Deep within the Jin Clan compound, ancient tapestries depicting scenes of martial glory writhed in the shadows cast by black crystal luminaries. These strange lights seemed to absorb more radiance than they emitted, creating an atmosphere where even breathing felt like a struggle against the darkness itself. In a chamber untouched by natural light for over three centuries, Elder Ming sat like a statue of living ice, his twin purple eyes blazing like spirit flames as he regarded the five kneeling disciples before him.
Waves of cold Qi pressed down on them with crushing force, making each breath a battle. The oppressive spiritual pressure spoke volumes of the elder's mastery—and his fury.
"Did you bring his head?" Elder Ming's voice sliced through the silence like a blade of ice. His purple eyes intensified, casting an ethereal glow across weathered features twisted by over three hundred and fifty years of ruthless ambition.
Min-Ho, the leader of the failed assassination team, felt sweat freeze on his forehead despite the chamber's bone-chilling cold. "N-no, Elder." His voice trembled with both fear and disbelief at their failure. "The bastard... in three days... he managed to advance four stages and defeated us. I'm sorry... but we'll get him next time."
The elder's laughter echoed through the chamber—a sound like breaking glass that caused the disciples' meridians to constrict in agony. "You couldn't even kill a bastard who started cultivating a week ago? From the slums, no less?" Each word dripped with contempt. "That brat Taekyung already has his eye on him. Do you know what that means?"
The disciples remained silent, trembling under the weight of both his words and his spiritual pressure.
"ANSWER ME!" The elder's voice cracked like thunder, and his Qi intensified until blood trickled from the youngest disciple's nose.
"N-no, Elder," Min-Ho managed to gasp out, fighting against the crushing pressure.
Elder Ming rose from his seat, his robes whispering against the stone floor like serpents in the dark. "The talent that brat showcases could put me and my position in jeopardy," he muttered darkly. "TAEKYUNG HAS GAINED AN UNPREDICTABLE ALLY!"
The purple flames in his eyes flared brighter, and one disciple collapsed, unconscious from the spiritual pressure. None dared to help him, knowing movement might draw the elder's wrath.
"I told you to kill him when he was weak," the elder hissed, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "But now he's under the academy's protection. It will be hard for even me to apply pressure there because I sent some idiots to do the job."
The chamber fell into silence, broken only by the disciples' shallow breathing.
"You have failed me," Elder Ming continued, his purple eyes flaring. "Tell me, Min-Ho, what does failure entail?"
Min-Ho trembled, unable to meet the elder's gaze. The silence stretched.
"ANSWER!" Elder Ming's voice cracked like thunder, and his Qi intensified until blood trickled from the youngest disciple's nose.
"D-death or expulsion from the clan, G-great Elder," Min-Ho stammered, his voice barely audible.
"Say that again." The temperature in the room plummeted further.
"DEATH OR EXPULSION, GREAT ELDER!" Min-Ho shouted, desperation breaking through his fear.
Elder Ming's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Now, now. How could I possibly kill my beloved disciples?" His voice dripped with mockery. "So that leaves me with one option." He rose from his seat, frost crackling beneath his feet. "Leave and don't come back. You serve no purpose to this clan. You can't even kill a slum bastard."
Min-Ho's face twisted with desperation. He pressed his forehead to the icy floor. "E-Elder, please! Please! Give us another chance! We can still eliminate him—"
"Are you defying my orders?" Elder Ming's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, colder than the frost forming around him.
"N-no, my lord, I wouldn't dare—"
"I've been merciful," Elder Ming cut him off, purple eyes narrowing to slits. "But don't test my patience. You don't want to die, do you?"
Min-Ho's face drained of all color. "No, my lord."
After a brutal confrontation, Baek, Elder Ming's loyal servant, dragged the disciples outside the compound. He threw them and their belongings onto the street with cold efficiency. Min-Ho's frozen shoulder cracked as he hit the ground, drawing a painful cry from him.
"Don't come back," Baek's emotionless voice warned, "or you'll die on the spot. Elder Ming's mercy only extends so far."
As the gates closed behind them with crushing finality, the former disciples huddled together in the cold night air. They wandered through the city streets, their world shattered, until finally collapsing in an alley far from the compound.
"It's because of Tae-Won," Min-Ho muttered, rage warming his frozen limbs. "That bastard. Elder is mad at us, but if we can kill him, we can get a spot back in the clan."
One of the other disciples looked up weakly. "But how are we going to do that? He's in the academy, and not to mention he's stronger than us."
