The mountain path wound like a serpent's spine, each turn showcasing a breathtaking vista of jagged peaks and mist-shrouded valleys. Wei Long’s legs ached from the long journey, his feet dragging slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on the imposing fortress looming in the distance.

The Heavy Sword Sect’s Mountain stronghold was a marvel that seemed carved by the heavens themselves. The massive stone walls, weathered by time yet unyielding in their defiance of the elements, rose seamlessly from the mountainside.

The architecture was both imposing and elegant, its design melding practicality with artistry. Towering spires loomed above, their sharp silhouettes piercing the sky, while intricate carvings of swords, dragons, and coiling clouds adorned every visible surface. The fortress didn’t merely occupy the mountain—it was the mountain!

At the entrance, a domineering sight laid before the two of them. A monumental iron sword embedded in the earth, its hilt reaching nearly twenty feet high. The blade, impossibly wide and thick, gleamed dully in the sunlight, as though it absorbed the mountain’s essence. Etched deeply into its surface were words that resonated with Wei Long, even before he understood their meaning: "Steel bends for none, and neither shall we." The founder’s signature, Wu Qiang, followed beneath, its bold strokes an unyielding declaration of the sect’s philosophy. The sword was not just a symbol but a challenge, standing as both guardian and herald to the sect’s greatness.

The sheer scale of the Heavy Sword Sect’s domain became apparent. Wide courtyards paved with dark stone stretched endlessly, surrounded by soaring towers and training halls. The main courtyard was bustling with activity—disciples practicing with swords that gleamed with the faint aura of qi.

On the side, where the grand staircase was carved directly into the mountain’s face ascended toward the sect’s inner sanctum, where the most revered elders and warriors resided. Every structure radiated permanence, as though even time itself dared not erode the sect’s legacy.

Above it all, waterfalls cascaded from the higher peaks, their waters diverted into channels that flowed gracefully through the fortress. The sound of rushing water intertwined with the clang of steel, creating a symphony of nature and martial purpose.

As Hong Quan strode ahead, his presence made Wei Long feel small. It was different here, than it was in the world. In the world, Hong Quan felt bold, strong…large, but here…he was an entity.

He stopped, then turned to Wei Long, a genuine smile painted across his face. “Wei Long, I don’t know what you’ve heard of the heavy sword sect…but it’s probably exaggerated.”

“Isn’t the Heavy Sword Sect one of the Three Great Sects of Huaxia?”

“It is…but you must also remember, it is not like other martial sects. They don’t accept just anyone, and those who are accepted often wish they weren’t. If you survive their training, you'll earn the honour of wielding strength beyond your imagination.”

“Understood,” Wei Long said, adjusting his sack over his shoulder.

The fortress was unlike anything he had ever seen. Massive walls, carved into the mountain's natural curves, rose skyward, their tops obscured by the ever-present mist. Enormous gates stood at the entrance, wrought from iron so thick that even an army would hesitate to lay siege.

Intricate sculptures adorned the gates, depicting warriors seemed ready to leap into action. Battles frozen in time showed legendary swordsmen cleaving mountains and felling titanic beasts. Wei Long’s eyes lingered on one figure—a lone swordsman standing against a horde, his blade glowing with unyielding might.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Hong Quan remarked, allowing Wei Long time to catch his breath. “These gates have stood for centuries, warding off invaders and welcoming the chosen few. Remember, to stand here, is a privilege you shouldn’t take lightly.”

Wei Long’s throat tightened, but he nodded, but he also clenched his fist, showing his determination. He wanted to belong; he wanted to prove himself.

Two centuries stepped forward wearing black with a blue and white lining, matching Hong Quan’s own’s robes. “Master Hong Quan, you’ve returned.”

“Aye…I’ve brought a little gift for the elders to gawk at.”

“…you don’t say,” the second guard said.

They don’t like me, Wei Long thought, that’s fine…I’ll show them.

The guards turned around and pushed the gates opened. A loud bellowing groan blossomed in front of them. Dust and grime puffed from the ground. Once the dust had settled, the Heavy Sword Sect laid bare to them.

