Chương 86: The Trial of Iron Will

After that whole ordeal behind us, the weight of survival still clung to my bones like wet iron. We had barely made it back alive, and the agency itself was buzzing with a strange mix of relief and exhaustion. That same evening, the father and true leader of the Golden Tooth Agency, Zhuofing the Dirty Finger, went to visit Hifui. I followed quietly behind Xhife, curious to see how this hardened man would speak to his old veteran. Hifui lay on a hard bed, his body wrapped in bandages, his scorpion Vestuto long gone.

He looked smaller than I had ever seen him, yet his eyes still burned with that stubborn fire. Zhuofing stood at the doorway for a long moment, just looking at him. Then he walked over and placed a heavy hand on the old soldier's shoulder.

"Hifui…" Zhuofing's voice was low, thick with rare emotion.

"You stubborn old fool. You held the line longer than any man had a right to. You took wounds that would have killed most, just to keep the carriage, the estate of our client, and every single one of our people safe. I am proud of you. Prouder than I have been in many years. You nearly gave your whole life for this agency… and you still stand. That is the spirit of the Golden Tooth." Hifui tried to sit up, wincing, but a tired smile broke across his face.

"Just doing my job, Leader. Couldn't let those green dogs get away with what's ours, but unfortunately they got our coin..." Zhuofing's eyes glistened for a brief second before he turned away, clearing his throat. He then looked at his daughter Xihua, who stood quietly by the wall, pipe still in her mouth. His gaze softened.

"Xihua… my fierce girl. Thank you. Harshly, deeply, thank you. Without you appearing when you did, we would have lost far more than coin and pride." Xihua simply nodded, a small proud smile tugging at her lips as she took another slow puff from her pipe. After that, Zhuofing called all the Elders together. They spoke for a long time about the heavy losses, the coin we had brought back, and the Merchant Trial in Kailume. A fierce debate broke out.

Some Elders wanted to refuse the deal because they felt they were already disrespected enough and refused to deal with a foolish merchant like that. However, others spoke the harsh truth: the Agency was already bleeding too much financially. Others argued that we desperately needed this job. In the end, Zhuofing made the final decision. He came to me later that night. It was the first time he had ever spoken to me directly. We sat outside under the open stars. Zhuofing studied me for a long moment before speaking.

"Tell me your story, Erumes Flamma. Why is a Suren like you walking this path?" I told him a part of it, on how I had awakened my powers, how I had been thrown into Dao territory, the battles with Moyonge, the Soul Attribute that I still struggled to control. I spoke honestly about my two attributes and how they fought inside me. Zhuofing listened in silence, his eyes widening slightly when I mentioned having two attributes at once.

"Two attributes… in one body?" he muttered, genuinely shocked.

"I have never heard of such a thing in all my years. Not in any sect, not even in legends." He stared at me for a long time, then nodded slowly.

"But I see the sincerity in your eyes. Train hard, boy. If you can master that fire and soul inside you… you may become something this world has never seen." The next morning, Zhuofing gathered every soldier who had returned, including me. He stood tall and roared, "We leave in two hours! Bring nothing but your bodies. We will train at a spot not far from here, only a twenty-minute distance away. Only the top 100 will go with us to Kailume. I want to take only my 100 best, so do your best to impress me!"

With the sudden News we walked without equipment, everyone moving at their own pace through the morning mist. My body still ached from the previous battles' ordeal, but I refused to fall behind. I ended up in the very last group, limping along with the most exhausted soldiers. The air was thick with tension and quiet determination. Then the mountain rose before us, they were known as the thousand Mountain.

A towering, merciless giant surrounded by dozens of sharp dragon-spine ridges covered in thick emerald grass and ancient, gnarled trees that looked like they had stood since the time of Wujiren-Dao himself. Its slopes were steep and unforgiving, disappearing into low-hanging clouds, the path winding like a spiral staircase carved into the side of a sleeping beast. Just looking at it made my legs burn in anticipation. Zhuofing the Dirty Finger stood at the very top like a god overlooking his domain.

His powerful voice boomed down the mountain, echoing across the ridges.

"Come up and receive my gift! Only 20 at a time! Now Move!" The climb was brutal. Each step felt like punishment carved into my very bones. The easily over 1100 meter Mountain loomed above us like an ancient sentinel, its monster like spine ridges cutting sharply into the sky, covered in thick emerald grass and ancient trees whose roots clung desperately to the steep rock. The spiral walkway was narrow, uneven, and unforgiving with one wrong step meant a long fall and big time loss.

