The sky that day was unnervingly calm—so still it felt almost like the world itself was holding its breath. Beneath the wide, endless dome of pale blue, the disciples gathered, their robes fluttering faintly in the whispering wind. The grass beneath their feet swayed like waves, heavy with dew, the scent of wet earth rising in delicate spirals. They did not yet know that the trial awaiting them was not one of strength or skill alone, but of pain, of torment, a crucible meant to carve their very souls.
Master Li's voice broke the fragile silence, solemn and resonant, carrying like a divine echo across the misted sky.
"Today," he intoned, each syllable trembling in the thin air, "you will taste hardship before life itself. You will sip from the cup of misery. This bow—this lightning—is your arrow. And your hearts… are the target."
A murmur of unease rippled through the disciples, but before anyone could speak, Mei Ling raised a hand, feigning innocence, her eyes glinting with subtle cunning.
"Will the Honored Master Wu Xin not oversee this punishment?" she asked, her voice smooth, calculated.
Yue smirked, her tone sharp as the edge of a blade. The slight curl of her lips sent a shiver through the gathered disciples.
"It's not a punishment, it's discipline," she said, voice carrying over the soft rustle of the clouds. "What's wrong, Mei Ling? Afraid? Hoping he'll save you?"
Master Li's usual cheerful aura vanished like mist under the sun. His tone hardened to iron, his eyes dimming to the color of smoldering ash.
"Enough! Line up!" he commanded.
He struck a small bronze bell suspended between two carved pillars. Its chime floated across the clouds, soft and almost tender, a lullaby before the storm. And then—lightning tore through the sky, jagged and brilliant, a blade of fire split against the calm.
This was the Trial of Punishment, a lesson of agony, designed to etch fear into their hearts, so that none might stray from the path again.
Yue stepped forward first, reckless as ever. Her feet touched the Punishment Platform, the stone humming under her weight. Lightning flickered around her like restless serpents, their cold heat brushing her skin in jagged streaks. The scent of ozone filled the air, sharp and biting.
Huo Feng's smile was warm, gentle, and entirely unmocking. To her, the trial looked… exhilarating. The thrill of danger danced in her chest like sunlight on water.
Suo blinked at her in disbelief, his expression a mask of confusion.
"Why are you smiling like that?"
Huo Feng laughed, light and carefree as a child chasing butterflies.
"I'm just imagining myself roasting under lightning fire! Doesn't that sound hilarious?"
Mei Ling snorted, her voice cutting like ice.
"You're insane. Watch your friend—she's about to really roast!"
The bell rang again. Its tone carried, stretched across the sky, trembling like a cord pulled too tight. A beam of lightning fell, brilliant and divine. It seemed gentle at first, soft as a lover's touch—but when it struck Yue's head, it cleaved through her like burning glass, searing, splitting.
Her vision went white. Pain coursed through her veins like molten metal. The bolt carved a jagged path to her heart, shredding it mercilessly. Every nerve screamed. She had known the sting of swords, the bite of knives—but nothing, nothing could compare to this.
Huo Feng leapt forward, her robe trailing like a comet's tail, hands steady as she helped her trembling friend to stand. One by one, the disciples faced the trial, unwilling but bound by duty, their breaths ragged, their bodies trembling.
Then it was Huo Feng's turn.
Mei Ling's smirk returned, sharp and cruel. She whispered a forbidden spell beneath her breath, twisting the enchantment of the great bell above the platform. A faint wisp of black smoke swirled around her lips, drifting upward like a shadow feeding the storm.
Huo Feng stepped beneath the arch of lightning. The grand bell tolled. Its sound shattered the air, vibrating through the soles of their feet, reverberating in the clouds, in the heart, in the very bones of the disciples.
Across the kingdom, eyes turned skyward in alarm. Even Master Wu Xin, deep in meditation atop the distant peak, felt a sudden stab of pain in his chest—long before he heard the bell.
Then it struck.
A bolt greater than any before, furious and vengeful, descended like a spear of divine wrath. It hit Huo Feng squarely—and then, impossibly, dimmed. The lightning faltered, shrinking to a pale glow, almost bowing before her.
She stood unharmed, motionless, silent.
Master Li alone noticed the truth—Huo Feng had vanished for an instant. She had entered the platform itself, stepping into the heart of the storm.
Inside the roaring tempest, she saw a vision.
A woman, chained beneath the same arch of lightning, writhing in pain. Her face, twisted in agony… it was the same face her father had described countless times. Her mother.
And there, bound beside her, was Jin Hai, her father, struggling against invisible chains, grasping for freedom.
Huo Feng reached toward them, but before her fingers could touch, everything vanished.
She breathed heavily, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven gasps. When she stepped back to her place, Huo Feng copied, inscribed in her memory, all the power of the Punishment Platform—and the torment it had shown her.
Her eyes were wide, glassy, haunted. She searched the crowd desperately for the faces she had seen. Her mother. Her father. Gone.
The pain twisted into rage, electricity flaring around her in wild, untamed arcs. The storm itself seemed to sense her fury, bending lightning into chaotic spirals, whipping wind around her like blades.
Master Li watched silently, sensing the tempest within her, the danger rising like a wave ready to consume all.
Mei Ling, sensing the threat, acted quickly, a mask of false concern stretching over her envy. She ran toward Huo Feng, gripping her hands tightly, the effort betraying her fear.
"I'll protect you!" she cried aloud, her voice quivering under the roar of the storm.
Then, in a whisper sharp as poisoned steel:
"It was me. The mistake—the lightning—it was all me."
Huo Feng froze. Only one phrase penetrated her heart:
"It was me."
Her voice turned cold, sharp as ice:
"You… did it? Why? Why did you punish her? Why did you kill her?"
Mei Ling's eyes widened in terror, confusion twisting her features. She struggled, but Huo Feng's grip was iron—unbreakable.
Crackling energy swelled in Huo Feng's palm, sparking brighter, sharper. The grand bell trembled above, its deep toll vibrating through the clouds, sending ripples of raw, divine power across the academy.
A sphere of pure lightning formed, massive, alive, divine, radiating heat and sound that made the air itself scream.
Mei Ling screamed, knowing this was the end.
"Huuuuooo Feng!" The voice cut through the storm—angry, desperate. Master Wu Xin.
He lashed his fiery whip across the air, slicing through her arm just as she prepared to release the bolt. The lightning sphere exploded harmlessly into the sky, scattering into a storm of radiant fragments, like shattered stars raining down upon the disciples.
Huo Feng and Mei Ling collapsed, gasping, soaked with the scent of ozone and rain, their hair plastered to their faces.
Master Li moved first, catching Huo Feng in his arms without hesitation, unashamed before the crowd, his robes trailing like rippling clouds. Master Wu Xin went to Mei Ling, heart heavy with guilt and regret.
For even as he tended to the wounded girl, his thoughts could not leave the other—the foolish, pure-hearted disciple who had nearly burned the heavens with the storm of her pain.
The wind calmed slightly, but the memory of the lightning, the roar, the crackle, lingered in the air, humming under the clouds, a reminder that the world itself had bent in awe of Huo Feng's fury and innocence.