The third trial began with a swirl of wind and the opening of the Maze of Skybeasts. A towering labyrinth stretched ahead, its walls made of enchanted stone and gusting wind barriers. Above, the sky was alive with screeches and cries, home to flying beasts and treacherous traps. The participants, all cultivators from various parts of the Wind Clan and beyond, stepped forward.
Little Wind stood quietly, his gaze calm but alert. He had barely recovered from the previous trial, his internal injury still present though hidden behind a composed expression. He tightened his grip on the jade token given to all contestants and stepped into the maze.
The moment he entered, sharp gusts howled past him. From above, the shadow of an enormous eagle beast circled. Its eyes glinted with intelligence and bloodlust. With a cry that echoed through the maze, it swooped down.
Little Wind dodged the first strike by leaping to the side, but the eagle's wing sliced into his arm, drawing blood. Grunting, he spun around and channeled wind Qi into his feet, ascending with a burst of force to meet the eagle mid-air. Their battle began—a blur of feathers and blades, of claws clashing with elemental strikes.
Halfway through the fight, as his body bled and fatigue gnawed at his limbs, a sudden surge of energy shook him. A spiraling wind cocoon formed around him as his soul sea churned. His soul essence surged and then condensed. With a blinding flash, his soul split further, forming a new manifestation—a teenage version of himself, eyes blazing with determination.
He had broken through to the Split Soul Middle Stage.
The soul-formed teenager shot forward with twin blades of compressed wind. With synchronized attacks, the two Little Winds surrounded the eagle. Slashes, gusts, and bursts of sharp-edged currents struck the beast from all sides. The eagle let out one last cry before collapsing midair, turning into light particles and vanishing.
Little Wind fell to the ground, panting and bleeding. His robe was torn, and his side ached sharply—possibly broken ribs. Still, he pressed forward. The maze was not done.
Hours passed as he avoided traps, bypassed lesser beasts, and navigated false paths. Just as he approached the exit, a sudden ambush awaited him. Figures cloaked in black stepped out of the misty corridors—assassination cultivators. Cultivators who had snuck into the trial with one aim: to eliminate the competition.
Little Wind's steps faltered slightly, but he refused to back down. Drawing the last of his Qi, he faced them.
The battle was brutal. Their blades were poisoned. Every cut was a venomous wound. Despite his strength, he was outnumbered and already injured. For one hour, he fought with sheer will, his body accumulating slash after slash. Blood poured, breath grew shallow, and vision blurred.
But he never stopped moving.
He reached the exit—staggering, barely upright. Just beyond the exit, Sister Shuye waited. She had been pacing, her face pale with worry. The moment she saw him, her eyes widened in horror.
"Little Wind!" she screamed, rushing to catch him as he collapsed. His body fell into her embrace, blood staining her robes.
"You stupid... idiot... brainless bastard!" she sobbed, hugging him tightly. "Why do you push yourself this hard?"
Resting his head on her lap, Little Wind gave a faint smile. "Because... I want to be worthy of you."
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she whispered, "You always were."
Behind them, the elders, sect leader, and the Wind Clan Ancestor arrived. The ancestor, a woman with long silver hair and deep, stormy eyes, looked at the battered boy with awe.
"Such bravery... such sincerity. Child, I want to take you as my disciple," she declared.
Little Wind shook his head weakly. "Thank you, senior... but I already have my teacher, Shuye... and a father who matters most."
Touched, the Ancestor nodded.
But then, amidst the admiration, an elder approached. He was the brother of Shuye's father—an old man with a stern face. "Let me treat his wounds," he said with false concern.
As he leaned down, no one noticed the poisoned blade hidden in his sleeve. With a swift motion, he stabbed Little Wind twice in the chest.
Gasps echoed. The Ancestor moved instantly, her Qi pulling him away—but it was too late. Little Wind's core, barely holding him alive, shattered.
His breathing weakened. Shuye screamed and rushed to hold him. Her father's face darkened with rage as he attacked the elder. But even with his power, the elder deflected with little damage.
Shuye tried to heal him, but nothing worked. His breathing slowed... slower... until only silence remained.
In a quiet, final breath, he whispered, "Don't be sad, Shuye... I'll come see you again..."
And then, nothing.
The black wind dormant within him exploded outward. It surged like a violent storm, swirling in agony. It circled his body before noticing the red string tied from his hand to Shuye's. It paused—then, like a final act of love, entered her body.
Only half merged. The other half... vanished.
As the black wind fused with her, Shuye's cultivation broke through, rising to Perfect Soul Creation Middle Stage. Her aura surged as she turned toward the elder and attacked him with furious power. But he remained unharmed.
Her father, enraged, joined her and attacked, overpowering the elder with rage-filled blows. The elder was restrained.
Shuye knelt by Little Wind's body, sobbing uncontrollably. The crowd around her began to leave slowly, offering silent condolences. The Ancestor remained, touched by the scene.
Then, she noticed something. The string tied to Shuye's hand—it still glowed.
"Child... the string. Look."
Shuye gasped. It was still there. She checked his breath—but he was still... gone.
Suddenly, a heavy rain fell from the sky, as if the heavens wept. A glowing spiritual image appeared before Little Wind's body. A calm scholar holding a book, surrounded by a gentle ocean-blue aura.
Little Water.
He whispered, "Little Wind, wake up... it's time to go."
The Ancestor, stunned, asked, "Fellow cultivator... who are you?"
Little Water's gaze turned toward her. A powerful pressure filled the air. The Ancestor fell to her knees. One by one, so did the others.
He stepped toward Shuye, placed a hand on her head. "You did great protecting him. Don't lose yourself. It's not your fault."
With a wave of his hand, the elder who had stabbed Little Wind was pulled from the prison. Little Water pointed.
"I grant you death."
The elder's body exploded.
Even the Sect Leader could only kneel.
Little Water looked to Shuye. "Now, let me take him."
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I am Little Water," he said. "I am also Little Wind... in another face."
He held up his hand—the red string had moved to him.
"I can't stay long. I will say one thing. After hearing it, you'll understand everything."
Little Wind's body dissolved into wind, merging with Little Water. Just before vanishing, he spoke:
"We are one. We are clones."
Then he was gone.
Shuye stood frozen. Tears fell again—but now, she understood. Little Wind had always been a part of something more. And his words that night—"I will come in another face"—now made sense.
She was sad, but not broken.
Her father took her back.
The next day, Shuye stood before her father and said, "I'm going to find him. He's still alive. I can feel it."
And thus, her journey began. A journey to find Little Water.
---[Little Wind Journey Ends]---