My body protested as I looked at how the others struggled with every push-up, but I kept moving, telling myself that once it was my turn, I would succeed. I was in the very last batch. When my turn finally came, I attacked the mountain with everything I had left. I overtook soldier after soldier on the narrow path, their heavy breathing and muttered curses chasing me.

"Damn Suren…" one growled as I passed.

"Think you're special?" Another spat, "You'll break before the top!" I didn't answer. I simply climbed harder. The higher I went, the stronger the wind became, whipping at my clothes and trying to throw me off balance. My heart hammered wildly, my vision narrowed to the next step, the next grip. When I finally dragged myself over the last edge and stood on the grassy summit, sweat pouring down my face in rivers, legs shaking violently, Zhuofing whistled in genuine surprise.

"Not bad, Erumes Flamma. Incredible… and you're not even at full strength. Scary to look at." He gave me a rare, approving nod.

"Pick this up." He handed me a massive pouch it had 600 kilograms of heavy stones. It felt like carrying a small house on my back. The weight slammed down instantly, forcing my knees to buckle for a split second. Then Elder Fanqui stepped forward, 1. 74 meters tall, tight grey hair tied back neatly, short well-groomed royal beard framing a stern face. Without a word he strapped heavy water weights to my calves and thighs each adding 80 kilograms more. I thought it wouldn't matter much. I was dead wrong.

Those weights felt manageable at first. I thought they were just dead weight strapped to my legs. I ran recklessly down the mountain, overtaking 24 men in the first 20 minutes alone. The fire of competition ignited like wildfire. Soldiers who had been dragging their feet suddenly found new strength, glaring at me, the outsider Suren, with burning pride and resentment.

"You think you can overtake us without us coming back for the lost spot?!" one snarled as he pushed harder, veins bulging on his neck.

"We've trained our whole lives for this!" Another roared behind me, "Don't get cocky, pale ghost! We'll bury you with our momentum!" I kept going, overtaking more and more. But something felt wrong. With every step I took, my legs grew heavier. At first I thought it was just exhaustion catching up. Only when I finally reached the bottom and paused for a few seconds did I notice it that the weights on my calves and thighs had become noticeably heavier than when I started.

I looked down, confused, and then the realization hit me. These water weights were vicious inventions from hell itself. They absorbed every drop of my sweat and grew heavier with every single step, like living parasites feeding on my effort. The more I pushed, the more they drank from me, turning my own exertion into additional torment. Even after understanding the cruel trick, I didn't stop. I kept running, overtaking even more soldiers, my legs screaming in harder protest as the weights continued to swell.

The pain was immense, but so was the fire in my chest. Zhuofing's gaze from the top of the mountain burned in my mind. I refused to look weak. I refused to let these men see me break. By the time I crossed the final line I was barely standing, legs shaking violently, but I had made the cut for today... just barely. That night, we were assigned to barracks, which were old, hardened wood structures painted in a deep amber-red. I was number 389, placed in a group of 20 with numbers 381 to 400.

The moment I walked in, the atmosphere turned icy cold. None of them liked me. Some had lost friends in the earlier challenges and blamed the intensity I brought into the trial. I could feel their hostile stares as we settled onto the hard beds. They planned to jump me at night. But I was ready for them. Deep in the night, several of them rose silently, shadows moving in the dark. Before they could attack, I stood up, eyes sharp and calm.

"Come on then," I whispered.

"If you want to settle this now we can go very wild real quick." The tension crackled. Fists clenched. Vestutos were about to ignite. An Elder appeared like a ghost from the doorway and stopped everything before anyone could transform. With effortless skill and overwhelming presence he chained us lightly to our beds with bedsheets.

"Sleep," he ordered coldly.

"Save your anger for tomorrow's training. If you waste your strength on each other, you'll all fail and i personally will punish you." We spent a restless night like that, tension thick enough to choke on. The next days became pure hell. The porcelain vase challenge was perhaps the cruelest of them all. We were each given a delicate, beautifully painted porcelain vase filled to the brim with fresh milk. Long, razor-sharp needles were strapped tightly to our elbows and knees.

Any wrong jolt, loss of balance, or sudden twitch would cause the needles to pierce the fragile surface, spilling the milk and erasing days of hard-earned progress in a single heartbreaking moment. The vases were far heavier than they looked, and the milk sloshed dangerously with every single step. I ran with my arms locked in a precise, almost prayer-like position, elbows bent at the perfect angle, teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. Sweat poured into my eyes.

