Far away, in the Profound Sky Mountain Range, dawn always came late.
The sun's rays had to climb over layer after layer of peaks before they reached this place. By the time light touched the highest clouds, the rest of Sky Fortune Kingdom was already awake and bustling.
Seven Profound Valleys' main mountain sat shrouded in that high morning haze, its seven subsidiary peaks radiating outward like the petals of a stone lotus. Sword Faction's sharp, clean aura; Zither Faction's lingering melodies; Array Faction's dense, intricate fluctuations… each peak had its own flavor, its own Dao.
Martial World
Acacia Faction's domain sat a little apart.
From above, its main grounds looked like a cluster of jade islands and low, flowing ridges set amidst mirror-still lakes, linked by slender bridges and pavilions. Thin mountain mist clung to the water, turning everything soft and hazy, like half-remembered desire. Streams wound down from higher slopes, feeding the lakes and cutting through the gardens.
It smelled faintly of blossoms, incense… and wine.
Normally, even at this hour, there would be laughter drifting across those bridges. Disciples leaning close in lakeside pavilions, silk sleeves brushing, low murmurs mixing with the pluck of zithers. The Acacia Faction was famous not only for its deviant cultivation art, but for the way it turned indulgence into a weapon.
Martial World
Today, the air felt strained.
The music had stilled. Laughter had thinned to a cautious murmur. Even the maids and attendant disciples moved a little more quickly, as if they could feel a storm gathering somewhere out of sight.
Deep within the inner grounds, behind layered restrictions and silence arrays, a secluded hall rested at the heart of an artificial grove.
Inside that hall, Ouyang Boyan sat cross-legged.
He was not a handsome man.
His features were ordinary. His hair was tied into a simple crown, his robes were dark and neat, lacking the exaggerated ornamentation his faction favored. He looked like a middle-aged scholar who had long ago stopped caring how others saw him.
But his eyes…
His eyes were cold and deep, like a man who had watched too many lives burn out in his hands and no longer bothered to count.
True essence circled him in a quiet vortex, solid and heavy—the unmistakable pressure of an early Xiantian master, Divine Acacia Power coiling in his meridians like a poisonous vine.
On the floor before him lay a single piece of jade.
Or rather, half of one.
Fine cracks ran through its surface. A faint haze of ash dusted the surrounding tiles, the residue of something that had been there a moment ago… and then had not.
Ouyang Boyan's gaze rested on that ash.
A Xiantian Elder's life-saving talisman was not easily destroyed. It was condensed from his own full-powered strike, imbued with will, sealed with blood. To shatter it from afar required a force significantly superior to the initial strike… or an overwhelming suppression of that force's domain.
Yet the talisman had not exploded.
It had… collapsed.
As if something had closed around the strike, folded it inward, extinguished it, and then crushed even its echo into dust.
Boyan's fingers tightened slightly on his knees.
He had spent decades cultivating Divine Acacia Power, stepping into Xiantian, condensing his own Sovereign foundation within Acacia Faction. He knew exactly how terrifying a full-strength blow from this life-saving talisman was. It was enough to smash ordinary Houtian martial artists into bone powder, to tear apart Pulse Condensation juniors, even seriously injure a careless half-step Xiantian master.
For some unknown guest instructor in a backwater Martial House to crush it like this…
He slowly exhaled.
The communication array before him pulsed once, light flowing across its runes. A kneeling figure took shape on its surface—projected image bowed almost to the floor.
"Uncle…"
Ouyang Dihua's voice was hoarse.
The envoy's right arm trembled faintly beneath his sleeve; his chest still ached where Qin Xingxuan's spear, carrying Fire Martial Intent, had pierced through his defenses. Divine Acacia Power barely kept that pain at bay. After being healed enough to move, his first action had been to activate the array and call this hall.
Boyan did not immediately respond.
His gaze stayed fixed on the fractured jade.
"When it shattered," he asked at last, voice low and even, "what did you feel?"
Ouyang Dihua's throat worked.
