Night settled over the small town like a heavy cloak. The noise from the tavern below gradually faded as travelers drifted off to sleep, leaving only the wind tapping against the shutters of Canglong's room.
He sat cross-legged on the rough wooden floor, breathing steadily, letting the quiet wrap around him.
Today's encounter with the local sect brats still echoed faintly in his mind not the insults, not the arrogance, but the simple, sharp truth he had learned:
He was still too weak.
The Star-Devouring Saber Jade pulsed faintly against his chest, responding to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The dragon-wolf cub slept curled at his side, small body rising and falling, occasionally twitching like it was dreaming of hunts it had never lived.
Canglong opened his eyes.
The world looked normal. Calm. Quiet.
But inside him…
He frowned and pressed his palm to his chest. The pressure from earlier, the one that had almost surged out during the confrontation, was still there, lying deep and silent like a storm beneath the surface of a lake.
Unpredictable.Untamed.
He wasn't going to let it erupt tomorrow, not during the sect's entrance trial, not in public where cultivators would be watching his every move for weaknesses.
He needed control.
He kept his breathing steady, shifting his focus inward. Instead of forcing the pressure down, he tried to draw it into a slow, steady cycle, circulating it through the paths of his meridians with a gentle touch. Not clashing with it. Not provoking it.
Like stroking the mane of a wild horse rather than trying to wrestle it down.
The pressure eased.
Not fully, not safely, but enough that he could breathe without feeling like he was sitting atop an active volcano. His muscles relaxed as the circulation settled into a rhythm, warm but manageable.
A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
The dragon-wolf cub blinked awake, raised its tiny head, and gave a soft chuff as if sensing the change.
Canglong stroked its head."We'll manage," he whispered. "Tomorrow decides everything."
The cub yawned and curled back up.
Canglong closed his eyes again, but this time it wasn't to meditate. He simply needed rest. The trial at the Falling Sky Sect began at dawn, and thousands would be competing.
Monsters among geniuses.Elites, heaven-chosen, and wolves in human skin.Young masters with backgrounds strong enough to crush entire villages.Children raised on pills, techniques, and resources he had only seen in books.
People born with fate.
And him born with none.
He lay down on the thin bedding, hands folded behind his head, staring at the cracked ceiling. Somewhere beyond that wood and plaster, the stars glittered, cold and distant.
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow he would stand among them, fate, no fate, heaven's approval or not.
He would carve out his path.
The room fell completely silent.
Before long, he slept.
Outside, the wind picked up, rustling the banners hanging from the tavern's eaves.
The night passed.
And dawn approached.