The elders of the Soaring Dragon Sect had a tradition of cruel honesty during their annual talent evaluation. This year was no different.
"Lin Feng, your cultivation is..." Grand Elder Wei paused, stroking his wispy beard as if searching for words kind enough to disguise the truth yet honest enough to maintain his integrity. He found none. "...pathetic."
Lin Feng stood before the five elders, back straight despite the devastating assessment. At twenty years old, most disciples had reached at least the third level of Qi Condensation. Lin Feng had barely scraped into the first.
"Truly abysmal," added Elder Sun, not bothering to look up from his jade tablet where he was likely recording Lin Feng's failures for posterity. "Have you even been practicing the breathing techniques we assigned?"
"Every day, Elder," Lin Feng replied, keeping his voice steady despite the familiar burn of humiliation. "Morning and night."
Elder Zhao snorted. "Then you must be breathing wrong."
The chambers erupted in laughter—even the sect disciples standing guard at the doors couldn't contain their snickers. Lin Feng's face burned, but he maintained his composure. Six years of being the Soaring Dragon Sect's greatest disappointment had thickened his skin.
"Perhaps it's time you reconsidered your path," Grand Elder Wei suggested, not unkindly. "The mortal world has many respectable professions. Farming. Carpentry. Village idiocy."
More laughter.
Lin Feng bowed deeply. "With respect, Elders, I request one more year."
The room fell silent. This was not the anticipated response.
Grand Elder Wei frowned. "You've been saying that for three years."
"And I've improved each year," Lin Feng countered.
"From utterly hopeless to merely pathetic is hardly progress worthy of note," Elder Sun muttered.
Lin Feng raised his head, meeting the Grand Elder's gaze directly—a breach of protocol that caused several gasps. "One more year. If I haven't reached the fourth level of Qi Condensation by next evaluation, I'll leave voluntarily."
The fourth level? Even the guards exchanged incredulous glances. Going from first to fourth level in a single year was nearly impossible, especially for someone with Lin Feng's limited talent.
Grand Elder Wei's eyes narrowed. "Bold words from someone who took three years to reach the first level."
"Bold words," Lin Feng agreed, "backed by determination."
"Determination cannot replace talent," Elder Zhao scoffed.
"Perhaps not," Lin Feng said. "But I'd rather fail spectacularly than wonder what might have been."
An uncomfortable silence followed, broken finally by Grand Elder Wei's heavy sigh.
"One more year," he declared. "But not here. You've exhausted our patience and resources. You'll train at the sect's Cloudhaven Outpost."
Lin Feng's heart sank. Cloudhaven was where the sect sent its failures and disappointments—a remote mountain outpost so insignificant it didn't even appear on most maps.
"You'll report to Elder Lian," Grand Elder Wei continued. "She's agreed to take one final disciple before her retirement."
Elder Lian? Lin Feng had never heard of her.
"Thank you for this opportunity," he said, bowing again.
"Don't thank us," Elder Sun said with a smirk. "Elder Lian specifically requested our worst disciple. Congratulations on qualifying."
Lin Feng's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The weight of failure was a familiar burden.
As he turned to leave, Elder Zhao called out, "Oh, and Lin Feng? Pack warm clothes. Cloudhaven sits on the edge of the Frost Wraith's territory. The few who survive there say the winters are... challenging."
Lin Feng nodded stiffly and exited the chamber, the elders' laughter following him down the corridor.
Outside, the warm summer air did nothing to dispel the chill in his bones. Cloudhaven Outpost. The sect's dumping ground. Where careers and ambitions went to die.
"Lin Feng!" a voice called from behind.
He turned to see Liu Mei, her emerald robes marking her as an inner disciple of the sect's prestigious medicine hall. They had grown up in the same village, joined the sect in the same recruitment drive. Now she was a rising star, while he was... Lin Feng.
"I heard," she said, catching up to him. Her dark eyes, always so expressive, were filled with concern. "Cloudhaven? That's practically exile."
"It's an opportunity," he said, forcing optimism into his voice.
Liu Mei wasn't fooled. "It's punishment, and you know it." She hesitated. "My master has connections. I could speak with him, see if—"
"No," Lin Feng cut her off. "I don't need special treatment."
"It's not special treatment to avoid being sent to cultivation's graveyard," she argued. "Nobody returns from Cloudhaven with their cultivation intact."
"Then I'll be the first."
Liu Mei sighed, reaching out to straighten his collar in a gesture that felt both intimate and sisterly. "Always so stubborn."
"Determined," he corrected with a small smile.
"There's a fine line," she replied, returning the smile before her expression grew serious again. "Just... be careful. There are strange rumors about Cloudhaven. Ancient ruins. Disappearances."
"Perfect," Lin Feng said. "Sounds more interesting than breathing wrong for another year."
Liu Mei punched his arm lightly. "This isn't a joke."
"I know." Lin Feng's smile faded. "But what choice do I have?"
