The boat glided silently away from the small town, its wooden hull barely disturbing the water’s surface. Huan Ko stood on the side, looking out over the side to the front of the boat. Beside him, Mei gazed back at the slowly shrinking silhouette of the town she lived in her whole life, her expression a mix of nervous excitement and trepidation. The sun was just beginning to set, casting an amber hue on the nearly clear water.
Long Li, lounging at the stern with an air of casual indifference, broke the silence. “Well, since you’ll soon be joining us at the Tianyun sect, let’s introduce ourselves. Names and cultivation realms, if you please.” His voice was smooth, carrying a hint of authority despite his festive attitude.
The sharp-faced man, who had been standing stiffly near the center of the boat, was the first to respond. “Zhi Hao. Golden Core realm,” he said, his tone clipped and efficient, as if he found the introductions a waste of time.
Rong Ye, who had been silently standing beside Zhi turned to face Huan and Mei, “Rong Ye, Foundation Establishment realm.” Her voice was soft and emotionless, more reserved than disinterested.
Long Li chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Perfect. As for your master, I am Long Li, Nascent Soul realm.” He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, a hint of pride lacing his words.
The introductions passed, leaving a conversational atmosphere hanging in the air, yet no one took advantage. Huan found himself retreating into his thoughts, the reality of his situation beginning to settle into his heart. This was his chance to prepare for his destiny, and he wouldn’t be wasting it.
----------------------------------------
Hours later, the landscape began to change. The boat cut through a thickening mist, the air growing cooler as they ventured deeper into the mountain range. The mist swirled around them, clinging to the sides of the boat like a living thing, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. Huan could barely see the bow, the mist so dense it seemed to swallow everything beyond a few feet.
Mei leaned over the railing; her eyes wide as she took in the surreal scene. “It’s like we’re sailing through a cloud,” she whispered, her breath visible in the cool air.
Huan nodded, his gaze fixed on the shifting veil of mist. There was something both eerie and calming about it as if they were leaving the mundane world behind and entering into the realm of dreams.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the mist began to clear. The first thing Huan noticed was the faint outline of towering structures in the distance. As they drew closer, the details became sharper, revealing the ancient architecture of the Tianyun Sect. Tall pagodas rose from the mountainside, their roofs curving gracefully upward. Groves of trees, their verdant green leaves shimmering with a subtle glow, dotted the landscape, while waterfalls cascaded down the cliffs, their waters sparkling in the sunlight.
Mei climbed up on the railing of the boat, her mouth stuck slightly ajar, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight.
Huan couldn’t help but agree. The Tianyun Sect was everything he had imagined and more. There was a serene, almost sacred quality to the place as if it had existed for centuries untouched by time. He could feel the qi in the air, thick and nearly sickening as if the air was moggy on a humid day.
As the boat glided toward the sect’s dock, Huan felt a mixture of awe and apprehension. This was the beginning of a new chapter, a step into a world he had only dreamed of. But with that step came challenges he was only beginning to comprehend.
Long Li stretched languidly as the boat came to a stop, his gaze sweeping over his disciples with a practiced eye, “Welcome to the Tianyun Sect,” he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction, “Your new home.”
Long Li was the first to step off the boat, his movements casual yet deliberate. His hands remained tucked into his sleeves, a picture of effortless grace as he descended onto the dock. The sunlight filtered through the mist, casting a soft glow on the wooden planks beneath his feet. He glanced back briefly, a faint smile playing on his lips as if amused by something only he understood.
Zhi Hao followed, his posture rigid and composed. Each step he took was precise. Beside him, Rong Ye moved in a similar manner, her elegance evident in her balanced walk.
Mei hesitated for a moment before stepping off the boat, her excitement tempered by a growing sense of unease. The sect was beautiful, no doubt, but there was an undercurrent of something more—something that made her heart race with both anticipation and dread.
Huan Ko followed closely behind, his gaze fixed on the grand structures before him. But the moment his foot touched the sect grounds, his breath caught in his throat. The air was thick with qi, far more potent than anything he had ever encountered. It pressed down on him, making his chest feel tight as if he were trying to breathe underwater. A sharp pain radiated from his core, causing him to stagger.
He tried to steady himself, but the pressure was too much and he fell to his knees. His hand instinctively clutched at his mouth as a violent cough wracked his body. Blood speckled his palm, the crimson droplets stark against his tanned skin. The world spun around him, and for a moment, he feared he might collapse right there on the dock.
Long Li turned at the sound of Huan’s struggle, the amusement in his eyes unmistakable. “It seems the qi density here is a bit much for you, Huan Ko,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Zhi Hao, who had been watching from a short distance, narrowed his eyes in disdain. The sight of Huan’s weakness seemed to offend him. He turned slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line as if the very sight of struggle was beneath him.
Rong Ye, however, moved with purpose. From within the folds of her robes, she produced a small, tarnished relic—a simple, unassuming object that looked as though it had seen better days. In a single movement, she bent at her knees and held it out toward Huan.
The relic began to emit a faint glow, and almost immediately, Huan felt a slight easing of the pressure. The relic was absorbing the excess qi from the surroundings, providing him with a brief respite from the overwhelming density. He took a shaky breath, his body slowly beginning to recover from the shock.