Min-Ho's eyes hardened with hatred. "We'll find a way. No matter what it takes, that bastard will die."
Back in the dark chamber, Elder Ming watched through a crystal orb as the disciples made their decision. Behind him, Baek stood silently, before finally speaking.
"My lord, forgive my question, but why did you leave those brats alive? It seems... unlike my lord's personality to show such mercy."
Elder Ming's eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you saying I cannot show mercy?"
"N-no, my lord! I was merely curious..."
A cruel smile twisted the elder's features. "In any case, if I killed those bastards, it would be far too easy for the rest of the clan to discover my involvement. I backed them personally, of course, but..." He paused, letting the implications hang in the air. "There's another reason I left them alive and had someone track them. It's in order to gain that."
"By that, do you mean..."
"Yes. The cursed artifact that resides in the lowest level of the academy—the Demon Head." Elder Ming's voice dropped to a whisper. "You remember what happened exactly one hundred years ago, don't you?"
"The failed attempt to acquire the artifact," Baek replied softly, a shadow passing over his features.
"Yes. And one hundred years before that was the academy massacre." Elder Ming's purple eyes gleamed with ancient hunger. "Since the earliest days, they've kept multiple precautions to contain the artifact. They don't trust any sects or noble families to claim it for themselves, as it would grant them tremendous power. So they sealed it in their dungeons."
"But containing a demon's curse isn't easy," Baek observed carefully.
"Indeed. Every one hundred years, during the Great Martial Festival, the seal weakens cyclically." Elder Ming's voice carried a note of satisfaction. "Two hundred years ago, during the massacre, several disciples went mad, killing three elders before they were subdued. And one hundred years ago, during my carefully planned attempt, we came so close."
"Until the Headmaster interfered," Baek added with caution.
"That meddling old fool sensed something amiss at the last moment." Elder Ming's face twisted with resentment. "My agent was mere steps away from the chamber where they kept the Demon Head. Twenty disciples died in the confrontation. My agent was discovered and executed. The academy strengthened their defenses afterward, making another attempt nearly impossible."
Understanding dawned in Baek's eyes. "And now another hundred years have passed..."
"Yes. The cycle repeats, and the Great Martial Festival approaches once more." Elder Ming rose, walking to a wall where ancient maps of the academy hung. "I've spent decades studying the patterns, the cycles of the Demon Head's influence. The Dark Medicine Pavilion has been... cooperative in our endeavors, but even their arts cannot penetrate the academy's defenses. Until now."
"My lord has discovered something?"
"The Academy claims these incidents were isolated—the massacre being the result of cultivation gone wrong, and the attempt one hundred years ago being attributed to foreign spies." Elder Ming traced a finger along the academy's outline. "They maintain the official story that security around artifacts is always tight, but I know better. Once every hundred years, all the great academies of the continent gather to showcase their strength. During this time, security around artifacts will be... relaxed. They'll need to redirect resources to manage the influx of visitors and maintain appearances."
"But surely they wouldn't leave such a dangerous artifact completely unguarded?"
"No." Elder Ming's expression darkened. "They'll station at least four Nascent Soul cultivators to guard it. Under normal circumstances, that would make any attempt impossible."
"Then how—"
"Patience, Baek." Elder Ming's smile widened, revealing teeth that gleamed like frost. "I already have plans in motion. The Dark Medicine Pavilion has provided certain... items that will be useful. And these expelled disciples of ours will play their part perfectly, though they don't know it yet."
He returned to his seat, purple eyes reflecting the crystal orb's glow. "Their qi channels are already corrupted from my frost technique. A few more pushes in the right direction, a touch of the Pavilion's forbidden arts reaching them 'coincidentally,' and they'll be perfect conduits for the demon's leaking energy."
"And during the festival..."
"Chaos, Baek. Beautiful chaos." Elder Ming chuckled darkly. "When thousands of young cultivators gather, who would notice a few disciples going mad? Who would connect it to the artifact deep below? And in the confusion..."
"Brilliant, my lord."
Elder Ming slumped back in his seat, a rare moment of tension visible in his ancient frame. "One hundred years is a long time to wait and plan, but this time we have multiple advantages. The current Headmaster lacks his predecessor's spiritual sensitivity. And we have new tools provided by the Dark Medicine Pavilion—tools specifically designed to interact with demonic essence."
