The clamor of training in the courtyard of the Iron Willow Sect was a sound young Li Tian had grown used to. The clashing of swords, the bursts of qi rippling from sparring disciples, and the occasional bark of orders from the senior instructors buzzed around him like an unrelenting reminder of where he didn't belong.
It wasn't that he was lazy or unwilling to learn. Li Tian poured every ounce of his energy into cultivating, practicing his sword forms until his arms threatened to give out, pushing his qi circulation late into the night in hopes of breakthroughs. But no matter how hard he worked, his progress lagged behind.
The Iron Willow Sect was small and overlooked, its resources modest, its students often viewed as little more than footnotes in the grand annals of the cultivation world. Yet even here, amidst the second-rate disciples, Li Tian stood out—as one of the weakest.
That morning, he stood in formation alongside the other junior disciples, enduring the familiar sting of ridicule during their training evaluations.
"Li Tian, you call that a sword stance?" barked the sect's head instructor, Elder Bo. His tone carried more disdain than instruction. "No wonder your qi is stagnant. You have no control, no focus. At this rate, you'll be lucky if you can evade defeat, much less claim victory in combat."
The snickers from his peers didn't even faze him anymore. He simply bowed, murmured, "Yes, Elder Bo," and returned to his spot in line. The weight of those words, however, lingered, threatening to crush his resolve as the morning wore on.
By the time training ended, the other disciples had already broken off into groups, laughing and sparring together. Li Tian, as usual, was left to his own devices. He retreated to the quiet edge of the training fields, perched beneath an old willow tree, his hands gripping the hilt of his practice sword tightly.
Why can't I improve? The thought gnawed at him. He had no illusions about his talent. His ability to channel qi was middling at best, and his body lacked the raw vitality that so many of his peers seemed to possess effortlessly. But surely, effort had to count for something.
"Li Tian?"
The voice startled him. He turned to see Mei Lin, one of the sect's more promising disciples, standing a few paces away. The glint of desperation in her usually confident expression caught him off guard.
"Mei Lin," he greeted, quickly standing and brushing dirt off his robes. "What is it?"
She hesitated, fiddling with the ends of her sleeve. "I… I need your help."
He blinked. "My help?"
Mei Lin gave a sheepish nod, lowering her voice. "I've been stuck trying to refine my qi for weeks now—no, months. Elder Bo's instructions haven't worked, and I…"
Her voice faltered, shame creeping into her tone. Mei Lin wasn't someone anyone would expect to reach out for assistance, least of all to Li Tian. She was one of the sect's stars, a disciple who carried the expectations of the Iron Willow on her shoulders.
"I don't know what else to do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Li Tian studied her for a long moment. When he answered, it was not mockery or surprise in his voice—it was understanding. "Show me where you're having trouble," he said simply.
They moved to a quieter part of the sect grounds, where Mei Lin drew her longsword and began a sequence of cultivation stances, channeling her qi as best she could. It was clear to Li Tian almost immediately where the issue lay—her energy flared unevenly, unpredictable bursts disrupting the otherwise graceful forms she tried to maintain. Elder Bo's methods probably didn't account for the subtler imbalances within her flow, Li Tian realized.
"You're forcing it too much," he said after watching for a few moments. "Your form isn't the problem—it's the buildup before you start."
Mei Lin frowned. "How do you mean?"
He beckoned her to sit. "Before you try channeling your qi, do this," he instructed, demonstrating a slow, deliberate breathing method he had pieced together from numerous texts. "It harmonizes the qi flow in your dantian before you release it. If you skip this... well, it's like trying to run on uneven ground."
Though skeptical, Mei Lin followed his instructions. After several tries, something clicked. When she stood again to repeat her sequence, her movements were smoother, her energy more stable. A ripple of astonishment spread across her face as her qi formed a perfect arc around her blade.
"I—I did it!" she exclaimed, spinning to face Li Tian. "How did you—where did you learn that?"
His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. "I've… had a lot of practice troubleshooting."
The gratitude in Mei Lin's eyes struck him deeply. For the first time, someone in the sect looked at him without disdain or pity. "Thank you, Li Tian. Truly. I don't know how I can repay you…"
That day marked a subtle but profound shift. Word of how he helped Mei Lin began to spread, and other struggling disciples cautiously sought him out for guidance. Though he remained an unimpressive cultivator in his own right, something about his way of explaining and adjusting techniques resonated with others.
And the more he taught, the more Li Tian felt something he hadn't experienced in a long time—purpose.
But his rising reputation among the juniors did little to appease the elders. Elder Bo, in particular, grew increasingly irate. "You waste time spreading your half-baked methods!" he scolded one evening after catching wind of Li Tian's efforts. "Focus on your own cultivation before pretending you have the authority to teach others."
Those words hurt more than they should have, but they didn't deter him. Li Tian began to sense something profound taking root within him—each time he helped a fellow disciple overcome a hurdle, his understanding of cultivation deepened in ways no individual practice session had ever done.
Eventually, though, it became clear that his path diverged too drastically from the sect's expectations. When the elders told him to cease his "meddling," he made a choice that surprised even himself. He packed his belongings that night, leaving a brief farewell to his fellow disciples.
"I need to find my true path," his note read. "May yours lead you to greatness."
The road beyond the Iron Willow Sect was long and uncertain. Li Tian wandered for months, seeking a place where his strengths would not be confined by rigid hierarchies or narrow definitions of what it meant to be a cultivator. He traveled through bustling cities and solitary mountain paths, honing his insights as he guided wandering youths he encountered along the way. With each interaction, his understanding of the Teaching Dao grew clearer.
Eventually, his wanderings led him to the gates of the Heavenly Dawn Academy. The grandeur of the place was almost overwhelming, but it wasn't the structures that drew him in—it was the atmosphere. The academy thrummed with potential, a place where students came from every corner to grow, not through conformity but through discovery.
Li Tian stood before those gates with nothing but his worn robes and an unshakable determination. His resolve burned bright despite the uncertainty ahead.
"This is where it begins," he murmured to himself. "This is where I will carve my path."
And with that, he stepped inside, his first steps as a teacher of the Heavenly Dawn Academy setting his destiny in motion.