In the majestic hall of the Dark Heavenly Wing Sect, where the golden glow of candles danced upon walls carved with ancient symbols, Long Tian sat upon the elevated throne. His closed eyes were not focused on the external world, but rather delving deep into two intertwined memories: those of the body he now inhabited, and the consciousness that had migrated from another world.
The air was thick with palpable tension. The inner disciples stood in orderly rows, their silk robes shimmering under the light, while the outer disciples gathered in the corners, their sharp glances darting between the platform and their privileged peers.
**Mu Yan**, the leader of the inner disciples, stepped forward with measured confidence. His long black hair was neatly tied, and his narrow eyes gleamed with the challenge of someone born into privilege.
*"Sacred Son,"* he declared in a booming voice, *"this position you hold... is it truly the fruit of talent, or merely the privilege of your birth?"*
Long Tian slowly opened his eyes. Words were unnecessary. A single gaze from those dark golden orbs made everyone feel an invisible weight. And then... his aura erupted.
Waves of dark, shadowy energy surged from his body, carrying the crushing pressure of the **Foundation Establishment Realm**. The ground beneath Mu Yan's feet cracked abruptly, forcing him to his knees, unable to withstand the force.
*"Foundation Establishment... at fifteen?!"* whispered an elder, his voice trembling with disbelief.
Mu Yan staggered back, his pale face reflecting defeat before the battle had even begun. The other inner disciples bowed their heads one after another, silently acknowledging the insurmountable gap in talent.
But the scene didn't end there. From the ranks of the outer disciples, **Chen Luo** burst forward, his chipped wooden sword glinting despite its humble appearance.
*"If the Sacred Son is beyond challenge, then we'll test your inner disciples!"* he shouted hoarsely. *"Let's see if your endless resources translate into real skill!"*
A series of secondary duels erupted among the disciples, but Long Tian no longer paid them any mind. His eyes closed once more, his thoughts returning to those strange, overlapping memories.
*'I've crossed over... and this is no hero's beginning.'*
In the corner of the hall, Sect Master **Zhang Lingji** observed everything with piercing eyes, murmuring to himself:
*"The seal on his hand... has it finally begun to awaken?"*