Morning broke over the mountain like a veil of molten gold. Mist clung to the terraces, curling through the cedars in long, patient streams. Qi Shan Wei followed Elder Lu's steady pace up the winding path, each step a little heavier than the last. Behind them, his father walked in silence, staff tapping against the stone rhythmically—a heartbeat that steadied the boy's own.
They had passed through three gates already, each carved with inscriptions that shimmered faintly when Elder Lu brushed his sleeve across them. The fourth gate rose ahead, towering and majestic—its surface etched with cranes, blossoms, and the curling lines of clouds.
At its base stood two stone guardians—beasts shaped like lions but with antlers of bronze and scales of black jade. They radiated a dormant energy that made Shan Wei's skin prickle.
Elder Lu halted. "This is the Gate of Still Breath," he said quietly. "It measures the heart, not the hand. Step forward, and let the mountain decide if you may enter."
Qi Shan Wei nodded, but his throat felt dry. His father's hand squeezed his shoulder once. "Remember," Qi Duan murmured, "the mountain weighs truth, not noise."
The boy inhaled. One breath—arrive. Two—agree. Three—anchor.
He stepped past the threshold.
Instantly, sound vanished. The wind froze in the air, its whispers locked mid-motion. Even the light seemed to thicken. Shan Wei could hear nothing but his heartbeat, echoing like a drum beneath an endless lake.
Then—voices.
Not outside, but within. A thousand murmurs, overlapping, echoing from forgotten places.
He will burn everything.The heavens marked him.A child of omen cannot walk among men.Or perhaps he will redeem what we could not.
He clutched his chest. The prismatic energy inside him stirred restlessly, sensing the unseen pressure. He forced his breathing steady, letting the mountain's presence sink into his bones.
Then came a vision.
He stood upon a battlefield beneath a blackened sky. Lightning fell like rain. Oceans boiled in the distance. Around him, countless figures knelt—some in worship, others in fear. And above, a colossal throne drifted in the clouds, shrouded in light that fractured into seven colors.
A whisper coiled through his mind—his own voice, but older, colder.
Do not fear the weight of heaven. Fear the day you no longer feel it.
The vision shattered.
When sound returned, Shan Wei stumbled forward, gasping. The gate's stone lions glowed faintly—eyes lit with approval. Elder Lu's sleeve caught him before he fell.
"Well done," the elder murmured. "The mountain has accepted you."
Qi Duan bowed his head, pride and worry mingling in his gaze. "What did it show you, son?"
Shan Wei shook his head. "I… don't know. A throne in the sky. And a voice that sounded like mine."
Elder Lu's brows knitted slightly but he said nothing. Instead, he gestured toward the gate, which opened with a soft sigh.
Beyond lay the Green Spring Pavilion.
The sect sprawled across the mountaintop like a city woven from mist and jade. Slender bridges arched between floating courtyards. Waterfalls cascaded down from cliffs that glowed with runic veins, feeding pools so clear they reflected not the sky—but the heavens beyond it.
Cultivators in pale-green robes moved gracefully among pagodas, their steps as measured as ritual. To Shan Wei's eyes, it was a dream painted in air and stone.
Elder Lu led them across a bridge of glass-like crystal. Below, endless clouds rolled and churned like a sleeping sea.
"The Pavilion welcomes all who seek balance," the elder said. "But harmony is not gentleness. You will learn discipline before you learn strength."
He paused at a large courtyard where a dozen youths were already assembled. Among them—Lin Zhao, standing taller now in crisp training robes. When he spotted Shan Wei, a flicker of recognition passed through his face—followed by something sharper.
"New initiates," Elder Lu announced. "Today, you will undergo the Trial of Wellspring Qi. It will reveal your inner nature and determine your cultivation path."
The students straightened, excitement rippling through them. At the courtyard's center stood a circular pool, its surface perfectly still despite the breeze. Floating above it were nine orbs of different colors—each representing a spiritual element: flame, water, wind, metal, earth, wood, thunder, void, and light.
Elder Lu raised his staff. "When your palm touches the water, one orb will respond. That is the essence that resonates with your spirit."
Lin Zhao went first. His touch summoned the green orb—Wood Essence. The water rippled softly, and he grinned, basking in approving nods.
One by one, others followed—each orb lighting in turn. Blue for water. White for wind. Gold for metal.
Then came Qi Shan Wei's turn.
He knelt beside the pool. The water's reflection was dark, his face wavering like a dream half-remembered. He pressed his palm against the surface.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—everything did.
The water churned violently, as though struck by a tempest. The nine orbs blazed to life simultaneously, colors colliding and spiraling into chaos. A roar filled the courtyard—not of sound, but of spiritual force bursting free.
Flame and lightning fused, light clashing with shadow, until all hues merged into one prismatic vortex that rose above the pool. It spun faster, brighter—until the air itself seemed to tear.
Gasps rippled through the disciples. Elder Lu's composure faltered, his staff shaking slightly.
"That… cannot be."
Lin Zhao stumbled back, shielding his eyes. "He's—breaking—the formation!"
Shan Wei's palm burned. The energy coiled around him like living flame, its weight both unbearable and intoxicating. Somewhere deep within his consciousness, he heard that voice again—the one from the Gate.
Balance is not peace. It is power under choice.
With great effort, he tore his hand free. The water exploded upward, forming a column of color before collapsing back into perfect stillness.
Silence fell.
Every orb was gone. Only faint ripples remained.
Elder Lu exhaled slowly, his eyes both awed and troubled. "Qi Shan Wei… the heavens have written your path in colors unseen."
He turned to the watching disciples. "The Trial is complete. All of you—remember what you have witnessed here."
As they dispersed, whispers spread like wildfire. Nine elements at once… impossible… the Crimson Comet's child…
Qi Duan approached, his expression unreadable. "Is this good or ill?" he asked quietly.
Elder Lu hesitated. "It is both. The Prismatic Flame within him is awakening faster than I imagined. He must be trained… but carefully. If not, the heavens will come to test him before we are ready."
He glanced at the horizon where thunderclouds gathered, faintly tinted with crimson.
"Even now," he murmured, "they watch."
And high above, beyond mortal sight, a fragment of the comet still drifted in the void—its light pulsing faintly, as if answering the heartbeat of a boy who would one day make the heavens kneel.
To be continued..
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