My shoulders burned from holding the unnatural posture. Every breath felt like fire. On the climb up during my first attempt, fatigue finally betrayed me. As I pushed hard on a steep section, the needle on my right elbow struck the vase at a bad angle. The porcelain shattered with a sickening crack. White milk exploded across my chest and the ground. For a split second I just stood there, staring at the broken pieces in disbelief and rage.

"Restart from the bottom!" an Elder barked mercilessly. I screamed internally but said nothing. I turned around and ran back down, grabbed a new vase, and started again. This time I was more careful. I found a better rhythm with smoother strides, tighter control of my arms, breathing in perfect sync with my steps. I improved my time significantly on the second try, pushing myself harder than ever, overtaking several soldiers who had passed me earlier.

By the end of that lap I had just barely cut into the last surviving group. I was number 389, starting near the very back. Many had already failed and been eliminated. The pressure was crushing. Around me the mountain was filled with the sounds of breaking porcelain, curses, and desperate shouts. One soldier beside me slipped on a wet root; the needle on his elbow pierced the vase. The sound of shattering porcelain was like a death knell. He dropped to his knees in the mud, screaming in raw frustration.

Others failed on the downhill, milk spilling everywhere as they lost control on the slippery path. The competition was no longer just about speed as it was also about control, precision, and unbreakable focus under exhaustion. The needles on my elbows and knees became instruments of torture. Every time I pumped my arms for speed, they threatened to stab inward. My skin bled in small trickles. The milk inside the vase seemed to grow heavier with every lap. My shoulders screamed. My wrists trembled.

Yet I kept the vase steady, lap after brutal lap. This challenge tested something deeper than strength. It tested patience, control, and the ability to stay calm when every part of your body wanted to explode. It was maddening. It was humbling. And it pushed me closer to my breaking point than anything else in the trial. But the ones who finished before me could not gloat or stay. The moment anyone finished a lap, the Elders forced them straight to the barracks to rest. No celebrations.

We were not allowed to know how many had passed until all passed or failed. As the last finally gave up we found out our placing. I made it into the place of reaching 284 out of now 300, so again barely surviving this tribulation of challenges. I stood there still panting, legs shaking, and looked at Zhuofing the Dirty Finger.

"Fuck yourself with this challenge," I growled, voice raw.

"This is too unreasonable for someone like me who is still under recovery." Zhuofing threw his head back and laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed across the mountain.

"This is nothing, boy. Nothing at all as Agent you cant choose your condition to start with.... Nature will." My eyes rolled hard. I was already expecting the next day to be another nightmarish event. Making it into the next group surrounded by strangers, I simply asked in the room, "I want no trouble with any of you lets just have no animosity in here." They ignored me completely.

Some had achieved great results on the first day but barely passed today's challenge, leaving them furious with their own performance and desperate to do better. Others barely scraped by because they were stuck in the middle of the pack. All of them were trying to figure out how to proceed without wasting energy on someone like me, especially since they already had enough on their own plates. The air between us was thick with suspicion and quiet hostility as everyone kept to themselves.

I actually enjoyed the fierce competition brewing here. The tension, the glares, and the silent rivalry fueled me in a strange, twisted way. For the first time since I was with Master and Galer, I felt truly alive in the struggle alongside them. The next event was two days later because heavy rain fell. It was supposed to fall, and that was an important part of today's challenge. We were now on the 25th of February.

Our next task was not climbing, but walking via the downhill path uphill in a squatting position while punching constantly upwards into the very raining sky. My thighs burned like they were being torn apart. Rain hammered my face, blinding me, turning the path into slippery mud. I overtook 31 guys on that brutal uphill duck walk, each punch thrown with raw defiance, my legs shaking but refusing to give in.

Our next task was not climbing, but walking via the downhill path uphill in a squatting position while punching constantly upwards into the very raining sky. The rain came down in relentless sheets, turning the entire slope into a river of slick mud. I dropped into the low squat, thighs screaming in protest as if they were being torn apart from the inside. Every awkward, waddling step sent fire shooting through my legs. Rain hammered my face like needles, blinding me, flooding my mouth and nose with every breath.

My arms burned as I threw punch after punch upward into the storm, each one full power, as if I were trying to shatter the clouds themselves. My shoulders felt like they were ripping, my lower back was on fire, but I kept moving. I kept punching. I overtook 31 guys on that brutal uphill duck walk, passing soldiers who were collapsing or slowing down, their faces twisted in agony. My own legs shook violently with every step, threatening to give out, but my will refused to break.