The elder's eyes narrowed as his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Then there's our wild card—that upstart Taekyung appeared... the perfect heir. The Jin Clan patriarch's favorite grandson."
"The young master's talent is... exceptional," Baek admitted cautiously.
"Exceptional?" Elder Ming spat the word like poison. "The brat reached Core Formation at fifteen! And when my eldest grandson challenged him for the right to lead the next generation, Taekyung defeated him without even drawing his sword!"
The memory clearly still rankled. Dark frost crystals formed on the armrests where Elder Ming's fingers dug in.
"I had plans for that boy. Subtle poisons to weaken his cultivation, arranged 'accidents' during training, whispers of suspicion planted among the elders." Elder Ming's eyes narrowed. "But then his father—that cunning bastard—outmaneuvered me. He proved his own worth to the clan by achieving Spirit King advancement at an unprecedented age, then secured his son's position through sheer political brilliance."
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Baek remained silent, knowing these were old wounds best left undisturbed.
"All my plans..." Elder Ming continued, his voice a whisper now. "Decades of patient waiting, positioning, manipulating... and they were foiled by a father and son who didn't even know they were being targeted."
He rose suddenly, frost cracking around his feet. "And now—NOW—when I've finally constructed new plans accounting for Taekyung's existence, another variable appears! This... this slum rat with cultivation speed that defies comprehension!"
"You believe the boy is a true threat, my lord?"
"My spies watched him after Taekyung first visited," Elder Ming said, cold fury giving way to calculation. "The slum boy had never touched cultivation before that day. Yet within a week, he advanced through Body Refinement stages that should take months or years! His talent exceeds even Taekyung's."
The elder's eyes narrowed. "Two super geniuses in a single generation? The laws of heaven would not allow such coincidence. There must be more to this boy than meets the eye."
"Should we attempt another assassination?"
"No." Elder Ming stared into the crystal, where the image now showed Tae-Won entering his quarters at the academy. "The time for direct action has passed. Let the boy and Taekyung believe they've won this round. Meanwhile, we'll proceed with the original plan for the Demon Head."
A cruel smile spread across his face. "In fact, this new element may prove useful. A talented newcomer will draw attention away from our true objectives. And should something... unfortunate... happen to him during the chaos of the festival, who would suspect anything beyond a tragic accident?"
"As you say, my lord."
"Now go. Make sure our 'discarded' disciples find their way to the right people."
As Baek vanished into the shadows, Elder Ming returned his attention to the crystal orb, watching the slum boy's movements with hungry eyes. "What secrets do you hide, boy?" he whispered. "And how will they serve my purposes when I tear them from your corpse?"
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Tae-Won's first morning at the Heavenly Cloud Martial Academy began before dawn, with the resonant toll of a massive bronze bell that vibrated through the entire compound. In his modest quarters, furnished simply with a meditation mat, a writing desk, and a narrow bed, he'd already been awake for two hours, practicing the breathing techniques he'd refined since arriving in this world.
The morning sunlight cast long shadows through his window as he completed his final cycle. His Qi flowed through his meridians with increasing smoothness—the breakthrough to Qi Condensation had changed the quality of his energy, making it denser and more responsive to his will.
Donning the academy uniform—a simple blue outer robe over white undergarments, with the academy's cloud emblem embroidered on the right breast—Tae-Won ventured into the compound's wide avenues. First-year disciples hurried in all directions, some looking lost, others moving with confident purpose. The academy's layout was intuitive but vast, with different sections dedicated to specific cultivation practices.
Following the crowd toward what appeared to be a central gathering area, Tae-Won observed his peers with careful interest. Most seemed to be from wealthy backgrounds, judging by their bearing and the quality of their personal effects, though a few showed the harder edges of those who had climbed from humbler origins.
"First-year disciples, gather for orientation!"
The booming voice came from a middle-aged instructor standing on a raised platform in the center of a vast courtyard. His dark blue robes, trimmed with silver, marked him as a senior teacher of the academy.
As the students assembled, Tae-Won noticed several familiar faces from yesterday's examinations—including Min-Ho's former companions, who studiously avoided meeting his gaze. Of Min-Ho himself, there was no sign. Interesting.
"Welcome to your first day at the Heavenly Cloud Martial Academy," the instructor began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the gathered crowd. "I am Elder Wei, head of the Fundamental Arts Division. You will address me as Master Wei."
He paced the platform with measured steps. "Each of you has demonstrated potential worth developing. But potential alone means nothing. Here, you will be judged solely by your results."
