If anyone were to ask him to, Feng Liu would not be able to pinpoint the exact moment when his life had taken a turn, be it for the worse or the better he still couldn’t fully settle on.

The middle of the battlefield might not have been the best place to have such morose and philosophical thoughts, but none the less he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

Little more than a decade ago now he’d lived an exalted life among the core disciples of the Golden Peak sect, not because he was counted as one of them, as he was still too young to even take the first step of many on the road to eternity, but simply because of his blood.

Since time immemorial his family had been serving the patriarch and his descendants. Back when the sect had been first established, one of his ancestors had been a close follower of their sect’s founder, a companion that fought at his side through thick and thin, before the alliance of the Seven Great sects had been brokered or the reign of the Greatest Emperor had been anything more than a hazy dream, centuries before even the birth of such an ancient cultivator.

As one might expect, such loyalty had been greatly rewarded by both the founder and his later heirs, placing Feng Liu’s family in a seat of honor among the ones who came together to create the Golden Peak sect.

And like many such ancient lineages, the Feng family held an inheritance, passed down from parent to child in an unbroken line traced with blood.

[Eastern Wind Blessing]

The air twisted around Liu’s body, wrapping him in a gentle embrace that he would have found supremely soothing on a normal day, but which now filled him with doubts even as the power of the wind carried his form away from harm, a giant spider’s cowardly attempt at an attack from behind easily thwarted by the supernatural awareness granted to him by both his spiritual senses and his blessing.

If it was even really a blessing in the first place. He thought bitterly to himself, even as he commanded the wind to split his unfortunate attacker in twain with little more than a gesture of his hand and an effort of will.

He still remembered when he’d been little more than a toddler, sitting on his grandfather’s lap as the elderly cultivator recounted to him the tale of how their ancestor had received this power, gawking like a fish with eyes filled with wonder.

“Long before any men could call this mountain their home,” He’d said, his solemn, aged voice lending an air of ancientness to the tale. “This place was much like the great Mount Tai, whose peaks are still shrouded by the Heavens themselves to this day.”

With a wave of his hand, a gust of wind flew around the two, making the young Liu laugh and clap in childlike wonder as their hair fluttered chaotically, while the older Feng smiled fondly down at his grandson.

Soon enough though, the wind left their manes alone, instead, gathering above the old cultivator’s hand, forming invisible shapes barely distinguishable by the slight wavering of the air.

With an effort of will, Feng Liu’s grandfather brought to life dozens of miniature stars, all shining with different shades and colors. These newborn lights soon joined the wind on the palm of his hand, knitting together to form puppets of air and light, alongside a light painted environment to act as their stage.

“Wild and untamed, our Golden Peak was filled with such treasures and dangers that even the greediest and bravest paled at the mere thought of climbing it’s sheer outcroppings.” The puppets gathered at the foot of the illusionary mountain, standing side by side as light radiated from their ethereal forms. “But not our great ancestors, because for all the danger that laid before them, there was an even greater opportunity!”

Feng Liu had watched this scene and listened to this same tale many times before, but still, despite having memorized every single facet of the story, to the point he was able to say in his mind every single line before his grandfather spoke them out loud, he never asked him for another story or dared to interrupt his telling. For both of them were so in love with the details of the beginning of their sect.

The group of cultivators climbed ever higher, battling mighty beasts, discovering priceless treasures, and mourning every tragic loss of one of their own. There was much rejoicing and much strife between the cultivators, but the bond they all shared was unbreakable, and it was this quite literally golden bond of camaraderie, made visible by Feng Liu’s grandfather’s expert manipulation of light, that ultimately led them to the top of the mountain.

A beautiful, terrible place. Bathed both in the warmest rays of the sun and the harsh winds of a tempest.

The home of a Dragon.

The little Feng Liu gasped as a sinuous image took form in front of his eyes, just as awe inspiring as the first time he’d seen it.

A long reptilian beast wrapped itself around the peak of the mountain, gleaming green scales covering every inch of its powerful body. Golden irises looked down upon the group of cultivators who had challenged the mountain, and even as a mighty, if silent, roar passed through its sharp toothed maw, not a single one of them broke down and ran away.

The battle that took place then defied all manners of description, although the elderly cultivator did his best to entertain his grandson with a suitably epic performance, and predictably enough it ended with the cultivators' success.

Although it had been a hard won victory, with the dozens of the group now reduced to a mere handful, none could bring themselves to weep for the fallen, as they had won themselves more glory than most cultivators would see in their entire lifetime.

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And so, with the mountain conquered and its guardian slain, the Golden Peak sect was born.

As for the remains of the dragon, most of it was consumed by the remaining cultivators to fuel their paths, which is where their blessing had come from.

For the first of their family had managed to take the dragon's own power over the winds for himself, making it a part of his own bloodline so that all of his descendants would be able to enjoy this boon as well.

A great tale, the young Feng boy's favorite story, at that. But one which was now cast in doubt, for his newfound knowledge of Intent led him to some unwelcome realizations.

Liu gathered the wind raging around him on the side of his arm, forming a sharp blade of churning air. With an effort of will, he extended it several meters ahead of him and commanded the solid wind construct to turn as flexible as a whip, an action that came as natural as breathing to him, as he’d been mastering his blessing since he’d first become a cultivator.

