Chapter 7: The Trial of Body
The sun was only beginning to crest over the jagged peaks surrounding the Azure Flame Sect, casting long shadows across the wide stone courtyard. A line of nervous initiates stood in silence, dozens deep, waiting for their names to be called. Jin was among them, eyes forward, posture steady. No one paid him much attention. Most of the chatter drifted around more prominent candidates—sons of minor nobles, prior sect trainees, or those who had shown early promise in martial arts.
Jin remained quiet. His plain robe and unassuming presence helped him blend in, and he preferred it that way—for now.
"Begin the Trial of Body!" Elder Han's voice thundered from the observation platform above, his presence as sharp as the sword at his side.
The trial was divided into three parts: strength, endurance, and combat durability. Each disciple would undergo a different sequence depending on their draw. Jin was in the second group.
The first test he faced was the weighted run. Twin stone weights were strapped to his ankles, each as heavy as a full-grown man. The course was short but brutal—around the inner ring of the courtyard, up the stairs, down a slope, and across a pool of shallow water.
Jin took off when signaled, his breath steady. His legs strained with each step, but he kept a calm pace, conserving his energy. He passed a few initiates who had bolted ahead and were now flagging near the end. He crossed the finish line with burning thighs and a slick sheen of sweat. Not the fastest, not the slowest.
Next came the stone lift—holding a boulder above the chest while in a crouch. Jin's muscles screamed in protest as he heaved the rock up and locked into the posture. All around him, others quivered and toppled. Jin held on, not comfortably, but long enough to meet the standard.
Finally, he stepped onto the dueling platform to face an elemental puppet—one powered by wind formations, designed to test how well a candidate could take and adapt to blows.
The puppet lunged at him with swirling limbs of pressurized air. Jin raised his arms to block the first strike, the force nearly knocking him off balance. He staggered back, adjusted his footing, and braced himself. The puppet struck again and again—he didn't try to outmaneuver it, simply absorbed the hits, letting his body adjust to the rhythm.
After three minutes, the puppet halted. Jin was breathing hard, bruised but upright.
Elder Han looked down, his expression unreadable. "Endurance, acceptable. Strength, above threshold. Reaction, fair. Pass."
Jin nodded once and stepped down. No applause. No stares. Just one more face in a sea of hopefuls.
He sat in the shade of a wall to rest, eyes drifting to the others still undergoing their trials. A few had already dropped out. One boy clutched his knee in pain. Another girl sobbed quietly as a healer wrapped her arm.
Jin stretched his shoulders. The ache was manageable. His performance had been solid—nothing remarkable, but nothing shameful either.
And that was enough. For now.