Morning mist clung to the cliffs, drifting like pale veils across the Azure Tide Sect. The cries of seabirds echoed faintly in the distance, and the steady sound of waves striking stone filled the air.
In the small clearing near his hut, Lin Feng sat cross-legged once more. His posture was straight, his expression calm, his breathing steady.
Water endures. Water flows.
He repeated the words silently, letting them sink into his heart. The threads of water qi drifting from the sea mist were faint but constant, patient as the tide. Slowly, carefully, he guided them into his body.
His meridians no longer resisted as they once did. Instead, they welcomed the flow, widening drop by drop. His veins hummed faintly, the Storm Veins stirring in quiet rhythm.
Lin Feng extended his hand. At first, only mist gathered, just like before. Then, as he steadied his breath, the mist condensed. A droplet formed, small as a pearl, floating above his palm.
But this time, instead of letting it fall, he focused.
The droplet quivered, threatened to scatter. His heart raced, but he did not force it. He only guided gently, as though holding a cup brimming with water, careful not to spill.
The droplet stretched, trembled… then smoothed into a thin ripple, like a mirror of the sea itself, hovering in his palm.
Lin Feng's eyes widened. His chest swelled with quiet triumph.
"…It holds."
It was a tiny thing—fragile, weak, no larger than a coin. But in that moment, it felt like proof that his path was real.
The ripple dissolved into mist, seeping into his skin. His shoulders loosened, and he exhaled long and slow, as though releasing years of frustration.
Step by step. If I can master water, then wind, then lightning… the storm will be mine to command.
...
That evening, as the sun sank into the horizon, Lin Feng returned to his hut. He lit his lamp and sat quietly, reviewing the day's progress. The sea breeze drifted through the window, carrying distant voices from the sect's halls.
"…The elders are meeting tonight. They'll decide when to test the boy."
"Hmph. Let them test him. A few sparks of lightning don't make him a cultivator."
"Still, Elder Zhao seems confident. Perhaps he's seen something the rest of us have not."
The voices faded with the wind.
Lin Feng sat in silence, watching the tiny flame of the oil lamp flicker. His hand rested on his lap, fingers still tingling faintly from the ripple of water qi.
The sect could whisper, could doubt, could prepare tests and traps. None of it mattered tonight.
Tonight, only the quiet flow of water remained in his heart.
Outside, the tide rose with the moon, each wave a reminder that strength was not built in an instant, but with countless ripples shaping the shore.