The mountain road twisted through layers of drifting white mist.
Three young men climbed the final stretch in silence.
Their clothes still bore the Silver Leaf Crest of the Ye Clan, stitched neatly onto their sleeves. The crest was simple—a silver leaf embroidered upon dark green cloth. It lacked the golden threads, spirit silk, or precious gems seen on the robes of wealthier clans, yet it was clean and carefully maintained.
Ye Ming walked in front.
His posture remained straight, every step measured.
Behind him came Ye Jun, whose sharp eyes constantly scanned their surroundings as though expecting someone to challenge him at any moment.
At the rear walked Ye Luo.
His large travel pack rested comfortably across his broad shoulders. Dried meat hung from one side, while a cloth bag filled with steamed buns hung from the other.
Every few dozen steps…
Crunch.
Another bun disappeared.
Ye Jun sighed.
"You've been eating since sunrise."
Ye Luo blinked innocently.
"The climb is long."
"You've eaten enough for three people."
"I'm carrying enough for three people too."
That answer left Ye Jun speechless.
Even Ye Ming smiled.
For a brief moment…
The tension disappeared.
It felt like they were still walking the familiar roads around the Ye Clan.
Then…
The mist parted.
All three stopped.
Before them stood the Thunder Eagle Academy.
The academy wasn't merely a collection of buildings.
It was an entire mountain transformed into a city of cultivation.
Stone stairways wound around towering cliffs.
Dozens of training platforms hung from the mountainside like giant balconies.
Waterfalls crashed into deep valleys before flowing beneath elegant stone bridges.
White-robed disciples moved between halls with calm confidence.
High above…
Massive eagle-shaped statues watched over everything.
Ye Luo slowly lowered the bun in his hand.
"…That's…"
"…big."
Ye Jun remained silent.
Even he couldn't find words.
Ye Ming quietly looked upward.
Back home…
The Ye Clan had called itself a clan.
Standing here…
He finally understood the difference between a clan and an academy.
This place could probably contain ten Ye Clans without feeling crowded.
As they approached the entrance, they noticed they weren't alone.
Young cultivators arrived from every direction.
Some rode beautifully decorated spirit carriages.
Some were escorted by armored guards.
Others wore robes embroidered with wolves, cranes, serpents, or roaring tigers.
Each crest represented a different clan.
Some disciples glanced toward the Silver Leaf Crest.
One noble youth whispered to his companion,
"Never heard of them."
His companion barely looked.
"They're probably from one of the frontier valleys."
Neither sounded cruel.
Only dismissive.
To them…
The Ye Clan simply wasn't important.
Ye Ming heard every word.
He said nothing.
A loud bronze bell echoed through the mountain.
"All newly accepted disciples, proceed to the Registration Hall."
The voice carried across the valley through spiritual energy.
The three brothers exchanged glances before following the flow of people.
The Registration Hall was enormous.
Rows upon rows of wooden desks stretched across the room.
Academy elders calmly processed hundreds of new disciples.
Each newcomer received three things.
A white academy robe.
An identity token carved from dark jade.
A thin handbook titled:
Rules of the Thunder Eagle Academy
When Ye Ming reached the front…
The elder accepted his recommendation letter.
His eyes scanned it briefly.
"Ye Clan."
He nodded.
"Outer Disciple."
He handed over the token.
No praise.
No criticism.
Just another disciple among hundreds.
Ye Ming accepted it respectfully.
Outside the hall…
Ye Luo immediately put on the white robe.
"It fits!"
Ye Jun looked down at his own sleeve.
"The Silver Leaf Crest is gone."
Only now did they notice.
Their clan emblem had disappeared.
Every disciple now wore the same academy robes.
For the first time in their lives…
They looked exactly like everyone else.
That afternoon…
The newcomers gathered inside a circular lecture hall carved directly into the mountainside.
Stone seats rose in wide circles around a central platform.
Nearly five hundred Outer Disciples filled the hall.
Quiet conversations echoed from every direction.
An elderly instructor slowly walked to the center.
His white hair was tied neatly behind his back.
Despite his age…
His footsteps were firm.
He didn't release any overwhelming aura.
He simply stood there.
The entire hall gradually became silent.
"My name is Instructor Mo."
"I will oversee your first year."
