The first light of dawn bled across the spires of the Academy of Crowns, casting long shadows over its training courtyards. Mist coiled between the ancient stone pillars, carrying the faint scent of iron and pine. The school grounds were usually silent at this hour, but deep in the eastern training hall, the sound of steady breathing and the faint hum of gathering qi broke the stillness.
Edran sat cross-legged at the center of a meditation array, his eyes closed, his back straight as a sword. In front of him lay a small pouch of low-grade spirit stones, their faint glow pulsing in time with the rhythm of his breathing. With each inhale, strands of spiritual energy swirled from the stones into his meridians, flowing like rivers through a map he was still learning to master.
A thin layer of perspiration beaded his forehead. He had only broken through to Qi Condensation, Early Stage three weeks ago, and already the energy in his dantian felt thicker, denser.
But what truly set his cultivation apart was not his speed — it was the way the energy moved.
If one were to look into his body with spiritual sight, they would see it: a faint golden silhouette of a coiled dragon in the depths of his dantian, its eyes closed, its form sleeping. Each time he drew in qi, the dragon's tail flickered, and a deep, almost inaudible rumble passed through his meridians.
He was still getting used to it.
---
[Cultivation Status – Edran Veylan]
Age: 17
Realm: Qi Condensation – Early Stage
Innate Constitution: Dragon Vein (Dormant)
Cultivation Technique: Azure Dragon Breathing Art (Low Earth Grade)
Martial Skills:
Dragon Fang Strike (Unpolished)
Imperial Guard Sword Form – First Layer
Qi Reserves: 38% capacity
Notable Traits: Enhanced qi absorption, draconic resonance in meridians, latent physical strength potential.
---
He let out a slow breath and opened his eyes. The golden sheen in his pupils faded as he dispersed his qi.
"Better," a voice said behind him.
Edran turned to see Instructor Kael, the academy's swordmaster, leaning against the doorway. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes carried the weight of a hundred battles.
"You're refining your qi faster than most early-stage cultivators I've seen," Kael continued, stepping forward. "But you're too aggressive with your pulls. The Dragon Vein enhances your absorption — overdo it, and you'll rupture your meridians before you ever see the Foundation Establishment Realm."
Edran inclined his head. "I understand."
"Good. Keep it quiet, too," Kael added, his voice low. "There are enough ambitious vultures in this academy. The moment word spreads about that constitution, you won't be facing students — you'll be facing clans."
Edran tightened his jaw but didn't reply.
---
By midday, the academy was bustling. Tomorrow's Inter-House Combat Trials had everyone sharpening blades and polishing armor. Edran made his way through the main courtyard, weaving between groups of students sparring or trading rumors about match-ups.
He passed Lira Valen, her white hair catching the sun as she drilled a group of her housemates. She caught his eye for a moment — her expression unreadable — before turning back to her students.
A little farther, Taren Duskblade, his longtime rival, was laughing with his companions, his sword flashing in a display that drew cheers from onlookers. Taren's gaze flicked toward Edran, a faint smirk tugging at his lips before he returned to his practice.
The air was thick with competition, but also with something else — anticipation. Everyone could feel it.
---
That evening, the academy assembled in the Hall of Crowns for the final announcements before the trials. The headmaster, an imposing figure in crimson robes, stood on the dais.
"Tomorrow," his voice boomed, "the ten Houses of the Academy will measure their mettle. Your skill will be your honor, your defeat your shame. But this year—" he paused, letting silence fall over the hall, "—we have a special participant."
Murmurs rippled through the students.
From the shadows beside the dais, a figure stepped forward — a youth about Edran's age, dressed in deep black robes embroidered with silver clouds. His hair was tied high, his features sharp, his eyes like twin shards of ice.
"This is Ren of the Eastern Empire," the headmaster continued. "An honored exchange student. He will compete alongside you in the trials."
Ren's gaze swept the hall, cold and assessing. For a brief second, his eyes locked on Edran's — and in that instant, Edran felt the faint pressure of a spiritual will brushing against his own. Not hostile… but heavy, like standing at the edge of a storm.
Edran didn't look away.
The trials hadn't even begun, and already, the air reeked of danger.