The mountains remained as quiet as ever.
Seasons passed without much change. Mist still descended every morning, wind still whispered through the trees, and the simple wooden house of the Lu family continued to stand calmly, as if separated from the rest of the world.
Yet for Lu Chenyan, everything was slowly changing.
From the night of his birth—since the mysterious seal had been embedded deep within his consciousness—his life had appeared ordinary. Too ordinary. There was no dazzling light, no outstanding talent, no overwhelming aura that made others turn their heads.
And precisely because of that, his foundation was built in a way that was anything but ordinary.
When Lu Chenyan was five years old, Lu Tianheng began teaching him how to stand.
Not how to stand in battle.
Not how to stand for cultivation.
Just… how to stand.
"Stand like a mountain," Lu Tianheng said.
Lu Chenyan stood in the courtyard, both feet planted firmly on the cold ground. He did not understand his father's intention, but he did not ask. He simply stood there, back straight, breathing steady.
One hour passed.
Then two.
His legs trembled. Sweat slid down his temples.
Yet Lu Tianheng did not tell him to stop.
When Lu Chenyan finally collapsed onto the ground, Lu Tianheng merely said, "Repeat it tomorrow."
From that day on, the training began.
There were no explanations about cultivation. No mention of realms, stages, or spiritual energy. Shen Yueyao and Lu Tianheng seemed to have reached a silent agreement to avoid speaking of such things altogether.
Lu Chenyan's training was simple—almost primitive.
Standing.
Walking.
Breathing.
Stepping.
Yet every detail was closely observed.
The way he regulated his breath.
The angle at which his foot touched the ground.
The timing between one step and the next.
When Lu Chenyan turned eight, Lu Tianheng finally taught him a technique.
Not an offensive one.
But a movement technique.
"This is called Silent Wind Step," Lu Tianheng said calmly.
Lu Chenyan repeated the name in his heart.
Silent Wind Step.
"In the outside world," his father continued, "this technique is considered mid-tier. Many people would fight over the chance to learn it."
Lu Chenyan nodded, then asked innocently, "What about for Father?"
Lu Tianheng paused for a moment.
"For me," he replied at last, "it is a low-tier technique."
Lu Chenyan was not surprised. He simply nodded and began practicing.
What he did not know was that this so-called "low-tier" technique was a simplified version—its deeper laws removed, its sharp edges trimmed, all to prevent it from drawing the attention of the heavens.
Yet even in its simplified form, Lu Chenyan's steps grew stranger with each passing day.
His body became lighter.
His movements nearly soundless.
At times, he even felt as though his feet were no longer fully touching the ground.
Shen Yueyao watched everything in silence.
Each night, she ensured that the seal within Lu Chenyan's consciousness remained stable. The technique she and Lu Tianheng had planted there was not meant to grant him power—but to hide everything.
Talent.
Bloodline.
Destiny.
Time flowed on.
By the age of twelve, Lu Chenyan could run across mountain slopes without leaving footprints. At fourteen, he could evade the senses of wild beasts simply by adjusting his breathing and steps.
Yet in the eyes of anyone who happened to pass by, he was still nothing more than a village youth.
Nothing special.
Until one afternoon, when he was nearing sixteen years of age, something that should never have happened… happened.
The sky was clear.
Lu Chenyan was practicing his steps on a mountain slope, leaping from stone to stone with a steady rhythm. The wind swept through his black hair, and for a brief moment, his mind was completely empty.
Then—
A shadow fell from the sky.
Not a bird.
Not a beast.
A person.
Lu Chenyan reacted without thinking.
One step.
Two steps.
His body shot forward as the Silent Wind Step flowed naturally. He leapt and caught the falling figure before it could crash into the ground.
The body was light.
Too light.
When his feet touched the ground, Lu Chenyan staggered slightly but managed to steady himself. He lowered his gaze—and for the first time in his life, his breath stalled.
A girl.
She was shorter than him, her face pale, her black hair falling messily over her shoulders. Her clothes were clearly not those of a village—refined, clean, and carrying a faint aura different from the surrounding world.
Her eyes were closed.
Lu Chenyan stared at her for several seconds too long.
"Heavy," he muttered unconsciously.
The girl's eyebrows twitched.
Slowly, her eyes opened.
A pair of clear, lucid eyes met his gaze.
"Short," Lu Chenyan added reflexively, noting how the top of her head barely reached his chest.
The girl froze.
A moment later, her face flushed red.
"…Put me down," she said, her voice soft but unmistakably clear.
Lu Chenyan snapped out of it and quickly set her down. She stood unsteadily but forced herself not to fall.
They looked at each other.
The wind blew gently between them.
And for some reason, at that very moment, the seal within Lu Chenyan's consciousness trembled ever so slightly.
Not in response to danger.
But in response to fate.