At dawn, they left the Fog Vale behind.
The mist no longer clung to Rael—it parted for him. The relic bone, now fastened to his back by a leather strap, pulsed faintly as if breathing with his steps. Lin walked beside him, wary but silent, while the beast—his nameless companion—moved through the forest like a ghost.
They descended into lower valleys, passing old stone paths swallowed by weeds. The air thinned, and the humidity of the Fog Vale gave way to dry winds carrying the scent of ash and pine.
Before noon, Rael caught sight of it.
A distant wall. Black stone. Etched with talismanic patterns that pulsed under the sun.
The Eastern Outpost of Jiang Continent.
The first checkpoint before entering the lands ruled by cultivator sects.
---
They didn't approach from the road.
Instead, they cut through the thicket, observing from a high ridge. Dozens of martial practitioners moved through the gates—some mounted on spirit beasts, others clad in light armor bearing clan emblems.
Rael narrowed his eyes. Many of the travelers looked younger than twenty.
"Trial season," Lin muttered. "Looks like every sect is recruiting."
Rael didn't speak. His gaze traced the layout of the outpost—how guards rotated, how talisman sensors swept the gates, how hidden archers waited above.
He was measuring. Calculating.
Like he always did.
[Strategic Assessment: Cultivator Outpost – Tier 3]
Detected Spirit Barrier Level: Mid-Grade
Observation Pattern: Predictable
Guard Commander: Peak Qi Forging (Not a threat in direct combat)
Suggested Paths of Entry:
Disguise and enter with a caravan
Use Fog Cloak once at nightfall (Soul Cloak Movement)
Direct climb over northeast wall (Blind Spot detected)
Rael dismissed the system's assessment.
He had already chosen.
"We enter through the front," he said.
Lin blinked. "Are you insane? You're not even registered."
"I will be."
He pulled out a cloth pouch and took out something wrapped in black silk—a seal with the symbol of a long-dead clan. One he'd found among the ruins of the Fog Vale.
Lin looked pale. "That's a… Wraithblood crest."
Rael nodded. "And it's about to make me a candidate for the most dangerous sect in Jiang."
---
At the gate, he was stopped by two guards clad in silver robes, their expressions stern.
"Name," one demanded.
Rael held up the seal. "Rael. Wraithblood candidate."
Their faces changed instantly.
One of them whispered into a jade communication slip. Within seconds, the spirit barrier parted. A man with a long silver beard and a scar down his right cheek emerged, flanked by two other guards.
He studied Rael.
"That relic," he said. "Where did you find it?"
"I reclaimed it," Rael replied evenly. "From the Fog Vale. Under trial terms."
"Trial?" the man's eyes narrowed. "You mean the Forgotten Pact Trials?"
Rael gave a slow nod.
The man's gaze lingered for a long moment—then he chuckled.
"Well then… welcome, child of the Wraithbloods."
---
Inside the outpost, the world opened.
Stalls buzzed with cultivator goods—spirit pills, formation scrolls, forged beast bones, and strange weapons crackling with Qi. Massive statues of past heroes loomed above, watching over the recruits gathering in circles.
Each group wore different sect colors: crimson for the Crimson Ice Hall, indigo for the Thousand Fang Sect, and black for the Wraithblood Sect.
Rael's seal glowed faintly in his hand.
It burned with silent invitation.
[Recruitment Period Active: Sect Selection Initiated]
Wraithblood Sect Invitation (Preselected)
Other Sects Available: 11 major sects, 34 minor factions.
Benefits of Wraithblood Selection:
Access to Forbidden Fog Arts
Beast Integration Studies
Tier-2 Weapon Forging Access
Warning: All trainees are subjected to mandatory internal trials. Mortality Rate: 34%
Rael accepted without hesitation.
---
Lin didn't.
"Are you sure?" she said, eyeing the black-robed instructors gathered near the sect's banners. "The Wraithbloods are ruthless. That place… it's not a sanctuary. It's a crucible."
"That's why I'm going," Rael replied. "I don't want sanctuary."
He paused.
"I want evolution."
---
By nightfall, Rael was already aboard the black spirit boat heading northeast toward the Wraithblood Sect's main territory—a floating landmass suspended over a scarred canyon, surrounded by clouds that bled ash.
He shared the deck with five others.
Candidates.
None spoke.
They sized each other up like animals forced into a cage.
A girl with one eye and bone armor. A boy with silver talons for hands. A quiet youth reading a scroll written in blood. Another whose body flickered like a flame. And the last—a blindfolded girl with chains wrapped around her legs.
Rael sat alone.
The beast had been sent into the mountain paths below—too dangerous to bring openly. The sect would call it forth when needed.
For now, he was truly alone.
He preferred it that way.
---
Two days later, the floating fortress appeared.
Wraithspire.
An obsidian citadel built atop stone thorns, suspended in the air by ancient formation plates. Red spirit flames circled the towers like guardian eyes, and skeletal birds flew in formations above, each carrying jade scrolls between their claws.
As the boat neared, a formation dome shimmered—then parted.
A voice rang out across the deck.
"Candidates. Welcome to the First Trial. You have survived the journey. But you have not yet survived us."
"You are not cultivators yet. You are bones to be shaped. Blood to be refined. Scream if you wish—it will only echo against stone."
"Begin."
The boat cracked beneath them.
It was not an accident.
It was the start.
Rael leapt as the deck exploded, catching a jagged chain with Veil and swinging toward the landing platform. Others fell. Some caught the edges. One screamed as a skeletal construct devoured his foot midair.
Welcome to the Wraithbloods.
---
Rael rolled, landed, and rose.
Already, instructors in black robes stood in circles, watching silently.
One of them pointed at him.
"Name."
"Rael."
"Origin?"
Rael hesitated. "Fog Vale trials."
The instructor blinked once. Then turned to the others.
"Mark this one. Legacy-bound. Trial level increased."
---
The stone below Rael's feet shifted.
A rune appeared.
It wasn't for entry.
It was for war.
---