His calm gaze swept across the students.
"Before today…"
"Many of you were called geniuses."
Several students straightened proudly.
Instructor Mo continued.
"Forget those titles."
Silence.
"A genius inside a village…"
"…may become ordinary inside a city."
"A genius inside a city…"
"…may become ordinary inside an academy."
He paused just long enough for those words to settle.
"Do not mistake your past achievements for your future potential."
Ye Ming lowered his eyes.
Those words felt directed at him.
Instructor Mo turned and wrote three large characters onto a black stone board.
Body.
Mind.
Technique.
He pointed toward the first.
"A weak body cannot withstand powerful spiritual energy."
Then the second.
"A restless mind cannot guide that energy."
Finally…
The third.
"A poor technique wastes both."
He looked around the hall.
"Most failures in cultivation are not caused by a lack of talent."
"They are caused by neglecting one of these three foundations."
A disciple wearing crimson robes raised his hand.
"Instructor…"
"If talent isn't most important…"
"Why are noble bloodlines always stronger?"
A faint smile appeared on the old instructor's face.
"An excellent question."
He slowly walked across the platform.
"A noble bloodline gives you a better beginning."
"It does not guarantee a better ending."
The hall grew quiet.
"You have all arrived at the same academy."
"If bloodline alone decided everything…"
"…why would any of you need teachers?"
No one answered.
Even the noble-born disciples fell silent.
As the lecture ended, Ye Ming remained seated.
He stared at the three words still written on the stone board.
Body. Mind. Technique.
Back in the Ye Clan…
He had believed cultivation was mainly about working harder than everyone else.
Today…
He realized he had only seen one small corner of a much larger path.
Outside, the evening bell echoed across the mountain.
The first day at the Thunder Eagle Academy had ended.
For Ye Ming…
His real journey had only just begun.
The lecture hall slowly emptied as hundreds of newly admitted Outer Disciples made their way toward the stone corridors outside.
No one spoke loudly.
Even those who had been chatting moments earlier unconsciously lowered their voices.
Ye Ming stepped out into the cool mountain breeze and glanced around.
The academy was far larger than he had imagined.
Stone bridges connected one mountain to another.
Elegant pavilions rested upon towering cliffs.
Training grounds echoed with the sounds of swords colliding and fists striking wooden dummies.
High above, white cranes circled the mountain peaks before disappearing into drifting clouds.
Ye Luo stretched his arms.
"So…"
"When do we eat?"
Ye Jun rolled his eyes.
"You've only been here for half a day."
"Exactly."
Ye Luo replied seriously.
"I've already used half a day's energy."
Ye Ming couldn't help smiling.
Some things would probably never change.
Just then…
A loud voice echoed across the courtyard.
"Make way!"
The atmosphere changed almost instantly.
Dozens of Outer Disciples instinctively stepped aside.
Even several instructors paused what they were doing.
Ye Ming frowned.
He hadn't felt any oppressive aura.
Yet everyone seemed to know someone important was approaching.
Three young disciples walked calmly through the courtyard.
Their academy robes were different.
Instead of plain white sleeves, their collars and cuffs were embroidered with deep blue thread.
Most striking of all…
On the left side of each robe were three silver eagle feathers, stitched with remarkable craftsmanship.
They didn't look arrogant.
They simply walked with the confidence of people who had already earned their place.
Ye Luo lowered his voice.
"Why are their robes different?"
A nearby disciple overheard him and chuckled.
"You three are new, aren't you?"
Ye Ming nodded politely.
The disciple pointed toward the three passing youths.
"Inner Disciples."
"The three eagle feathers are their symbol."
He looked down at Ye Ming's own robe.
"You only have one."
Only then did Ye Ming notice it.
Embroidered neatly above his heart…
A single silver feather.
Small.
Simple.
Easy to overlook.
The disciple continued,
"One feather means you're an Outer Disciple."
"Three feathers mean you've entered the Inner Court."
"And if you ever see the complete Thunder Eagle embroidered across someone's chest…"
He paused for emphasis.
"…don't stand in their way."
Ye Jun looked toward the mountain path.
"Core Disciples?"
The disciple smiled.
"So you've heard of them."
Before he could continue…
The academy bell rang once.
Not loudly.
Not urgently.
