The morning broke softly over the village.
Not with fanfare, not with trumpets; just the low hum of waking life.
Shen Hao stood at the edge of the dirt path that wound away from the cluster of homes, his pack settled snugly on his shoulders. The cool air tasted faintly of pine resin and damp soil, the kind that clung to your lungs and made every breath feel clean.
Behind him, the villagers were gathered, some waving, some with arms crossed, all with eyes that followed him like they were trying to remember every detail of his face.
He didn't give a speech. He didn't need to.
He just lifted one hand in a half-wave, casual, but steady; then he turned toward the road.
The first step crunched against the frost-kissed dirt.
Then another.
The soft chatter of the villagers faded, replaced by the wind brushing gently across the path.
For a while, there was only the sound of his boots and the faint creak of leather straps on his pack. The mountains loomed faintly in the distance, dark against the pale morning sky.
Lingfeng's voice came lazily from the ring,
"Master, you're walking. Walking. You can fly, you know. We're not in some romantic travel montage. Unless you're planning to stop and feed the local deer?"
Shen Hao smirked.
"Flying's fast. This… is slower. Gives me time to think."
Lingfeng:
"Yes, but it also gives me time to be bored."
Mo Han's calm tone slid in,
"Let him walk. The mind steadies when the pace is slow."
Lingfeng:
"Or it rots. One of the two."
After about an hour of quiet steps and idle banter, Shen Hao finally bent his knees and pushed off the ground. Qi coiled under his feet, and the world fell away beneath him.
The road wound down through patches of forest and rolling hills, bathed in the thin morning light. From above, the streams glittered like silver threads, and the forests looked like an endless green ocean, shifting with the wind.
Shen Hao banked eastward, letting the wind tug lightly at his hair.
Lingfeng:
"Ah yes, finally. The peasants below can look up and marvel at your graceful figure slicing through the clouds."
Shen Hao:
"If they can see me at all from this height."
Lingfeng:
"Oh, they can. And somewhere down there, I guarantee someone's making fun of you."
Shen Hao just chuckled, the sound blending with the wind.
By the time the sun had risen fully, the village was no longer visible behind them, only rolling land and a horizon that promised more than it revealed.
Mo Han's voice came again, steady and sure.
"Keep your heading: east-by-southeast. If you follow this course without deviation, we will reach Mount Sheng."
Shen Hao glanced at the clouds drifting across the pale blue sky.
"After all this time… finally heading there."
Mo Han didn't answer, but Shen Hao could feel the faint weight of meaning in his silence.
The first day in the air was almost too peaceful.
No sudden monster attacks.
No strange spatial cracks tearing open in front of him.
Just the endless stretch of hills and low forests passing beneath.
By mid-afternoon, the sun hung high, spilling light across the land in broad, warm strokes. Shen Hao kept a steady altitude, not rushing but not dawdling either. He'd dip lower now and then, skimming over treetops, letting the tips of branches brush against his boots.
Lingfeng:
"Thrilling. Truly thrilling. The audience must be on the edge of their seats watching this."
Shen Hao:
"Not everything has to be a fight, you know."
Lingfeng:
"Spoken like someone who hasn't been stuck inside a storage ring for the last several hours watching pine trees."
By evening, they descended into a small clearing by a brook. The water trickled over smooth stones, its sound crisp and clean in the cooling air. Shen Hao set his pack down, knelt by the water, and cupped his hands to drink. The cold bit at his palms but refreshed his throat.
He unpacked a small pan, built a fire, and set to cooking dried meat and some wild greens he'd picked earlier. The scent of roasting meat drifted lazily upward, mixing with the faint scent of moss and woodsmoke.
Lingfeng's voice from the ring:
"I miss meat. Real meat. Not this… smell-only torture."
Shen Hao smirked.
"You don't even have a stomach."
Lingfeng:
"Exactly. Which means I'm suffering emotionally, the worst kind of suffering."
Mo Han remained silent for most of the meal, save for one comment as Shen Hao doused the fire before sleeping.
"Don't linger. We have far to go."
Shen Hao lay back on his bedroll, staring at the stars. The sky here was unbroken, every constellation sharp and bright. Somewhere in that tapestry, Mount Sheng waited, and he felt the old itch of curiosity stir again.
Day Two brought low hills and patches of wildflowers, their colors vivid even from the air. He kept his speed moderate, landing occasionally to stretch his legs and walk through the grasslands.
Once, while stopping by a cluster of boulders for lunch, Lingfeng piped up again.
"You know, we could reach Mount Sheng in half the time if you just… didn't stop every time you see a pretty view."
Shen Hao:
"And miss all this? You're too impatient."
Lingfeng:
"I'm sarcastic, not impatient. There's a difference."
Day Three began under a sky still half-asleep.
A thin mist clung to the treetops, curling and uncurling in the early wind. Shen Hao moved quietly through the air, neither in a rush nor drifting aimlessly, just keeping a steady rhythm.
It wasn't a morning for noise. Even Lingfeng seemed to sense it. For nearly an hour, the only sound was the low rush of wind past Shen Hao's ears.
Eventually, Mo Han spoke, his tone as even as the horizon.
"Your pace is steady. That will matter later."
Shen Hao arched a brow. "Later?"
"You'll see," Mo Han said simply.
Shen Hao tilted his head slightly, but Mo Han wasn't the type to elaborate when he didn't want to.
Lingfeng broke in, unable to help himself.
"Translation: he's hiding something again. My guess? Surprise birthday party. With cake."
Shen Hao chuckled. "And who's baking it? You?"
Lingfeng made a noise that somehow combined offense and pride. "Please. If I cooked for you, your cultivation would advance out of sheer willpower to survive."