Long Li’s eyes flicked to the relic, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ah, that old thing. A failed attempt at crafting, if I remember correctly. It does little more than absorb qi from its surroundings—hardly useful for anyone. But it seems even trash has its uses after all.”
Huan straightened with effort, his face still pale but his resolve unshaken. The pain had subsided, but the memory of it lingered, a reminder of the long road ahead. He wiped the blood from his lips as he coughed up the residual blood that had been stuck in his mouth.
Zhi Hao took a step forward, his voice cold and cutting. “If this is what the ambient qi does to you, it might be wise to quit now before you embarrass the sect.” His tone was laced with condescension as if he had already written Huan off as a failure.
Rong Ye, standing beside Zhi Hao, nodded in agreement. “It’s true. The path ahead will only grow more difficult. Since you cannot handle this, you should turn back.”
Huan met their gazes, his own unyielding. “I won’t quit,” he said, his voice strained but firm. “I came here to cultivate, and that’s what I’ll do. No matter how hard it gets.”
His defiance seemed to catch both Zhi Hao and Rong Ye off guard. They exchanged a glance, an assurance of surprise passing between them.
Huan took a deep breath, steadying himself. The pressure had dulled to a manageable amount, but he knew he must progress further along his path to reduce the pressure.
Long Li waved a hand dismissively, “Enough of this,” he said, his tone nonchalant. “Zhi Hao, Rong Ye, give them a tour of the sect. Show them the library, the training grounds, the meditation groves… the usual.” He turned away, already losing interest in the conversation. “I have important matters to attend to.”
With that, Long Li strolled off.
Huan watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. Long Li’s indifference was unsettling, but it also left him with room to breathe, at least for now.
Zhi Hao wasted no time. “Follow me,” he said curtly, leading the way. Rong Ye trailed behind him, neither of them waiting to confirm Mei or Huan were following, but with their new brother’s and sister’s eagerness, why would they need to?
As they walked, the grandeur of the Tianyun Sect unfolded before them. The path they took was lined with ancient trees, their trunks twisted and gnarled with age. The air was filled with the faint scent of pine and earth, mingling with the ever-present qi that seemed to saturate everything in this place.
They arrived at the library first, a massive, geometric structure of dark wood and stone, climbing multiple stories. The building exuded an aura of wisdom and age, its walls lined with shelves upon shelves of jade slips. Each slip contained the knowledge and techniques accumulated over the sect’s three-century-old history. The library was empty at this hour, the silence only broken by the distant trickle of water from a nearby stream which one could only assume ran from the top of the mountain to the river.
Zhi Hao gestured to the entrance. “This is the library. Here, you will find the sect’s teachings, techniques, and historical records. However, access to certain sections is restricted based on your status as a disciple.” He spoke almost like a book would speak, his words measured and precise.
Mei’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she peered inside, while Huan felt a pang of longing. The knowledge contained within these walls was vast, a treasure trove for any aspiring cultivator. But for now, there was still more to see.
Next, they were led to the training grounds. The large open space was deserted, its sandy surface smooth and unmarked. Training dummies stood at regular intervals; each one looking like new despite their decades of use. Surrounding the grounds were various weapons racks, holding swords, spears, and other implements of battle. Despite the emptiness, the place radiated a sense of purpose, as if it was waiting for the next generation of disciples to leave their mark.
Zhi Hao’s gaze swept over the grounds. “Usually, you’d spend a lot of time here, refining your techniques and building your strength.”
They moved on, passing through groves of trees and gardens where medicinal herbs and pill materials were cultivated. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth. The groves were a place of quiet contemplation, their serenity only reinforced by the occasional flutter of wings or birdsong. In contrast, the gardens were meticulously maintained, each plant arranged around others with precision to optimize its growth and potency.
Zhi Hao spoke as they walked, “The meditation groves are where you’ll focus on cultivating your spiritual energy. The gardens, on the other hand, are vital to the sect’s alchemy practices. You may find yourself working here if assigned to assist with pill-making.”
Finally, they arrived at the disciples’ quarters, a sprawling complex of buildings nestled at the foot of a cliff. The quarters were modest but comfortable, each room designed to house a single disciple. Rong Ye took Mei aside, guiding her into one of the buildings, leaving Huan standing with Zhi Hao, who gave him a glance out of the side of his eyes before he walked away from the small village.
Huan followed Zhi Hao as he led him away from the disciples’ quarters. They crossed a small creek over a narrow bridge, the sound of rushing water below and the hollow sound of their footsteps on the wood filling the silence between them. The quarters on the other side of the creek were a much more austere structure compared to the other quarters. The building was plain, its paper walls a faded white.
Zhi Hao opened the door, revealing a large, barracks-style room. Rows of simple beds lined the walls, each one identical to the next. On one of the beds closest to the entrance lay a set of simple white robes, the only indication that this particular space was meant for Huan and not already taken.
“This will be your place,” Zhi Hao said, his tone lacking any warmth. “You’ll get dressed and meet at the top of the mountain for your entrance ceremony. Everyone’s waiting.”
With that, Zhi Hao turned and left, leaving Huan alone in the large room. Huan stood there, taking in his new surroundings. The reality of his situation settled in, heavy and undeniable. Yet, even in the face of this harsh beginning, Huan picked up the robe, shedding his old rags.