Hanxi woke to Senior Sister Mei's face hovering inches from his own.
"Junior Brother! You're finally awake!" She pressed her palm against his forehead, then his chest, then—
"Sister Mei, what are you doing?" Hanxi yelped, scrambling backward.
"Checking your meridians!" She said innocently, though her hand had been dangerously close to his lower dantian. "When you didn't come out this morning, we worried. Then I heard you screaming last night. What kind of breakthrough makes a man scream like that?"
"The painful kind?" Hanxi offered weakly, acutely aware he was shirtless and covered in frost-tinged sweat.
Senior Brother Zhao's voice drifted from the doorway. "We all know what kind of 'breakthroughs' make young men scream in their rooms at night. Though I didn't think Wāng Hanxi had it in him."
"THAT'S NOT—" Hanxi's face turned crimson. "It was a cultivation breakthrough!"
"Sure it was," Zhao smirked. "Is that what kids call it these days?"
Mei rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. Let me check your cultivation base properly. This is highly unusual." She placed her hand on his wrist to sense qi flow. Her eyes widened. "You're... cold. Your qi is freezing. How is that possible? You absorbed a Solar beast fang!"
"Maybe he absorbed it wrong," Zhao suggested. "Just like Wāng Hanxi to mess up even good fortune."
Mei's grip tightened slightly—was that jealousy?—before releasing him. "Your qi flow is strange, Junior Brother. Like you're circulating two different energies. One warm, one cold. They're fighting each other."
Hanxi's blood ran cold. She could sense it.
"Maybe that's just how I cultivate?" he tried.
Mei frowned. "That's not how anyone cultivates. You should see Elder Cloudwhisker. This could be dangerous."
After the disciples finally left, still laughing, Hanxi stood alone trying to process everything. He circulated his qi experimentally and nearly fell over in shock.
His cultivation base had jumped from peak Body Tempering straight to Qi Condensation third level.
That was impossible. You couldn't skip levels. It violated every principle he'd learned.
"This is bad," he whispered. "This is very, very bad."
By midday, word had spread. Wāng Hanxi—the weakest disciple in five generations—had broken through to Qi Condensation third level in a single night.
When Elder Cloudwhisker summoned him for formal demonstration, half the sect gathered to watch.
"Circulate your qi," the elder commanded. "Show us what you've achieved."
Hanxi took a deep breath, allowing qi to flow through his meridians and manifest as an aura around his body. Basic demonstration any Qi Condensation cultivator could perform.
The moment his aura appeared, several elders gasped.
It wasn't pure gold, as Solar Vein technique demanded. Instead it flickered and shifted—gold bleeding into silver, warmth touched by cold, like watching sunset and moonrise simultaneously.
"Remarkable," Elder Cloudwhisker murmured, eyes narrowing. "Third level of Qi Condensation. Most unusual indeed."
"The tiger fang must have been more powerful than we thought," Hanxi said quickly. "I'm as surprised as anyone, Elder."
Elder Cloudwhisker stared at him for a long moment. Hanxi had the uncomfortable feeling the old man could see right through him. But finally, the elder nodded.
"The Heavens work mysteriously. Congratulations, Wāng Hanxi. You are no longer an apprentice. Tomorrow, you will be formally recognized as an outer disciple of the Sunlight Phoenix Sect."
The crowd erupted in excited chatter. Even Senior Brother Zhao looked grudgingly impressed, though like he'd swallowed something sour.
Senior Sister Mei beamed. "Junior Brother—no, I suppose I should call you Fellow Disciple Wāng now! This is wonderful! We must celebrate!"
Before celebration could begin, Senior Brother Zhao stepped forward, a challenging glint in his eye.
"If Fellow Disciple Wāng has truly broken through, he should prove it. I challenge you to a sparring match. Unless you're afraid?"
The courtyard fell silent. Zhao was at Qi Condensation fifth level, known for aggressive fighting. He'd never lost to anyone below his level.
Hanxi felt every eye on him. This was a test—not just of cultivation, but whether his breakthrough was real or just a fluke.
"I accept," he heard himself say.
What am I doing? his mind screamed. He's going to destroy me!
But the words were out.
Dawn broke over a packed courtyard. Everyone wanted to see whether Wāng Hanxi's breakthrough was genuine or an elaborate cosmic joke.
Hanxi barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the wolf fang's wild energy coursing through his meridians. His dreams filled with running through forests, hunting under moonlight, an overwhelming urge to howl.
He woke before dawn, drenched in sweat, with the distinct feeling he'd forgotten something important about being human.
