After days of travel through mist-laden forests and winding mountain passes, the carriage finally rolled to a stop.
Xu Tianyi stepped down, and his breath caught in his throat.
Before him rose a mountain that defied description.
Its peak vanished into the clouds, as if it dared to challenge the heavens themselves. Stone paths carved with ancient runes spiraled up its vast body like veins of silver. Waterfalls cascaded down mossy cliffs, their songs harmonizing with the wind. Immortal birds with radiant feathers soared through the skies, leaving trails of light that danced in the air long after they had passed.
The mountain did not simply stand—it existed, in a way that made everything else feel mundane. The very air shimmered with invisible currents of spiritual energy, like the mountain itself was breathing, alive with power and history.
This was no ordinary place. It was sacred.
Yun Wanshang stepped down beside them, her robes catching the wind like the wings of a swan.
She turned to face the siblings, her expression calm but not cold. Her eyes, which had once gleamed like distant stars, now softened ever so slightly.
> "This," she said, her voice carrying the clarity of a mountain spring, "is Caiyun Peak—Cloud-Treading Peak. One of the five sacred summits of the Qingyun Sect."
She paused for a moment, letting them take in the sight.
> "I am the Peak Master here. In two days' time, the sect will hold its disciple recruitment trials. If you pass, you will be accepted as outer disciples… and from there, your journey as cultivators will truly begin."
Xu Tianyi felt his chest tighten.
Not with fear.
But with anticipation.
> "This is where it starts," he thought. "No more watching from the shadows. No more helplessness."
Yun Wanshang's gaze lingered on the two for just a breath longer, a glimmer of emotion flickering beneath her composure—pity, perhaps… or hope.
> "I wish you both luck," she said simply.
Then, with a flick of her sleeve, she gestured to a nearby servant. The man, clad in simple grey robes with a jade emblem stitched at his collar, stepped forward and bowed low.
> "Yes, Peak Master," he replied respectfully.
Straightening, he turned to the siblings, his voice quiet but firm.
> "Please, follow me. Your lodgings have been prepared."
Xu Tianyi and Mingxia exchanged a glance before nodding and falling in step behind the man. As they walked, Tianyi looked up at the towering peak once more. The clouds curled around its sides like silk, and the distant call of cranes echoed like a song from the heavens.
And yet, deep in his chest, something stirred—not awe, but purpose.
> "Qingyun Sect… just wait."
"I'll climb this peak. Not just its stairs—but its legacy."
The guest house they were given sat nestled beneath the shadow of ancient pines, its tiled roof slick with dew and moonlight.
Inside, the room was humble—just a single bed, a wooden table, and a small shelf holding folded robes and a ceramic lamp. Yet compared to the soot-stained huts of their old village, this simplicity felt like quiet nobility.
A thin silence blanketed the space, broken only by the faint rustle of wind against the shutters.
---
That night, Xu Tianyi lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had closed his eyes, but sleep evaded him—his thoughts tangled in memory and mourning.
Then the door creaked softly.
He sat up just as Xu Mingxia stepped inside, her steps featherlight, yet heavy with sorrow. Her face was pale as moonlight, eyes swollen and red, her lips trembling as though each breath threatened to break her.
She didn't speak.
She simply walked over, and without hesitation, collapsed into his arms.
> "Tianyi…"
Her voice cracked.
"Everyone is gone… they're all gone…"
Her words were a whisper, but they pierced like daggers.
He didn't answer. What words could he offer that wouldn't taste like ash? There was no comfort strong enough to resurrect the dead. No warmth that could replace the cold truth of loss.
So, he held her—arms wrapped tightly around her trembling frame, his chin resting lightly atop her head.
She sobbed.
It wasn't a gentle weeping. It was raw and broken—like something ancient had cracked inside her. Her tears soaked his shoulder, warm and relentless, spilling grief too vast for words. Her fingers clutched at his robes as though fearing he, too, might disappear if she let go.
Time passed.
Minutes bled into moments. The stars shifted behind drifting clouds. The candles dimmed, their flames flickering like the heartbeat of the night.
And then, slowly… her cries faded.
Her breathing softened. Her grip loosened. Exhaustion, that cruel gift of grief, pulled her into slumber.
She slept in his arms, her expression finally calm—untouched by the storms of the waking world.
Xu Tianyi looked down at her, and something inside him twisted.
> "We've lost everything," he thought.
"But as long as I have her… I'll endure anything."
The world was cruel. Brutal. Unforgiving.
But in this moment, in this room washed in silence and sorrow, he found something sacred.
The bond between two souls who had lost everything—yet still had each other.
He leaned back slowly, careful not to wake her, and closed his eyes.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
And in that shared silence, the night passed.