Dawn broke over Qingdong Village in silence. The mist rolled across the valley floor, clinging to the earth like a shroud. A rooster crowed faintly in the distance, but the sound was swallowed by the heavy morning air.
Within the Xingyun Sect's training yard, dew clung to the grass and wooden posts. The yard bore scars of neglect—splintered beams, uneven tiles, and faint marks of long-forgotten practice. Once filled with promise, it now waited for revival.
Liang Feng stepped into the yard, his robe plain and worn. He carried a cup of spirit tea gone cold, untouched since dawn. His eyes were shadowed, not only from sleeplessness but also from the weight of a duty he had not chosen. At his side, the Xinglu Pendant pulsed faintly, a reminder of another world he no longer belonged to. Yet Mei Hua's calm but unyielding gaze from the porch anchored him here. There would be no retreat.
From the northern gate, Lan Xue appeared, her robes white as snow, her steps measured. Behind her marched the disciples of the Tielian Sect, moving in unison, their breaths synchronized, their chants sharp. Discipline radiated from them like the bite of winter air.
On the other side, Liang Feng's disciples stumbled forward. Zhang Wei adjusted his belt nervously, his robe hanging unevenly. Li Mei's hair was tied hastily, strands falling across her face. The others followed in disarray, their movements clumsy and their gazes uncertain. They looked not like cultivators but like villagers dragged into a world too vast for them.
Lan Xue's eyes swept across them, cold as the mountain peaks. "Xingjun Laoshi," she said, her tone edged with warning, "training begins now. Show me if this sect has not already rotted from within."
Liang Feng inclined his head. "Then let us begin."
He turned to Zhang Wei. "Step forward."
The boy's legs trembled, but he obeyed. Bowing, he raised his hands and began to circulate his qi. At first the flow seemed steady, a faint glow rising from his core. But within moments, the energy flared, wild and unstable. Flames licked at his robe as he cried out in panic.
Before Li Mei could rush forward, Liang Feng stepped to him and placed a hand against his chest, releasing a controlled pulse of qi. The fire went out, leaving smoke rising from the scorched cloth.
"Calm yourself," Liang Feng said, his tone firm but not cruel. "Qi is not an enemy. It will not bend to fear. You must guide it, not force it."
Zhang Wei's breath was ragged, his hands trembling. "I tried, Master."
"You tried with desperation," Liang Feng answered. "That is not cultivation. Again. This time, breathe with it, not against it."
Zhang Wei shut his eyes, body trembling, but Liang Feng steadied him with a faint stream of his own energy. Slowly, painfully, the chaos diminished. The flame that had lashed outward now coiled weakly within, fragile but controlled.
Lan Xue's gaze hardened, but she said nothing.
"Li Mei," Liang Feng called.
The girl stepped forward, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her hands shook, but her eyes burned with determination. Facing the wooden dummies, she raised her palms and summoned her qi. Cold gathered in the air. Frost crept across the surface of the dummy, thin crystals spreading until a sharp crack split the wood.
Her knees buckled, but Liang Feng caught her before she collapsed.
"Enough," he said. "Forcing more will shatter your foundation. Control is not measured by destruction, but by endurance."
She lowered her head. "I wanted to prove myself."
"You already have," Liang Feng replied quietly. "Do not chase glory. Strength built too quickly crumbles."
Lan Xue's lips pressed thin. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty passed through her gaze.
"Their methods are crude," she said at last. "Their foundations unstable. Such weakness endangers them. If you cannot instill discipline, I will assume responsibility."
Her words were like steel.
Liang Feng met her eyes. "Discipline without understanding breeds obedience, not strength. My disciples will learn control, but not through fear."
"Control without discipline is chaos waiting to erupt," Lan Xue countered. "You shelter them as if they are children. Yet cultivation is merciless. The heavens grant no leniency to the weak."
Behind her, the Tielian disciples stood like statues, flawless in form. Behind Liang Feng, Zhang Wei and Li Mei leaned on one another, exhausted but alive with sparks of growth.
For a long moment, silence weighed on the yard.
Finally, Lan Xue turned. "Tomorrow, I will see true progress. Or the Tielian Sect will take over." She led her disciples away, their footsteps steady and unbroken.
When the yard was empty, Mei Hua approached and placed a hand on Liang Feng's arm. "You steadied them. Already, they trust you. Do not doubt yourself."
Liang Feng looked at the cracked dummy and the scorched ground. "Trust is not enough. They need strength. And I must give it, whether I am ready or not."
That night he sat beneath the old training post, the wood rough beneath his hand, the air still heavy with frost and smoke. The Xinglu Pendant glowed faintly at his side, whispering of escape, but he no longer reached for it. Duty bound him here.
He closed his eyes, the weight of responsibility pressing against him. When dawn came again, he would not run.