The first bell of the Azure Sky Sect rang out at dawn, a deep gong that echoed across the mountains. Li Shen stirred from his straw bed, blinking at the faint morning light filtering through the narrow window. The air smelled of pine and mist, crisp and sharp against his lungs.
He stretched his arms and stepped outside. The training yard was already alive with children his age. Some were eager, bouncing on their heels; others yawned, rubbing sleep from their eyes.
"Shen!" Zhao Feng waved from the center of the yard. His grin was as bright as always, dark hair tied messily behind his head. "Come on, before the elder makes us run laps for being slow!"
Li Shen jogged over, his heart steady. For the first time in his life, he was not just another village boy. Here, inside the sect's walls, he could become something greater.
---
Morning Training
The elder from the day before stood waiting, hands clasped behind his back. His sharp gaze swept over the gathered disciples like a blade.
"Form rows." His voice boomed. "Today, you begin learning the first steps of cultivation—qi circulation and martial stance."
At his command, the disciples spread out across the stone courtyard.
"Close your eyes," the elder continued. "Breathe in. Feel the world's qi flow around you. Draw it inward, into your dantian. Picture the Sea of Ocean within you. That sea is your foundation. Without it, you are empty."
Li Shen inhaled deeply. He pictured an endless ocean, dark and quiet, hidden inside his body. For a moment, he felt nothing. Then—a ripple. A faint current brushed against his consciousness.
His chest warmed, as though a tiny ember had been lit within him.
All around, children fidgeted and struggled. Some grimaced, failing to sense anything. A few gasped, their eyes snapping open with joy.
The elder walked among them, occasionally nodding. When he passed Li Shen, his gaze lingered, just as it had yesterday.
"Good. Very good," he murmured, then moved on.
Li Shen's heart skipped a beat. He noticed me.
---
Dreams of Power
By midday, sweat clung to their robes. The disciples collapsed under a tree for a short rest, panting and laughing. Zhao Feng flopped down beside Shen, grinning.
"Did you see the elder's face? He was impressed, Shen! I bet you'll awaken a root that puts us all to shame."
"Don't exaggerate," Shen muttered, though warmth spread through his chest.
"I'm serious! I can feel it—you're destined for greatness. As for me…" Zhao Feng leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "I'm praying for a Fire Root. Imagine me, flames dancing at my fists, cutting down enemies left and right."
His eyes shone with childish ambition.
Mei Lin, who had joined them with a shy smile, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd like a Water Root," she said softly. "That way, I can become a healer. I could protect lives instead of taking them."
Zhao Feng snorted. "That's too soft. You'll never stand out like that."
She tilted her chin, a quiet fire in her eyes. "Strength isn't only about killing, Feng."
Shen chuckled faintly. Watching them bicker felt strangely comforting, like home.
"What about you, Shen?" Mei Lin asked suddenly. Her gaze was clear, earnest. "What spirit root do you want?"
The others fell silent, waiting. Dozens of eager faces turned toward him.
Shen hesitated. Then he said, "I don't care what root I have. Mage, warrior, summoner, alchemist… it doesn't matter. As long as I can protect someone precious to me, that's enough."
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Mei Lin's lips curved into a gentle smile. Zhao Feng burst out laughing. "Soft-hearted as always, Shen! But I like that about you."
---
That afternoon, the elder gathered them in a lecture hall carved from the mountain itself. Stone lanterns burned with steady blue flames, casting shadows on the carved walls.
"There are five common spirit roots," the elder began, his voice calm but heavy. "Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and Lightning. Each root aligns you to a path—warrior, mage, summoner, or alchemist. Some rare disciples may awaken dual or hybrid roots: Ice, Metal, Darkness, Light. Such talents can shape the fate of nations."
The children buzzed with excitement.
"But remember this." The elder's gaze hardened. "Spirit roots are not equal. A weak root limits your cultivation forever. A rootless one… is nothing."
The words struck Shen like a hammer. His stomach twisted. Nothing?
He thought of his mother's face, of her trembling hands as she watched him leave. He could not be nothing.
Unseen to all, deep within his Sea of Ocean, a faint golden ripple shimmered. It pressed against an invisible barrier, sealed away in chains of light. The dragon within stirred, but remained silent.
---
That evening, the disciples gathered outside their quarters. The moon hung low, bathing the courtyard in silver light.
Zhao Feng stretched his arms. "One day, I'll stand on this mountain as the sect's greatest warrior. People will chant my name in every city."
Mei Lin shook her head, though she smiled. "I only want enough strength to heal others… and maybe keep Shen from hurting himself when he overworks."
Shen blinked at her. "Why me?"
"Because you always put others first," she replied simply.
Heat rose to his cheeks. Zhao Feng laughed again, draping an arm over Shen's shoulders. "Looks like Mei Lin's already chosen her hero."
Shen rolled his eyes, but inside, a quiet warmth bloomed.
Together, the three of them made a small vow beneath the stars.
"To rise together," Zhao Feng declared.
"To protect each other," Mei Lin whispered.
"To never give up," Shen finished.
They sealed it with a laugh, believing their bond unbreakable.
---
Later that night, Shen sat cross-legged in his room, attempting to meditate. His breath slowed, his focus turned inward.
For a heartbeat, he felt something strange—like a massive presence slumbering deep in his Sea of Ocean. The sensation was overwhelming, vast as the ocean itself, terrifying yet protective.
He opened his eyes, sweat dripping down his temple. The feeling vanished, leaving only silence.
"Just my imagination," he muttered.
But far within, the sealed dragon stirred again, watching.
The boy dreamed of spirit roots and power, never knowing that the truth within him was far beyond what any sect could measure.