The years passed quietly in the small valley where Madam Yan raised Yan Jue. By the time he turned ten, the boy had grown into a handsome child with sharp black eyes and a reserved, thoughtful temperament. Yet in a world where children of noble clans awakened their blood marks as early as six or seven, Yan Jue remained utterly ordinary.
Madam Yan had spared no effort. She had guided him through the simplest breathing techniques, bought inexpensive cultivation manuals, and even used her own savings to purchase nourishing pills from nearby towns. Every month she returned with a new remedy, a new herb, a new hope. Yet each attempt ended the same: Yan Jue sat still, eyes shut, breathing carefully… only to feel nothing. No qi gathered, no mark appeared on his skin.
"Jue'er, don't be discouraged," Madam Yan would whisper as she rubbed his back after another failed attempt. "Perhaps your path is different from others. Some flames burn later but brighter."
Her words were gentle, but inside, her heart ached. She had seen too many children soar past her boy, already boasting faint blood marks, already taken in by sect recruiters. She feared what might become of him if he remained talentless.
One spring morning, Madam Yan decided to make another trip to the nearby town of Green Willow. She had heard of a traveling merchant who carried a small batch of spirit-forging pills. Though the price was exorbitant, she could not give up.
"Come, Jue'er," she said as she packed a small pouch of coins. "Walk with me today. You've been cooped up for too long."
Yan Jue followed obediently. His steps were quiet, his expression calm, but his small hands clenched at his side. He knew the truth — it wasn't that Madam Yan wanted him to see the world. She was still searching, still hoping that something could awaken his dormant blood.
The town of Green Willow bustled with noise. Merchants shouted prices, children ran through the dusty streets, and cultivators in sect robes moved with proud steps. Yan Jue kept close to Madam Yan, his gaze lowered. Compared to these children who laughed and practiced little tricks of fire, wind, or light, he felt like a shadow that didn't belong.
And then, like lightning across the sky, he noticed her.
A girl about his age stood near a stall of candied fruits. Her robe was pale blue, embroidered with tiny arcs of silver thread that glimmered like sparks. Strands of dark hair framed a bright, lively face. Her laughter was crisp as she held out her hand—where a tiny arc of lightning crackled and danced between her fingers, harmless but dazzling.
"Wow! Sister Xinyi, show it again!" several children cheered.
She grinned, letting another spark jump across her palm. "It's nothing special. Once you join a sect, you'll learn too."
But Yan Jue knew this was not ordinary. To summon lightning at ten years old… she was a prodigy.
He would have walked away, sinking further into his silence, had she not turned her head at that moment. Her eyes—bright and gentle—fell on him. Instead of ignoring the plain boy at the edge of the crowd, she stepped forward.
"Hey, you." Her voice was sweet, curious. "Why are you standing there alone? Don't you want to try the candied fruit?"
Yan Jue blinked, startled. "I… don't have any coins."
The girl tilted her head, then smiled like sunlight breaking through clouds. She bought two sticks and handed one to him. "Then now you do."
He hesitated, but her expectant gaze left him no choice. Slowly, he took it. "Thank you."
"I'm Feng Xinyi," she said brightly. "From the Feng Sect."
The words made nearby children gasp. The Feng Sect—masters of lightning, one of the great seven powers. But Xinyi's manner was so warm that Yan Jue felt none of the arrogance others carried.
"I'm…" He paused, then remembered Madam Yan's warning never to reveal his true lineage. "…Yan Jue."
Her eyes lit up. "Yan Jue. Hm, sounds steady. I like it."
For the first time in years, Yan Jue felt warmth not from Madam Yan's careful love, but from someone his own age. They talked for a while—about the market, about sparrows darting above the roofs, about silly things children thought important. When she asked if he could cultivate, he lowered his gaze and shook his head.
But instead of mocking him, Xinyi's eyes softened. "That's okay. My sect elder says even a pebble can hide lightning inside. You'll find it one day."
Something stirred in his chest at those words.
As the sun began to set, she was called away by a group of Feng Sect disciples waiting at the town gates. Before leaving, she pressed her little fist against her heart. "Yan Jue, don't forget me, alright? Even if I go far away, I'll remember today."
Yan Jue mirrored her gesture, clumsy but sincere. "I won't forget."
Their promise hung in the evening air, fragile but powerful.
From a distance, Madam Yan watched with moist eyes. For so long she had feared her boy would remain lonely, crushed under the weight of weakness and secrets. Yet here he was—smiling, truly smiling—as he spoke to the little girl. Her heart eased for the first time in years.
When Yan Jue returned home that night, he lay on his small bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. He touched the jade pendant at his neck, feeling its cold weight. For once, the heaviness of failure didn't crush him. Instead, he thought of a girl's lightning-bright smile and the words she had left him.
Someday, he whispered in his heart, I'll awaken. And when I do… I'll find her again.