"Get it together," he muttered, splashing cold water on his face. "You're Wāng Hanxi, outer disciple of the Sunlight Phoenix Sect. You are not a wolf. You do not howl at the moon. You do not chase rabbits."
Although... Rabbit stew did sound appealing...
"No! Human thoughts! Think human thoughts!"
By sunrise, the entire sect had gathered. Master Zhang stood at the courtyard's edge, expression unreadable. Elder Cloudwhisker was there, along with several other elders. Even Sect Master Feng Tianlong had emerged from his meditation chamber.
No pressure at all.
Senior Brother Zhao stood in the center, already warmed up, looking confident. He wore formal training robes and had his favorite sword—a well-crafted blade with blue tassel—strapped to his side.
Hanxi walked forward, acutely aware of every eye. He had his basic training sword. The same one he'd thrown at the "tiger" yesterday. It felt like a lifetime.
"Ready to embarrass yourself, Junior Brother?" Zhao asked with a smirk.
"Ready to be surprised, Senior Brother," Hanxi replied.
Sect Master Feng raised his hand. "This will be a friendly spar. First to yield or be disarmed wins. No techniques above the Qi Condensation realm. Begin!"
Zhao moved first—textbook-perfect thrust aimed at Hanxi's shoulder. Fast. Faster than anything Hanxi had faced as an apprentice.
But with enhanced senses, Hanxi could see it coming. More than that, he could smell the shift in Zhao's body chemistry as he prepared to strike, and could hear the minute breathing change.
Hanxi sidestepped. Zhao's blade passed harmlessly by.
The crowd murmured in surprise.
Zhao's smirk faded slightly. He attacked again—a combination of strikes that would have overwhelmed the old Hanxi in seconds.
But Hanxi wasn't the old Hanxi anymore. He dodged, parried, even managed a counterattack that forced Zhao back a step.
They exchanged blows for several minutes, neither gaining clear advantage. Hanxi's technique was still rough—seven years as the weakest disciple hadn't given much opportunity to refine skills—but enhanced reflexes and senses more than compensated.
But something was wrong.
Every time Zhao's blade met his, Hanxi felt cold rising in his chest—the wolf fang's silver energy, coiling like frost creeping across a window. His Solar Vein cultivation burned hot in his meridians, trying to maintain the warm, radiant fighting style of the Sunlight Phoenix Sect.
The two energies warred inside him. The strain showed.
"Getting tired already, Junior Brother?" Zhao taunted, pressing advantage.
Hanxi gritted his teeth. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but his fingertips were freezing. Thin frost formed on his sword hilt.
Then Zhao made a mistake. Overextended on a thrust, leaving his guard open for a fraction of a second.
Hanxi's body moved on instinct—but not his instinct. Not human instinct.
Cold energy surged, drowning Solar cultivation. His pupils dilated. Breathing changed—sharp, predatory. For just a heartbeat, Hanxi wasn't human at all.
He was the wolf from his visions, moving through winter darkness.
His sword flashed out in a strike more wolf than human—direct, savage, utterly without mercy. The blade moved with impossible speed, trailing frost wisps.
The strike hit Zhao's sword with a sound like cracking ice.
Zhao's weapon didn't just fly from his hands—it froze. Rime crackled across the steel surface in the instant of contact. When it clattered across the courtyard, small ice crystals scattered like broken glass.
The entire courtyard fell silent.
Zhao stood frozen (in multiple senses), staring at his empty, frost-bitten hand. His fingers were white with cold, as if he'd been holding ice instead of steel.
"What..." he breathed. "What was that?"
Hanxi stood breathing hard, sword still emanating faint cold mist. He could see his own breath in the morning air—and only his breath. Everyone else was fine.
He was radiating cold like a furnace in reverse.
"Winner: Wāng Hanxi!" Sect Master Feng announced, though his slight smile had faded into concern.
Elder Cloudwhisker's eyes were very wide, very focused on Hanxi.
Senior Sister Mei rushed forward but stopped short when she got close. "Hanxi, you're freezing. I can feel the cold from here. What technique was that?"
"I... uh..." Hanxi scrambled for an answer, watching frost on his sword hilt slowly melt. "Something I've been working on. I call it the... Fang Strike?"
Why did I say that? Why name it after the fang?
But the crowd loved it. "The Fang Strike!" someone repeated. "Did you see how fast it was? And that cold—like winter itself struck Zhao's blade!"