Master Wei's eyes swept across the assembly, briefly pausing on Tae-Won. "Your daily schedule will include four components: theory, practice, competition, and meditation. Attendance is mandatory for all sessions. Those who fail to maintain adequate progress will be demoted or expelled."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Today, you will undergo placement evaluations for your specialized training. But first—" He gestured, and several assistants began distributing small jade tablets among the students. "These are your identity tokens. They record your achievements, grant access to appropriate facilities, and track your merit points."
When Tae-Won received his, the jade felt cool against his palm, thrumming faintly with embedded formation energy. A small cloud symbol glowed at its center—the mark of a first-tier disciple.
"Those with white clouds are third-tier disciples," Master Wei explained. "Blue clouds indicate second-tier, while golden clouds mark first-tier status. Currently, only five of you bear golden clouds."
Tae-Won glanced around, identifying the other four first-tier disciples. Three appeared to be from noble families, judging by their superior posture and the subtle embellishments on their uniforms. The fourth was a young woman with sharp, observant eyes who, like him, wore no clan insignia. Their gazes met briefly, a mutual assessment passing between them.
"You will now proceed to the evaluation grounds," Master Wei continued. "Follow your assigned instructors according to your tier designation."
As the crowd dispersed, Tae-Won found himself walking alongside the other first-tier disciples toward a secluded training field. The noble-born disciples maintained a deliberate distance from him and the young woman, conversing quietly among themselves.
"So you're the slum dweller everyone's talking about," the young woman said without preamble, falling into step beside him. "I'm Lin Mei. Former disciple of the Flowing Stream Sect."
"Former?" Tae-Won inquired, noting her neutral tone held neither hostility nor excessive friendliness.
A tight smile crossed her face. "Let's just say political considerations made my continued presence there... problematic. The academy offered a fresh start."
Tae-Won nodded, recognizing the careful phrasing of someone with secrets. "I'm Tae-Won. And yes, I'm from the Southern District."
"I know who you are," she replied matter-of-factly. "Everyone does. Your performance yesterday was..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "unprecedented."
Before he could respond, they arrived at the training field where an elderly instructor awaited them. Unlike Master Wei's imposing presence, this man had a scholarly air, with wire-rimmed spectacles and hands stained with ink.
"Welcome, first-tier disciples," he greeted them. "I am Scholar Joon, your primary theory instructor. Today's evaluation will test both your knowledge and your intuitive understanding of cultivation principles."
The evaluation proceeded with surprising intensity. Scholar Joon questioned them on cultivation theory, elemental affinities, meridian configurations, and historical precedents. The noble disciples answered competently, drawing on their extensive pre-academy education. Lin Mei demonstrated a deep understanding of water-attribute techniques and formations.
When Tae-Won's turn came, Scholar Joon adjusted his spectacles with interest. "Young man, explain the relationship between meridian elasticity and Qi density during the transition from Body Refinement to Qi Condensation."
The question was advanced—clearly designed to probe the limits of his knowledge. Drawing on both his recent studies and his experiences during breakthrough, Tae-Won provided a comprehensive answer, explaining how increased meridian elasticity created capacity for denser Qi, which in turn applied pressure that further expanded the meridians in a self-reinforcing cycle.
Scholar Joon's eyebrows rose progressively as Tae-Won continued, eventually incorporating references to the ancient Meridian Tempering Formation he had activated.
"Most interesting," the scholar murmured when Tae-Won finished. "And where did you encounter information about the Meridian Tempering Formation? Such knowledge is quite rare."
"I found fragments of it on stone tablets," Tae-Won replied truthfully, omitting that he had subsequently reconstructed and activated it. "The principles seemed sound, so I studied them."
"Indeed." The scholar made a notation on his scroll. "Very well, let us proceed to practical evaluation."
The physical assessment that followed tested their combat applications, Qi control, and technique execution. Here, Tae-Won balanced displaying enough skill to maintain his position without revealing the full extent of his abilities—particularly the hybrid techniques he'd developed incorporating elements from his previous life.
As they completed the final exercise, Scholar Joon gathered them for his assessment.
"Each of you has demonstrated qualities befitting your first-tier status," he began. "However, your strengths vary considerably. Based on today's evaluation, I recommend the following specializations:"
He addressed the noble disciples first, assigning them to advanced combat techniques, formation studies, and artifact refinement respectively. Lin Mei was directed toward water-attribute cultivation and healing arts.