He remembered that moment with a clarity that made his heart squeeze. The humiliation of being forced to his knees, the impossible pressure that had smothered his meridians, the way his last card had simply… vanished.
"A… pressure," he said, each word scraped out. "Like… like an ocean of Fire crushing down. My meridians froze. My Pulse Condensation vortex… could not circulate at all."
He drew a shallow, shaky breath.
"Then… Third Elder's aura descended. It met that Fire… and… and…"
He hesitated.
He did not wish to say it aloud. To give shape to that sense of helplessness.
"Speak," Ouyang Boyan said.
The single word fell like a blade.
"…It was… seized," Ouyang Dihua whispered. "Dragged into that Fire and burned. Before Third Elder's will could fully awaken, it was… gone."
Silence fell over the hall.
Ouyang Boyan's expression didn't change. His eyes were as calm and dark as before.
Inside, his true essence surged.
Divine Acacia Power was a twisted art; once its aura enveloped someone, it flooded their senses with aberrant illusions, forcing the ugliness of their hearts to surface. Even Xiantian masters who had never cultivated it felt uneasy when faced with that deviant momentum.
For a mere junior to twist his talisman's stored strike, to drag its power into Flame and refine it to nothing…
That wasn't something a backwater instructor should be able to do.
Boyan slowly lifted his eyes to the projection array.
"Describe this 'Ren,'" he said.
Ouyang Dihua lifted his head a fraction, jaw clenched.
"He calls himself 'Ren Ming'," he said, bitterness souring the title. "Claims to be a guest instructor hired by Seven Profound Martial House. His origin is unclear—no background in Sky Fortune Kingdom's records, no affiliated sect, no lineage we can trace. His cultivation… on the surface, Pulse Condensation."
Boyan's eyes narrowed.
"Pulse Condensation," he repeated softly.
It was an echo, not a question.
Ouyang Dihua's fingers dug into the floor.
"Uncle, this man is not simple," he said quickly, fear and hatred tangling in his voice. "He teaches demonic arts—no, something worse. Unknown arts that twist the body and will. He has bewitched several of the Martial House's most outstanding female disciples—Na Yi, Na Shui, Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun. He encourages them to defy established arrangements, to reject the guidance of higher sects."
He lowered his head further, trying to hide the flicker of crazy jealousy in his eyes.
"He humiliated this disciple in public," Ouyang Dihua continued, words grinding out through clenched teeth. "He destroyed Zhang Guanyu's Martial Heart, crushed him like a weed. He forced me to my knees in front of hundreds, shattered Third Elder's talisman, and made me rescind my engagement with Bai Jingyun."
His nails bit into his palms, drawing blood.
"He spoke of Elder and Sovereign as if they were nothing," he hissed. "He said that if they wished to 'talk', they could come find him. He… told me to 'scram' back to the Valleys."
He sharpened every insult, every slight, polishing them and feeding them into the hall like poison.
To Acacia Faction, "face" wasn't just pride. It was leverage. It was how they cowed lesser sects, how they wrapped vassal forces around their fingers. For some unknown outsider to trample that underfoot…
Ouyang Boyan's eyes grew colder.
"An unknown origin," he murmured. "Pulse Condensation on the surface. Able to crush a Xiantian-level talisman. Able to cultivate multiple juniors' Fire Martial Intent to Small Success within the Body Transformation realm…"
He fell silent.
Outside, the wind stirred the flowers in the courtyard beyond the walls. Petals loosened and drifted silently down.
"…You say he teaches 'unknown arts'," Boyan said at last. "Could they be remnants of some foreign inheritance? A wandering master's bequest? A rogue Divine Lord's technique left behind in Sky Fortune's soil?"
Ouyang Dihua's heart skipped.
"Uncle suspects… such a thing?" he asked.
"If he is merely a madman with some talent, he can be removed at convenience," Boyan said flatly. "If he is a madman standing on a higher Dao… we must know what that Dao is before we decide how to move."
He spoke calmly, but beneath the words, another current flowed.
Greed.
