Hope walked towards the nearest volcano, the heat emanating from its peak rising up to greet him like an old acquaintance.

His footsteps were firm, and despite the intense heat, there was no hesitation in his gait. The land surrounding the volcano was barren and cracked, scorched by the constant flow of molten rock and volcanic ash. It was a dangerous place to be, and yet Hope had chosen this path, not because of some desire for glory, but because of a relentless pursuit of self-overcoming.

As Hope approached the base of the volcano, he noticed several cultivators, all practicing fire-based techniques. They were standing in a loose line that stretched around the volcanic crater, their postures ranging from calm meditation to intense focus, as if trying to commune with the very nature of the flames themselves.

The most powerful of them stood near the volcano, where the heat was nearly unbearable, while the weakest lingered at the back, away from the brunt of the inferno.

Hope’s presence didn't go unnoticed. As he walked past, heads turned, and whispers filled the air like the crackle of distant flames. Eyes lingered on him, some curious, others dismissive. After all, Hope was young—too young to be here, too young to be in the front ranks. The others couldn't help but size him up, silently judging his youth, his appearance, and the sheer audacity of walking past them to the front.

But Hope didn’t care. Their glances, their murmurs—none of it mattered. He wasn't here to impress anyone or to earn their approval. He was here to prove something to himself, to push the boundaries of his own potential. The judgments of others would not sway him. His focus was fixed, his thoughts unshakable, and the whispers faded into the background like the wind.

Reaching the last line of cultivators closest to the volcano, Hope gave them a cursory glance.

They were seasoned cultivators, their bodies tempered by years of fire manipulation, their movements fluid and controlled. Hope could feel the weight of their gazes upon him, but he didn’t falter. His eyes, however, were not on them. His goal was the peak of the volcano.

The cultivators behind him exchanged confused glances. Some of them smirked, wondering if the boy was lost or simply trying to get himself killed. After all, who in their right mind would walk so brazenly toward the top of a volcano that was actively spewing lava?

It was the kind of reckless stunt that was bound to fail, and they were used to seeing such idiocy from young, brash cultivators who thought they could conquer the world with sheer willpower.

But Hope didn’t care. He continued walking forward, pushing past the line of cultivators, ignoring their looks and whispered comments. As he neared the edge of the volcano’s mouth, he saw two elders standing together at the front of the line. They were clothed in rich robes, each embroidered with a phoenix in vibrant red and gold thread. The phoenix was a symbol of fire, rebirth, and strength, and it signified their position within the Phoenix Cry Pavilion, one of the most prestigious sects in the region.

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The two elders were in the midst of a quiet conversation, their voices low, but their words clearly filled with importance. They were discussing the upcoming recruitment for the Phoenix Cry Pavilion, and the specific need to scout potential cultivators with a natural fire affinity—individuals who might possess the potential to rise through their ranks. Their eyes scanned the crowd, looking for any promising seedlings.

As Hope approached the edge of the volcano, the two elders noticed him. The young boy's audacity had caught their attention, and they couldn’t help but watch with growing curiosity. They observed him closely, noting his calm demeanor and the way his body seemed to absorb the heat around him without flinching. His skin didn’t redden or show signs of distress as he got closer to the volcano’s boiling maw. Instead, he seemed to almost revel in it, as though the heat fueled him rather than harmed him.

"Impressive" one of the elders, a tall woman with silver hair tied into a tight bun, murmured. Her voice was a soft whisper, but it carried authority. "Such strong body... It’s rare to see someone so young yet so strong especially at his age."

The other elder, a man with dark eyes and a stern expression, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. His resistance to the heat is extraordinary. He might be a fire cultivator of rare potential. We should consider him for the Phoenix Cry Pavilion... but we must watch him closely.”

As Hope stood at the edge of the volcano, the heat pressing against him, he could feel the power of the volcano’s energy coursing through the air. His body responded instinctively, like a magnet drawn to the core of the earth. It was a raw, primal connection to the fire that surged within him. His cells were transforming, shifting with each passing moment as the fire seeped deeper into his being.

Here, at the top of this volcano, he could feel the power surging inside of him. The fire was no longer just a force outside of him—it was part of him, and he was part of it.

He felt the fire’s call, urging him to draw closer, to embrace it fully.

The volcano’s mouth below him opened like a dark abyss, spewing wisps of fiery energy that danced in the air. The heat was unbearable to most, but to Hope, it was intoxicating. His body was drawing in the energy, greedily absorbing the flames as they flowed around him, transforming his cells, his essence, into something more.

Hope closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing the flames to wash over him. His body felt alive, his senses heightened, and a sense of euphoria overwhelmed him. This was more than just training—it was a communion with the very element of fire.

The two elders watched in awe, their mouths slightly agape. They could see the flames swirling around Hope, almost as though they were responding to his presence, bending to his will. His body was absorbing the fire with such intensity, such precision, that it was hard to believe he was just a young cultivator, still at the beginning of his journey.

"He's... he's not just absorbing the fire. He's becoming one with it" the elder woman whispered. "Marcus this boy... He’s a prodigy. A genius."

Marcus nodded, his expression one of both admiration and wariness. "Indeed Helena.”

As the two elders debated among themselves, Hope’s focus sharpened.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the molten lava flowing inside the volcano. His heart raced, not out of fear, but out of anticipation. He could feel the call of the volcano, the rush of energy beneath him, urging him to leap, to embrace the full potential of fire.

Without a second thought, Hope took a deep breath and…he jumped.