The sun hung low in the west, painting the skies in soft gold as Lin Hai and his companions continued their journey beyond the gentle borders of the small village. The days had passed peacefully—filled with quiet laughter, the rustling of leaves, and the calming songs of birds they could not name.
As the gentle wind kissed their faces and fluttered the edges of their robes, none of them knew that peace, as they had come to know it, was nearing its fragile end.
The Celestial Planet was vast and ancient, cradling seven mighty continents in its embrace. Each was unique—like stories carved by time itself:
Central Continent, where the Celestial Sect resided—rich in spirit veins and cultivation grounds, a land governed by ancient powers.
Jin Shui Continent, the water-based continent, a realm of misty seas, floating islands, and aquatic clans that thrived beneath.
Tian Xue Continent, known for its snowy peaks and martial arts clans who lived in ice-carved fortresses.
Mu Yan Continent, a land of deep forests and ancient trees older than any known sect.
Yan Huo Continent, a land ravaged by volcanoes and war, home to warrior races and fire-based cultivation clans.
Ling Feng Continent, shaped by winds, canyons, and the flying races that called the sky their home.
Hei Gu Continent, the dark continent—rarely spoken of, shrouded in myths, mystery, and dangerous forbidden zones.
As they walked the edge of the Central Continent's eastern border, the air itself shimmered with the richness of life. Rolling meadows stretched far into the horizon, dotted with wildflowers and playful spirit beasts that leapt through the grass like curious children.
Qing Zhi giggled as a spirit rabbit chased a floating dandelion; Lei Fan was trying to catch a glowing fruit that kept dodging his hand; Xu Min sat by a tree, quietly sketching the shape of a distant mountain while Lin Hai kept an eye on the horizon, alert but calm.
It was there, beneath the vast open sky, that they first saw him.
A young man in deep green robes, his sword strapped lazily across his back, approached from the forest's edge. His posture was relaxed, his expression confident but kind.
"Travelers?" he called out. "I thought I was the only one foolish enough to enjoy the breeze this far from the cities."
Lin Hai exchanged glances with Xu Min before stepping forward. "We're cultivators from the Celestial Sect," he said. "On a journey."
The man smiled. "Fate, then. I'm Feng Yuan, a disciple of the Qingmo Clan."
That name... It rang a faint bell. The Qingmo Clan wasn't one of the top-tier sects, but it held respectable influence and was said to possess a unique spiritual beast taming art.
They greeted him warmly, and he offered no air of superiority—only companionship. He told jokes that even Lei Fan couldn't resist laughing at, asked sincere questions, and listened with interest to their stories.
Later that evening, as they camped by a gentle river bend, Feng Yuan caught three fish with his bare hands and roasted them with wild herbs. He even played a small bamboo flute, letting its soft tones drift with the fireflies.
Qing Zhi smiled more than usual that night, and Lin Hai couldn't help but watch her from the shadows of the fire.
—
The next day, Feng Yuan suggested a nearby forest clearing where a rare, fast-moving spirit boar had been spotted.
"Perfect for training your reflexes," he grinned. "And a good test of teamwork."
The group agreed, eager for the challenge. They split up into pairs to encircle the beast's area. The boar, however, was no ordinary prey—it moved with unnatural speed and was far stronger than expected. Lei Fan was knocked off his feet, bruising his shoulder. Xu Min took a gash on his thigh. Even Lin Hai was grazed across the arm as he tried to trap it with spirit threads.
Feng Yuan, oddly enough, never got hit. He moved like wind, barely lifting a finger. When they finally subdued the beast, he praised them generously. "Impressive," he said. "You've got excellent coordination."
As the group returned to their campsite, nursing their light injuries, the sun dipped below the trees.
Qing Zhi was quiet that evening, her gaze thoughtful as she sat apart and watched the twilight paint the sky.
Feng Yuan brought her a warm herbal tea. "You were amazing today," he said softly. "Your spear technique is elegant, but it also holds great weight. Just like your spirit."
Qing Zhi blinked, then gave a faint smile. "Thank you… I've always believed cultivation should reflect who we are inside."
He nodded, his eyes lingering on her face for a second longer than they should.
—
That night, as the group slept under the stars, the wind carried more than just the scent of pine.
From deep within the trees, ten shadowy figures watched. Silent. Hidden.
Feng Yuan's eyes gleamed as he whispered to one of them, "Tomorrow. Once the others are distracted."
He stood still in the dark, his robe swaying slightly, and looked back toward the sleeping girl wrapped in her cloak near the fire.
"Qing Zhi," he murmured to himself, "you don't belong with them."
And so, the peace that had held them so sweetly for days... was quietly unraveling.