If this Ren Ming truly held some remnant of a higher world's law—something beyond this continent's Heaven—then whoever seized it would not only flatten Seven Profound Martial House, but step past the other six factions as well.
The Sword Faction, Refiner Faction, Zither Faction, all of them had relied on inherited merit laws and ancient legacies to maintain their balance over the last six hundred years. If Acacia Faction added a foreign Dao on top of Divine Acacia Power… what would that make them?
Ouyang Dihua pressed his forehead harder to the cold floor.
"Uncle," he said, voice low, "no matter his origin, he is a threat. He has already planted his claws into Seven Profound Martial House's core disciples. If he remains, he will surely use them to form his own influence beneath us. The Bai Family, the Na sisters, Murong Zi… those are all bridges toward the court and other sects."
His hands curled.
"This disciple begs Third Elder to suppress him before his roots grow too deep," he said, hatred boiling beneath his politeness. "Even if… even if it requires the Sovereign's hand."
Ouyang Boyan's gaze sharpened slightly at that name.
The Sovereign of Acacia Faction did not move lightly.
Within Seven Profound Valleys, Ouyang Shenxiu stood at the peak of Xiantian. His Divine Acacia Power had reached the seventh layer, his cultivation ranking among the top four Xiantian masters in the entire sect. To the disciples of Acacia Faction, he was no different from a god.
To ask him to personally act over some unknown instructor of a satellite Martial House…
Boyan unfolded his legs and rose slowly to his feet.
"I will report this to the Council of Elders," he said. "The Sword Faction will certainly make noise if they hear of a lawless outsider in our territory. The Jiang Family will pay close attention to any force that can crush a Xiantian strike. We will see whether this 'Ren Ming' is a sword to be seized… or a weed to be uprooted."
He turned, robes whispering softly over the tiles.
"At that time," Boyan added, not looking back, "you will keep your head clear."
Ouyang Dihua's nails dug deeper into his flesh.
"Yes," he said.
The communication array dimmed, its runes fading until only bare jade remained. The projection dispersed.
On the other side, in Sky Fortune Kingdom, silence pressed in.
Slowly, Ouyang Dihua lifted his head.
The hatred on his face was no longer disguised.
"Ren Ming…" he whispered, each syllable like ground glass. "You think you can make me kneel, force me to rescind a contract, and then continue living at ease in that tiny Martial House…?"
His lips twisted.
"Even if I cannot move you directly," he murmured, eyes narrowing, "there are always others. Families. Disciples. Friends. Those little girls who look at you as if you hung the moon…"
He smiled thinly, cruelty glimmering.
"…I'll tear your 'interesting little courtyard' apart, piece by piece."
His voice sank to a hiss.
"I swear it."
...
By the time Ouyang Dihua's oath faded into the cold air of the envoy's residence, morning mist in Sky Fortune Kingdom had long since burned away.
Seven Profound Martial House's main drill ground thrummed with energy.
Hundreds of disciples packed the wide stone square—Human Hall robes, Earth Hall robes, Heavenly Abode sashes, colors and ranks all mixed together. The atmosphere felt nothing like a normal morning lecture. Tension and curiosity coiled together, thickening the air. Whispers flew like startled sparrows.
"Is it true? He's really holding a Fire Law lecture?"
"I heard he crushed a Xiantian talisman."
"Idiot, how can a Pulse Condensation master crush a Xiantian talisman…"
"That's what they said! He forced the Acacia Envoy to rescind Bai Jingyun's engagement in public…"
"Shh, shh, do you want to die? Keep your voice down!"
On the elder platform, Qin Ziya and several senior instructors sat in a neat row. Their expressions were far more complicated than the disciples'—worry sat alongside anticipation, awe tangled with unease.
"It's too fast," one elder murmured under his breath. "To push so many juniors to touch Laws in just a few days…"
"And too open," another said softly. "If the Valleys knew he was teaching this kind of thing in the Martial House…"
Qin Ziya kept his gaze steady, hands folded in his sleeves.
