The wind howled across the western mountains.
Jayden stood at the edge of a forgotten cliff path, the jade pendant clutched in his hand like a compass to a fate he hadn't asked for. The mountains loomed above him — steep, jagged, ancient. Their peaks tore into the sky like claws, and the air grew thin and heavy with each breath.
The map Reina gave him had burned away after a single glance, revealing the route through chi imprint alone. He could still see it — not on paper, but in his mind, etched behind his eyes.
These weren't just mountains. They were once a battlefield.
And somewhere within them lay the ruins of a sect that vanished thousands of years ago — a sect tied to the Dragon Form, the lost bloodline of his father.
Jayden adjusted the rope across his shoulder and started his climb.
The journey was brutal.
He scaled narrow cliffs where one wrong step would send him to his death. He crossed rope bridges older than the city itself, swaying over bottomless ravines. Wolves watched him from the treeline. Snow began to fall — lightly at first, then thick and furious.
It took three days.
On the dawn of the fourth, he saw it.
Hidden beneath a mountain shelf and buried beneath vines and snow was a massive gate. Cracked stone. Gold dragon motifs coiled across its surface, half-erased by time. A shattered plaque above it read in old script:
"House of the Bound Sky"
Jayden stepped forward. The jade pendant pulsed in his hand.
The gate trembled.
Then, with the groan of ancient stone and the rush of cold wind, it opened.
Inside, silence reigned.
The ruins sprawled like a sunken city — stone courtyards, half-collapsed pagodas, dried-up spiritual wells. Broken weapons were embedded in the walls, and skeletal remains littered the ground. But Jayden could feel it — energy still lived here, faint but alive, like the echo of a heartbeat.
He entered the central shrine.
Statues of dragons lined the walls. Each one different — some fierce, some noble, others strange and alien. At the center stood a cracked altar, and atop it lay a stone tablet… glowing faintly.
He approached.
The moment his fingers touched the tablet, a surge of chi knocked him to his knees.
Visions exploded behind his eyes — warriors in flowing robes flying across the skies, summoning elemental dragons from their bodies; a young man in white robes performing impossible martial forms; a throne of scales and fire; a symbol on his chest—
The Dragon Form.
Jayden gasped.
When he came to, the shrine was glowing — the statues shimmering, as if awakened.
Then a voice echoed in the room. Old. Patient. Boundless.
"Blood of the sky returns. Why now?"
Jayden stood, heart racing. "Who are you?"
"I am the Echo of Master Longshen. The last true wielder of the Dragon Form. You… are his descendant."
"Then… this sect—was it his?"
"No. It was his grave."
Jayden froze.
"Long ago, during the Celestial Schism, the Dragon Form was deemed too dangerous. Too unstable. This sect tried to seal it away. He fought them. And died here. But not before leaving behind… you."
Jayden's jaw tightened. "So he's dead?"
"His body is dust. But the blood remains. In you. And the enemies who fear that blood will come again."
Jayden stepped closer. "Teach me. I don't care what it costs. I want to awaken the Dragon Form."
There was silence.
Then, the tablet before him cracked open, revealing a hidden chamber below.
"Enter. If you can survive what lies beneath, you will not need to ask again."
The chamber was unlike anything Jayden had ever seen.
It was vast, circular, and alive with moving light. In its center floated a glowing orb — a condensed sphere of ancient chi. Around it danced a ring of nine weapons — a blade, a spear, a fan, a bow, a hammer, a chain, a whip, a staff… and a broken sword.
Inscribed on the wall behind them:
"Nine Paths. One Will."
A soft hum echoed. The orb pulsed.
Jayden stepped forward.
The chamber reacted instantly — nine phantom warriors formed from mist and light, each holding one of the weapons. They spoke as one.
"Choose a path. Face your ancestors. Fall… or rise."
Jayden stared at the broken sword — jagged, half-gone, scarred by battle.
He stepped toward it.
The ghost wielding the blade nodded.
"The Path of the Shattered Will. The hardest to master. The slowest to grow. But… the one most aligned with the Dragon Form."
Jayden bowed.
"I'm not afraid."
The warrior raised its blade.
"Then fight."
What followed was beyond pain.
Jayden fought the phantom with everything he had — fists, chi strikes, acupuncture-point locks. The ghost was faster, older, smarter. Every time Jayden thought he'd landed a hit, he found himself cut, bruised, thrown against the wall.
But he refused to give up.
Again and again, he stood.
His body ached. Bones cracked. Blood filled his mouth. But something inside him screamed louder than the pain — something ancient, coiled, burning.
Dragon fire.
His chi exploded.
He struck with a roar, and his palm shimmered with dragon-shaped energy. The phantom tried to block, but Jayden's blow shattered its sword and sent the ghost into mist.
The chamber fell silent.
Then the orb descended and pressed against Jayden's chest.
A mark burned into his skin — a spiral dragon crest, glowing red and gold.
The chamber spoke one last time.
"The Dragon Form… has awakened."
Jayden woke outside the shrine, lying in the snow.
The mark still glowed faintly on his chest. But more than that — he felt different.
His senses were sharper. His chi no longer needed to be called — it answered him before he asked. His breath felt like fire. His limbs felt like thunder.
He had changed.
And now, the world would too.
He began the journey back down the mountain.
The wind carried whispers of awakening. Of old powers stirring. Of enemies watching.
Jayden didn't care.
He had the blood.
He had the will.
And now — he had the Dragon Form.
Let them come.