The sun had already risen, its light washing the academy grounds in pale gold. Beads of dew clung stubbornly to the soil, catching at the edges of leaves like a thousand tiny mirrors. The grove that served as a training hall breathed with morning coolness, yet beneath that calm a taut energy coiled—the air alive with expectancy.

  Nearly every student had gathered. Voices rippled through the crowd, hushed at first, then swelling in restless waves. Small knots of disciples leaned toward one another, trading whispers like contraband. Some faces burned with delight, eyes bright as if the day itself were theirs to claim. Others watched from the edges, lips tight, envy shadowing their expressions.

  In one cluster, the centre glowed brighter than the rest. Peng Yu stood tall among them, his figure impossible to ignore. His hair caught the sun, silver-bright, lending him the air of a figure stepped from an immortal scroll. From afar he burned against morning chill, and disciples who pressed close seemed moths circling his glow.

  Not all attention gathered at his side. Across the grove, another group held its own gravity. It was smaller, more subdued, but no less noticed.

  Shi Mai stood among her companions, their laughter and chatter ringing faintly against the tension in her posture. Though she smiled at their words, her gaze slipped again and again across the gathering, searching—not for Peng Yu, nor any of the known prodigies, but for a figure absent.

  Her friends noticed. One leaned closer, lowering her voice though her words were meant to sting.

  “I asked around. They say he took a mission near the Xihe border. Still not back. I doubt he’ll make it in time.”

  Another, sharper, added, “Or perhaps the rumours are true. Maybe he cheated… or stumbled on luck. What better excuse than the borderlands, if he feared the valley would strip his mask away?”

  The jabs found no echo in Shi Mai. She drew a slow breath, then let it slip from her lips as a sigh. Her friends’ words barely reached her; her thoughts had already strayed. She remembered the eyes that had unsettled her—calm yet unyielding, a sheathed blade whose weight could not be ignored. That gaze had lingered in her memory, refusing to dull even against all the academy’s noise.

  Her silence stretched, her companions exchanging glances. Before they could press her, the grove itself shifted.

  Three figures appeared at the heart of the stage. Their arrival broke the murmurs like a stone cast into still water. Every head turned, conversations cut short mid-breath.

  And in that held breath of the crowd, all eyes fixed forward.

  The group that emerged drew the grove into silence—two men and a woman, their presence pressing upon the air.

  On the left walked Elder Yi, his bearing steady, the folds of his robe whispering with each step. Opposite him moved a woman with poise that did nothing to soften the chill in her eyes—Deputy Headmistress Madam Ling.

  At their centre stood Hao Jin, Headmaster of the Outer Academy, his figure unadorned yet commanding, the weight of his authority settling over the gathered disciples like an unseen hand.

  Their gazes swept across the assembly, measuring without haste, until Elder Yi’s voice broke the hush.

  “All fifteen eligible students—step onto the stage.”

  A ripple passed through the crowd. The chosen stirred, the line between anticipation and dread drawn sharply across youthful faces. One by one, figures detached themselves from their groups and moved toward the middle.

  Some walked with the ease of confidence, steps measured and sure, their composure worn like armour. Others masked the strain beneath calm expressions, every flicker of hesitation buried beneath the weight of so many watching eyes.

  The stage filled slowly, the line of candidates forming with ritual precision. Soon fourteen stood in place, dew still glimmering at their feet, their silhouettes cut sharp against the morning light. Yet one space remained empty.

  Elder Yi’s gaze lingered—no Xiao Lei. His absence struck harder than failure itself.

  As though sensing his thoughts, Hao Jin leaned slightly, his words pitched low, carried only to Elder Yi and Madam Ling.

  “Falling short of a challenge is forgivable. To shrink from it—unforgivable. Elder Yi, perhaps your praise of the boy was misplaced.”

  Madam Ling’s lips curved, the sound of her agreement soft yet edged. “I must side with the Headmaster. Courage weighs more than talent. Without it, everything else crumbles.”

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  Her voice was soft, but the edge behind it spoke clearly to those who knew.

  Elder Yi’s throat tightened. He had no personal ties with Xiao Lei, yet the youth’s performance had stirred a reluctant admiration. He searched for words, then managed, “Perhaps… we should wait a little longer.”

  But the Headmaster and his deputy did not so much as turn their eyes. Their decision was already set.

  “It seems,” Hao Jin declared, his voice ringing clear across the grove, “that one place remains.”

  The words struck like a gong. Hope flared in those who had already failed to seize a spot, their disappointment shaken into restless whispers, the rustle of robes swelling as eyes sharpened with longing.

  From the line of chosen disciples, Peng Yu’s smile curved, sharp with satisfaction. Doubt had gnawed at him—Xiao Lei’s success, tied to an earth-grade weapon, had seemed too convenient. But now? Absence confirmed it. Luck, nothing more. The brat had been unmasked.

