Dawn spread pale silver across the Hidden Veil Valley.
Mist coiled low, the spring's cool breath slipping through every doorway. One by one, the children stumbled from their new dwellings—some yawning, some already boasting.
Chenrui stretched high, letting out a groan loud enough to startle birds from the trees. "Uuugh! So early. If we don't fight beasts today, I'm going back to bed."
"You wouldn't last five breaths against a beast," Wen said, tugging his sash. "You can't even go five minutes without tripping."
Chenrui spun on him, his crimson eyes flashing. "Hah? I'll show you—"
"Silence."
The word landed like a weight. The Core Elder stood beside the spring, his robes traced with constellations that glimmered faintly. His gaze swept over the ten, sharp enough to cut short every giggle and whisper.
"You were gathered here not for play, but to walk Astralis's path. The mountain is not moved by noise or by strength. It bends only for stillness. Today, you learn the first lesson: to sit."
A groan slipped from Chenrui. Mei's shoulders shook with a suppressed laugh.
The elder's eyes narrowed, and even Mei went stiff.
"Follow."
He led them to a wide stone platform carved beside the spring. Ten moonlight-woven mats waited in a circle, each faintly glowing with runes. The water's hum seemed stronger here, as though the spring itself were listening.
"Sit."
The children shuffled into place. Some crossed their legs neatly; others flopped down without grace.
"Close your eyes. Breathe with the spring until your heart matches its rhythm. Only then will you begin to hear what Astralis holds."
For a time, there was only silence. Then—
"I can't sit still," Chenrui muttered, cracking one eye open. He fidgeted, shifting from side to side.
"You're not supposed to move," Liangjun said firmly, his posture straight as a drawn bow.
"This isn't training, it's torture," Chenrui grumbled.
"Shhh," Qingyi hissed, her gaze fixed, as if carving every detail of the spring into memory.
Nearby, Wen's pupils shimmered gold. He squinted at the qi drifting in the air. "I see it... I think. If I just focus more—"
"Stop staring," Liangfeng murmured without opening his eyes. "You're forcing it."
Wen bristled, but fell quiet.
On the far side, Mei's head tilted, then drooped. A soft snore escaped. Shen jabbed her with his elbow, but a giggle bubbled up anyway.
Hanrui sat perfectly still, hands clasped on his knees, a faint crimson light flickering in his gaze. Qingxian's silver eyes trembled open for a moment; she saw delicate, shining threads brushing between the spring and their small bodies.
And Ye Xuan—he sat as if he had been waiting all along. His breath slowed, his tiny frame steady. The spring's hum folded into him like an old friend. The water rippled once, so faintly no one noticed.
The elder walked among them, his robes whispering against the stone. He corrected Liangjun's shoulders with a tap, pressed Mei's back upright, and stilled Chenrui's restless knees with a single look.
When his gaze fell on Ye Xuan, he paused. The boy was utterly still, his pulse already in rhythm with the spring. The elder's eyes narrowed. The youngest... and already in step with the mountain.
Hours passed. Some children swayed, others fought yawns, one or two toppled forward before jerking awake. Sweat dampened small foreheads.
At last, the elder raised his hand. "Enough."
Every child exhaled in relief. Chenrui collapsed backward, arms spread like a fallen rooster. "Sitting is worse than fighting beasts!"
Mei burst into laughter. Even Liangjun's lips curved into the smallest smile.
The elder's voice cut through the cheer. "The mountain reveals itself only to those who endure. Fail to endure, and you will never touch its heart. Remember this."
His gaze swept across them once more, unreadable, then he turned and strode away, leaving the ten in a heavy, echoing silence.
That night, the spring hummed louder than before.
Most children fell asleep quickly, exhausted by stillness. But Ye Xuan lay awake on his mat, eyes reflecting the silver glow through his window.
The hum was clearer now, threading through his breath, his pulse, his dreams.
It felt—just for a moment—as if the mountain itself was whispering his name.
The second dawn was sharper, the mist gleaming as though lit from within. The ten children gathered by the spring, their chatter fading as the Core Elder appeared once more, his star-stitched robe trailing silver light.
Without a word, the elder raised a hand. The spring's waters rose, folding into a vast, shimmering mirror of constellations. The valley fell away; above them stretched a sky of endless stars and drifting continents.