"Most unusual," Elder Cloudwhisker approached, expression unreadable. Up close, Hanxi felt the vast difference in their cultivation—the elder's aura like standing before a calm ocean, deep and unknowable.
"An interesting technique, Wāng Hanxi. Quite unorthodox. Almost... bestial in its directness." The elder's eyes seemed to pierce through him. "And carrying a distinct lunar quality. Strange, for one who cultivates the Solar Vein path."
Hanxi's blood ran cold. The elder definitely suspected something.
Cloudwhisker leaned close, voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me truthfully, boy—what did that fang look like? Describe it in detail."
"It was... white, curved, about this long—" Hanxi held up his hands.
"And the spiritual energy? What color is it when you meditate with it?"
Hanxi hesitated. "...Silver. With hints of blue, like moonlight on ice."
The elder's expression grew grave. "And when you absorbed its power, did you feel cold? See visions of winter, of hunting under the moon?"
How did he know?
"I..." Hanxi couldn't lie under that penetrating gaze. "Yes, Elder."
Cloudwhisker was silent for a long moment. Then sighed, suddenly looking very old. "Wāng Hanxi, I don't believe that fang came from a Silver Moon Tiger. I believe you encountered something else in that forest. Something that cultivates the Lunar path—the shadow reflection of our Solar Vein system."
"But I didn't know—"
"Of course you didn't." The elder placed a hand on his shoulder. Hanxi felt a warm Solar Essence pulse into him, pushing back the cold. "Ignorance isn't a crime. But what you've done is dangerous. You've mixed opposing energies—fire and ice, sun and moon. They will fight inside you, and unless you find a way to balance them..."
"What will happen?"
"One of three things." Cloudwhisker held up three fingers. "First, Solar energy may burn away the Lunar, returning you to normal—but you'll likely drop back to Body Tempering, losing everything gained. Second, Lunar energy may freeze out the Solar, forcing you onto the moon path—but you'll need a proper Lunar Breath manual to guide it, or it will consume you from within."
"And the third option?"
The elder's eyes grew distant. "There is an old legend. Ancient texts speak of a path that united both sun and moon, light and shadow. The Twilight Dao, they called it. A cultivation method embracing both energies in perfect balance." He shook his head. "But it's only a myth. The manual was lost thousands of years ago, if it ever existed."
Hanxi's heart pounded. Twilight Dao. The words resonated in his chest, where cold and heat spiraled together.
"For now," Cloudwhisker continued, "you must be careful. Don't push cultivation too quickly. Don't let either energy dominate. And most importantly—" his grip tightened "—if you encounter any cultivators who use both sun and moon techniques, practitioners of something called the Dusk Codex... run. Do you understand? Run and don't look back."
"Why? What is the Dusk Codex?"
"A perversion of the twilight principle. Heretics who tried to force the union of opposites through sacrifice and corruption. They were wiped out a century ago, but rumors persist that some survived." Cloudwhisker released him. "They would be very interested in someone like you—someone who carries both energies naturally. They would either recruit you... or dissect you to steal your secrets."
Hanxi swallowed hard.
"But perhaps I worry too much." The elder's expression softened. "You're young, talented, and fortune has smiled upon you. Just be cautious, Wāng Hanxi. And if the energy imbalance becomes painful, come see me immediately. I have techniques that might help stabilize you."
As Cloudwhisker began walking away, he paused and glanced back.
"You know, Wāng Hanxi," the old man said softly, "when you first arrived seven years ago, I advised against accepting you. Your meridians were narrow, your talent unremarkable. I told the Sect Master we were wasting resources on a second son with no prospects."
Hanxi's chest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral.
"But the Sect Master overruled me," Cloudwhisker continued. "He said something I didn't understand then. He said: 'The sun shines on everyone equally, but it's the ones standing in shadow who appreciate its warmth the most.'"
The elder's gaze softened. "I thought he was being sentimental. But watching you these past years—never quitting, never complaining, even when everyone wrote you off—I've come to understand what he meant."
Cloudwhisker gestured at the stone phoenix statue, wings spread wide against morning light. "The founder of our sect wasn't born talented either. He was just a peasant boy who saw something magnificent and refused to give up on his dream."
He turned to leave, then called over his shoulder: "Perhaps second sons are touched by the moon, as your grandmother believes. But remember, Wāng Hanxi—the moon only shines because it has learned to reflect the sun's light. There is no shame in that."
Hanxi stood alone in the courtyard, staring at the phoenix statue.
For the first time in years, he felt like maybe—just maybe—the Heavens hadn't completely forgotten about him.