The crowd slowly dispersed after the announcement. Some disciples buzzed with excitement, others whispered anxiously. Lin Feng kept to the edges, letting the noise pass him by. His steps were unhurried as he returned to his hut at the mountain's base.
Inside, the little room was quiet once more. The oil lamp still rested on the table, the faint scorch on his palm reminding him of last night's spark. He sat down cross-legged, letting the silence settle.
Sea Spirit Trial…
The words circled in his mind. He knew little of it, only that it stirred both eagerness and fear in the disciples. But within his chest, the storm veins hummed softly, as if the very mention of the trial had awakened something.
He closed his eyes.
Qi moved through him slowly, drawn in with each breath. Water flowed with steadiness, wind drifted lightly, and between them flickered that unruly spark of lightning. He coaxed them carefully, weaving them together in rhythm.
The droplet formed again in his palm, small but steady, spinning gently. He willed the faint breeze to circle it, and the droplet danced. Then, for the briefest heartbeat, silver light flashed within it. The water trembled, split apart, and scattered into mist.
Lin Feng exhaled, his chest tightening with strain. His meridians ached, yet his eyes shone faintly with determination.
It's closer…
He leaned back, resting against the wooden wall. Beyond the thin walls of his hut, the distant sea roared. Tonight its voice felt louder, clearer, as though every wave carried a hidden message meant for him.
A strange thought came unbidden: The sea is alive.
His storm veins pulsed in quiet agreement.
Lin Feng opened his eyes and stared toward the horizon beyond the mist. He did not yet know what awaited him in the Sea Spirit Trial, nor why his veins stirred so strongly at its name.
But one truth settled in his heart: the path forward was no longer something he could turn away from.
Even if he wished to remain hidden, the storm within him would not let him.
The tide was rising.