In his heart, the image of Ren calmly catching Ouyang Dihua's talisman—then crushing it without changing expression—replayed over and over. A Xiantian elder's life-saving strike, collapsed like a mud ball in a forge.
He could neither stop this lecture nor pretend he did not wish to watch it.
At the center of the drill ground, a simple stone platform had been cleared.
Ren stepped onto it.
He wore the same plain robes as always—no crimson clouds, no dragon embroidery, just simple, clean cloth. His hair was tied casually back, a few loose strands falling over his forehead. If not for the lingering pressure in the hearts of those who had witnessed yesterday's scene, he could have been mistaken for an ordinary young instructor.
Na Yi, Na Shui, Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, and Bai Jingyun stood at the very front of the gathered disciples.
Murong Zi's spear rested on her shoulder, her eyes bright and sharp. Qin Xingxuan's stance was straight and calm, like a spear planted in the ground. Bai Jingyun's grip on her sword hilt was relaxed yet firm, the tension that had once chained her shoulders now mostly gone. Na Shui fidgeted, excitement and nerves warring in her face. Na Yi's gaze was steady, clear, like someone who had already walked through one darkness and refused to bow to another.
Ren's eyes swept over them all.
The Fire seeds he'd planted in their meridians—through breathing methods, small corrections, and those bloody hours on the black demonic island—had quietly grown over the past days. Now, he intended to pour oil onto those seeds and see how brightly they burned.
He lifted his hand.
The noise died instantly.
"Those of you with Fire affinity," he said, voice carrying easily across the square without shouting, "step forward ten paces."
True essence stirred.
Dozens of figures moved—disciples whose main cultivation arts leaned toward Fire, those who had vaguely comprehended a trace of Flame Intent, or whose body-tempering focused heavily on blood vitality and heat.
Ling Sen. Zhu Yan. Ta Ku. A number of Heavenly Abode elites. Several Earth Hall and even Human Hall disciples whose faces were unfamiliar, but whose pulses ran hot.
Ren's gaze moved over them, weighing not just their realm, but the way their true essence flowed, the rhythm of their breathing, the small flaws in their stances.
"Hm," he said. "For a single Martial House, this much Fire isn't bad."
There was no arrogance in his tone. Just an assessment, as if he were appraising ore before refining it.
He flicked his sleeve.
Several jade slips arced through the air, each tracing a clean, curved line before dropping. They landed neatly in the hands of chosen disciples—Murong Zi, Qin Xingxuan, Bai Jingyun, Na Yi, Na Shui, Ling Sen, Zhu Yan, Ta Ku… and more. The jade was cool and faintly warm at the same time, as if a small flame slept inside each piece.
A few disciples jolted, eyes wide, as if struck by lightning.
"This," Ren said, "is an art I created. It focuses on teaching your body and true essence what 'Fire' means at the level of Laws. It'll guide your perception into the field of Fire Laws even if your talent is mediocre, and help with condensing Fire Martial Intent in the future. If your talent is good…"
His eyes glinted with quiet amusement.
"…You might break through bottlenecks you've been stuck at for years."
The whispers that tried to rise were cut off by Qin Ziya's sharp look. The drill ground held its breath.
Ren continued as if they weren't there.
"It's called—" he paused for a heartbeat, then smiled, like someone remembering an old lantern in a storm. "—Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram."
Murong Zi mouthed the name silently, fingers tightening around her jade.
Qin Xingxuan's gaze flickered, remembering dim lantern light in the courtyard and Ren's words that night about fear, about Dao Hearts, about flames that refused to go out.
Bai Jingyun lowered her eyes; some of the invisible chains that had bound her for years seemed to shiver.
Ren went on, tone unhurried.
"Most cultivators treat Fire as something that burns and destroys," he said. "They pour true essence into their meridians, make it as hot as possible, and think that's 'Fire.'"
He shook his head.
"It's not."
He spread his fingers.
Between them, a small flame appeared.
It didn't roar.
It didn't distort the air or explode outward. It simply… burned.
