The wind tore through the peaks of the sacred cliffs, where the air grew thin and clouds clung to
stone like breath.
Yue Yun stood barefoot on the edge of the training pillar, his sword in hand, his eyes closed.
He didn't move.
Not yet.
Not until he felt it.
The shift in the wind.
The beat of Ao Xuan's wings.
The way the world tilted just before it changed.
Then — in a flash — he moved.
His sword sliced through the air in a spiral of silver, the motion smooth and strong. Lightning
cracked overhead as the sword's seal pulsed faintly, as if testing him.
Still not ready, the blade seemed to whisper.
Below him, Lan Zhi watched in silence. "You've improved," he said. "But you're still holding
back."
Yue Yun landed on one knee, breathing hard.
"I have to," he said. "If I let go… I don't know what I'll become."
That night, the campfire burned low, and Yue Yun sat alone with Ao Xuan curled behind him
like a mountain of sapphire scales.
Then a voice called out from the trees.
"Still wrestling with your own strength?"
Yue Yun stood quickly. His hand hovered near his sword.
But the man who stepped into the light wasn't a threat — at least not yet.
He was tall and robed in sun-gold and white, with a staff on his back and a silver eye pendant at
his waist. His face was kind but sharp, like someone who'd once loved peace and then had to
learn how to fight.
"Master Wei Long," Yue Yun said in surprise.
The man smiled. "Did you think I was dead?"
"I thought the Divine Lords sent you into exile," Yue Yun replied.
"They did," Wei Long said. "And now they want me back."
He sat near the fire and looked Yue Yun straight in the eye.
"They're afraid of you," he said calmly. "Of your dragon. Of your bond with the ancient seal."
"I don't blame them," Yue Yun whispered.
Wei Long leaned in. "You should. Because what they're afraid of… is the truth."
"What truth?"
Wei Long's face turned serious.
"The Celestial Realm was built on a lie. And you, Yue Yun, are walking straight toward it."