The mist began to thin, sunlight dripping through in slow beams. The forest below grew clearer, and far in the distance, the land began to open into broad plains.
Shen Hao adjusted his flight path slightly, a quiet flicker of anticipation sparking in his chest. He didn't know exactly what "later" meant in Mo Han's terms… but he could feel that each day was pulling him closer to something important.
The forest finally gave way on the fourth day.
One moment, the horizon was crowded with endless trees. The next, Shen Hao crested a low ridge, and the world opened.
The plains rolled out before him, a sea of silver grass that swayed in slow, hypnotic waves. Each blade caught the sunlight and turned it into a shimmer, so the ground looked less like land and more like liquid light.
Shen Hao hovered for a moment, letting the view sink in.
"…Huh."
Lingfeng's voice drifted out lazily.
"Careful, Master. Stare too long and you'll start thinking deep thoughts. Then we'll have to write poetry about the grass."
Shen Hao smirked. "You first."
They pushed on, flying low enough that the grass rippled in their wake. Every so often, the wind would sweep through and change the direction of the waves, like the entire plain was shifting its mind.
By the fifth day, the monotony had a kind of rhythm to it. Long hours of silver stretching to the edges of sight. A sky so open that the clouds felt closer than the ground.
It wasn't empty, though. Here and there, pale herds of antelope-like creatures grazed in loose clusters. Their antlers shimmered faintly, threaded with natural Qi, and their heads would lift in unison whenever Shen Hao passed overhead, watchful, but not alarmed.
Mo Han's calm voice came again.
"Creatures of the plains rarely flee unless they sense intent to harm. They know you mean no threat."
Lingfeng snorted.
"Or they're just judging your flying form."
On the sixth day, the wind changed.
It came from the east, cooler, sharper, carrying with it the faint scent of stone and water. Shen Hao noticed it almost immediately.
He glanced toward the horizon. The plains were starting to wrinkle, small hills rising like the first ripples before a wave. Far beyond them, the air seemed to bend slightly, the way heat shimmers off stone… but this shimmer felt heavier, more solid.
He didn't ask Mo Han what it was.
Some things were better to discover without spoilers.
Day Seven brought the first true change in the land.
The endless silver gave way to slopes dusted with pale flowers. They clustered between stones, their petals translucent enough that the sunlight seemed to flow right through them.
Shen Hao slowed his pace without thinking. Each hill he crossed brought new clusters, scattered in shapes that almost felt deliberate, lines, spirals, crescents.
Lingfeng broke the quiet.
"Master, if these are poisonous, I vote you touch them first."
Shen Hao smirked. "You don't even have hands."
The flowers thinned by afternoon, replaced by taller, wind-worn grass. It bent low in the steady breeze, pointing toward something far ahead. Shen Hao didn't see it yet, but the land felt like it was guiding him.
By Day Eight, the hills had risen into ridges.
Stone showed through more often now, jagged and dark against the lighter ground. Streams trickled between them, their water so clear it seemed to sharpen the colors around it.
It was on one of these ridges that Shen Hao caught the first glimpse.
Far in the distance, half-hidden by drifting cloud, a peak pierced the horizon. It wasn't the tallest mountain he had ever seen, but something about it… anchored the sky. The clouds didn't just pass it, they curved around it, like they were being pulled.
He hovered for a moment, staring.
Mo Han's voice was quieter than usual.
"Keep going."
By Day Nine, the mountain was no longer a shape on the horizon.
It was a wall.
Its base stretched across the land like the spine of some colossal beast, ridges and cliffs layered in grays and deep greens. Thin waterfalls traced its face, vanishing into mist far below. And above it all, the peak rose sharp and clean, crowned by a faint halo of light that didn't seem to come from the sun.
Shen Hao felt the air change as he drew closer, heavier, but not oppressive. Like the mountain's presence was pushing back against everything around it.
Lingfeng let out a low whistle.
"Alright… that's actually impressive. And I don't impress easy."
Shen Hao didn't answer. He just kept moving, the pull of the mountain growing stronger with every beat of his wings.
By midday, the ridges had drawn so close together that the sky became a narrow strip above. Shen Hao's flight slowed naturally, not from fatigue, but from the sheer presence of the mountain looming ahead.
The wind here was different. It didn't gust or shift; it flowed, steady and deliberate, carrying the faint scent of mineral-rich stone and something sharper, almost electric, that prickled faintly against his skin.
Mo Han's voice broke the long silence.
"We're close now."
Shen Hao's gaze scanned the cliffs. "How close?"
"Close enough that the next turn will bring you to your starting point."
He frowned slightly. "Starting point?"
Mo Han didn't answer right away. Then, after a moment:
"Mount Sheng is not simply a destination. It is where your training here truly begins."
He crested another ridge, and there it was.
The cliff face in front of him was sheer and dark, the stone almost glassy in places. Midway up, half-hidden by a curtain of mist, was a shadowed hollow. It wasn't large, maybe just wide enough for three people to stand shoulder to shoulder, but something about it drew the eye.
Mo Han spoke again, tone steady.
"That cave. That is your entrance."
Shen Hao drifted closer, circling once to study it from different angles. The stone around it was unmarked, as if no one had ever approached from this side. Water from the cliff's higher reaches traced down in thin streams, vanishing into cracks before reaching the opening.
Lingfeng tilted his voice into mock seriousness.
"Very welcoming. Looks like the kind of place where either great treasures are hidden… or you get eaten instantly."
Shen Hao smiled faintly.
"Guess we'll find out which it is."
He angled forward, letting the mist wrap around him as he closed the last distance. The air cooled sharply here, each breath drawing in a faint metallic tang.
One final glance back at the open sky, then he passed into shadow, the mountain swallowing the light behind him.