Wind howled past the tall windows of Crimson Sky Academy's Eastern Dome, scattering silver-leafed papers across the lacquered wooden floor. Outside, the sky was beginning to tint with the violet hues of dusk, painting the battlements and courtyards in ethereal light. Inside, Su Mengtian's gaze was fixed not on the horizon—but the bloodline resonance crystal suspended in the center of the chamber.
It pulsed faintly, like a sleeping heart. Tomorrow, it would roar.
Around him, his classmates were abuzz. Some meditated in clusters, eyes closed and hands on their knees. Others stood in silence, their family crests pressed tightly against their uniforms like talismans. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that only came before destiny.
Awakening Day.
Su Mengtian stood apart from them. Always had. Not from arrogance, but instinct. No matter how much he tried to walk among them like any other prodigy, a piece of him still existed beyond this world—etched in fire, bullets, and fallen comrades. No one in this dome had ever seen their own ribs burst through armor. No one had whispered apologies to a dying lover while pressing a detonator. No one else had lived twice.
His hand unconsciously gripped the small piece of blackened metal in his pocket. Yueying's necklace clasp—what remained of it, anyway—found in the crater where their command post had once stood. He hadn't let go of it since the moment he was reborn.
A soft cough interrupted his thoughts. Mengtian turned.
It was Master Liang, his combat analysis instructor. His old eyes glinted behind energy-glass lenses.
"You're calm, Su Mengtian," the master said, tone neutral.
"Shouldn't I be?" Mengtian replied, voice even.
"For someone whose bloodline has yet to fully awaken, that's either supreme confidence… or practiced resignation."
Mengtian smiled faintly. "Or both."
Liang studied him. He knew talent. He knew monsters. Su Mengtian didn't fit either mold. He was something else—like a sealed vault waiting for the right key. A war waiting for the right spark.
"I look forward to your awakening," Liang finally said. "Whatever beast sleeps within you... I suspect it dreams loudly."
The old master turned and walked off into the dimming corridor.
Mengtian exhaled slowly. The moment neared. He could feel it in his marrow—not just the awakening, but the culmination of eighteen years of preparation. His plans had been unfolding in quiet shadows for years. The training regimens. The clandestine missions into restricted simulation zones. The stolen moments of aether experimentation. All had been steps. Precautions. He couldn't afford to awaken like the others. His truth had to remain hidden—until the right moment. Not even he could know all of it yet.
The thunder inside him stirred—still shapeless, still unnamed—but coiling with unspoken promise.
Tomorrow, it would take form.
That night, Mengtian did not sleep.
Instead, he stood beneath the starlit sky, eyes closed, feet bare against the cold marble of the Eastern Courtyard. The wind tugged at his training robe, but he did not move. Memories flickered behind his eyelids—snapshots of his life since rebirth. His first steps, aided by an old servant with soft eyes. The first time he broke a wooden dummy at age four. The memory of Yueying's name, recalled during a fever when he was five. The night he finally pierced his first beast core with his bare hands.
And then, the things he'd never spoken of. The organization he'd quietly been building beneath the surface of his student persona. The Nine Halls, each one represented by a different philosophy, drawn from both ancient cultivation and modern warfare.
The Hall of Shadows – Espionage, stealth, and information control.
The Hall of Valor – Frontline combatants and heavy assault units.
The Hall of Ironblood – Fortification mastery,Aether manipulation and weather-based tactical units.
The Hall of Aegis– Defensive lines, tank and Sheiding specialists.
The Hall of Echoes – Communication, intelligence relay, and remote influence.
The Hall of Wyrmcallers– Beastmasters and elemental tamers.
The Hall of Tempests – Spiritual warriors and curse tacticians.
The Hall of Luminous Veil – Support units, healers, and arcane engineers.
The Hall of Astral Command – Strategists, commanders, and war tacticians.
Each had a purpose. Each had a future leader—students, outcasts, warriors—handpicked, trained, and molded by him across years of quiet manipulation and guidance. They thought they were rivals. They thought he was a lone genius. They didn't realize they were already parts of his command.
Mengtian opened his eyes.
Far above, a single star pulsed brighter than the rest.
Dawn came.
The Academy's Resonance Hall was filled with cascading light. The great bloodline pillar—ten meters tall and carved from aetherite crystal—flared with every student who stepped before it. Beast spirits leapt and screamed into form—tigers, serpents, gryphons, dragons. Cries of joy. Gasps of disbelief. One by one, destinies were revealed.
Until only Su Mengtian remained.
He stepped forward.
The world slowed.
His hand touched the crystal.
And everything exploded.
Not visually. Not outwardly. But within.
He was somewhere else—not on the marble, not in the hall, not even in this world. He stood in a void, surrounded by thunderclouds. No ground. No sky. Only lightning—cold, ancient, intelligent.
It spoke not with words but weight.
His vision blurred as storms coiled through his veins. Pain like a thousand rebirths shredded his senses.
The beast inside him stirred. Still cloaked. Still unnamed.
But watching.
Mengtian fell to one knee, teeth gritted.
A voice—his own—screamed in his mind: Who are you!?
The answer came not in syllables, but in surge. In static. In judgment.
And then—silence.
He awoke in the Hall.
His body radiated power.
But unlike the others, no projection of beast had emerged.
No form.
No name.
The professors exchanged glances. Confused. Unsure.
Mengtian stood.
He bowed.
And walked out.
He knew the truth.
The beast had awakened.
It just hadn't revealed itself yet.
But it was there.
Waiting.
Watching.
And when the time came—
It would reign.
He returned to the Eastern Courtyard, unnoticed. From a hidden alcove beneath the jade lion statue, he removed a scrollcase bearing the sigil of a storm-wrapped dragon. Within it lay a parchment—marked in coded glyphs. It was not for study. It was a message—a signal for the Nine Hall agents across Crimson Sky.
"Move to Phase Two. The Commander has stepped into the storm."
As the ink dried, the sky rumbled in the distance.
The storm had truly begun.