Yet every Fire-attuned disciple on the grounds felt it.
Their own true essence stirred, responding instinctively. Murong Zi's Fire Martial Intent shivered within her, the red-gold rune-wheel in her perception spinning a fraction faster. Na Yi and Na Shui felt their blood vitality tilt toward that tiny flame like plants toward the sun, their Azure True Dragon Infinity Seeds quietly adjusting to match its rhythm. Qin Xingxuan's spear intent tingled, the point of her spear wanting to lean forward. Bai Jingyun's sword aura warmed at the edges, as if seeing light for the first time in a long while.
"Fire kills," Ren said. "Fire tempers. Fire illuminates. The difference lies in your heart."
The flame rose from his hand, floating above the platform.
"The first layer of Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram is simple," he continued. "It teaches you to circulate true essence through specific meridians while holding a certain image in mind. Not of burning enemies. Not of boiling blood."
His eyes half-closed.
"Of a lantern flame in the wind."
Qin Xingxuan's fingers tightened slightly around her spear.
"Wind will always blow," Ren said quietly. "Fear will always exist. What matters is whether the flame goes out… or keeps burning steadily."
He let the words sink in.
"Now," he said, voice turning lightly brisk, "close your eyes."
The disciples obeyed almost as one.
"Those with jade slips," Ren instructed, "read the first pattern into your memory. Don't try to circulate yet. Just… imprint it."
Murong Zi pressed the jade to her forehead, true essence flowing. Inside, the pattern stirred—a sequence of acupoints, a rhythm of breath, a mental image of flame and wind. It unfolded in her mind like a slow-moving constellation, each point of light a meridian, each line a path.
Na Shui's brows knitted, lips moving faintly as she silently repeated each point, careful not to skip anything. Na Yi absorbed the pattern more quietly, her mind tracing each meridian with the patience of someone who had walked difficult roads before and knew better than to rush. Qin Xingxuan's keen perception seized each line in a single pass, already testing how it could mesh with her spear intent. Bai Jingyun read as she would memorize a sword manual, every stroke treated as a potential killing edge, no line forgotten.
Ling Sen and Zhu Yan both stiffened when the pattern set in—these two, having already tempered their bodies with the Heaven-Opening Origin Art's brutal training, felt how smoothly Lantern-Heart's path could nest inside their existing circulation, like a second essence flowing over their bones.
Ren waited.
He didn't rush them, simply standing under the clear sky, hands loosely clasped behind his back, like a man watching waves roll in.
When the last of them lowered their jade, he spoke again.
"Now," he said, "breathe."
He demonstrated once.
Inhale through the nose, true essence sinking with the breath. Exhale with a subtle twist of the diaphragm that nudged energy into the lower dantian, then spiraled it up along the spine before letting it fall again like a slow tide.
"On each breath," he said, "circulate according to the pattern you just memorized. If your chest feels tight, you're forcing it. If your head feels hot, you're rushing. If your blood seems to thicken and your skin tingles…"
The corner of his mouth quirked.
"…then you're doing it right."
A few disciples swallowed nervously.
"Begin."
True essence surged.
The drill ground, to outside eyes, stayed quiet. But beneath the surface, an invisible tide roared to life.
Some disciples stumbled almost immediately. Their Fire true essence rushed too quickly, crashing into acupoints like a herd of wild horses. They grimaced, faces flushing, breaths coming out ragged.
Ren's fingers twitched ever so slightly.
Around each struggling disciple, the ambient Fire attribute of heaven and earth… softened. Pressure eased, the flow smoothed. Many didn't even realize they had been guided; they only thought, bewildered, that the pattern suddenly "made sense."
For Murong Zi, Bai Jingyun, Qin Xingxuan, Na Yi, and Na Shui—who had already reached the peak of Fire Laws' first level—the feeling was deeper.
Murong Zi's breath settled into rhythm almost at once.