She had no answer for that.
Lin Feng gazed toward the mountains in the distance, where somewhere beyond the mist-shrouded peaks lay Cloudhaven Outpost and whatever fate awaited him there.
"One year," he murmured, more to himself than to Liu Mei. "One year to prove them all wrong."
---
Three weeks later, Lin Feng wondered if even proving the elders wrong was worth this particular journey.
The path to Cloudhaven—if the treacherous mountain trail could be dignified with such a name—seemed designed to kill aspiring cultivators before they even reached the outpost. Twice he'd nearly plummeted to his death when the trail crumbled beneath his feet. Once he'd barely escaped a confrontation with a roving band of frost wolves, creatures whose glowing blue eyes still haunted his dreams.
Now, as evening approached on his seventh day of travel, a vicious storm was brewing. Black clouds roiled overhead, and the temperature was dropping rapidly.
"Delightful," Lin Feng muttered, pulling his inadequate cloak tighter around his shoulders. The sect had provided him with the bare minimum of supplies—another subtle message about his worth.
A sharp crack of thunder made him flinch, and fat droplets of icy rain began pelting his face. Within minutes, the trail became a muddy river threatening to sweep him off the mountainside.
Lin Feng spotted a dark opening in the cliff face ahead—a cave, or at least a shallow overhang. Anything would be better than this punishment from the heavens. He made his way toward it, each step more treacherous than the last.
Finally reaching the opening, he ducked inside, relieved to find it was indeed a cave, dry and deeper than it had appeared from outside. Lin Feng removed his sodden cloak and dropped his travel pack, then summoned a small flame to hover above his palm—one of the few cultivation techniques he'd actually mastered.
The wavering light revealed a cave far larger than he'd expected, stretching back into darkness. And on the walls...
Lin Feng moved closer, raising his flame. The cave's walls were covered in strange symbols and drawings—not the work of nature, but deliberate markings left by human hands. Ancient hands, from the look of the faded pigments.
"Well," he said to himself, voice echoing slightly in the cavern, "at least I'll have something interesting to look at while I wait out the storm."
He moved deeper into the cave, studying the markings. Most were incomprehensible—symbols from a language long forgotten. But the drawings told a clear enough story: figures in battle poses, their hands emanating what appeared to be energy, facing monstrous creatures with too many limbs and gaping maws.
"Cultivators fighting unorthodox beasts," Lin Feng murmured. "Tale as old as time."
But as he progressed further, the narrative changed. The drawings showed the human figures kneeling before a central image—a lotus flower, rendered in what must once have been brilliant jade pigment, now faded to a ghostly green.
Lin Feng reached out, tracing the lotus with his fingertips. The moment his skin made contact, the ancient pigment began to glow.
"What the—" Lin Feng jerked his hand back, but it was too late. The glow spread from the lotus to the surrounding symbols, racing along the walls of the cave like wildfire. The light grew blindingly bright, forcing Lin Feng to shield his eyes.
When he could see again, the entire cave was transformed. The symbols weren't just glowing; they were floating off the walls, swirling around him in a vortex of luminous jade energy.
And in the center of it all, the lotus had detached entirely from the wall and was hovering before him, its glow pulsating like a heartbeat.
"This can't be good," Lin Feng whispered.
As if in response, the lotus shot forward, striking him in the center of his chest. Lin Feng cried out as burning pain spread through his body. He fell to his knees, clutching at his chest as the symbols swirled faster, drawing closer, until they too were absorbed into his body through every pore.
The pain intensified beyond anything he could have imagined. It felt as though his meridians were being scoured with molten metal, his blood replaced with liquid fire. Lin Feng screamed until his voice gave out, then collapsed onto the cold stone floor.
His last thought before darkness claimed him was remarkably calm: *At least if I die here, I won't have to face the elders' disappointment again.*
---
Lin Feng didn't die.
He awoke to sunlight streaming into the cave entrance and birds singing cheerfully outside, as if the storm had never happened. His body felt... different. Not painful, exactly, but changed in ways he couldn't immediately identify.
Sitting up, Lin Feng noticed his travel pack and cloak were completely dry. Odd. He was certain they'd been soaked through.
Then he remembered the jade lotus and the swirling symbols.
Lin Feng quickly pulled open his robes to examine his chest. There, directly over his heart, was a small mark in the shape of a lotus, glowing faintly with jade light before fading into what looked like an ordinary birthmark.
"What in the five hells happened?" he whispered.
As if in response, knowledge flooded his mind—not in words, but in sensations and images. Breathing techniques far more advanced than those taught by the Soaring Dragon Sect. Movement patterns that utilized the flow of natural energy. Ways of perceiving the world that transcended ordinary senses.
Lin Feng sat in stunned silence, trying to process this sudden influx of information. After several minutes, he tentatively attempted one of the breathing techniques.
The effect was immediate and astonishing. Qi flowed through his meridians not in the sluggish trickle he was accustomed to, but in a powerful rush that made his entire body tingle. He could feel his cultivation base strengthening with each breath.