  Shi Mai’s expression remained composed, but beneath her calm a thread of disappointment wound tighter. She had waited—expected—and now felt the weight of emptiness settle within her.

  Before such thoughts could deepen, a voice tore across the grove, clear and unyielding, slicing through the still air.

  “That spot is mine.”

  Even before the last syllable of that claim had faded, Elder Yi and the other two had already caught it—a ripple of presence drawing near. What unsettled them was not the approach itself, but how close it had come before they sensed it. Surprise flickered across seasoned faces, quickly buried.

  The students, less tempered, reacted with open shock. Heads snapped toward the sound. A hush swept the grove, broken only by the rustle of robes and the wind threading through the canopy.

  Xiao Lei stepped into view. His stride was steady, unhurried, neither forced nor dragging. Dust dulled his black robes. The hems bore the stains of travel. He had come straight from the road—no rest, no chance to wash away struggle. Yet his stride never faltered.

  He reached the stone steps. Each rise of his foot carried quiet weight, and with each step the murmurs thinned, leaving only cloth brushing against stone.

  At last he stood upon the platform, aligning himself wordlessly beside the others. The air seemed to constrict—envy and disbelief pressing in from every side. More than one student’s mouth twisted, curses trapped behind clenched teeth. None dared voice them under the watch of the academy’s seniors.

  Across the line, Peng Yu shifted. Silver hair slid across half his face, but the usual arrogance dimmed in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was sharp as flint.

  “Hmph. Only ninth-stage cultivators deserve this platform.”

  Xiao Lei gave no answer. His gaze, calm and unreadable, had already moved past him. Across the platform, Shi Mai’s eyes met his. For a heartbeat her composure softened, and she offered the faintest nod. Xiao Lei returned it, equally restrained. That small exchange burned hotter in Peng Yu’s chest than any insult. His jaw tightened, fury threatening to spill, when Xiao Lei lowered his head in a polite bow.

  “Student greets Elder.”

  Elder Yi hurried in, almost flustered, moving to introduce the dignitaries properly. Clearly, Xiao Lei had mistaken them for ordinary elders. Before he could finish, Madam Ling raised a hand. Her voice cut through like silk drawn across steel.

  “You managed to break through to the ninth stage?”

  The grove held its breath. No whisper, no laugh. A thousand eyes pinned themselves on him.

  Xiao Lei inclined his head. “This student was fortunate. On my mission, I found Soul-Searing Grass. With it, I broke through.”

  Hao Jin’s gaze flickered toward Elder Yi. His tone was mild, but edged.

  “As I recall, your cultivation was reported at the fifth, perhaps sixth stage. Soul-Searing Grass cannot bridge three or four realms at once.”

  When Xiao Lei answered, his voice was steady as a drawn blade—calm, precise, without arrogance.

  “With respect, Headmaster, my realm then was not the fifth stage, but the peak of the seventh.”

  Doubt flickered in the eyes of Hao Jin and Madam Ling, though neither voiced it.

  Elder Yi, however, kept his gaze fixed on Xiao Lei, searching for cracks in the youth’s composure. With his years of experience, to misjudge a disciple’s cultivation by one level was rare—by two, unthinkable. Especially within the Qi Awakening realm.

  Yet even with his perception sharpened to the limit, Xiao Lei’s depth remained shrouded. What should have been clear as day lay hidden in haze.

  He conceals himself. The thought stirred uneasily in all three elders. To mask cultivation so thoroughly, the boy must hold a treasure or technique beyond ordinary reach. As for lying—there was no reason. Before the gathered students and the academy’s highest authorities, falsehood would only invite ruin.

  “Very well.” Hao Jin’s voice broke the silence, calm yet edged with authority. His gaze swept the line of youths, unhurried, deliberate. “Since all fifteen candidates now stand here, we will proceed. But before you step into the valley, heed this warning well.”

  The grove stilled, air pausing with his words.

  “The emergence of Sky-Grade Lightning,” he continued, “is both a boon and a curse for this academy. To forge a Sky Foundation is to shape a destiny most can only dream of. Its allure will tempt all, and should one of you succeed, the academy will rejoice.”

  His eyes narrowed, a harder glint surfacing. “But what blesses also devours. The valley this time seethes with danger greater than in past generations.”

  A murmur rippled through the students, excitement and unease colliding. Hao Jin lifted a hand, and the noise fell away.

  “Know this as well: no elder can enter the valley. Some unseen formation bars us without fail. Once you pass within, you stand alone. Whatever fortune or calamity awaits will be yours to bear.”

  The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by a breath of wind sliding through the branches above. For most, the promise of opportunity still burned bright—the words Sky Foundation shimmered in their minds like divine fire—but that fire was tempered now, its brilliance shadowed by the thought of unseen perils. Eyes gleamed with hunger, then dimmed with restraint. Breaths came slower, measured.

  Only Xiao Lei’s expression did not shift. His face remained calm, unreadable, as though the headmaster’s words were nothing more than passing wind.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.