A vortex of heat coiled around her, invisible but tangible. Within her mind, the red-gold rune-wheel of her Fire Martial Intent unfolded wider, accepting the new pattern as if it had been waiting for this exact instruction. Each circulation etched a slightly clearer stroke into that wheel; with every breath, the lines grew sharper, the rotation smoother.
"Good," Ren called quietly. "Don't chase power. Let it sit. Let it sink."
Qin Xingxuan's meridians, honed by spear training and that night on the demonic island, carried Lantern-Heart's pattern with steady ease. Her Fire true essence traced the Diagram's paths, each pass shaving off a fragment of impurity, lightening her body. At the edge of her perception, the world's Flame Dao lines seemed a little less distant.
Bai Jingyun's sword intent wrapped itself around the flame in her dantian. For the first time, she felt Fire not as something that simply sharpened her blade, but as something that could refine her heart—burning away the last lingering residue of that invisible chain that had once bound her life to a contract.
Na Shui grimaced, sweat beading along her brow. Her breath kept wanting to race; her true essence crashed into her chest, making her feel as if she'd swallowed a coal.
"Too fast," Ren said mildly, without looking at her. "You're breathing like you're sprinting after a rabbit. Half the speed. Focus on the exhale; let the flame shrink and swell instead of explode."
She obeyed, cheeks puffing slightly, and felt the stabbing heat in her chest melt into a deep, steady warmth.
Na Yi's lashes trembled, but her expression stayed calm. Each breath carved another thin line into her bones. The Azure True Dragon Infinity Seed within her responded, its rules quietly adjusting. It folded the Lantern-Heart pattern into its own law, making that circulation part of her body's natural memory, like a dragon learning a new way to coil its body.
Time stretched.
On the elder platform, Qin Ziya watched the subtle shift in the drill ground's aura, heartbeat slowly calming.
This was… different from normal sect teachings.
Most elders in this kingdom would give a few vague words on "perseverance" and "insight," toss out a Fire technique, and tell disciples to figure it out by themselves. They would never risk guiding so many people, of different talents and realms, into contact with Laws all at once.
Ren was… brightly showing the path.
Under the subtle guidance of his Immortal Soul Bone and his comprehension of Fire at the third level of Concept, Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram adjusted in real time—gentle corrections to ambient Fire essence here, a slight direct pressure there, a single quiet word to one disciple, a sharp tap to another's shoulder.
Heavenly Abode disciples who had been stuck at the faintest, most rudimentary trace of Fire Laws for years suddenly inhaled and felt something click. Their Flame true essence, previously crude and formless, now condensed into thin, bright lines in their Spiritual Seas, distinct from ordinary origin energy.
An Earth Hall girl with mediocre talent, who had never dared dream of comprehending Laws at all, felt the heat in her body condense into a tiny, stubborn spark in her lower dantian. It didn't flare; it simply refused to go out, no matter how her breath wavered.
On the front row, Murong Zi's aura swelled.
Her Fire Laws, already at first-level peak, smoothed into a new, more refined pattern. The rune-wheel in her mind spun once, more sharply than before. Her Fire Martial Intent pressed outward, its Small Success foundation solidifying, as if a new layer of meaning had been forged around its core.
Qin Xingxuan's Fire intent, spear, and flame intertwined, slid a half-step closer to a realm that would let her directly sense Flame Dao lines in the world around her.
Bai Jingyun's eyes opened briefly, then closed again, a faint sheen of moisture at the corners—not from pain, but from a quiet exhilaration. Yesterday, Ren had shattered the chain above her; today, he was placing the first brick in her hand with which she could build her own path.
Na Shui's cheeks were flushed, but her breathing was steady, eyes focused. The usual playful glint had been replaced by a fierce determination.
Na Yi's lips curved, almost imperceptibly.
In each of them, Ren could see a different reason for this intensity.
Murong Zi wanted to spear Acacia Faction's face into the dirt again and again until they never dared look down on her.
Qin Xingxuan wanted to stand beside him in future storms, not behind him.
Bai Jingyun wanted to live a life written by her own sword, not by elders' signatures.
