Iron Mountain Sect's outer gate was built into the base of the actual Iron Mountain — a black rock peak that rose sharp and sheer from the surrounding terrain. The gate was twice the height of a man on horseback. Iron-reinforced wood. Two guards at the entrance with sect robes and straight spines.
About forty other candidates were already gathered outside. Most were Wen Dao's age or slightly older. A few were clearly from wealthy backgrounds — clean robes, good boots, well-fed. Several had attendants carrying their things.
Wen Dao, Mei, and Kun arrived with nothing but their feet and the scroll in Wen Dao's shirt.
Liu Yan was standing near the gate. He spotted them and walked over.
'You made it.' He looked at Wen Dao's face. Road dust, fresh bruising on the jaw. 'Eventful journey?'
'Iron Claw members on the south road,' Wen Dao said. 'Three of them have sore kidneys now.'
Liu Yan's expression didn't change but his eyes did. 'You're at Body Tempering Level Two now. I can see it in how you stand.' He paused. 'You leveled up in six days.'
'The scripture was efficient.'
'The scripture is available to any outer disciple. Most take three months to reach Level Two.' He said this without praise or criticism. Just fact. Then he looked at Mei. 'Service worker applications are at the inner gate. Tell them Liu Yan sent you. They'll place you honestly.'
Mei looked at Wen Dao.
He nodded.
She held Kun's hand and walked to the inner gate without looking back. Then she did look back. Once. She lifted her chin at him.
He lifted his in return.
He turned to the waiting candidates.
There were perhaps sixty now. More arriving every few minutes. All of them at Level Two or above. One group of four kept themselves separate from the others — matching grey robes, cold eyes, synchronized movements. A sect faction already, by the looks of it.
A boy near Wen Dao was watching the grey-robed group nervously.
'Who are they?' Wen Dao asked.
The boy jumped slightly. He was thin, earnest-faced, with ink stains on his fingers. 'The Grey Peak clique. All from rich families in Fang City. They come every year and take forty of the hundred spots between them. They coordinate during the trial.'
'Is that allowed?'
'The rules don't say you can't cooperate. They just say one hundred pass.' The boy lowered his voice. 'They also eliminate anyone they see as competition. Deliberately.'
'How?'
'Beat them badly enough they can't continue.'
Wen Dao looked at the grey-robed group again. Their leader was a tall boy with cold, flat eyes and the kind of lean muscle that came from serious training. He stood with complete stillness, arms at his sides.
'What's his cultivation level?' Wen Dao asked.
The ink-stained boy swallowed. 'Fang Lie. His family says he's at Body Tempering Level Five. Some people say Level Six.'
Three or four levels above Wen Dao.
'What's your name?' Wen Dao asked the ink boy.
'Li Meng.'
'Li Meng. Stay near me during the trial. Don't get separated.'
Li Meng looked surprised. 'Why are you telling me that?'
'Because you're observant and you know this environment better than I do. That's useful.'
Before Li Meng could respond, the iron gate opened.
A sect elder stepped out. Short, older, with a white beard trimmed close and eyes like polished flint. He raised one hand and the crowd fell silent.
'I am Elder Huang. The trial begins now. You will enter the Proving Grounds inside the mountain. One hundred pass. The rest leave. There is one rule only: do not kill.' He lowered his hand. 'Everything else, you handle yourself.'
He stepped aside.
Wen Dao looked at Fang Lie. Fang Lie was already looking at him. The tall boy's eyes moved over Wen Dao with the calm assessment of someone measuring something he intended to break.
The gates opened fully.
They walked in.