The night was quiet, save for the rhythm of the tide. Lin Feng sat within his hut, a small oil lamp flickering beside him. The air smelled faintly of salt and damp wood.
His body was weary from days of practice, yet his spirit remained sharp.
He drew in a long, slow breath. The mist outside the window shifted, and a cool breeze slipped into the room, carrying traces of qi that brushed against his senses.
Water, steady and deep. Wind, light and free.
They were no longer strangers to him. With patience, he guided them through his veins, weaving the two currents until they brushed against one another in fleeting harmony. The droplet in his palm quivered, spun once, then dissolved.
Not failure. A step forward.
But tonight, there was something else.
Beyond water and wind, faint as a whisper, he felt a third presence. It was sharp, restless, hidden in the very pulse of the storm within him. At first he mistook it for the echo of his heartbeat… until the lamp beside him flickered without cause.
He opened his eyes. For a moment, a thread of silver light crackled across his fingertips, vanishing as quickly as it came.
His breath caught.
"…Lightning?"
He sat motionless, the memory of that spark seared into his mind. Unlike water's calm or wind's grace, lightning felt untamed, wild, hungry. It was not a presence he could guide—it lashed out of its own will.
Still, its appearance stirred something deep within him. His storm veins hummed, as though answering a call long forgotten.
Lin Feng inhaled, steadying himself.
If water and wind are the body of the storm… then lightning is its soul.
He closed his eyes once more, daring to reach for that faint, sharp thread. Hours passed in silence, broken only by the crash of distant waves. Sparks came and went, never lasting more than a heartbeat, but each time, his understanding deepened.
By dawn, his hand was scorched faintly, skin reddened by the touch of qi he could not yet master. Yet his expression held no pain—only quiet resolve.
"Ripple, breeze… spark," he whispered.
"One day, they will move as one."
Outside, the morning sun rose above the endless sea, gilding the waves in silver. Yet far across the cliffs, the sect's bells began to toll—a sound that carried both solemn weight and hidden intent.
Lin Feng straightened, listening to the distant chimes. He did not yet know what they meant. But a feeling stirred in his chest, as though the sea itself was calling him forward.