The first light of dawn crept over the mountain peaks, casting long shadows across the Tianyun Sect's sprawling compound. The courtyard lay silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the morning breeze. In a secluded corner of the sect, nestled between towering ancient trees, a young man moved with deliberate precision.
Huan Ko, now 18, stood at the edge of a small clearing, a simple bow gripped tightly in his hands. His expression was one of intense concentration, his gaze fixed on a target—a small circle drawn on a distant tree trunk. Slowly, he drew the bowstring back, his muscles tensing as he held it steady. The arrow's tip quivered slightly, but his hand remained firm. With a soft exhale, he released the string.
The arrow flew through the air with a faint whistle, striking the target dead center. Huan allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction before lowering his bow. Over the past six years, he had honed his skills in archery, a discipline that didn’t require the cultivation of qi but demanded precision, patience, and unwavering focus. It was a sort of activity that gave him a similar feeling to sewing.
But archery was not the only area where Huan had made progress. Despite the limitations imposed by his spiritual core, his thirst for knowledge had not waned. Countless hours spent in the sect’s library had yielded results. The once-daunting concepts of qi circulation, meridian pathways, and spiritual formations were now as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He had devoured texts on alchemy, swordsmanship, and ancient history, memorizing every detail with a fervor that bordered on obsession.
The disciples of Tianyun Sect had long stopped paying attention to the lone figure who spent more time in the library than on the training grounds. To them, Huan Ko was a curiosity, a failed cultivator with no future in the world of immortals. Someone who would soon pass, but Huan did not care. Their whispers had become background noise, easily ignored as he focused on his true goal: to uncover a way to ascend to the heights that heaven had in store for him.
This morning, however, Huan had set aside his usual studies in favor of a new pursuit. After practicing his archery, he made his way through the quiet paths that wound between the groves, his destination clear in his mind. The sect's alchemy garden was a tranquil space, filled with rare herbs and plants, their potent auras mingling in the air.
Upon reaching the garden, Huan settled himself beneath the shade of a towering spirit tree, its leaves shimmering with a faint, ethereal glow. From within his robe, he retrieved a jade slip, its surface smooth and cool to the touch. He had discovered the slip just the previous night, tucked away in a corner of the library, overlooked by the other disciples. Its contents were inscribed in ancient script, detailing some of the in-depth principles of alchemy.
He placed the jade slip against his forehead and closed his eyes, allowing the knowledge within to flow into his mind. The slip spoke of the art of refining herbs, the precise control of fire and temperature, and the delicate balance of yin and yang within each pill. It described the process of transforming ordinary plants into potent elixirs, as opposed to the typical usage of qi-infused plants.
As Huan absorbed the information, he was oblivious to the small drama unfolding in the undergrowth nearby. Beneath a cluster of broad leaves, an ant was struggling, its tiny legs flailing as it tried to escape the silken threads that a spider was meticulously spinning around it. The spider, patient and methodical, worked with the precision of a seasoned weaver, its eight legs moving in a delicate dance as it ensnared its prey.
Not far from this grim scene, a praying mantis watched silently. One of its legs was injured, a jagged tear in its exoskeleton from a previous encounter. Though its body was built for speed and precision, the mantis hesitated, doubting its ability to strike effectively in its weakened state. Its compound eyes flicked between the spider and the struggling ant, instinct urging it to seize the opportunity, yet caution holding it back.
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Hovering just above the action, a dragonfly darted back and forth, its iridescent wings catching the light. The dragonfly’s sharp eyes were fixed on the ant, waiting for the spider to finish its work so that it could swoop in and steal the prize. The dragonfly was confident in its speed, sure that it could outmaneuver any competitor.
But none of these insects noticed the true danger that lurked above them. High in the sky, an eagle circled silently, its keen eyes tracking the movement below. The dragonfly, absorbed in its own small world, never saw the shadow descending upon it. With a swift and deadly strike, the eagle snatched the dragonfly from the air, swallowing it whole before any of the other creatures even realized what had happened.
The spider, sensing the disturbance, paused in its work. Its tiny body tensed as it glanced upward, its instincts screaming that danger was near. Abandoning its nearly ensnared prey, the spider began to scuttle away, but it was too late. The eagle's talons were faster, and in a heartbeat, the spider was caught and crushed, its delicate legs curling inward as the life was squeezed out of it.
The eagle, now focused on the ant, descended once more. The ant, though weak and ensnared, was still alive, still struggling against its bonds. Just as the eagle prepared to strike, the praying mantis made its move. With a burst of speed, it leaped toward the eagle, its sharp forelegs extended in a last-ditch effort to claim a meal. But the eagle, far more powerful, simply adjusted its trajectory. The mantis's attack missed by a mere fraction, and in its overextended position, it became an easy target. The eagle snapped its beak shut, and the mantis's struggle ended in an instant.
Satisfied and now full, the eagle turned its attention back to the ant. But as its beak hovered above the ant stuck in the web, it reconsidered. The ant, small and insignificant, was hardly worth the effort. With a beat of its powerful wings, the eagle soared back into the sky, leaving the ant behind, still caught in the spider’s threads, but very much alive.
As the jade slip’s knowledge continued to flow into Huan’s mind, he came across something disturbing in the slip’s teachings—the usage of a person as a cauldron.
In alchemy, a cauldron was a facilitator to circulate qi within— but, as this slip informed him, it could also be a person, a living being used to refine and concentrate spiritual energy, often at the cost of their cultivation and free will. The realization hit Huan like a bolt of lightning. His heart pounded in his chest as his thoughts turned to Mei. She had always been different, her heavenly water spiritual core making her a target for those seeking power. And she had left, supposedly to "become a cauldron."
The jade slip slid from his fingers, landing softly on the grass as Huan stood up abruptly.
Mei was in danger.
His mind immediately turned to Long Li; the master that had always been lazing about, out of sight, who had promised the position to Mei.
He had to confront Long Li. The thought of Mei being used as a tool, drained of her life, was unbearable. Gritting his teeth, Huan began to make his way out of the grove, his footsteps quickening as he moved with purpose. The morning air was cool, but a layer of sweat slicked his palms.
But as he hurried along the narrow path that wound between the trees, something stopped him dead in his tracks—a surge of qi, so strong and overwhelming that it felt like the very air had turned to lead. The force of it was suffocating, pressing down on him, making it difficult to breathe. Huan instinctively dropped to one knee, his hand gripping the trunk of a nearby tree for support. His heart raced as he struggled to identify the source of the powerful aura. Looking around, he saw other disciples experiencing the same phenomenon.
At that moment, the thought of Mei being somewhere within the sect, potentially at the mercy of this terrifying presence, nearly drove him to abandon his path to Long Li. He could run, try to find her, and escape together. His thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty, and the pulse of qi continued to press down on him, threatening to crush his resolve.
But something inside him told him he had to get to Long Li. Huan took a shaky breath, forcing himself to stand. Running now would be futile. He didn’t even know where Mei was, and to confront this presence head-on without any plan would be suicide.
The strongest person he knew was Long Li.