The climb back to Mount Hwa felt longer than any trial. Each step was laced with exhaustion and a quiet reflection that none of us voiced aloud. The wind tugged at our robes as if it, too, wanted answers we had no words for.
So-Yeon walked ahead of me, silent for once. Her braid swayed with each step, but she didn't look back. Dan, ever the loudest among us, had been subdued since we left the valley. The Trial of Endurance had taken something from each of us—perhaps something we hadn't realized we carried until it was gone.
I shifted the massive sword on my back. Its weight wasn't what tired me. It was familiar now. No, what wore me down was the silence inside. For the first time in weeks, my cultivation felt…still. The Gate had closed. The trials had ended. But I felt no celebration in my heart.
Mount Hwa came into view as the mist parted. Towers of stone stood like guardians, ancient and unmoved by our return. The bells of the outer temple rang softly in the wind.
"You think they'll be proud?" Dan finally broke the silence. His voice cracked just a bit, enough that he cleared his throat after.
"We returned," I said simply. "That's enough."
He scoffed, but didn't argue. So-Yeon slowed down until she walked beside me again. Her eyes searched mine, but she said nothing. She never needed to say much. I nodded once, and she looked away again, satisfied with whatever answer she found in my face.
At the gates, we were met by Elder Baek. He looked the same—gray robes, long mustache, a face lined with a permanent scowl. Yet when his eyes met mine, I saw a flicker of something warmer.
"You return," he said. "Whole, it seems."
Dan bowed so quickly he nearly dropped his pack. "Whole, but not unchanged, Elder."
So-Yeon and I followed suit with a more measured bow. Elder Baek gave us a long, searching look, and then stepped aside.
"Your masters wait in the inner hall," he said. "And the Sect Leader has called for you."
We followed in silence. The inner temple was colder than I remembered. Maybe it was the shadows, or maybe it was the sudden weight of being seen again after so long. We passed other disciples—some of whom we had left behind. A few bowed respectfully. Most only stared.
Inside the Grand Hall, Master Gyeom waited. His sharp eyes locked onto mine instantly.
"You've grown," he said. "Not in height—you've had enough of that. In presence."
I bowed deeply. "I don't feel any different."
"Then you've learned something."
He turned to Dan and So-Yeon. "And you two?"
Dan grinned, the light returning to his eyes. "I didn't die. That's progress."
So-Yeon merely inclined her head. "We endured. That is enough."
Master Gyeom nodded slowly. "Good. Then you're ready."
"For what?" I asked, before I could stop myself.
He looked at me, not with disappointment, but with the intensity of a forge fire.
"To stop being disciples who follow, and begin becoming pillars who lead."
The words struck me harder than any blow I'd taken in the Trials.
A voice echoed behind him then—deep, old, and filled with quiet authority.
"Step forward, Giant Blossom."
It was the Sect Leader himself—Seong Jinhwan, the old blade of Mount Hwa. His hair had gone entirely silver, but the strength in his posture had not faded.
I stepped forward, each step heavy.
"You stood before the gates of your own heart," he said. "You faced your weakness, your doubt, your fatigue. And you did not falter."
"I almost did," I admitted.
He smiled. "Almost is the line between cowardice and courage. You stood on the right side."
He turned to the others. "And together, you've proven more than strength. You've proven trust."
He extended his hand, and an attendant stepped forward with something wrapped in cloth. I recognized the pattern instantly. The mark of the Second Generation.
He unwrapped the cloth, revealing three sashes—each dyed with threads of deep green and red, the colors of the inner disciples.
"You are no longer outer disciples of Mount Hwa," he declared. "Kang Dae, So-Yeon, Dan—welcome to the Second Generation."
It hit me then—what we had done, what we had survived, what we had become.
I bowed deeply, holding the sash in my hands like something fragile. Something earned.
"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.
"Do not thank me," the Sect Leader replied. "Thank your steps, and the road you chose not to abandon."
As we stepped outside, the evening sun broke through the clouds, casting long shadows over the courtyard.
Dan laughed—really laughed—and So-Yeon actually smiled.
We had returned.
We had changed.
And the path ahead was still long. But it was ours.