On the summit of Silent Wind Peak, Li Feng sat.
He did not just sit upon the stone; he was an extension of it. His white robes, pristine and untouched by the dust, pooled around him. His breath, so slow and shallow as to be imperceptible, was a part of the wind that gave the peak its name. For three days and three nights, he had not moved, his entire being focused on a single, transcendent purpose: to become one with the Dao.
To Li Feng, the Dao was harmony.
It was the song of the wind moving through the thousand-year-old pines. It was the flawless, crystalline structure of the spiritual Qi that flowed in rivers through the air. It was the righteous order of the Sky Sword Sect, a beacon of justice in the vast Azure Dragon Continent.
As the number one disciple of the Sect, Li Feng was the living embodiment of this harmony.
His spiritual roots were Sky-Grade. His comprehension, peerless. At only eighteen years of age, he had reached the absolute zenith of the first Mortal Realm: Qi Condensation, Level 9. The barrier to the Foundation Establishment realm was before him, not as a wall, but as a delicate paper screen, waiting for him to simply stand up and walk through it.
But Li Feng did not move. To rush was to show impatience. To desire the next realm was to possess an attachment. Attachments were flaws, and flaws were the source of all Qi Deviations.
The Sky Sword Sect's Dao was one of purity. One did not break through a barrier; one polished the self until the barrier was no longer there.
A tide of Qi, cool and refreshing as a mountain spring, washed over the peak. Li Feng drew it in. His meridians, broad and strong, accepted the energy. His Dantian, a serene ocean of mist, swirled in contentment. His spirit was a perfect, unblemished piece of jade.
Almost.
There it was.
Beneath the song of the wind, beneath the hum of the world's spiritual energy, there was another sound. It was not a sound, precisely, but a dissonance. A single, discordant note in the grand symphony. It was a cold, empty static that felt like the hiss of a serpent, infinitely far away.
Li Feng's spiritual sense, sharper than any blade, recoiled.
Inner demon, he identified instantly.
This was the trial of the peak Qi Condensation stage. The heart's own flaws, the whispers of arrogance or fear, would manifest to test the cultivator before they built their foundation.
"I seek the Dao for the sake of the people," Li Feng whispered, his voice calm and steady. "I seek strength to protect the weak. I follow the path of the Sky Sword, which is just, pure, and bright. You have no purchase here."
He focused his formidable will, and the dissonant whisper faded, buried once more under the weight of his orthodox belief. He was the perfect jade. This was merely a tiny, insignificant flaw, one that he would polish away in time.
He held this state of perfect, reinforced calm for several hours, until the sun began to dip below the Sea of Clouds that gave the Sky Sword Sect its home. The silence was finally, and rudely, broken.
"Tch. Still sitting here, Brother Li? Are you trying to grow roots? Or are you simply afraid you'll fail?"
The voice was arrogant, fiery, and gratingly familiar.
Li Feng's eyes opened. The world did not change, but the focus of his perception snapped back to his physical form. He turned his head.
Zhang Kun stood twenty paces away, his arms crossed. He wore the same white robes of an inner disciple, but his were ruffled. His hair, bound in a topknot, had stray strands, and his entire being radiated a restless, impatient energy. He was the thunder to Li Feng's clear sky.
"Brother Zhang," Li Feng said, his voice mild. He rose to his feet in a single, fluid motion, his robes settling perfectly. "The wind is strong today. You should be meditating, not seeking me out."
Zhang Kun sneered. "Meditating is what you do when you're stuck. I, on the other hand, am progressing."
He took a step forward, and a spark of crimson Qi crackled around his fist. His aura, sharp and aggressive, flared. "I reached Level 8 of Qi Condensation this morning."
"Congratulations, Brother Zhang. That is a fine accomplishment." Li Feng's praise was genuine, which only seemed to infuriate Zhang Kun more.
"A fine accomplishment?" Zhang Kun spat. "You've been at Level 9 for six months! Six! And I'm only one step behind. At this rate, I'll reach the peak before you even dare to attempt Foundation Establishment."
"The Dao is not a race, Brother Zhang. It is a journey."
"It is a race! What's the use of being a 'genius' if you sit on a rock all day?" Zhang Kun jabbed a finger at him. "Our Master is about to ascend! The whole sect is preparing for the celebration! He is about to become a Sky Lord, a true immortal who can fly between worlds, and his number one disciple is still too timid to even form a foundation!"
"Master Jian's ascension is the culmination of five hundred years of perfect cultivation," Li Feng said, his voice finally taking on a cold edge. "It is the ultimate proof of our Sect's righteous path. It is not something to be spoken of with such... impurity."
"Impurity? I call it efficiency!" Zhang Kun's crimson Qi flared brighter. "The Sect's 'orthodox' path is too slow. It's for old men. The Dao is a river, Li Feng, and you're supposed to swim, not just look at it! Let me show you what real power is!"
Without warning, Zhang Kun lunged.
