Zeravon slowly stepped past the boundary of Duskwind Village, his hand resting on the strap of his travel bag. Inside, his mother had lovingly placed some dried fruits and a small family photo. His eyes held a faint glimmer of tears, but his face was firm — filled with a determination only someone taking their very first step into the world could have.
> "I'm leaving now… but I'll return.
And when I do — everything will have changed."
The ground was still damp from the morning rain. Droplets fell from the trees, and the air carried a cool, earthy scent. Yet Zeravon's heart was tangled in thoughts — the remnants of a haunting dream still lingered in his chest.
> "Was that just a dream?
Or a warning… or something else entirely?"
His hand instinctively moved to his Astral Core, the energy within his dantian quietly burning with a calm but steady light.
---
Whispers in the Gorge
By mid-afternoon, Zeravon found himself walking through a strange place known as:
> Whispering Pine Gorge
It was a narrow valley, flanked by tall, dark pine trees and an ancient stone path — one that seemed like it had once been walked by kings or long-forgotten sects.
When the wind moved, it carried with it an eerie whisper.
> "Zeravon... Zeravon..."
> "Is this just my imagination,
or is this place… actually speaking to me?"
He kept walking, ignoring the voice.
Suddenly, a sharp command cut through the air —
> "Stop."
Zeravon froze.
Three figures stood ahead. Worn robes, weapons drawn. Their eyes sparkled with greed, and their twisted smirks screamed of someone used to preying on the weak.
> "A lone kid… a full bag... whatever you've got, hand it over quietly.
Or you're not leaving here alive."
Zeravon looked at them calmly. He had never been in a real fight. Even though he was at the 3rd level of the Sacred Veins Realm, his combat training was minimal.
But something inside him… burned.
> "Step aside."
He said it with quiet resolve.
One thug laughed, "You? How'd a village boy like you make it this far?"
He lunged forward with a curved blade.
Zeravon sidestepped — pure reflex. The second man began forming a lightning spell, but before it finished, Zeravon pulled a worn talisman from his bag — a protection charm Lin Mei had gifted him.
A golden shimmer flared around him.
The lightning struck the barrier and reflected — striking its caster down with a scream.
The other two charged in fury.
Zeravon focused, gathering energy into his palms. A radiant blue glow surrounded his hands. He unleashed a Heaven Pulse Wave — simple, but filled with raw force.
The attackers were thrown backward. One gasped in pain — ribs shattered. The other slumped unconscious.
> "Zeravon's hands trembled.
It was the first time he had heard someone scream in pain because of him.
Maybe this was a victory… but inside, there was no warmth.
Only emptiness."
> "Maybe… I'm not as weak as I thought,"
he whispered to himself.
He walked on. Eventually, night fell.
---
Campfire & Chaos
Zeravon made a small camp just off the path. The jungle was close, but this patch felt safe. He lit a fire, nibbled on some dry fruits, and looked at his family photo.
His heart felt a little lighter…
Until that dream came back.
> Duskwind burned.
People screaming.
His mother. His father.
Lifeless bodies all around… and he could do nothing.
He closed his eyes.
And then… a voice.
He opened them instantly. Nothing there. Just the crackling fire and rustling trees.
But it hadn't come from outside.
It came from within.
His hands trembled slightly.
> The voice called his name again —
not with love or pain…
but like a distant memory echoing back to him.
"Was that really just my imagination?"
Zeravon asked himself.
Still shaken, he continued his journey. The world outside home — it was strange, beautiful, dangerous. Every day felt new.
Eventually, after several days of travel —
Zeravon reached the borders of the famed:
> StormHeaven Sect
---
The Gates of StormHeaven
The next morning, Zeravon's path became smoother — less forest, fewer threats. By noon, he stood at the edge of the Sect.
Massive jade pillars rose high, holding a silver gate. Other young disciples were gathered, all fresh recruits from far-off villages and cities.
Excitement filled the air. So did nerves.
But one boy stood out —
> Ren Kairon — dressed in high-tier robes, flanked by two servants, arrogance dripping from his every move.
Zeravon walked up and took his place silently.
Ren scoffed,
> "I see village rats like you and wonder…
your life must be so easy. No expectations at all."
> "Another simple-minded bumpkin?
You lot show up just to be training dummies."
Zeravon didn't respond. He just stood still.
Soon, everyone was led into a vast courtyard for the Entrance Test.
At the center stood a large stone —
> the Spirit Sense Crystal.
Each disciple would place their hand on it — revealing their innate talent and potential.
One by one, disciples stepped forward. The crystal would glow — yellow, orange, sometimes light blue.
Ren Kairon stepped up. But before going, he gave Zeravon a smug glare.
The crystal glowed sky blue.
Cheers erupted.
> "Sky-Blue talent! Wow!
Inner disciple for sure!"
Ren turned toward Zeravon with a mocking smirk.
Then came Zeravon's turn.
He stepped forward. Placed his hand on the crystal.
Silence.
Whispers.
> "Maybe it won't glow at all.
Just another villager..."
But then…
A deep black-purple glow pulsed from within the crystal.
The courtyard went dead quiet.
The elder overseeing the test — Elder Xuhai — stepped closer, eyes sharp.
> "This… this is…"
He pulled out an ancient scroll and frantically cross-checked something.
Then he looked up, stunned.
> "Unknown grade…
This hasn't appeared in decades. Not even in the Upper Realms."
> "In sixty years of testing talents…
I've never seen a glow like this.
This boy…
he might not even belong to this realm."
Ren Kairon stared — his arrogance replaced with burning jealousy.
Zeravon slowly withdrew his hand.
> "I just want a place to train.
A place where I can break myself…
and rebuild."
He passed every following test.
---
The Voice in the Night – Again
That night, Zeravon settled into the New Disciple Quarters of StormHeaven Sect.
His room was simple — a bed, a desk, a cultivation mat.
He closed his eyes, sat cross-legged, and began to meditate.
His Astral Core pulsed quietly — a swirl of deep blue and silver light.
He opened his eyes. His breath had grown heavier — more focused.
He folded his hands and whispered a silent vow:
> "I'm not here just to learn.
I'm here to rise.
But first…
I must conquer myself."
🔥 To Be Continued…