The aftermath of the battle hung over Willowbrook like the fading echo of a storm. The air was thick with tension, though the threat had passed. The spiritual beasts lay dead or scattered, but the village remained on edge, its people shaken by how close they had come to destruction.

Li Feng stood in the square, his breathing ragged, sweat and dirt clinging to his skin. His body ached from the fight, but none of that mattered now. His eyes were fixed on the cultivator who stood before him, their presence overwhelming in its sheer power and grace.

The robed figure surveyed the village with the calm of someone accustomed to violence and chaos. Their eyes glowed faintly, shimmering with the energy that had just moments before cut through the spiritual beasts with ease. Now, they stood before Li Feng, their gaze cool and assessing.

"You fought bravely, but recklessly," the cultivator said, their tone even, though there was something sharp in it. "Few commoners would stand their ground against a spiritual beast, let alone survive an encounter with two."

Li Feng, still holding his blood-stained axe, swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. His heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from the weight of the moment. This was his chance—a chance to be noticed, a chance to prove that he was more than just a villager.

"Thank you," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "But the village needed defending. I couldn't just stand by."

The cultivator nodded slowly, their eyes never leaving his. "Courage is not in short supply among mortals. What sets cultivators apart is power, control, and wisdom. You showed the first two today, but you lack the last."

There was a pause as the cultivator’s eyes flickered to the slain beasts, then back to Li Feng. "Had I not arrived when I did, you would have perished along with the rest."

Li Feng gritted his teeth, the truth of those words hitting harder than he expected. He had felt it—the edge of his limits, the looming sense that no matter how hard he swung his axe or how determined he was, it wouldn’t be enough to defeat a spiritual beast of such power. Yet, something deep inside him, something primal, refused to accept it. He had to fight.

"I know," Li Feng admitted, his voice softer now. "But if I don’t stand and fight, what else is there?"

The cultivator’s gaze remained inscrutable, but something flickered in their expression—a faint trace of interest, perhaps even approval. "An admirable spirit," they said, their voice softening ever so slightly. "But a fragile one, unless honed."

As they spoke, the villagers began to emerge from their homes, cautiously stepping out into the square. Relief was palpable on their faces as they beheld the fallen beasts, but they kept their distance from the cultivator, as though the figure’s mere presence was something otherworldly, too far beyond them to approach.

Old Man Guo hobbled forward, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and gratitude. "Esteemed cultivator," he said, bowing deeply. "We are forever in your debt. If not for your timely arrival, we would have been—"

The cultivator waved a hand dismissively, cutting off the elder’s words. "I did what was necessary. Your lives were not mine to take or save; that is the will of the heavens. But I did not come here by chance."

The villagers murmured amongst themselves, confusion spreading through the crowd. Li Feng frowned, his own thoughts racing. Not by chance?

The cultivator turned back to Li Feng, their eyes narrowing with intent. "Tell me, Li Feng. Where did you learn to fight a spiritual beast?"

"I didn’t," Li Feng replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "I’ve only ever trained with an axe, cutting wood and practicing in the woods. I’ve never had formal training."

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"That much is clear," the cultivator said, though there was no mockery in their tone. "And yet, something stirred in you today—something beyond the realm of ordinary mortals. You felt it, didn’t you? The pull of energy, the surge of power when the beasts came."

Li Feng hesitated, the memory of that moment rushing back to him. He had felt something—an electric pulse in his blood, a force he couldn’t explain. It was as though the very earth and sky had reached out to him, calling him to act. But what was it?

"I don’t know what it was," Li Feng admitted. "I just felt... something. Like I was meant to fight, meant to stand against them."

The cultivator studied him in silence for a long moment. Then, they spoke again, their voice lower, almost contemplative. "There is potential in you, boy. Untapped, unrefined, but there nonetheless. The heavens do not bestow such gifts lightly."

Li Feng’s breath caught in his throat. Potential. Was this the moment he had waited for? Was this cultivator—the very embodiment of everything he had dreamed of—about to offer him the chance of a lifetime?

"I came here on the authority of the Weeping Willow Sect," the cultivator continued, their eyes gleaming. "I was tasked with scouting the villages for those who possess latent talent. It seems fortune has led me to you."

The words hung in the air like the peal of a bell, and for a moment, Li Feng felt the weight of the entire world pressing down on him.

"Latent talent?" Old Man Guo muttered, his eyes wide with surprise. "But Li Feng—he’s just a woodcutter! How could he—"

"The path of cultivation is not limited to birthright," the cultivator interrupted, their voice cutting through the elder’s disbelief. "There are forces in this world that transcend lineage. Power flows where it is meant to, and it seems this village has produced one such vessel."

Li Feng’s heart raced. Was this truly happening? His entire life, he had dreamed of becoming a cultivator, of joining a sect, but those dreams had always seemed impossibly distant. Now, standing before him was an opportunity—one that only came to a select few.

The cultivator extended a hand toward him, their expression solemn. "Li Feng. The Weeping Willow Sect is prepared to take you in as an outer disciple, should you choose to follow this path. But understand this: cultivation is not a simple journey. The heavens are cruel, and the path to power is lined with blood and sacrifice. Once you step upon it, there is no turning back."

The village square fell silent. All eyes were on Li Feng.

He could feel the weight of their gazes, but more than that, he could feel the weight of the decision before him. Everything he had ever wanted—everything he had dreamed of—was within his grasp. But the cultivator’s words echoed in his mind. The path to power is lined with blood and sacrifice.

Was he truly ready for that? Could he handle the hardships that lay ahead? Would he lose himself in the pursuit of power, or would he rise to the challenge and find his place among the stars?

For a brief moment, doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. He thought of the village, of the simple life he had known. He thought of Xiao Mei, of Old Man Guo, of the people who had always been there for him. But he also thought of the mountains, of the stories he had heard, of the limitless potential that awaited beyond the confines of Willowbrook.

And then, as if some inner voice had silenced all doubt, he knew what his answer had to be.

"I will join the Weeping Willow Sect," Li Feng said, his voice steady and clear.

The villagers gasped, but the cultivator simply nodded, as though they had expected nothing less.

"Very well," the cultivator said, lowering their hand. "We leave at first light. Prepare yourself, for the journey to the sect is not without peril."

Li Feng nodded, his mind already racing ahead to the future. The village around him seemed to blur, the weight of his decision still settling into his bones. But one thing was certain: his life would never be the same again.

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That night, Willowbrook was quiet. The villagers had retreated to their homes, grateful for their safety but still shaken by the day’s events. Li Feng sat on the steps of his small, simple house, gazing up at the stars that hung like scattered jewels in the sky. Tomorrow, he would leave this place. Tomorrow, his life would change forever.

"Li Feng."

He turned at the sound of the voice. It was Xiao Mei, standing a few feet away, her face shadowed in the dim light of the moon.

"You’re really going, aren’t you?" she asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

Li Feng nodded. "I am."

She took a deep breath, her expression unreadable. "I always knew this day would come. You’ve always been different from the rest of us."

He looked at her, sensing the weight of her words but unsure how to respond.

"Just… be careful," she said softly. "I don’t know much about cultivation, but I’ve heard stories. It’s dangerous out there."

"I will," Li Feng promised. "And I’ll come back."

Xiao Mei smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I hope you do."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Li Feng alone once more.

He gazed back up at the stars,