"Not yet… not going down yet…" I growled under my breath, pushing through the pain like it was a living enemy. Our next task was climbing downward while facing forward, which was both strange and terrifying. I had never climbed like that before, staring straight into the steep abyss while the rain made every surface as slippery as ice. The water poured over the rocks in heavy streams, turning every handhold into a gamble. The Elders stood at the bottom like silent judges, ready to catch anyone who fell.

I activated my Vestuto right away. The fiery pumped veins pushing and pumping around me, feeding me fresh strength. Driven by a burning passion, I made it down without a single mistake. I learned to take my time, moving with controlled power instead of reckless speed. I tested each hold carefully, breathing through the fear that gripped my chest every time my foot slipped slightly. One wrong move and I would tumble down the mountain like the others I had seen fall earlier. But I didn't fall.

I reached the bottom with my heart pounding and a fierce sense of victory surging through me. After getting to the bottom I had to fight an Elder and get one clean vital hit in. It was a nearly overkill of a challenge to do after so much used physical might. They were not only nimble but annoying as they only blocked and dodged with infuriating precision, forcing me to hunt for the perfect opening while my body was already screaming from the previous challenges. I faced Elder Shanxina, the 51-year-old fast vixen.

For twelve brutal minutes we danced across the muddy ground. She moved like water, slipping away from every strike with a sharp, knowing smile.

"Too slow, Erumes," she taunted between breaths.

"Is this all the fire you have?" My frustration boiled over. I feinted low, then exploded upward with everything I had left. My fist connected cleanly with her forehead. She staggered back a step, then smiled faintly and announced, "Pass." I made it to the 174 group. I thought that was it for the day, but noooo, it was today. The top 100 cut was happening right now, so another 100 were being eliminated on the spot. Our goal was to combat a Big Boulder. Everyone had 5 chances, no Vestuto allowed.

Punch it as deep as you can. The one who makes it the furthest will be in the top 100. It was in reversed order, meaning I was one right after the first groups who punched 62 to 70 cm deep. Impressively deep, I thought. I had no idea how much I could actually get into it. Even exhausted I gave everything I could without Vestuto and made 82 cm. I was pretty smug as it got measured, feeling a small spark of satisfaction. The Elder measuring it raised an eyebrow.

"82 centimeters. Solid hit, Suren, ehhhm Erumes." But then I saw the next ones coming. After my 82 cm it went 77 cm to 78 cm, then 79 to 80 cm. The tension rose with every punch. Until the lower end where I saw Xhife, who was in 97th place, make 96 cm. He let out a loud shout of triumph as the measurement was announced. Then Xihua stepped up and made 118 cm, taking first place with a confident smirk and a small nod toward her brother. I thought I was safe… until the Elder called out, "Two at 82 cm.

Tie for the final spot. Erumes Flamma and Jialo. You both get one more attempt. The deeper punch wins the last place in the top 100." Jialo, the strong 17-year-old soldier guard, walked up beside me. He was breathing hard but had a fierce, talented glint in his eyes.

"So it's you and me" he said, voice steady but respectful.

"Let's see who wants it more." I nodded, fists still aching.

"May the better man take it." We both stood before the boulder. The entire group went silent. You could hear the wind and the distant rain. Jialo went first. He roared and slammed his fist into the stone with everything he had. The measurement came back: 82. 3 cm. He turned to me with a proud but nervous grin.

"Beat that if you can." My heart pounded. This was it. The very last chance. I stepped up, planted my feet, took a deep breath, and remembered every painful step of this trial. I roared and punched with all the fire left in me. The impact echoed. The Elder measured carefully… 82. 6 cm. A heavy wave of relief and exhaustion washed over me. I had made it. Jialo stared at the measurement for a second, then walked over and extended his hand. We shook firmly, both of us breathing hard, covered in sweat and dirt.

"You earned it," he said, voice full of genuine respect.

"That last punch… damn. Good fight, Erumes." I gripped his hand tighter.

"You're strong as hell for seventeen. Keep pushing. You'll go far." He smiled tiredly.

"Do well in Kailume." I was so happy I made the cut. My legs nearly gave out as I walked back to the agency with the others, tomorrow being the day of departure. My body was completely destroyed... legs numb, arms aching, every breath painful, but my spirit felt unbreakable now. I had survived the Trial of Iron Will. I had proven I belonged with them in the top 100.