When he came to Tae-Won, Scholar Joon paused thoughtfully. "Young Tae-Won, your case presents an interesting challenge. Your foundation is both unusual and remarkably solid. I recommend you focus on comprehensive meridian development and energy refinement techniques—a balanced approach that will serve your unique constitution well."
After dismissal, the disciples dispersed to locate their specialized training areas. As Tae-Won consulted the map on his jade token, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Not bad for your first day."
Turning, he found Taekyung leaning against a nearby pillar, arms crossed casually. Dressed in the silver-trimmed robes of a third-year student, he maintained a polite distance—exactly as would be expected between senior and junior disciples.
"Senior Brother Taekyung," Tae-Won greeted, offering a respectful bow that balanced familiarity with proper deference. The title came naturally to him now, a formality he had quickly adapted to now that he was a student of the academy.
Taekyung nodded approvingly. "Scholar Joon rarely gives compliments. You've impressed him."
"The academy has excellent resources," Tae-Won replied neutrally, aware of curious eyes watching their interaction.
"Indeed it does." Taekyung straightened. "I look forward to seeing how you utilize them. The library pavilion contains many texts on meridian development that might interest you. Second floor, east wing."
With that cryptic advice, he departed, leaving Tae-Won to continue his exploration of the academy grounds. The interaction had been brief but purposeful—maintaining appropriate distance while still providing guidance.
The remainder of the day passed in a whirlwind of activity as Tae-Won familiarized himself with the academy's facilities and procedures. By evening, he had visited the recommended section of the library, acquiring several scrolls on advanced meridian techniques, and located all of his assigned training areas.
Returning to his quarters as the sun set, he discovered a small wooden box outside his door. Inside lay a message tablet and a tiny vial of luminous green liquid.
The message was brief, written in Taekyung's precise calligraphy: "Spirit Condensing Elixir. Rare but not suspicious for a first-tier disciple to possess. Use wisely during your next breakthrough."
Tae-Won smiled slightly, appreciating both the gift and the caution. Taekyung was maintaining their alliance while ensuring neither of them attracted undue attention. The Spirit Condensing Elixir would significantly reduce the risks of his eventual advancement to Qi Condensation II—a thoughtful gift indeed.
After securing both the elixir and the message in a hidden compartment beneath his meditation mat, Tae-Won settled into his evening cultivation routine. As his Qi circulated through increasingly resilient meridians, he reflected on the day's events.
The academy offered resources far beyond anything available in the Southern District. Here, surrounded by both opportunity and danger, he could accelerate his growth exponentially. Yet he sensed unseen currents moving beneath the surface—political machinations and ancient schemes that would inevitably draw him in.
Min-Ho's absence was particularly intriguing. Had the Jin Clan disciples been recalled for some reason? Or had something more sinister occurred?
As his meditation deepened, Tae-Won's awareness expanded, brushing against the academy's ambient Qi. Far below, barely perceptible even to his enhanced senses, he detected a faint disturbance—a subtle wrongness in the energy flows, like a discordant note in an otherwise perfect harmony. It emanated from deep beneath the academy grounds, pulsing with ancient malevolence.
His eyes snapped open, cultivation interrupted by the discovery. Whatever lurked beneath the academy, it resonated with dark purpose. And somehow, Tae-Won sensed it would play a significant role in the challenges to come.
[System Notification]
Unique Energy Detected: Ancient Demonic Essence (trace amounts)
Warning: Prolonged exposure may affect cultivation purity
Recommendation: Develop Qi purification techniques
Tae-Won's eyes narrowed at the notification. So the system had detected it too. This would require investigation—cautious, methodical investigation.
In the corridor outside, footsteps approached. A gentle knock sounded at his door.
"Enter," he called, composing himself quickly.
The door slid open to reveal Lin Mei, the independent first-tier disciple from earlier. Her expression was carefully neutral, but her eyes held urgency.
"Pardon the intrusion," she said formally. "But there's something you should know about this academy's... special collections. Something relevant to new disciples with unique talents."
Tae-Won gestured for her to continue, sensing that his first day at the academy was about to become even more interesting than he'd anticipated.
"The Great Martial Festival approaches," she said quietly, glancing toward the window as if checking for eavesdroppers. "And with it, opportunities and dangers that occur only once every hundred years."
Outside his window, in the night sky above the Heavenly Cloud Martial Academy, a faint red star pulsed with unusual brightness beside the blue Phoenix Star—a celestial warning that even the heavens had begun to take notice of the gathering storm.