Feng Hao propped himself up on the Qinggang stone platform, his expression a blend of admiration and feigned outrage. "How did you manage that without your staff?" he queried, genuinely puzzled.

Zhang Liwei's laugh echoed lightly across the training grounds, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly. "It was nothing too challenging for someone with a bit of cleverness," he replied, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Feng Hao, still sporting a playful scowl, accused, "You've been holding out on me!" His tone was light, mixed with the respect of a friend impressed by another's growth.

Grasping Feng Hao's arm, Zhang Liwei helped him to his feet, his smile broadening. "Consider it a little surprise," he admitted, the camaraderie between them clear and strong.

As they dusted themselves off, Zhang Liwei turned to Feng Hao. "Ready for another round?"

Feng Hao shook his head. "Not today. I need to refine my flying dagger technique further." he replied.

Liwei nodded. "Your flying daggers are unpredictable, combined with your swordsmanship, it's a formidable arsenal."

Smiling at the feedback, Feng Hao proposed, "How about we make this a monthly spar to gauge our progress?"

"Sounds good to me," Liwei agreed. "Next time, be ready. Now that you know I don't always need my staff, you'll have to expect the unexpected."

They laughed together, stepping down from the platform and returning their practice weapons to the stand. Before parting ways, Liwei urged Feng Hao, "Take the lead back, my friend. I need a moment to myself here. Later, I'll rejoin you."

Feng Hao nodded. With a friendly wave, he departed, leaving Zhang Liwei alone amidst the training grounds.

Zhang Liwei took a moment to relish the time away from his books. His gaze wandered across the training grounds until he spotted a few figures entering. Two of them stepped onto the platform, and to his surprise, one of them was his mentor, Wang Lei, preparing for a match. Intrigued, Liwei moved closer, eager to observe and learn from his mentor.

The air at the Martial Training Grounds grew tense as Zhang Liwei approached the sparring platform, sensing an undercurrent of unease. The expressions of the assembled senior disciples were somber, contrasting sharply with the palpable air of anticipation that usually graced such gatherings. Zhang Liwei's gaze fixed on a particular figure: Huang Shimin, a senior disciple known for his fierce demeanor and lack of warmth towards juniors.

Huang Shimin stood with a swagger, his rugged features marked by a long scar that slashed across his forehead. His unkempt hair and beard, along with the thick eyebrows set above piercing eyes, gave him the intimidating look of a seasoned warrior, his hands occasionally clenching in anticipation of the exchange to come. On the opposite side, his mentor, Wang Lei, appeared the stark opposite—frail, scholarly, with a quiet disposition that resembled more a scholar of the Dao than a combatant.

As Zhang Liwei settled into a spot among the onlookers, Huang Shimin's voice pierced the air. "Welcome, everyone, to our monthly guidance session," he announced, his tone dripping with false benevolence. "Consider yourselves fortunate that I’ve taken time from my own cultivation to guide you and foster your growth, Juniors," he continued, casting himself as a generous mentor.

The crowd responded with a mix of forced agreement and silent resentment, the air heavy with a sense of obligation. "Remember, I'm here to temper you and elevate you to new heights. Where else would you find such a caring senior brother, right?" Huang Shimin added.

Huang Shimin's glance swept over the crowd, his smile tightening as he focused on Wang Lei. "Are you ready to demonstrate how much you've learned, Junior Brother Wang?" he asked, his voice laden with a threat thinly veiled as encouragement.

Wang Lei, his demeanor subdued and eyes downturned, barely nodded. Zhang Liwei could see the reluctance in Wang Lei's posture, the slight tremor of fear that spoke of past humiliations rather than the anticipation of a constructive duel.

As the duel commenced, Huang Shimin's sudden charge was swift and precise. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance to Wang Lei, whose defenses barely rose in time. Huang Shimin's fist drove into Wang Lei's stomach, making him double over in pain. A rapid barrage of strikes followed, each blow targeted with ruthless precision. He avoided exposed areas, instead striking at the parts of Wang Lei's body concealed by his robe. Huang Shimin's movements were a blur of calculated aggression, each strike designed to inflict maximum discomfort while avoiding visible injuries.

Zhang Liwei's heart raced. "This isn't right," he realized. "This isn't the cultivation of strength through camaraderie and mutual respect." His hands clenched unconsciously, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he watched.

"Senior Brother Wang, hang in there," he muttered under his breath, feeling a surge of protectiveness towards his mentor.

Amidst the escalating brutality on the platform, Zhang Liwei's heart raced with a rising tide of anger and disbelief. Each thud of Wang Lei's body against the unyielding Qinggang stone was like a strike against his own spirit. The sounds of Wang Lei's pained grunts and gasps cut through the air, punctuating the violence with grim notes of suffering.

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Huang Shimin smirked, exuding arrogance and scorn. "Is that all you've got, Wang Lei? Pathetic. How do you expect to guide juniors with such weak efforts?"

Wang Lei, struggling to his feet, forced a strained smile. "Thank you for your...guidance, Senior Huang. I will...learn from this."

Zhang Liwei's fists clenched tighter as he watched, his mentor's plight igniting a fierce protective instinct within him.

Hands shaking from the pain, Wang Lei offered a handful of stones to Huang Shimin, saying, "Here...are the Spirit Stones for your...guidance."

The transaction that followed, the exchange of Spirit Stones, revealed the true nature of Huang Shimin's 'guidance'—extortion under the guise of mentorship.

"You're short by a Spirit Stone," Huang Shimin sneered, extending his hand expectantly.