The courtyard was vast enough to house a village. Its ground was paved with smooth stones, worn by the steps of countless disciples over generations. Training dummies dotted the area, and beyond them. Training halls sat on either side. Everywhere Wei Long looked, disciples were hard at work—practicing forms.

“This way,” Hong Quan said.

They entered open hall with an assortment of statues aligning the wall. The pillars that held that hall up had torches, but they weren’t lit as sunlight illuminated the hall. In the middle of the hall, five elders sat in the lotus position. Their presence commanding presence that required respect. Three men and two women, each dressed in robes embroidered with intricate sword motifs. The embroidery shimmered faintly, as though imbued with qi. At their centre stood an elderly man with a silver beard that flowed past his waist. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, seemed to weigh Wei Long’s very soul.

“Cold Steel Hong Quan,” the elder spoke softly. “It’s been many seasons since you last graced these halls.”

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Hong Quan bowed deeply and turned to Wei Long, who mimicked Cold Steel as best as he could. “Grand Master Wu, it is an honour to return. I bring a potential recruit for your consideration. Master Zhi, Master Jian, Mistress Xue and Mistress Ru.”

“Good to have you have,” Mistress Ru said calmly.

“Yes, Cold Steel, I hope you’ve return to help around the sect.” Master Jian said calmly.

“Maybe…the Jianghu is turning to chaos now the emperor is gone.”

“The Empire and the Jianghu have nothing to do with each other, Cold Steel…you know,” Master Wu interjected.

“I am corrected,”

Master Wu shook his head with a light smile, then laid his eyes on Wei Long. He gave the boy a quizzical look then nodded as if he’d done appraised him.

“This way Wei Long,” Hong Quan said, ushering Wei Long to step forward and the lad did, bowing as Hong Quan had taught him. His heart raced as he felt the elders’ scrutiny. “Step forward, boy,” Grand Master Wu’s said coldly, eyes narrowed.

Wei Long stepped closer to the elders, his legs trembling slightly as he moved into the semicircle of elders. He could feel their attention like a physical weight pressing down on him.

“Show us your form,” Wu said, folding his arms.

Wei Long turned to Hong Quan again and the sword master nodded, “just show them the three movements I taught you.”

“Yes Master Quan.”

Wei Long swallowed hard and took up his stance. He performed basic movements he’d practiced throughout their journey. He performed simple sword slashes and parries, showing competent footwork designed to build foundation rather than impress. His movements were hesitant and unpolished, lacking the fluidity of the disciples training around him.

When he finished, silence hung in the air. The elders exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Wei Long felt his chest tighten, fear threatening to overwhelm him.

“Well, at least we know you can follow instructions,” Grand Master Wu said firmly. “You are neither special are poor…but that’s how we all started.”

Wei Long’s heart sank like a stone.

The elders nodded in agreement; their faces impassive.

“…but unlike most, “Grand Master Wu said calmly, “to open ones Soul Awakening Dantian at the age of six is quite remarkable. Genius even…”

“…or luck,” Hong Quan added.

The courtyard fell silent. The disciples training nearby seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere.

“Grand Master Wu, are you sure?” Mistress Xue asked.

“I am, check his meridians.”

Four elders rose from their seat, leaving Grand Master Wu sitting on the floor. Wei Long turned to Hong Quan in confusion. The swordsman had a snicker of a smirk flashed across his face as he had his hands crossed as he held his sword.

“Just hold out your hand lad,” Grand Master Wu said calmly, “I assure you, we don’t bite.”

Wei Long hesitated for a second, then he outstretched his hand.

The elder than began check his meridians, slightly pressing against his acupoints. Their eyes light aflame with excitement, which only confused Wei Long even further. What’s a Soul Dantian? He asked himself.

“Impossible,” Mistress Ru murmured, stepping closer to Wei Long. Her gaze was sharp, dissecting every inch of him. “At his age? His meridians channels also seem stable…does he know how to use his Internal Arts?”

“Highly doubtful,” Master Wu said firmly.

Wei Long blinked, barely processing their words. Internal Arts? Meridians? What is going on…

Grand Master Wu rose from his seat and stalked his way to Wei Long, robes swaying as he moved. As he reached Wei Long, the other elders stepped back, but continued this discord regarding his Soul Awakening Dantian being opened.