Yet its tone carried across every courtyard.
The conversations gradually faded.
Almost everyone turned toward the main avenue leading deeper into the academy.
Curious, Ye Ming followed their gaze.
Several academy elders walked at the front, speaking quietly among themselves.
Behind them…
A single young woman approached.
She wore the same white robes as every other disciple.
Yet the silver embroidery across her chest formed the image of a great eagle with its wings fully spread, as though soaring into the sky.
Her sleeves were edged with silver-blue silk.
A purple jade token rested at her waist.
Her long black hair was tied with a simple silver ribbon, moving gently in the mountain breeze.
She wasn't surrounded by guards.
She wasn't displaying her cultivation.
Yet wherever she walked…
People naturally made room.
No one had ordered them to.
Respect alone was enough.
Ye Luo whispered,
"Is she…"
"The strongest?"
The nearby disciple shook his head.
"No."
"Not the strongest."
"But she's one of the academy's brightest stars."
He lowered his voice further.
"Senior Sister Luo Qingxue."
"The youngest Core Disciple in Thunder Eagle Academy."
"They say Peak Master Yun accepted only one personal disciple in the last thirty years."
"…and it was her."
Ye Ming watched quietly as she disappeared into the distance.
There was no jealousy in his eyes.
Only realization.
Back in the Ye Clan…
Being called a genius had meant something.
Here…
There were people whose names alone commanded respect.
He slowly lowered his head and looked once more at the single silver feather embroidered on his own robe.
For the first time…
It didn't feel like a symbol of achievement.
It felt like the first step of a very long climb.
The evening bell echoed gently across the academy.
Unlike the deep bronze bell that announced assemblies, this one was softer.
Its rhythm was unhurried.
As soon as it rang, disciples from every direction began walking toward the lower terraces of the mountain.
Some carried practice swords.
Others held bamboo scrolls beneath their arms.
A few chatted while comparing the results of the day's training.
Ye Luo sniffed the air.
His eyes suddenly brightened.
"…Food."
Ye Jun looked at him in disbelief.
"You found the dining hall by smell?"
Ye Luo scratched his cheek.
"I think my nose did."
Ye Ming laughed quietly.
"For once, let's trust your talent."
The three followed the crowd down a broad stone path lined with ancient pine trees.
As they descended, the academy became even more lively.
Disciples from different regions spoke with unfamiliar accents.
Some debated cultivation theories.
Others argued over the outcome of recent sparring matches.
To Ye Ming…
It felt less like entering a sect and more like entering a small city built entirely around cultivation.
The dining pavilion occupied an entire terrace overlooking the valley.
It was far larger than any hall within the Ye Clan.
Long wooden tables stretched from one end to the other.
Steam rose from enormous iron pots.
The aroma of roasted meat, fresh vegetables, medicinal soups, and warm rice filled the air.
Ye Luo stopped walking.
His expression became strangely serious.
Ye Jun frowned.
"What?"
Ye Luo slowly pointed toward the food.
"…This academy…"
"…is wonderful."
Ye Ming couldn't stop himself from laughing.
For the first time since arriving…
The nervousness inside his chest eased.
The three received simple wooden meal tokens from an attendant before joining the line.
Unlike the Ye Clan, no one served them according to family status.
Everyone waited together.
Whether noble-born or from a remote mountain village…
Each disciple received the same meal.
Ye Ming quietly noticed that.
No special treatment.
No privileged seating.
Only the order of the line mattered.
After dinner, they followed a wooden sign pointing toward the Outer Disciple Residence.
Rows of stone courtyards stretched along the mountainside.
Each courtyard housed six disciples.
Their room was modest.
Three wooden beds stood on each side.
A bookshelf occupied one corner.
A small table rested beneath the window overlooking the valley.
There was nothing luxurious.
Everything was clean.
Everything was practical.
Several young men were already inside.
One looked up from unpacking his belongings.
"You must be the last three."
He smiled warmly.
"My name is Zhao Wen."
"I'm from River Reed City."
Unlike the noble disciples they had met earlier…
His smile carried no trace of arrogance.
The others introduced themselves one after another.
Before long, quiet conversation filled the room.
Each person came from a different clan.
Each had left family behind.
For the first time…
Ye Ming realized they all shared the same uncertainty.
