The Azure Sky Sect stretched like an endless city built into mountains that pierced the clouds. Pavilions
hung from cliffsides, bridges of jade stone arched across canyons, and waterfalls carried shimmering
streams of qi down into vast cultivation fields. Compared to the Crimson Cloud Sect, this place was
another world altogether—grand, ancient, and unfathomably powerful.
Jianyu followed behind Elder Shen, his steps steady, his heart calm though his mind absorbed every
detail. Countless disciples in azure robes moved with disciplined precision, some practicing martial
techniques on open platforms, others meditating beneath spirit-gathering arrays that glowed faintly in
the air. Their cultivation bases were impressive: Qi Refining disciples were common as leaves,
Foundation Building was frequent, and even the occasional Core Formation disciple could be seen in
the distance.
Elder Shen led Jianyu to a secluded courtyard built against the mountain wall, its gates carved with
phoenixes and clouds. "This will be your residence," the elder said. "As my personal disciple, your
status surpasses that of ordinary inner sect disciples. Remember, however—status is only protection if
you can hold it. Strength speaks louder than names."
Jianyu bowed deeply. "Disciple understands, Master."
Elder Shen studied him briefly, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his expression. "Good. Focus first on
stabilizing your foundation. The sect will test you soon enough. Do not disappoint me." With that, he
left, his presence vanishing like mist.
When silence fell, Jianyu stood alone in the courtyard. The rooms were simple but elegant, suffused
with a faint qi-gathering array that kept the air rich and dense. He walked inside, noting the training hall,
meditation chamber, and even a small herb garden cultivated with spiritual plants. A place worthy of
cultivation, far beyond the scraps he had once endured.
Yet Jianyu's eyes hardened. None of this luxury could lull him into complacency. This sect was vast,
powerful, and filled with ambition. Geniuses here were not rare flowers—they were forests, and each
tree grew tall by blocking the light of others. If he revealed the Heaven Devouring Art, if anyone
suspected its existence, envy and greed would drown him instantly.
The following days passed quickly as word spread: Elder Shen had accepted a new disciple. A
nameless youth from outside the sect, not born of noble blood, not recommended by powerful clans.
Yet he had entered as a Foundation Building cultivator, something few could achieve before their
twenties. Jianyu was not yet seventeen.
The ripples spread like wildfire.
On his first trip to the training grounds, whispers followed him.
"That's him? The new personal disciple?" "So young… how could someone from nowhere reach
Foundation Building already?" "Elder Shen must see something in him." "Hah. Or perhaps the boy
found some hidden treasure."
Jianyu ignored them, his expression calm, his aura withdrawn. He walked to the side of the training
field, sat cross-legged, and began cultivating openly. His breathing was steady, his qi cycling flawlessly,
no hint of instability betraying his recent breakthrough. Those who observed frowned slightly. For a
moment, some suspicion eased—his foundation truly was deep, not a rushed leap.
Still, envy lingered in their eyes.
Days turned to a week. Jianyu kept to himself, quietly cultivating, studying the sect's rules, observing its
power structure. The Azure Sky Sect was divided into layers: outer sect disciples who numbered in the
thousands, inner sect disciples fewer but stronger, core disciples fewest of all—geniuses recognized as
future pillars of the sect. Above them were the personal disciples of elders, a status even rarer, and it
was into this realm Jianyu had stepped.
He learned the names of those who mattered. Yu Shanshan, a core disciple famed for her ice arts.
Zhao Feng, a swordsman at Foundation Building late stage whose talent was said to rival even sect
heirs. And above them, the true prodigies—disciples who had already touched Core Formation in their
early twenties, the pride of Azure Sky.
It did not take long for conflict to find him.
One afternoon, as Jianyu crossed the inner courtyard, a figure blocked his path. The youth wore
silver-embroidered robes, his expression sharp, arrogance in every line of his stance. His cultivation
was late Foundation Building, his qi oppressive, and the group of followers at his back whispered
excitedly.
"So, you're the boy Elder Shen picked up," the youth said coldly. "Jianyu, was it? I am Zhao Feng.
Remember the name. Within this sect, strength defines status. Do not think that becoming Elder Shen's
disciple places you above me."
Jianyu bowed slightly, his tone polite. "Senior Brother Zhao's reputation precedes him. This junior
would not dare presume superiority."
The words were humble, yet Zhao Feng's eyes narrowed. Something in Jianyu's calm unsettled him. It
was not submission—it was restraint, like a blade hidden in a scabbard.
"You speak well," Zhao said finally. "But words mean little. When the sect holds the Inner Disciple
Tournament next month, I will expect you to show what foundation you truly have. If you are weak, you
will shame Elder Shen. If you are strong—" He smiled faintly, though his eyes gleamed with threat.
"—then I will crush you myself."
With that, he turned and left, his followers whispering in amusement.
Jianyu stood silently until they disappeared, then exhaled slowly. A month. He would be tested soon
enough. That was fine. His cultivation path was steady, his Heaven Devouring Art refining his body and
qi daily. Still, he could not reveal its true depths. Against Zhao Feng, against any who watched, he
would only show enough to survive—never enough to provoke the greed of the entire sect.
That night, in his meditation chamber, Jianyu sat with legs folded, qi swirling around him in endless
streams. His body drank in the ambient energy, refining it silently, his meridians expanding bit by bit. He
thought of Elder Zhang's words, of the genius he had slain, of the elder he had devoured. Each step
was dangerous, each treasure a curse if revealed. Only silence and patience would guard him now.
A knock broke his meditation. A disciple in blue robes bowed at his door, delivering a jade slip. "From
Elder Shen," the messenger said before leaving.
Jianyu pressed his consciousness into the slip. Within, Elder Shen's voice echoed: *Stabilize your
cultivation. Next month's tournament will determine your standing among disciples. Do not expose your
full strength unless absolutely necessary. The sect is a forest of wolves—know when to show your
fangs, and when to hide them.*
Jianyu smiled faintly. Elder Shen was sharper than he appeared. Whether he suspected the Heaven
Devouring Art or merely recognized Jianyu's temperament, he offered wise counsel.
The month ahead would be one of silent preparation. Jianyu resolved to use every moment to polish his
foundation further, to make his qi denser, his strikes sharper, his body unyielding. He would not rush.
He would build slowly, invisibly, until the time came when even wolves would choke on what they tried
to bite.
For now, he remained the humble new disciple, bowing where required, observing sect customs,
enduring the whispers and envy. But within his heart, the Heaven Devouring Art roared silently, a storm
hidden beneath calm waters.
And so, in the great Azure Sky Sect, the boy once dismissed as trash began to weave himself quietly
into the fabric of giants. None yet realized that beneath his modest mask lurked a force that could
consume heavens themselves.C