The wind howled like a wounded beast across the ridges of the Skyrect Sect, clawing at the towers and sweeping through the pine-laced paths like the breath of old gods. Moonlight spilled across the stone halls and gleamed off the edges of blades, illuminating the restless dreams of cultivators chasing supremacy in a world that devoured the weak.
In the solitude of his cave dwelling, Lin Xun sat cross-legged, bare-chested, eyes closed as tendrils of frost spiraled from his left palm while tongues of flame danced from his right. His dual affinities churned in silent war—never in balance, never at peace, yet inseparable.
Sweat trickled down his spine.
Within his meridians, spiritual energy surged like raging tides, clashing, spiraling, refining. Each breath was a tempest, each heartbeat a forge.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, gleaming like twin stars divided by fate. He exhaled a misty breath, his voice barely a whisper.
"Level four of the Nascent Ember Realm…"
His cultivation had risen again—yet the path ahead remained steep, the sect still cold, and shadows yet loomed.
---
Skyrect Outer Courtyard - Dawn
Word of Lin Xun's duel with Lei Zhen had spread like wildfire. The whispers, once full of doubt and disdain, now danced with awe and fear.
"He beat Lei Zhen with dual affinity techniques…"
"Flame and frost in harmony? That's supposed to be impossible."
"Did you see the Spiral Break? It shattered his lightning aura like glass!"
But admiration bred resentment.
In a courtyard surrounded by willows, a group of disciples gathered beneath crimson lanterns. Their leader wore an outer sect badge of black and silver—Zhao Fan, the top disciple among the outer circle, infamous for his ruthless methods and wealthy backers.
"A lowborn like Lin Xun dares shine before us?" Zhao Fan spat, crushing a jade cup beneath his foot. "Let him have his moment. Tonight, we break him."
A shadow stepped forward—another disciple in green, masked and silent.
"He'll be alone on the Moonwalk Path. That's when we strike."
---
Moonwalk Path - Midnight
The Moonwalk Path wound through the mountains, a narrow trail bordered by cliffs and lanterns that glowed with spiritual fire. It was beautiful. Isolated. Deadly.
Lin Xun walked it alone, returning from a quiet mission assigned by a cold elder—a herb retrieval deep in the Mistshade Forest. He carried a sealed scroll in one hand, while the other hovered near his blade.
He sensed it before it came—the killing intent.
"Ambush," he murmured.
The wind froze.
From the shadows leapt Zhao Fan and five others, surrounding him with blades drawn and killing intent sharp.
"Thought you could crawl into our sect and steal our light?" Zhao Fan sneered, his sword wreathed in a dark green aura. "Trash bloodlines should stay buried."
Lin Xun didn't answer. He dropped the scroll, cracked his knuckles, and stepped forward.
The first attacker came with a strike aimed at his heart.
Lin Xun spun, grabbed the blade with a frost-wrapped hand, and shattered it with sheer elemental force. He kicked the man into a lantern post, knocking him unconscious.
The next two tried flanking him—one with fire, one with poison.
Lin Xun called upon Blazing Lotus Bloom, a technique from his mother's legacy. A ring of fire erupted from beneath him in a lotus pattern, deflecting the flames and purging the poison mist in a single motion.
Zhao Fan cursed and lunged.
Their swords clashed, sparks raining, but Lin Xun was faster—his footwork infused with frost, his strikes with flame.
Then, he whispered, "Frostfire Petal—Third Bloom!"
A spiral of cold and flame exploded from his core, blasting Zhao Fan backward across the path, shattering stones and cracking ribs.
The silence returned.
All five lay groaning on the ground.
Lin Xun looked up at the killing moon above and whispered, "You thought me a spark. But I am the kindling storm."
---
Inner Sect - Thousand Lotus Pavilion
Within the towering pavilion of the Inner Sect, the masked girl from the Lotus Throne stood before a pond of spirit water, watching the ripples.
She turned to the crimson-robed elder.
"You knew they'd try to kill him."
The elder nodded. "And he knew it too. That's why I'm watching."
The girl stepped forward. Her voice, calm yet curious. "Why?"
"Because I've seen talent," the elder said. "But this boy… he blooms under blood. His fire is not one of chaos—it's discipline. And his frost isn't suppression—it's patience."
The masked girl gazed deeper into the water. "He's growing fast."
"Too fast," the elder murmured. "That will draw eyes."
From behind them, another voice echoed through the chamber—a cold, raspy whisper.
"And where eyes gather… blades follow."
A new figure entered, dressed in midnight-blue robes, his presence wrapped in veils of illusion. A shadow elder. Silent and old as myths.
"He'll need a patron," the shadow said, "or he'll die before his roots take hold."
The girl removed her mask halfway. Her eyes gleamed with silver starlight.
"Perhaps… I'll offer him one."
---
Later That Night - Lin Xun's Cave
He sat alone, bloodstained, breath heavy.
But his gaze was unyielding.
The flame within him burned brighter now, not from rage—but from clarity. He understood the nature of the path now. This sect… this world… did not test strength.
It tested resolve.
And he was resolved.
Suddenly, a knock echoed.
He opened the door to find a parchment suspended mid-air, glowing with sect seal. It hovered before him like a silent invitation.
"You are summoned to the Inner Sect Selection—Seven Days Hence. Fail, and be expelled."
Lin Xun's lips curved into a cold smile.
"So soon?"
He turned to face the moon again, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, and whispered,
"Then let the heavens watch as I carve a place not offered—but taken."
---
In a Palace Far Beyond the Eastern Skies
A woman in white robes traced her fingers across an ancient jade mirror.
Upon its surface flickered Lin Xun's image.
A soft smile touched her lips.
"So, the child of Ash and Flame has found his roots," she whispered. "The world does not yet know the blood that flows in his veins. But soon…"
Her voi
ce faded into silence as a bell rang across the heavens.
---
The lotus had bloomed.
But storms still gathered.
And fate had only begun to play its hand.