Everyone here had once been considered exceptional.
Now…
They were simply beginners again.
The following morning…
Before sunrise…
A wooden gong echoed throughout the residence.
"Outer Disciples."
"Training Ground Three."
"Report within the time it takes three incense sticks to burn."
The room instantly became chaotic.
Blankets flew aside.
Boots were pulled on in haste.
Someone nearly ran into the doorway carrying only one shoe.
Ye Luo sat upright.
"…Already?"
Zhao Wen laughed while tying his belt.
"If you're late on your first day…"
"Instructor Mo will remember your face."
That was all the motivation anyone needed.
Training Ground Three was a vast circular platform carved from dark gray stone.
Nearly three hundred Outer Disciples assembled in neat rows.
Instructor Mo stood with his hands behind his back.
His expression remained calm.
No one dared whisper.
After ensuring everyone had arrived, he spoke.
"Yesterday…"
"I taught you the three foundations of cultivation."
"Today…"
"I will teach you something more important."
He slowly picked up an ordinary wooden bucket filled with water.
Holding it before the disciples, he asked,
"What do you see?"
Hands immediately rose.
"A bucket."
"Water."
"A training tool."
Instructor Mo nodded.
"Correct."
Then…
Without warning…
He poured the water onto the stone platform.
The clear water rushed across the smooth surface, flowing into tiny cracks before disappearing.
The instructor placed the empty bucket on the ground.
"Spiritual energy behaves the same way."
"It always seeks the easiest path."
"If your body is weak…"
"It leaks."
"If your breathing is chaotic…"
"It scatters."
"If your mind wanders…"
"It escapes before you can control it."
He looked across the sea of young faces.
"Cultivation is not forcing spiritual energy into your body."
"It is preparing your body so that spiritual energy chooses to remain."
The entire training ground fell silent.
Even disciples who had learned cultivation since childhood frowned thoughtfully.
This explanation was different from what many of them had been taught at home.
Instructor Mo continued,
"From today onward…"
"You will not spend all your time learning techniques."
"You will first learn to strengthen the vessel that carries them."
Ye Ming unconsciously straightened his back.
For the first time…
He began to understand that cultivation was far deeper than simply gathering spiritual energy.
It was a lifelong discipline, built upon countless small habits that no battle alone could teach.
The mountain breeze drifted quietly across Training Ground Three.
Not a single disciple spoke.
Instructor Mo looked across the rows of young cultivators before slowly raising his hand.
"Words…"
"…are the easiest part of cultivation."
He glanced toward the wooden buckets resting beside the platform.
"Now…"
"Let us see your foundations."
Several academy assistants carried the buckets forward.
Each disciple received one.
The buckets were identical.
Made of ordinary wood.
Filled almost to the brim with clear spring water.
Ye Luo blinked.
"…Are we going to clean the training ground?"
Several disciples chuckled.
Even Instructor Mo's lips twitched ever so slightly.
"No."
"You are going to cultivate."
Confused murmurs spread throughout the crowd.
Cultivate…
With buckets?
Instructor Mo calmly walked to the center of the training ground.
"In battle…"
"Your breathing changes."
"Your heartbeat changes."
"Your balance changes."
"If those three lose harmony…"
"So will your spiritual energy."
He bent slightly…
Then placed a full bucket upon his head.
The crowd watched in confusion.
The elderly instructor slowly began walking across the stone platform.
His steps were smooth.
Neither hurried nor slow.
Not a single drop of water spilled.
When he reached the opposite side…
The water remained perfectly still.
He lifted the bucket down.
"You see…"
"The bucket is your body."
"The water…"
"…is your spiritual energy."
"If your body shakes…"
"So does your spiritual energy."
"If your mind panics…"
"Your spiritual energy follows."
He looked toward the disciples.
"Today…"
"You will walk."
"Nothing more."
The moment the exercise began…
Chaos erupted.
Splash!
Water poured down robes.
Buckets tipped sideways.
Several disciples tried walking too quickly and nearly fell.
Ye Jun frowned.
"This can't be that difficult."
He took five confident steps.
Splash!
Half his bucket emptied onto his boots.
Ye Luo laughed so hard his own bucket tipped forward.
Splash!
"…I don't think I'm good at this."
