Yang Feng stood outside the gates of the spiritual academy, feeling the weight of his new journey ahead. The towering structures loomed high above, jutting from the side of the mountain like ancient sentinels, carved with a blend of artistry and strength that took his breath away. Each edifice seemed to have grown from the earth itself, their stone foundations melding seamlessly with the rocky terrain. But it wasn't just the sheer size that struck him—it was the delicate balance between raw nature and crafted beauty. The crystalline designs etched into the stone shimmered in the sunlight, casting reflections like fragments of a forgotten world.
This place was nothing like the Azure Domain. It lacked the soaring golden spires and divine aura that marked the Immortal Realm. Yet, there was a grounded elegance here, a sense of something ancient and untamed. This, he realized, was his first real step into a new chapter, a path toward uncovering the mysteries of this unfamiliar world and his past.
As his eyes roamed over the vast expanse of the academy, they fell upon six massive statues that flanked the entrance. Each statue stood tall, their forms so detailed and lifelike that it seemed as though they might step down from their pedestals at any moment. Yang Feng couldn't help but be drawn to them. The figures were representations of the great spiritual beasts that, according to legend, had once ruled this realm alongside the ancient spiritual masters.
His gaze settled on the statue of a phoenix, wings outstretched as if about to ascend into the heavens. The sculptor had captured something more than just its appearance—the bird exuded a sense of both grace and raw power, a creature born from flames yet transcending the element itself. There was something almost magnetic about it, a pull deep within Yang Feng's chest. He felt a strange connection to the bird, as though it stirred memories long forgotten, memories tied to his past life. For a brief moment, he stood still, mesmerized by the phoenix, its fiery essence calling out to the storm that brewed within him.
Shaking his head, Yang Feng dismissed the feeling. Surely it was just the craftsmanship that had stirred him. Yet, even as he turned his eyes away from the statue, a lingering sense of familiarity gnawed at him.
Before he could dwell on the strange sensation any longer, a figure approached from the side, pulling his attention. It was a man dressed in simple robes, unremarkable in appearance, a stark contrast to Ming Ling's grand entrance earlier. Despite his modest clothing, the man carried an air of purpose, each step deliberate and precise.
"Master Ming Ling," the man greeted, bowing deeply. His voice was low but steady, tinged with respect. Though his appearance was plain, his deference toward Ming Ling spoke volumes. This was not just a servant, but someone who understood the gravity of the vice principal's presence.
Ming Ling responded with a curt nod, his expression unreadable as always. "Take this boy and enroll him," he commanded, his voice flat. He didn't bother introducing Yang Feng or elaborating on his background. There was no need for that now. The message was clear, and the man responded with a simple, "As you wish."
Yang Feng shifted his gaze from the man to Ming Ling, catching a brief glance from the vice principal. It was a glance filled with expectation but devoid of warmth. "Go with him," Ming Ling instructed, his voice softer now, though it carried an unspoken warning. "He will handle the formalities."
Understanding that this was just another step in the process, Yang Feng nodded. There was no hesitation—he knew that to move forward, he would need to follow the academy's rules. The man motioned for him to follow, and with one last glance at the towering phoenix statue, Yang Feng trailed after the guide. The image of the bird lingered in his mind, its fiery wings etched into his thoughts.
As they walked deeper into the academy grounds, Yang Feng's senses were flooded with the energy of the place. The courtyard they crossed was alive with activity. Students of all ages and spiritual masters bustled around, engaged in training or deep in discussion. Some floated above the ground, surrounded by glowing auras of spiritual energy, while others commanded small beasts with their mere thoughts. Yang Feng observed as a student conjured a flaming bird into existence, its fiery feathers igniting the air around it, while another summoned a stream of water, shaping it into a serpentine form that danced at their fingertips.
Yet, none of it impressed him. He had witnessed true power—Qi energy in its purest form—and these students, for all their skill, were still far from mastering it. To him, it was a mere parlor trick, a display meant to impress the uninitiated. But now, he was part of this world, surrounded by those who had yet to grasp the full extent of what true cultivation could achieve.
"Here we are," the man said suddenly, stopping in front of a large stone building. Its exterior was weathered but sturdy, and the entrance bore a single inscription in ancient characters. It was the registrar's office, a place where new students were inducted into the academy's ranks.
Yang Feng hesitated, glancing back toward the entrance. Ming Ling was still there, his figure a solitary silhouette against the backdrop of the towering gates. His face remained unreadable, but Yang Feng could sense the intensity of his gaze, as though the vice principal's thoughts were far away, lingering on something far more important than mere admissions.
Back at the entrance, Ming Ling remained rooted to the spot. His eyes were fixed on the distant hill where Bai Feng's house stood, his thoughts a tangled web of suspicion and unease. The aura he had sensed there—fleeting, yet unmistakable—refused to leave his mind. It wasn't just Bai Feng's refusal to meet him that bothered him, nor the strange malice that had emanated from the house. No, it was something deeper, a sense of familiarity that gnawed at him.
Ming Ling had encountered many powerful cultivators in his time, beings whose spiritual energy could shake the heavens. But this was different. Whatever lay hidden in that house, whatever had sparked his unease, was tied to something much older. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had encountered this presence before, though he couldn't remember where or when.
With a sigh, Ming Ling pushed the thought aside. There would be time to uncover those secrets later. For now, his task was to ensure Yang Feng's place within the academy. But as he turned to leave, his eyes drifted back toward the hill one last time, a lingering suspicion burning at the edge of his consciousness. Something was happening, something far beyond his understanding, and whatever it was, it had already begun to unravel.
As the wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the leaves and carrying with it the faint scent of pine, Yang Feng felt the weight of the academy pressing down on him. The air buzzed with energy, but beneath that hum, he could hear something else—a distant whisper, soft yet persistent. It was as though the world itself was watching him, waiting to see what he would do next.
This was only the beginning, but already, Yang Feng could feel destiny's hand shaping his path. He steeled himself, his resolve hardening. There was no turning back now. Whatever secrets this academy held, whatever mysteries lay hidden within its walls, he would uncover them. And as he took his first step inside, he knew that he was not alone on this journey. Something—or someone—was watching.