“Was it hard lad? living on the streets alone?”

Tears welled up Wei Long’s eyes unconsciously and he began to sob. Grand Master Wu hugged Wei Long and patted him on the back. Wei Long pushed him off. “I’m dirty, your robes will get soiled.”

Grand Master Wu knelt before Wei Long, his gaze steady and kind, unbothered by Wei Long’s protests. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Wei Long’s shoulder. “Child, no dirt can soil a person’s worth, and no hardship can dim the light of one’s potential. You’ve walked hard path too young. You’ve endured and now you stand here. You aren’t defined by the grime of the streets, but by the strength that brought you through them. These robes can be washed—but your soul is what truly matters, and it deserves to be embraced.”

A deathly silence fell on the hall with the elders quelled their discussion regarding Wei Long’s potential.

As Hong Quan stood off to the side, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips. It was as though he had anticipated this all along.

After what felt like an eternity, Grand Master Wu raised a hand. “Wei Long, is it?” Grand Master Wu asked,

“Yes Master Wu.”

“Grand Master Wu,” Hong Quan corrected.

“My apologies Grand Master Wu,” Wei Long said with a bow.

As he rose from his bow, a wrinkly smile flashed across the Grand Master’s face. “En’er…Veng’er.” He said firmly, voicing echoing through the hall.

Two disciples ran out from an adjacent door holding two brooms. They were grey robes with yellow lining. They bowed at the elders, then Hong Quan. “This is your new junior disciple, Wei Long, take him to the first floor and clean him up, he’ll be training with you.”

“The fir--?” Veng tried to ask, but En slapped him across the shoulder silencing him in one.

“Yes, Grand Master Wu,” En said with a bow.

“Yes, Grand Master Wu,” Veng repeated.

“Welcome to Heavy Sect Sword Wei Long…I have high expectations of you.” Grand Master Wu.

The Elder gave Wei Long a smile and turned and made his way out of the hall. The other elders followed and Hong Quan appeared from out nowhere, dispersed, clapping his hand hand on Wei Long’s shoulder. “Well done lad, You’ve taken your first step into the world of martial arts. But don’t get complacent—this is just the beginning.”

Wei Long turned to him, his heart swelling with gratitude and trepidation. “Thank you, Master Quan,” he said, bowing low.

As Hong Quan’s hand slipped away from Wei Long’s shoulder, he reached into his robes and produced a small silver coin. The metal glinted in the light of the torches lining the hall.

Hong Quan flicked at the lad, watching it flip through the air. Wei Long caught it instinctively, the cool weight of the coin settling in his palm.

“A reminder,” Hong Quan said, “Your worth isn’t measured by what you’ve lost, but by what you’re willing to fight for. I took it, but it’s always been yours.”

Wei Long’s fingers curled around the coin, his resolve hardening. “Thank You Master Quan.”

Hong Quan’s smirk widened slightly, and he patted Wei Long on the back. “Good. Don’t waste the opportunity you’ve been given.”

“I won’t”

Hong Quan left him to En and Veng, who’d been waiting patiently nearby, stepped forward. En was taller and older, with a stern expression and a no-nonsense demeanour. Veng, shorter and clearly younger, carried a slight nervous energy, his eyes darting between Wei Long and Hong Quan as though unsure of what to say.

“This way,” En said curtly, gesturing for Wei Long to follow.

Veng gave Wei Long a small, apologetic smile. “It’s not as bad as it sounds… Well, not always.”

They led Wei Long out of the hall and down a series of winding stone corridors. The air grew cooler as they descended, the torches casting flickering shadows on the walls. Finally, they emerged into an open courtyard, the sky above framed by the towering walls of the sect’s outer buildings.

“This is it,” En announced, his tone flat.

Wei Long blinked. The ‘room’ was unlike anything he had imagined. Instead of a proper enclosed space, he was greeted by a modest setup within the courtyard itself. A simple wooden bedframe lay in one corner, covered with a thin mattress and a rough blanket. A small table and stool sat nearby, along with a basin of water and a clay jar. The courtyard floor was uneven stone, and a small patch of earth in the corner grew a single stubborn bush.

“Welcome to your new home Wei Long, The Heavy Sword Sect.”