The cold mountain dawn had not yet broken over the basalt battlements of the Heavenly Sword Sect when the iron bell hanging above Rust Hall began to clang its harsh, rhythmic wakeup call.
Before the last echoes died against the dormitory rafters, master overseer Chai kicked open the heavy iron-banded doors, shouting for the new recruits to haul their blankets off the stone floor and report to the lower coal yards.
Ye Chen was already on his feet, having spent the final hours of the night executing quiet sword forms in the drafty corner beside the exhaust pipe.
He pulled on his coarse, unwashed gray linen tunic, sliding the Rust Hall token into his inner lining alongside the hidden jade medallion, before grabbing a heavy iron shovel and marching out into the freezing courtyard with the s