Na Shui and Na Yi… wanted to make sure that when he said "shoulder to shoulder," it wasn't just a pretty phrase.
Ling Sen, Zhu Yan, Ta Ku, the other Heavenly Abode disciples… each had their own reasons: pride, fear, gratitude, the simple desire to climb higher than anyone expected of them.
Whatever their motives, what mattered most was that their Dao Hearts were burning.
Ren's smile deepened slightly.
'Not bad,' he thought to himself. 'They're all taking to this better than the devils did the first time.'
For a flicker of a moment, an image crossed his mind—the Occult Research Club floating in a training dimension, dragons roaring, devils laughing and cursing, their Soul Palaces trembling under new laws.
He let the memory pass.
He raised his hand.
The small flame floating above the platform split.
Dozens of tiny red-gold sparks budded from its surface, then drifted outward like a gentle rain. They fell slowly, carried by a wind only Ren felt, and passed through foreheads, chests, and dantians, striking directly at the Fire Seeds Lantern-Heart had just awakened.
The disciples jolted as one.
In that instant, for each of them, the world changed slightly.
The afternoon sun felt warmer.
The distant smoke from the kitchen stoves seemed to carry structure, layers of heat and flow.
Even the warmth of their own breath held faint, comprehensible lines.
This was the threshold.
The first, trembling step into the world of Laws.
On the platform, Ren let his hand fall.
"In the coming days," he said, voice lazy again, "you're going to think this art is too simple. You'll get impatient. You'll want to jump ahead to flashy Flame techniques that split mountains and pierce clouds."
A ripple of embarrassed laughter moved through the crowd; even some elders felt their cheeks heat.
Ren smiled.
"If you do that," he said, tone suddenly dry, "you'll just light yourselves up like fireworks and call it 'cultivation.'"
Na Shui made a small strangled noise, ears reddening.
Ren ignored it.
"Carve this pattern into your bones," he said, voice turning serious, each word carrying weight. "When you can circulate it without thinking, when your breath naturally follows the Lantern rhythm even in sleep… then you're ready to progress to the second layer on your own."
He looked out over the sea of flushed faces, shining eyes, clenched fists.
"People who understand Laws stand on a different shore than those who don't," he said. "Today, you've put one foot in the water. Don't pull it back just because the river feels cold."
Qin Ziya's heart shook.
He could feel it clearly—the invisible line in cultivation that most of Sky Fortune's geniuses never managed to cross. Laws belonged to Xiantian in their minds, to transcendent beings in ancient stories.
But this man had just tossed a net into that distant river and dragged it closer to the shore, letting even Human Hall disciples wet their feet.
On the drill ground, some disciples felt tears prick at the corners of their eyes without knowing why.
Murong Zi opened her eyes.
Within her Spiritual Sea, the rune-wheel of Fire Martial Intent turned slowly, steady and proud. Its spokes were etched with the Lantern-Heart pattern, every stroke a promise to burn, to keep burning, in wind and storm.
Qin Xingxuan's grip on her spear tightened. In her mind's eye, the Flame Dao lines in the world no longer felt like an unreachable net above the sky, but like threads she might touch if she merely stretched far enough.
Bai Jingyun saw a future that wasn't a cold family hall, a contract, a carefully arranged marriage. She saw a blood-red sword cutting through flames, leaving a clean path behind.
Na Yi and Na Shui both felt their Azure True Dragon Infinity Seeds pulse in quiet harmony, their bodies remembering Ren's corrections, their bones already starting to store those first tiny Dao Fruits of perfect movement and perfect breath.
At the back of the crowd, some of the less talented disciples stood trembling.
They had never been picked for anything before. Their names were not recorded on any "top ten" stone tablets. Their families were poor; their talent, mediocre.
But as their true essence traced the Lantern-Heart pattern, their blood thickened, their skin tingled, and that stubborn spark in their dantians refused to die.
They realized that for the first time in their lives, the distance between themselves and "geniuses" had shrunk by a step.
Ren watched their faces.
The corners of his mouth lifted.