"You noticed?" Ye Jun muttered.
Nearby, Ye Ming didn't laugh.
He carefully watched Instructor Mo's footprints still visible on the damp stone.
His breathing slowed.
One step.
Pause.
Another step.
Pause.
Instead of forcing his body…
He allowed it to settle before each movement.
The water still rippled.
But only slightly.
Instructor Mo quietly observed from a distance.
He said nothing.
An hour later…
Most disciples were exhausted.
Not because carrying the bucket required strength…
But because maintaining perfect balance demanded constant focus.
Many began to understand.
Cultivation wasn't always about overwhelming power.
Sometimes…
It was about controlling the smallest movements.
Instructor Mo clapped once.
"Enough."
The disciples immediately lowered their buckets.
Some sighed with relief.
Others rubbed their aching shoulders.
The old instructor walked slowly between the rows.
Finally…
He stopped beside one disciple.
A tall young man from a wealthy clan.
His bucket was almost completely full.
The young man smiled proudly.
"I didn't spill much, Instructor."
Instructor Mo nodded.
"You didn't."
Then he gently tapped the young man's shoulder.
The disciple instantly lost his balance.
Water splashed everywhere.
The courtyard fell silent.
Instructor Mo looked at him calmly.
"You were balancing the bucket."
"You were not balancing yourself."
The disciple lowered his head in embarrassment.
The instructor continued walking.
Moments later…
He stopped beside Ye Ming.
Nearly one-third of Ye Ming's water had spilled.
The old man looked inside the bucket.
Then at Ye Ming's posture.
Finally…
He gave a small nod.
"You improved."
Ye Ming looked surprised.
"But…"
"I spilled more than others."
Instructor Mo smiled faintly.
"Compared to the beginning."
"You improved."
He pointed toward the remaining water.
"A cultivator should compare today's self…"
"…with yesterday's self."
"Not with someone else's."
The words struck Ye Ming deeply.
Back in the Ye Clan…
He had always compared himself to others.
Now…
For the first time…
He wondered whether true progress began by competing with the person he had been yesterday.
The morning lesson ended.
As the disciples dispersed, Ye Ming remained standing for a moment, looking down at the ripples inside his bucket.
The water had finally become still.
He suddenly realized something.
Perhaps…
Cultivation was exactly like this.
The stronger one's heart became…
The calmer the water within.
The disciples had barely taken ten steps away from the training ground when a clear bell rang from somewhere higher up the mountain.
Unlike the assembly bell…
This one rang three short chimes.
Dong…
Dong…
Dong…
Instructor Mo stopped walking.
Without turning around, he spoke calmly.
"That bell marks the beginning of your second lesson."
"The academy doesn't only teach cultivation."
"It teaches cultivators."
The disciples quickly followed behind him.
The path led toward a large stone pavilion built against the mountainside.
Unlike the lecture hall from yesterday, this place had no walls.
Only thick stone pillars supported the roof.
The cool mountain breeze flowed freely through the open sides.
Rows of long wooden desks faced a polished black stone platform.
Brushes.
Ink.
Sheets of bamboo paper.
Everything had already been prepared.
Ye Jun looked around.
"…We're writing?"
Several disciples exchanged puzzled glances.
One noble-born youth frowned openly.
"We came here to cultivate."
"Not become scholars."
A few students quietly nodded in agreement.
Instructor Mo heard every word.
He neither became angry nor smiled.
Instead, he calmly picked up a brush.
"Who among you believes cultivation and knowledge are unrelated?"
Nearly twenty hands rose.
The noble disciple raised his highest.
Instructor Mo nodded.
"Good."
"It is better to admit ignorance than pretend to understand."
The disciples lowered their hands, slightly embarrassed.
The instructor dipped his brush into ink.
With slow, steady movements, he drew a map upon the black stone board.
First came a small circle.
Then another.
Then mountains.
Rivers.
Forests.
Soon…
An entire region appeared.
"This…"
He tapped the smallest circle.
"…is your Ye Clan."
Ye Ming instinctively straightened.
Around him, several other disciples recognized the names of their own clans as Instructor Mo continued drawing.
One by one…
Tiny circles appeared across the map.
Then…
Farther away…
Larger circles.
Cities.
Mountain ranges.
Trade routes.
