The stone walls of the Outer Academy loomed silent beneath the early mist, their surfaces darkened by countless years of wind and rain. Before the usual stir of voices could rise, figures moved among the courtyards, robes brushing softly against stone, their steps light yet certain. Luo Yun walked with the rest, his gaze steady, observing the vast expanse of the academy.
Around him, disciples had gathered—some familiar faces from the Outer Academy, others strangers from distant villages. Their eyes were serious, their movements deliberate. No laughter broke the silence; no voices rose above the soft rustle of cloth. Only the steady rhythm of training filled the air.
A cold wind passed through the courtyards. Whoosh… scrape… thump… The sounds of preparation carried a subtle energy, as though the stones themselves remembered the countless footsteps and exertions of those who had walked here before.
Without command, the disciples began their first movements. Steps forward, backward, rotations of the wrists, twisting of the waist. Each movement was simple, yet repeated countless times, it bore weight. Sweat soon gathered along brows and necks. Breath grew heavy. Every muscle and bone responded to the strain, awakening slowly under the discipline of the academy.
Three hundred students moved together, each at their own pace. Some were steady, their posture firm and confident. Others faltered slightly, their limbs trembling under the effort. No one mocked them; weakness was expected here. Strength was earned, not granted. Luo Yun followed quietly, focusing on his own form. The subtle ache in his bones was familiar—it marked progress, not harm.
Time passed unnoticed. Only the wind and the quiet thumps of steps and breathing bore witness. When the initial movements concluded, the disciples shifted toward the stone platforms arranged throughout the courtyard. These were reserved for the body tempering exercises.
Senior disciples stood upon the platforms, their presence calm and restrained. They did not shout. They did not demonstrate excessive strength. They moved with precision, each gesture measured, each step deliberate. Their eyes followed every newcomer, noting posture, alignment, and tension. When needed, they corrected gently:
"Your stance is shallow. Straighten your back."
"Do not lock your joints. Flow with the movement."
"Let the weight sink into your bones, not your muscles."
Newcomers approached cautiously, seeking guidance. "My arms weaken when lifting the weight," one asked.
"Why do my legs tremble during the stance?" another murmured.
Answers came quietly, almost like whispers, precise yet fleeting. "Because your bones are not settled."
"Because you move before your body agrees."
Luo Yun observed silently. He practiced without attracting attention, adjusting subtly as he watched others learn and correct themselves. His own muscles and bones responded, strengthening incrementally. Movements became steadier. Breathing deepened. The ache in his limbs was not discomfort but instruction, shaping him from within.
When the exercises finally concluded, the courtyard emptied slowly. No words of praise were spoken. No one celebrated. Improvement was expected, not rewarded. The outer disciples dispersed to their respective dormitories to rest and refresh themselves before continuing the day.
Luo Yun returned to his room, careful with each step. The dormitory was quiet. He removed his bloodied training robes, inspecting minor cuts and scrapes sustained during the exercises. These were minor injuries, part of the trial, and expected. Cold water washed over him, cleansing sweat and dust from his skin. He brushed his teeth and stood still for a moment, gazing at his reflection in the basin.
The jade pendant rested against his neck. It had been silent since the day he first received it. But now, as he adjusted it while removing his robe, a small drop of blood fell upon its surface from a minor nick near his collarbone.
Shimmer… hum… whoosh…
Luo Yun froze. Warmth radiated from the jade, gentle but undeniable. A thin, unseen thread of energy lifted from the pendant, moving upward along his skin, slipping silently between his eyebrows. His vision blurred briefly. The world's noise seemed to fade.
A wind brushed against his mind, soft as the caress of silk. Thoughts sharpened. He could feel his heartbeat, the subtle flow of energy within his limbs, even the faint resistance of bone and muscle adjusting beneath the skin. The jade had merged with his consciousness, synchronizing without pain or harm.
No one had seen. No one would know.
Luo Yun steadied himself, taking deep breaths. His body felt unchanged, yet his awareness was deeper, clearer. He dressed in a fresh uniform, neat and plain, marking his place among the outer disciples. Looking at his reflection, he appeared no different from any other student. Only he knew the truth.
He stepped lightly into the dining hall. The aroma of grains, vegetables, and lightly simmered broths filled the air. Steam rose from wooden bowls as disciples ate quietly, conserving strength rather than indulging in conversation. Luo Yun took his meal in silence, mindful of each bite, letting it nourish body and mind alike.
Afterward, the training grounds filled once more. Sparring began, filling the air with a sharp energy. Clang—thump—whoosh… Students moved with careful precision, measuring each strike and block. The first-year newcomers observed from the sidelines, noting every detail. Many approached seniors for guidance:
"Why does my strike feel hollow?"
"Why do I lose balance after attacking?"
Answers came calmly.
"Your bones are not yet unified."
"Move only when your body agrees, not before."
The sun shifted silently above. Training continued until fatigue settled deep into muscle and bone.
When Luo Yun returned to the dormitory, the academy had grown quieter, though distant sounds of practice still echoed faintly across the courtyard.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, the jade pendant resting unseen between his eyebrows, pulsating faintly in rhythm with his mind. He concentrated, attempting to sense its nature. No energy surged. No miraculous reaction occurred. The pendant remained dormant in the body, its presence subtle, hidden, yet undeniable.
He took the medicines provided by the academy, tonics for recovery, pills for muscle and bone refinement, and minor potions to aid endurance. He considered the limits of the academy's support—resources and silver were provided only until Stage Three of body tempering. Beyond that, survival would depend entirely on his own effort.
Evening settled across the Outer Academy. The wind moved over rooftops and walls, carrying distant echoes of footsteps, the soft clash of practice, and the quiet murmur of students' voices. Luo Yun lay on his mat, eyes closed, reflecting on the day. He had observed, endured, and strengthened. The pendant's secret presence reminded him that not all power revealed itself openly. Patience and discipline were his allies.
Whoosh… thump… clang… scrape…
The Outer Academy demanded nothing less than full commitment, and Luo Yun accepted it fully. Within him, unseen and secret, the jade pendant waited, preparing silently for the day when it would awaken.
This day had passed.