"This," the elder said, his voice deep as stone, "is the Eternal Sky Realm. It is our world—so vast that each of its Domains could be mistaken for a world of its own, yet all share one sky."
Light rippled across the mirror, and seven great visions bloomed in turn, each a world unto itself:
Northern Tundra: A land of endless snow and frost-beasts roaming in the quiet of white storms.
Southern Stormlands: Fertile plains where lightning forever lashes the earth and empires rise and fall.
Eastern Seas: A boundless expanse of oceans and sky-islands, ruled by ancient families and deep-water sects.
Western Inferno: Deserts of fire and molten rivers, their colossal forges illuminating the horizon with burning light.
Central Celestia — the radiant heart of the Eternal Sky, where immortal rivers converged, and countless sects, clans, and empires wrestled for supremacy in a storm of ambition.
Abyssal Domain — a shadowed expanse, veiled in mystery, where even light falters.
""And here," the elder's sleeve swept toward the sky-islands, "is the Heaven's Reach Domain. Floating archipelagos, storm-islands, rivers of astral qi—the closest of all lands to the Immortal skies. Though fewer in number, each power here is vast, contending for a place nearest to the heavens. And here, veiled in storm, Astralis endures."
The children leaned forward. Mei gasped, her eyes wide. "It's so pretty—like lanterns in the sky!"
Chenrui puffed his chest. "Pretty? It looks dangerous. Which one's ours?"
The elder's sleeve brushed the mirror. A single mote of jade light gleamed among the archipelagos. "There.
The Astralis Region. Holy to some, forbidden to most. Small, perhaps, but not weak. For this is where the Ye are rooted."
The mirror shifted again, revealing banners and emblems: a blazing sun, a drifting cloud, beasts winged with thunder, a monastery wreathed in silence, a hall of falling stars.
These are the powers of Heaven's Reach. We of the Ye Clan are a force to be reckoned with—feared, respected—but we are not alone. The Radiant Sun Empire blazes in the south. The Celestial Cloud Pavilion drifts above with secrets of its own. The Stormwing Alliance breeds armies of beasts. The Falling Star Hall strikes unseen. Even the Azure Sky Monastery, though neutral, is never blind.
Remember this: Astralis is no sprawling empire. It is compact, veiled, yet formidable. Our strength is not in number, but in the weight of our bloodline. To outsiders, it is a holy land—or a forbidden one. To us, it is our shield, our root, and our threshold to the Immortal Realm. And never forget: in Heaven's Reach, even the greatest powers stand surrounded."
The mirror dissolved, collapsing back into rippling water. The elder lowered his hand. "Tomorrow, you return to stillness. For if you cannot root yourselves here, the heavens above will break you when you rise."
He turned away, constellations fading from his robe into the mist.
For a while, the children were silent, the stars they had seen still burning too brightly in their eyes.
Chenrui broke the quiet first, puffing out his chest. "Hah! Did you hear that? Astralis might be small, but one day I'll make it big enough to cover the whole sky. Everyone will know us!"
Wen rolled his eyes. "You couldn't even sit still yesterday. How will you carry the sky?"
Chenrui jabbed a finger at him. "I'll sit if I have to, then I'll fight, then I'll win! Easy!"
Mei spun in a circle, her arms wide. "Astralis looked like a lantern! A lantern in the dark. But lanterns shine brightest when it's darkest, right?"
"Or someone will try to blow it out," Liangjun said, his voice serious as stone.
Mei stuck out her tongue. "Then we'll guard it with both hands."
Qingyi's eyes followed the ripples across the spring. "If Astralis isn't the center… then what is?" Her voice was small, but it made the others pause.
Qingxian tilted her head, silver threads of hair catching the glow. "The stars are listening," she whispered. "Don't say things too loud."
Chenrui groaned. "You're all too gloomy. Fine, if Astralis is a lantern, then I'll be the flame!"
Mei clapped. "I'll be the spark that makes it dance!"
Wen snorted. "You'll both just burn your sleeves."
Laughter burst out, uneven but bright, and the heaviness lifted at last. The spring shimmered, reflecting ten young faces—some grinning, some thoughtful, all marked now by the glimpse of a sky far vaster than their own.