Wang Lei, his voice trembling, replied, "I... I'm sorry, Senior Brother Huang. I must have miscounted. I'll get it to you soon."

Huang Shimin's response was swift and cruel. "Miscounted? Or are you trying to cheat me?" With a vicious slap, he sent Wang Lei reeling, blood mingling with the dust of the platform.

"Senior Brother Huang, please!" Wang Lei pleaded, struggling to stay upright. "I didn't mean—"

"Silence!" Huang Shimin's fist began to glow with Qi, preparing for a devastating blow. "Maybe this will teach you respect."

The gathered disciples looked on in horrified silence, their fear palpable. As the Qi-charged fist descended towards the defenseless Wang Lei, Zhang Liwei's resolve crystallized.

"Enough!" Liwei shouted, unleashing his Golden Lotus Bulwark. Golden shields materialized around Wang Lei, intercepting Huang Shimin's punch with a resonant clash.

Huang Shimin stumbled back, stunned. "What—"

Wang Lei's eyes widened in shock. "Liwei..."

Zhang Liwei stepped forward, his voice steady. "That's enough, Senior Brother Huang."

Huang Shimin whirled around, his face contorted with rage. "You dare to interfere, Junior Brother? You think you can challenge me?"

Liwei met his gaze unflinchingly. "I won't let you harm him. True guidance is about respect, not extortion."

"You insolent whelp!" Huang Shimin roared. "I'll teach you your place!"

Zhang Liwei stood his ground, the golden shields shimmering around Wang Lei. "It's time someone stood up to you, Senior Huang. This farce ends here and now."

"Impudence!" Huang Shimin roared, his voice booming across the training grounds. The surrounding disciples stepped back, the tension escalating as all eyes now fixed on Zhang Liwei.

Zhang Liwei's his expression was resolute. "This isn't guidance; this is tyranny," he declared loudly, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. "We are here to lift each other up, not break each other down. This is not the way of our sect!"

As silence fell, heavy with the weight of his words, Zhang Liwei's stance remained protective, a clear challenge to the corruption and cruelty that had tainted the sacred grounds of learning. His action, bold and unprecedented, was not just a defense of his mentor but a stand against the perversion of power. In that moment, he was not just a junior disciple but a beacon of courage, ready to face whatever consequences his defiance might bring.

The air crackled with the intensifying heat of Huang Shimin's fury as blue flames enveloped his fists, the fierce glow casting an ominous light across the training grounds. Zhang Liwei, feeling the searing heat even from a distance, fortified his defenses, wrapping himself in the protective embrace of the Golden Lotus Bulwark while simultaneously hardening his body with the Stone Body Method. The dual use of Qi was taxing, but necessary against such a formidable opponent.

Amidst the escalating confrontation, Wang Lei's voice broke through, desperate and pleading. "Please, Senior Brother Huang," he begged, dropping to his knees. "Spare Zhang Liwei. It's my fault as his mentor. Blame me for his actions. He's not been with the sect for a year yet. Hurting him carries serious consequences."

Huang Shimin paused, his fist still glowing with Qi, torn between his desire to assert dominance and the potential repercussions of harming a new disciple. He eyed Wang Lei with a mixture of disdain and consideration.

The tension reached a palpable high. Huang Shimin's internal struggle was evident, but the potential trouble for injuring Zhang Liwei tipped the scales. With a disdainful flick of his wrist, the flames of his Qi dissipated. "I will be watching you," he warned Zhang Liwei, his voice laced with menace.

Huang Shimin turned back to Wang Lei and delivered one final, punitive kick. "This is your last warning, Wang Lei. And next month, you have to pay twice the usual 'guidance' fee," he spat before storming off.

The atmosphere among the other disciples shifted palpably, a collective exhale marking the end of the immediate threat. They rushed to Wang Lei, helping him to his feet and checking for injuries.

"Are you okay?" one of the disciples asked, concern in his voice.

Wang Lei winced but nodded. "I'll be fine. Thank you."

Another disciple looked at Zhang Liwei with sympathy. "Be careful, Zhang Liwei. You've made a powerful enemy."

Zhang Liwei nodded, his resolve unshaken. "I know. But someone had to stand up to him."

As they tended to Wang Lei, the disciples exchanged worried glances. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken fears for the future Zhang Liwei might face, but also with a newfound respect for his bravery.

Once the crowd had dispersed, leaving only Wang Lei and Zhang Liwei near the sparring platform, Wang Lei approached his junior brother with a mix of frustration and concern. "Liwei, what were you thinking?" Wang Lei chastised. "Your intervention was reckless. You know how precarious our positions are within the sect."

Zhang Liwei met his mentor's rebuke with a somber, resigned smile. "I couldn't just stand by," he replied, his voice heavy with conviction. "I couldn't watch you suffer like that."

Wang Lei sighed, his expression softening. "Thank you, but you have to be more careful. We're treading on thin ice."

Liwei nodded. "I'll be cautious, but I won't let fear dictate my actions. We have to stand up for what's right."

Recognizing the depth of resolve in his junior, Wang Lei sighed deeply, knowing this was not a moment for reprimands but for guidance. He motioned for Zhang Liwei to follow him to a more secluded area, away from the lingering eyes and ears of the training grounds. There was much to discuss—unspoken rules, underlying threats, and the complex dynamics of power within their cadre.

As they walked in silence towards a quiet corner of the sect, Wang Lei prepared himself to open up about the darker aspects of their reality, the ones he had hoped to shield his mentee from. Zhang Liwei followed, his mind bracing for revelations yet to come, ready to understand the full scope of the path he had chosen to walk—a path that now seemed lined with more thorns than he had anticipated.