After just a few minutes, Lin Feng realized with shock that he had broken through to the second level of Qi Condensation. In minutes, he had achieved what had taken him three years of constant effort before.
"Impossible," he breathed, but the evidence was undeniable. His senses were sharper, his body lighter, his connection to the natural energy around him profoundly enhanced.
Lin Feng scrambled to his feet, heart racing with a mixture of elation and fear. This was exactly the kind of cultivation breakthrough that disciples dreamed of—finding an ancient legacy or secret technique that would catapult them ahead of their peers.
It was also exactly the kind of thing that got people killed. Powerful legacies attracted powerful enemies. If the elders of his sect discovered this, they would either forcibly take it from him or eliminate him to keep it secret.
"One problem at a time," Lin Feng told himself, gathering his belongings. "First, reach Cloudhaven. Then figure out what exactly is happening to me."
As he stepped out of the cave into the bright mountain morning, Lin Feng couldn't help but smile. For the first time in years, he felt something other than resignation and determination.
He felt hope.
---
Elder Lian was not what Lin Feng had expected.
Based on the elders' dismissive comments, he had imagined a bitter old woman, sent to Cloudhaven as punishment for some past transgression or failure. Someone who would resent being saddled with the sect's worst disciple as her final student.
Instead, the woman who greeted him at Cloudhaven's gates appeared to be in her thirties—young for an elder—with sharp features, midnight-black hair pulled into a simple tail, and eyes that seemed to shift between gray and violet depending on the light.
"You're late," she said by way of greeting, looking him up and down with an expression that revealed nothing of her thoughts.
"The path was... challenging," Lin Feng replied carefully.
A hint of amusement touched her lips. "It's designed to be. Discourages casual visitors."
She turned and walked through the gates, clearly expecting him to follow. Lin Feng hoisted his pack and hurried after her.
Cloudhaven Outpost was both more and less than he had anticipated. The buildings were few and simple—a main hall, several smaller structures that might be residences or storage, and what appeared to be a training yard. But the location was breathtaking. Perched on a natural plateau high in the mountains, it overlooked a vast panorama of peaks and valleys stretching to the horizon.
"It's beautiful," Lin Feng said, unable to help himself.
Elder Lian glanced back at him. "Most disciples complain about the isolation."
"I'm not most disciples."
"Clearly," she replied dryly. "Most disciples can reach the third level of Qi Condensation within their first three years."
The familiar sting of failure. Lin Feng was about to apologize when he remembered the jade lotus and his breakthrough in the cave. Should he tell her? Would she sense the change in his cultivation base?
Elder Lian led him to one of the smaller buildings. "This will be your quarters. Simple, but adequate."
The interior contained a bed, a small table with a single chair, a shelf with several scrolls, and little else. Lin Feng nodded. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Elder Lian said. "I expect you at the training yard before dawn tomorrow. We'll see exactly how hopeless you really are."
With that, she turned to leave.
"Elder Lian," Lin Feng called after her. "May I ask why you requested me specifically? The elders said you asked for their worst disciple."
Elder Lian paused in the doorway, her back to him. "Perhaps I enjoy challenges. Or perhaps..." She glanced back, her eyes definitely violet now, and glittering with something Lin Feng couldn't identify. "Perhaps I know something they don't."
Before Lin Feng could respond, she was gone, leaving him with far more questions than answers.
He set down his pack and moved to the window, gazing out at the spectacular mountain view and the vast sky above. Somewhere in the distance, storm clouds were gathering again, dark and ominous against the blue.
Lin Feng touched his chest where the lotus mark lay hidden beneath his robes. Whatever had happened in that cave, whatever Elder Lian's true motives were, he had a feeling his year at Cloudhaven was going to be anything but boring.
"Fourth level of Qi Condensation in one year," he murmured to himself. "Let's aim higher."
As if in response, the lotus mark pulsed once with jade light, sending a pleasant warmth throughout his body.
Lin Feng smiled. The adventure, it seemed, was just beginning.
And somewhere, in the grand halls of the Soaring Dragon Sect, Liu Mei stared out the window toward the distant mountains, a troubled expression on her face. Around her neck hung a jade pendant—identical to the ones worn by all individuals pledged in the recent alliance with the Crimson Phoenix Sect.
She touched it absently, thinking of Lin Feng, while behind her a scroll lay open on her desk. Its contents detailed her upcoming engagement to Ren Zhao, the Crimson Phoenix Sect's most talented young master.
"Young Mistress Liu," a soft voice called, interrupting her thoughts. "Master Han requests your presence immediately. He says it's about your... friend."
Liu Mei's heart raced as she quickly rolled up the scroll. "Which friend?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
The servant lowered her voice. "The failed disciple. The one sent to Cloudhaven."
Liu Mei's hands stilled. "I'll be right there," she said, her mind racing with possibilities—none of them good.