Not violently.
Not forcefully.
But with a smooth, refined precision that felt deliberate.
The crystal responded instantly.
Crimson light rose, bright and unwavering.
A ripple of murmurs spread through the arena.
"Qi level: high," Ji Han announced.
Yan Mei accepted the red badge with a faint, composed smile and stepped aside. For a brief moment, her eyes met Lu Mao's before she moved on.
Lu Mao exhaled quietly.
That result had never been in doubt.
Then his turn came.
He stepped forward and placed his hand upon the crystal. The surface felt cool and steady beneath his palm as he released his Qi naturally, without forcing it.
The response came at once.
Orange light.
Stable.
Unremarkable.
"Qi level: mediocre," Ji Han said.
Lu Mao withdrew his hand, his gaze lingering briefly on the fading glow. There was no surprise in his expression, yet something in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly, as if acknowledging a truth he had already expected.
Not impressive.
But not worth dwelling on.
He accepted the badge and fastened it to his robes with steady fingers.
"…Could be worse," he murmured under his breath, the faintest trace of dry humor returning.
As he stepped away, a voice cut sharply through the air.
"What a loser."
Lu Mao did not stop immediately, but his attention shifted.
Zhang Wei stood a short distance away, his posture loose but intentional, like a drawn bow waiting to be released. The same low-level disciple robes hung from his frame, though his were dyed a richer green, a shade just distinct enough to mark him out. He wore them with quiet confidence, as if the color alone placed him above the rest. His hair was cropped short and precise, revealing small gold rings in his ears that caught the light whenever he moved. Leather guards hugged his wrists, dark and well-kept, worn not out of habit but with a deliberate awareness of how they looked.
Two other disciples stood at his side, not trailing him but standing with equal ease. Their shoulders were squared, their stances balanced, neither deferring nor shrinking back. One rested his hand loosely near the hilt at his waist, fingers tapping in idle rhythm; the other watched the surroundings with calm alertness, his gaze drifting over faces like a quiet appraisal. They didn't hover—they occupied the space like people who believed they belonged there.
There was an easy assurance among the three of them, the unspoken rhythm of those accustomed to moving as a unit.
Yan Mei's gaze sharpened the moment she saw them. "Mind your own business, Zhang Wei," she said, her voice flat.
Zhang Wei's lips curved faintly. He let his gaze slide over her, then settle on Lu Mao with an assessing, almost dismissive tilt.
"Mind my business?" he repeated, tone light but carrying an edge. "I am. I'm just wondering why you're wasting your time."
One of the disciples beside him exhaled a quiet laugh, not loud, not exaggerated—more like a private amusement. The other watched Lu Mao without smiling, studying him as if measuring something.
Zhang Wei took a single step forward, eyes locked on Lu Mao now.
"You could do better," he added, glancing briefly at Yan Mei before looking back at Lu Mao. "There are people worth walking beside… and people who just drag you down."
The meaning was clear. He didn't bother to hide it.
Lu Mao didn't respond at once. He simply stopped walking, then turned slowly, meeting Zhang Wei's gaze without heat, without flinch.
"You talk a lot," Lu Mao said calmly. "For someone who hasn't proven much yet."
The shift was immediate. The easy amusement around Zhang Wei tightened. Not embarrassment—something sharper. A spark.
The disciple on Zhang Wei's right lifted his chin slightly, interest flickering in his eyes. The one on the left folded his arms, watching now with deliberate focus.
Zhang Wei's smile thinned, not vanishing but sharpening.
"Haven't proven much?" he echoed, voice dropping a fraction. "Then you'll get your proof soon enough. I'm entering the trials this year."
He let the words sit there.
"And when I see you inside," he continued, tone cool, "I'll make sure you don't get far. If I get the chance, I'll knock you out myself."
His gaze hardened, challenge clear.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
Silence lingered for a heartbeat.
Lu Mao met the look without hesitation. There was no flash of anger in him—only a steady, unshaken calm.
"Good," he said simply. "Then don't hold back. If you're going to say it, make sure you can follow through."
A faint smile touched his lips, but it wasn't mocking.
"Otherwise, it'll be disappointing."
For a second, something unreadable passed through Zhang Wei's eyes—not anger, not quite surprise. Then he let out a quiet breath through his nose and turned away sharply.
"Let's see who's disappointed then," he muttered.
The two beside him moved with him at once—not hurrying, not lagging, their pace matching his in a smooth, practiced rhythm.
Lu Mao didn't watch them go. He simply turned back to the path ahead.
Yan Mei walked beside him, silent for several steps, the weight of the moment hanging between them like a held breath.
"He's the same age as us," she said. "His uncle is one of the stronger elders in the guild. Since he's eligible, he's participating in the trials like everyone else."
Lu Mao glanced at her briefly. "And he spends that time provoking people?"
"A habit of his," she replied. "He prefers to create trouble rather than avoid it."
She paused slightly before continuing. "He also likes to gather people around him. People he finds useful."
Lu Mao let out a quiet breath. "That explains the confidence."
Yan Mei's gaze shifted forward. "I am Madam Yan's daughter," she said simply. "He knows that."
Lu Mao's steps slowed just a fraction as the meaning settled.
"I see."
"He is interested in my strength," she continued. "Or perhaps in what comes with it. Either way, he wants me on his side."
Her eyes flicked toward him briefly.
"And since I am not," she added, "and I am speaking to you instead… you have become a convenient target."
Lu Mao's lips curved faintly.
"So I am dragged into trouble without asking for it."
Yan Mei studied him. "You don't seem concerned."
Lu Mao shrugged lightly. "If trouble has already decided to follow me, there is little point in running from it."
He glanced once toward where Zhang Wei had gone, noting the way others still hovered around him.
"…Besides," he added, his tone faintly amused, "he does not seem particularly interesting."
Yan Mei allowed herself a small smile before shaking her head.
They continued toward the gathering area as the trial carried on behind them, one candidate after another stepping forward to have their worth measured in a single moment.
Lu Mao's fingers brushed lightly against the orange badge at his chest.
Mediocre.
Unremarkable.
A result that would not draw attention, yet not one that stirred any sense of pride.
He lifted his gaze briefly toward the elders above, then let it settle forward once more.
Because this was only the beginning.
And whatever lay ahead would not be decided by a single measure of Qi.