Over the years, he’d grown more and more familiar with the gift of his ancestor, so when he’d learned of Intent and managed to somewhat reliably sense his own, he’d immediately been ecstatic at the prospect of boosting his blessing’s power even further.

But, how shocked he was when he first made the attempt, and instead of some draconic will remaining within his blessing all he found was his own Intent, the same as that of any other spiritual art.

That was when his doubts first took root.

With a blessing empowered leap, Feng Liu weaved around his companions, killing any stray beasts lingering around them waiting for an opening to strike with impunity, his sharp wind whip moving around and even through his fellow disciples without so much as rustling their blue and purple robes.

Briefly, his own winds came in contact with the ones controlled by the fair Huang Lei, slightly pushing them along and empowering them for a strike that ended up turning an entire score of the chittering arachnids into little more than fleshy chunks.

From what he’d learned, Intent wasn’t something so simple and pure as the force of will of a cultivator, despite the ways it was sometimes referred to, it was the sheer force of conviction, of belief that pushed someone forward along their path.

And what if, let us say, someone passed along a story, a fantastic tale, from parent to child about a mythical power won in glorious combat by an ancestor? Would then the children which shared the same blood be able to manifest this ‘blessing’ simply because they believed they could, just like any cultivator was able to perform spiritual arts without knowing about Intent?

Feng Liu did not know, and that uncertainty turned his blood to ice.

He didn't want to believe that the stories he'd been raised with as a child were merely tall tales engineered to better mold him as a cultivator.

An inhuman screech suddenly brought the young man out of his funk, as a dark figure cut through the horde of spiritual beasts towards the strongest of their group.

Huang Lei waved her fan with both grace and haste, forming a barrier in front of her made up of dirt, wind, and fire. The elements she had readily available.

The dark shape rocketed straight through the shield, sending flaming chunks of rock raining over the closest beast, its charge only partially slowed by the impact but still enough for the noble young woman to get out of its path.

Feng Liu immediately sent out his aura to scan the new threat, meeting with all of his companions' auras as they also tried to ascertain the strength of their foe.

Constitutional Realm, sixth stage.

The wind blessed cultivator was thorn between sighing in relief or scowling darkly. On one hand, the beast was only a single step higher than their fan wielding companion, on the other hand, it was five whole stages above him.

A difficult adversary to be sure, but not an insurmountable one.

His companions seemed to agree with the sentiment because half a heartbeat later Huang Lei and Xiang Yu shot toward the horse sized spider with fire and lightning shining in their hands, trying to take the initiative in their bout.

Meanwhile, Liu and the other disciples bounded towards the other smaller spiders, making sure that none of them would interfere with their stronger comrades.

The battle stretched on and on for what seemed to be hours but was merely a handful of minutes, the fifth and second stage cultivators constantly teetered on the verge of ruin, almost looking like they were playing the deadliest game of tag, while they kept the other beasts at bay.

Feng Liu knew this was not a sustainable strategy, as there were probably far more spiritual beasts in the forests than they could dispatch before they all burned all of their energy. So, once he saw an opportunity, the ever polite cultivators went all out, disregarding any of his first instincts that told him not to overextend with his use of spiritual arts.

[Rippling Gale]

The wind blessed cultivator moved his hand in a gesture eerily similar to that of Huang Lei's fan, gathering more and more wind blades around him until his form was completely obscured from sight.

The spiders which had been pacing around him, trying to overwhelm him with numbers, were instantly torn apart, like so much grass in the middle of a hurricane, then, after he had cleared away his immediate obstacles the young cultivator turned around, narrowing his eyes in supreme focus.

[Vacuum Tearing Wind]

This was an art taught him by his father, a particular technique whose strength was almost entirely dependent on his mastery of the air, something that was supremely potent in the hands of someone with their particular bloodline.

As Feng Liu gathered all the wind blades spinning around him in two neat, opposite vertical rows, he forgot all about his doubts and his questions, he could ask his family all about it once he returned home. But right now he could not afford to have any doubts in his heart.

With some trepidation, the wind blessed young man plucked a single shining spark from the small flame of his will, adding it to the technique he'd finished preparing, and infused it with a simple command.

Cut. Sever. Kill.

The two opposite wind blades started spinning madly against each other, creating so much friction that they almost caught fire on the spot and emitting a terrible roar that echoed through his surroundings.

With an almost casual wave of his hand, the blade of air shot towards the towering spider.

The beast might have been able to dodge it, and it indeed tried to do exactly that, but Xiang Yu didn't let it, jabbing a lighting spear directly into one of the few wounds it had accrued during their fight, the electricity making its body lock up for a precious instant.

The wind blade tore through most of its side, amputating many of its limbs and even splitting its abdomen wide open.

A disgusting cry of pain and fury came from the wounded beast, which made the young Feng's spine crawl in such a way that he almost shared his lightning wielding companion's visceral animosity for the odious thing for a moment, but thankfully its cry was silenced swiftly by the two cultivators, who didn't even stop to take a breath before they reached his side to cover his back while he took a moment to recuperate from the not insignificant expenditure of spiritual energy.

Idly, Feng Liu popped a spiritual pill into his mouth, quickly cycling the energy through his system with a sigh of relief.

He only hoped that Zhen Yin and the others would finish their task soon.