In the heart of the secluded Azure Wind Village, nestled between towering mountains and vast forests, the scent of blooming spirit flowers blended with the crisp night air. It was a peaceful settlement, untouched by the chaos of the cultivation world. Under the silver glow of the twin moons, laughter echoed through the village square as children chased fireflies, and elders recounted tales of ancient heroes.
Feng Zhenyu, a seventeen-year-old boy with sharp yet kind eyes, sat on the rooftop of his home, gazing at the night sky. The soft wind ruffled his dark hair as he sighed.
"Zhenyu! What are you doing up there?"
He turned to see Bai Xueyin standing below, her long white robe flowing like a winter breeze. She had been his childhood friend since they were little, always teasing him yet never leaving his side.
"Just thinking," he replied, offering a faint smile.
Xueyin climbed up beside him and nudged his shoulder. "About what? Don't tell me you're still dreaming of leaving the village to become a cultivator."
Feng Zhenyu chuckled. "You know me too well."
"You always talk about the world beyond these mountains," she murmured. "But Zhenyu, this village is our home. Why would you want to leave?"
He hesitated. "Because I don't want to be weak forever."
Xueyin's expression softened, but before she could reply, a chilling sensation crawled up their spines. A loud explosion shattered the tranquility of the night.
BOOM!
Screams erupted as flames devoured the village. Figures clad in dark robes emerged from the shadows, wielding weapons that gleamed under the moonlight. The villagers, unprepared and powerless, fell one by one.
"An attack?!" Xueyin gasped.
"Xueyin, go find my father!" Feng Zhenyu commanded, leaping from the roof. He sprinted toward the chaos, his heart pounding.
His home was engulfed in flames. Inside, he saw his father, Feng Tianhao, locked in battle with a masked cultivator. Tianhao, though a former warrior, was outmatched. Blood dripped from his wounds as he struggled to protect his wife and son.
"Father!" Feng Zhenyu cried, trying to rush forward.
"Zhenyu, take your mother and run!" Tianhao shouted, blocking a fatal strike.
But it was too late. The masked man sneered and thrust his sword forward.
Shlick!
Tianhao coughed blood as the blade pierced his chest.
"NO!!" Feng Zhenyu's scream tore through the night.
He watched helplessly as his father crumpled to the ground. The attacker turned toward him, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "So this is the brat? Pitiful."
Rage erupted within Feng Zhenyu. He grabbed a burning plank and charged. But before he could strike, the masked cultivator flicked his fingers.
A powerful force sent Zhenyu flying, crashing into a broken cart. Pain shot through his body as darkness consumed his vision.
A World Between Life and Death
When Feng Zhenyu awoke, he was no longer in the burning village. He stood in a vast void, surrounded by swirling golden energy. A towering figure emerged before him—an old man with an ethereal aura, his long white beard flowing like mist.
"Who… who are you?" Zhenyu whispered, barely able to stand.
"I am the Guardian of the Wind Domain," the old man spoke, his voice echoing like thunder. "And you, Feng Zhenyu, are the last heir of the Wind Dragon Clan."
Zhenyu's eyes widened. "That… that's impossible. My family—"
"Your bloodline is not ordinary. It carries the essence of the ancient Wind Dragons, long thought extinct. And now, your destiny calls."
The old man extended his hand. A brilliant light erupted, revealing a sword embedded in a floating altar. It pulsed with immense power, whispering as if alive.
"This is the Heavenly Wind Blade," the Guardian declared. "Only one of true Wind Dragon descent can wield it."
Zhenyu hesitated. He had never been strong, never been special. But as he stepped forward, memories of his father's death flashed before him. His village… his people…
He clenched his fists. "If this power can help me avenge them… I will take it!"
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, a surge of energy exploded within him. His veins burned with newfound strength. His once dormant bloodline awakened.
A dragon's roar echoed through the void.
Return to the Living World
Zhenyu's eyes snapped open. He lay amidst the smoldering ruins of his village. His hands trembled, but within his grip, the Heavenly Wind Blade shone with an otherworldly light.
He was no longer the same.
Footsteps approached. The masked cultivator stood before him, smirking. "Oh? You're still alive? Pity, I was hoping you'd die quietly."
Zhenyu rose slowly. The air around him shifted. The wind howled, responding to his presence. His enemy frowned, sensing something had changed.
"I'll make you pay," Zhenyu whispered, his grip tightening on the sword.
The masked man laughed. "Oh? And what can a weakling like you do?"
Zhenyu smirked. Then, in a flash, he moved.
Wind exploded around him as he vanished, reappearing behind his foe in an instant. The masked cultivator barely had time to react before Zhenyu's blade sliced through the air—
A scream of agony filled the night.
Zhenyu stood amidst the bloodied battlefield, his heart pounding. His hands trembled, but not from fear—
From power.
He gazed at the sword, its glow reflecting in his eyes.
This was only the beginning.
Darkness. Endless, suffocating darkness.
Feng Zhenyu felt as though he was sinking into an abyss without end. His body was weightless, floating between consciousness and oblivion. The last thing he remembered was the searing pain in his chest, the scent of blood thick in the air, and the desperate scream of his dying father.
Was this death?
Then, a whisper. No—a pulse.
It came from within him, resonating deep in his bones. A powerful force surged through his very soul, awakening something ancient, something buried within his lineage. His fingers twitched, and then suddenly—light exploded all around him.
A vast void stretched endlessly, shimmering with silver currents of energy. Stars flickered in the distance, swirling like cosmic fireflies. In the very center of this celestial expanse stood a lone figure, clad in ethereal robes, his gaze as sharp as the heavens themselves.
"Awaken, descendant of the Wind Dragon Clan."
To be continued…