The wind howled like a wounded beast.
Standing at the edge of Stormveil Summit, Jayden stared into a sea of clouds. He couldn't see the bottom. Below was only mist — thick, twisting, and alive. Each gust of wind carried whispers, ancient and cold, and the ground trembled beneath his boots like it resented his presence.
"Tell me again why we came here?" Lena said, hood drawn tightly over her head, her hair whipped by the gale.
Jayden's eyes didn't leave the abyss. "To unlock the next seal of the Dragon Form."
"Or fall to your death trying."
Jayden exhaled slowly. "Both are part of the path."
Behind them, the sky darkened as a line of masked elders in blue robes stepped forth from between columns carved from windstone. Their leader, a man with a white beard and no eyes, spoke in a voice that seemed both soft and thundering.
"Welcome, heir of flame. This is the Breath of Windblade, the second of the Four Elemental Trials. You were invited by right of blood and courage. But understand: none have passed this trial in the last seventy years."
Jayden nodded, expression calm. "Then it's about time someone did."
The blind elder chuckled, the sound like dry leaves. "Very well. Step forward, and let the winds judge you."
The Trial Begins
Jayden stepped onto a floating stone platform that hovered over the abyss. The moment his feet touched it, the stone shuddered — and began to move, gliding over the endless drop into the cloud sea.
From the darkness, shapes began to form — not birds, not beasts, but wind-wraiths, born from pure elemental fury. Invisible to the untrained eye, they circled him like vultures, clawed fingers slicing through the mist with blade-like precision.
"Your task," the elder's voice echoed, "is to cross to the Eye of the Storm… and survive."
Lena gritted her teeth from the cliff. "You better come back with all your limbs."
Jayden dropped into a low stance, breath slow and centered. The platform jerked forward faster now — and the first wind-wraith struck.
He dodged instinctively, his body moving before his mind. The creature's slash tore a gash across his shirt but didn't touch his skin. His chi hardened his body like armor, a skill he'd refined in the Crimson Forge training grounds weeks earlier.
Another came — this time from behind.
Jayden spun mid-air, channeling the first movement of the Dragon Form, the Soaring Claw. His palm struck wind — but his chi surged forward like a roaring beast, hitting the invisible creature dead-on.
It exploded into shards of mist.
But another took its place. Then another. And another.
Breath Control and Memory
Ten minutes into the trial, Jayden was no longer fighting with just instinct — he was merging memory and cultivation.
He remembered the acupuncture techniques his master taught him, focusing on internal breath cycles. He locked three of his eight meridians, concentrating energy into his limbs, pushing beyond mortal limits.
He summoned the god-tier flame in one hand, compressing it into a narrow needle of fire. With each slash, he struck invisible foes, lighting the mist like fireworks. The screams of defeated wind-wraiths echoed into the abyss.
Still, they kept coming.
Blood trickled from his lip. His breathing slowed.
"This is more than a trial…" he whispered. "It's… training."
Because the wind wasn't just trying to kill him — it was teaching him.
Every gust carried pressure, direction, rhythm. It was like fighting a swordmaster made of air.
The Eye of the Storm
Forty-five minutes passed.
Jayden's body was bloodied, his clothes torn. His hair clung to his face, matted with sweat and sky-dust. But his spirit burned brighter than ever.
Ahead, the clouds parted — and he saw it:
A massive stone platform suspended in midair, with a glowing pillar of wind rising from its center like a tornado held in place by divine will.
He leapt from the moving platform, landing hard on the stone circle.
Instantly, the pressure changed.
The wind here was… alive. It pressed down on his shoulders, crushing him to his knees.
A voice rang out — not from the elders, not from Lena, but from within the pillar itself.
"Why do you seek the power of the heavens?"
Jayden gritted his teeth. "To protect. To uncover the truth."
"And if truth leads to death?"
"Then I'll take death with open hands."
"And if power destroys your soul?"
Jayden raised his head, golden eyes blazing.
"Then I'll forge a new one."
The winds screamed — and then calmed.
The pillar split, revealing a small crystal hovering above the pedestal — glowing blue, humming with celestial power.
Jayden stepped forward and touched it.
Second Form: Breath of the Windblade
As his fingers closed around the crystal, his body was ripped into the sky.
He floated, suspended in the eye of a divine storm. Symbols etched themselves across his skin — dragon wings made of wind, coiling runes along his spine, and a glowing mark on his forehead.
The second seal was unlocked.
He had become a wielder of the Windblade Breath, the second aspect of the Dragon Form.
His reflexes sharpened, his movement accelerated. His very breath could now cut through steel, and his chi could ride wind itself.
When he landed back on the platform, the wind-wraiths bowed… and vanished.
Aftermath
Jayden returned to Lena, his robes fluttering gently as if the wind obeyed him now.
Lena stared. "You're flying."
"No," he smiled. "The wind's just giving me a push."
The elders behind them bowed deeply. Even the blind master knelt.
"You have passed the Breath of Windblade. The Dragon awakens further."
Jayden nodded. "Thank you."
As they turned to leave, a messenger from the Ember Lotus Sect approached in panic.
"A… a new figure has appeared in the northern martial world. He wears blue fire… and claims to be Kael of the Frostiron Bloodline. He's challenging sects, wiping out hidden families."
Jayden's eyes narrowed. "Kael…"
Lena's face paled. "That's the name in your father's old scroll. He was one of the betrayers. A cousin of your father's… thought long dead."
Jayden looked up toward the stormy northern sky.
"Then the past has come knocking."
Final Scene: Kael's Wrath
In a shattered stronghold, Kael stood over the bodies of four cultivation masters.
He wiped their blood from his blade and looked at the rising moon.
"The heir grows stronger," he said to the wind. "But I am the ice that stills the flame."
His lieutenant, a silent woman with skin like snow and eyes like a wolf, stepped beside him. "Shall we march on Stormveil?"
Kael shook his head. "Not yet. Let him grow. Let him think he's winning. I want him at his peak… before I shatter him."