Dangerous forests.
Ancient ruins.
The drawing continued growing until the first circles looked almost insignificant.
Instructor Mo finally placed the brush down.
"How many of you have ever left your clan before coming here?"
Only a handful of hands rose.
The instructor nodded.
"I expected as much."
He pointed once more toward the tiny circles.
"Most clans only understand the world within a few hundred miles of their territory."
"They know their forests."
"Their rivers."
"Their enemies."
"But beyond that…"
"They know very little."
His finger slowly traced a winding road leading toward a distant kingdom.
"A cultivator who knows only where to swing his sword…"
"…may survive one battle."
"A cultivator who understands the world…"
"…may survive an entire lifetime."
The pavilion became silent.
An older assistant carried a large wooden chest onto the platform.
Inside were dozens of worn books.
None looked valuable.
Their leather covers were faded.
Some had loose pages tied together with string.
Others were nothing more than stacks of bamboo slips.
Instructor Mo picked one up.
"This…"
"…is not a cultivation manual."
He opened the book carefully.
"It is the travel journal of a merchant."
Several disciples immediately lost interest.
The noble disciple from earlier even sighed.
"A merchant?"
"What can a merchant teach cultivators?"
Instructor Mo looked directly at him.
"What is your name?"
"Han Wei."
"Very well, Han Wei."
The instructor closed the journal.
"If a merchant records that a bridge collapsed after heavy rain…"
"And you ignore it…"
"What happens when your mission takes you across that river?"
Han Wei remained silent.
Instructor Mo continued.
"If an explorer records that a certain valley fills with poisonous mist every autumn…"
"And you laugh because it isn't a cultivation technique…"
"What happens when your sect sends you there in autumn?"
Still…
No answer.
The old instructor smiled faintly.
"Information."
He tapped the old journal.
"Is often worth more than strength."
He placed several books on the nearest table.
"There are no profound techniques here."
"No secret inheritances."
"No miraculous treasures."
"Only observations."
"The observations of people who walked roads you have never seen."
He looked across every face inside the pavilion.
"Learn from them."
"So that one day…"
"You will not need to repeat their mistakes."
Ye Ming's eyes quietly settled on the weathered books.
They were old.
Plain.
Almost forgotten.
Yet somehow…
They suddenly seemed far more valuable than before.
Not because they could make him stronger overnight.
But because they contained pieces of a world he had never seen.
For the first time since entering the academy…
His curiosity outweighed his ambition.
The mountain beyond the academy no longer looked like the end of the world.
It looked…
Like the beginning of it.
Ye Luo stared at the pile of old journals resting on the table.
Their worn covers looked ordinary.
Most were little more than weathered records left behind by merchants, hunters, wandering physicians, and travelers who had spent years on the road.
For reasons he couldn't explain…
A familiar face suddenly appeared in his mind.
A thin young boy sat beneath the old plum tree in the Third Branch courtyard, holding a book almost as large as his chest.
While other children chased one another with wooden swords…
Ye Fu sat quietly reading.
Ye Luo smiled unconsciously.
Back then…
Many of the younger disciples had laughed.
"There goes the bookworm again."
"He'd rather read than cultivate."
"Books won't make your fists stronger."
Even some adults had shaken their heads.
Only their father had never stopped him.
Ye Luo himself had teased his little brother more than once.
"Come outside."
"The books won't run away."
Ye Fu had simply smiled.
"They won't…"
"…but the questions inside them might."
At the time…
Ye Luo hadn't understood what his younger brother meant.
Standing inside the Thunder Eagle Academy…
Listening to Instructor Mo speak about the value of knowledge…
He suddenly felt a little embarrassed.
"…Maybe…"
He scratched the back of his head.
"…Fu'er wasn't strange after all."
Ye Jun glanced at him.
"What are you muttering about?"
Ye Luo chuckled.
"I'm thinking about my little brother."
"He would've loved this place."
Ye Ming looked toward the stack of travel journals.
A faint smile appeared on his usually composed face.
"Especially this class."
"He'd probably be the first one asking questions."
The three brothers fell silent.
For the first time since leaving the Ye Clan…
They all thought of the same person.
Far away, in the quiet Third Branch of the Ye Clan…
Their little brother was probably sitting somewhere with another book in his hands.