He didn't use the Sky Sword Sect's standard "Flowing Wind" footwork. Instead, he exploded forward, a technique Li Feng recognized from the 'Scorched Earth Pavilion'—a minor sect known for its fast, burn-out techniques. A crimson-tipped fist, empowered by Level 8 Qi, aimed straight for Li Feng's chest. It was a brutal, head-on assault.
Li Feng did not move. He simply raised one hand.
His fingers, long and pale, were held in the "First Principle" sword sign. He didn't use a shortcut. He used the most basic, fundamental technique taught to every Sky Sword disciple in their first year.
Qi Guiding Technique.
A vortex of pure, colorless wind Qi formed in his palm. It did not resist Zhang Kun's attack; it welcomed it.
The crimson Qi, so full of fire and rage, smashed into the vortex. The vortex spun, yielded, and guided. In a thousandth of a second, the entirety of Zhang Kun's ferocious power was redirected, channeled harmlessly past Li Feng's shoulder and into the air, where it dissipated with a frustrated hiss.
Zhang Kun, his balance completely broken, stumbled forward, his own momentum carrying him past Li Feng. He caught himself on the edge of the peak, staring down into the swirling clouds ten thousand feet below. He was panting, his face pale with adrenaline and humiliation.
Li Feng stood as he had before, his hand still raised, his robes unstirred.
"Power without control is just noise, Brother Zhang," Li Feng said, his voice soft. "Your foundation is unstable. Your Qi is laced with agitation. You used a shortcut technique, and in doing so, you exposed ten fatal flaws. I could have severed the meridians in your arm. I could have shattered your Dantian. I could have pushed you from this cliff."
He lowered his hand. "The Path of the Sky Sword is one of control. Of purity."
Zhang Kun's knuckles were white as he gripped the stone edge. He hauled himself back, his shoulders slumped. He hated Li Feng. He hated him for his talent, for his calmness, but most of all, he hated him because he was right.
"Whatever," Zhang Kun muttered, refusing to look him in the eye. He brushed off his robes. "I didn't come here to fight you, anyway."
"Then why did you come?"
"I came because I was sent," Zhang Kun said, his jealousy returning. "Elder Ming sent me. You've been up here for three days. You're the number one disciple. You're supposed to be leading the preparations, not hiding."
Li Feng's gaze softened. "Preparations?"
Zhang Kun finally looked at him, his eyes wide with an emotion Li Feng could understand: awe.
"It's time," Zhang Kun said, his voice barely a whisper. "Master Jian has entered his final seclusion. The Sect Elders have been summoned. The Great Ascension Bell is being polished. He will make his attempt tomorrow at dawn."
A genuine, brilliant smile touched Li Feng's lips. This was it. The greatest moment in the Sect's last five hundred years. The validation of everything he believed in. His Master, Elder Jian, was about to transcend the Mortal Realms. He was about to shed his mortal coil and become a Sky Lord.
"I... I must go," Li Feng said, his heart, for once, beating faster.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Zhang Kun shouted, exasperated. "They need you at the main hall! Now!"
Li Feng nodded, his composure regained. He took a step toward the edge of the peak. "Will you be coming, Brother Zhang?"
Zhang Kun just scoffed. "Go on, 'Senior Brother.' Have your moment. I'll be along. I prefer not to be in your perfect shadow."
Li Feng gave a small, understanding sigh. He held no malice toward Zhang Kun; the man was simply trapped by his own heart. Li Feng turned, and with a single, graceful step, he walked off the edge of the cliff.
He did not fall. The wind, which had been his companion for three days, now became his servant. It coiled around his ankles, his waist, and his shoulders, lifting him, carrying him into the golden light of the setting sun. He was a white crane ascending from a misty peak, the very picture of a celestial immortal.
He flew over the Sea of Clouds, past the other nine thousand peaks that constituted the Sect, all of them silent in their reverence. His heart was full. His belief, absolute. His Master was ascending. The Dao was harmonious. The Path was righteous.
And as he soared, that faint, dissonant whisper returned.
...hss...
It was just a flicker, so quiet he almost missed it. But this time, it was not in his head.
It was in the wind.
It came from the direction of the sacred, forbidden Ascension Peak, where his Master sat in seclusion.
For a fraction of a second, Li Feng faltered in his flight. The wind a-round him scattered, and he dropped ten feet before his control snapped back into place.
He hovered, his heart suddenly cold. He looked toward the vibrant, glowing main hall, and then to the dark, silent spike of the Ascension Peak far in the distance.
"Nervousness," he told himself firmly. "It is my own anxiety for Master's great trial. An inner demon born of anticipation."
He suppressed the feeling with the iron will of the Sky Sword Sect's finest disciple. He was Li Feng. He was the perfect jade. There was no flaw.
He turned and accelerated toward the main hall, his white robes a streak of light against the dying sun, leaving the cold, distant whisper behind him.