Blaze Clan Territory
High above a secluded valley saturated with fire-elemental energy, two figures floated cross-legged in the air, eyes closed, their auras restrained yet vast.
They were half-step Emperors.
Below them, the valley lay cradled by mountains on all sides save for a single narrow opening. Crimson-leafed trees stretched across the land like living embers, their leaves glowing faintly as fire-aspected qi pulsed through the soil. The air itself shimmered with heat, yet the atmosphere was strangely calm.
That calm was shattered with a sudden, thunderous rumble.
The valley quaked. Fire qi surged.
Both elders opened their eyes at once and turned toward the source.
"Lyra's breakthrough took longer than expected," one of them muttered.
The other nodded. "As it should."
The Apprentice Realm was the first true defining stage of a cultivator's life — the foundation upon which everything else was built. A flawed foundation meant limited potential, no matter how far one climbed later. That was why powerful clans spared no expense in nurturing their successors.
Millions of Merit Points. Rare herbs. Body-cleansing baths. Even prenatal refinement.
Lyra had received all of it.
As the seeded candidate for a future clan leader, she had been prepared since before birth. Her mother's diet alone had been worth more than most families would see in a lifetime.
A pillar of blazing orange energy erupted from deep within the valley, shooting skyward like a spear of flame. The heat distorted the air for miles.
The two elders descended immediately, landing before a stone chamber embedded in the valley wall.
They waited.
Moments later—
Boom.
The door burst open.
Lyra strode out.
Her hair flowed freely behind her, lifted by residual fire qi. Her eyes burned like sparks, and a glowing flame-pattern sigil shone at the center of her forehead before slowly fading beneath her skin.
The elders exchanged a look of approval.
"Let's head to the main hall," one said. "The envoy from the Royal Academy has arrived. Your parents and the Clan Leader are waiting."
Lyra nodded. "I'll have to trouble the two elders."
A gentle wave of qi wrapped around her, lifting her into the air as the elders took flight — one ahead, one behind. Even within Blaze Clan territory, her position as the Clan Leader's eldest granddaughter warranted caution.
They flew for nearly an hour.
A colossal city soon emerged on the horizon, encased within a translucent barrier that stretched for thousands of miles.
Blaze City.
The capital of the Blaze Clan. Home of the main lineage.
After presenting their tokens, they passed through the barrier and descended before a pristine white-marble hall. The elders landed softly and bowed toward the closed doors.
"Clan Leader," one announced, "we have brought the young lady."
"Come in," a voice replied.
The doors opened on their own.
Before Lyra had fully stepped inside, raised voices echoed through the hall.
A woman's sharp tone.
A man's voice, calm—but edged with irritation.
"…for the last time, Miss Silvia," the man said, "who my granddaughter likes — and where that person comes from — is none of your concern."
The hall was spacious and brightly lit, furnished with tasteful elegance.
At the front sat a man with black hair streaked with silver, lounging casually in a chair, one arm propped under his head. His clothes were simple — a t-shirt and jeans — yet the pressure he radiated was anything but.
Beside him sat a woman in a flowing dress, her hair pinned up with a golden butterfly hairpin. Her expression was tight, displeased.
"The academy slot was allocated to our clan under Federation rules," the man continued calmly. "You don't get to use it as leverage. And while we may not currently have a Saint, the Blaze Clan is not something you can walk over."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"And if you keep pestering me about making my granddaughter give up on someone she cares about, I will lose my patience."
Lyra's anger flared at the woman's earlier remarks—but the moment she heard her grandfather's words, her expression softened.
She walked in with a bright smile.
"Hi, Grandpa!"
The man's eyes flew open. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from his chair and appeared in front of her, ruffling her hair enthusiastically.
"How's my little girl?" he asked warmly. "Did the breakthrough go smoothly? Any trouble?"
"Grandpa!" Lyra protested, batting his hand away. "I told you not to do that! I'm not a child anymore!"
He laughed and ruffled her hair again. "Sure you aren't. You're very old now."
She pinched his arm. "You're making fun of me! I'm ignoring you!"
He pulled her into a brief hug, then examined her more closely, frowning slightly.
"Peak Apprentice Realm… you should've reached half-step Master by now."
His gaze sharpened knowingly. "You used that drop of essence blood for that boy, didn't you?"
Lyra lowered her head, cheeks warm, saying nothing.
A cough broke the moment.
Silvia, who had been standing stiffly nearby, cleared her throat.
Samuel turned. "Ah. Lyra, this is Silvia Rogers — Inner Elder of the Royal Academy. She'll be escorting you there and overseeing your registration."
Lyra bowed politely. "Elder Silvia."
Silvia smiled, though it was noticeably restrained. "A pleasure."
"We should depart," Silvia said after a pause. "We're already behind schedule."
Samuel turned serious. "Be careful out there, Lyra. Don't trust people too easily. The most treacherous thing in this world is the human heart — it can change in an instant."
He handed her a ring.
"There are lifesaving treasures inside. Three of them are clone crystals. If you're ever truly in danger, don't hesitate."
He smiled faintly. "That old ghost caught me gathering these and started lecturing me about Federation rules… but I convinced him."
Lyra narrowed her eyes. "You didn't beat up the Federation's Vice Chairman again, did you? If you did, I'm telling Grandma."
Samuel stiffened and grabbed her wrist. "C-come on now… it was just a few bruises. At our level, that's nothing. Don't tell her, alright?"
Lyra grinned. "Sure."
Silvia, still processing the implication that the Vice Chairman was on friendly terms with this man, quickly recovered and gestured toward the exit.
The two departed together, heading toward the Imperial Capital—
Toward the Royal Academy.
And toward the next stage of Lyra Blaze's path.
.................
The forest thinned.
That was the first sign.
Stephen felt it before he saw it—the subtle shift in air pressure, the way the dense canopy began to loosen, moonlight spilling through wider gaps between branches. The oppressive presence of the Black Forest receded behind him, its snarls and distant roars fading into something muted, almost reluctant.
He slowed at last, landing silently on a thick branch and crouching there, chest rising and falling in measured breaths.
Ahead, the land dipped.
White Moon Valley.
From this distance, it looked deceptively serene. Pale mist clung to the low ground, glowing faintly under moonlight like scattered silver dust. Smooth stone ridges curved around the valley's perimeter, etched with old formation marks—weathered, but unmistakably deliberate. Someone had shaped this place long ago.
Stephen wiped sweat from his brow and steadied himself.
His body ached in that deep, honest way that came only after surviving too much in too little time. Cuts lined his arms beneath torn sleeves. His meridians throbbed faintly, stretched close to their limit.
He glanced back once, toward the forest he'd just escaped.
Only then did he let go of the breath he had been holding.
"The exam starts at dawn," he murmured. "I made it."
The words felt unreal.
Hours ago, he'd been running for his life—bleeding, hunted, cornered by Masters and beasts alike. Now, the valley lay before him.
Stephen dropped from the tree and moved cautiously downhill, keeping to the shadows. The ground here was different—firmer, smoother, with traces of refined stone beneath the soil. Formation work, he realized. Not aggressive, but stabilizing. Enough to suppress rampant beast qi.
That explained the calm.
At the valley's edge, scattered lights flickered—temporary encampments, tents, low fires ringed by stone. Silhouettes moved quietly within them. Other examinees.
Some cultivated.
Some rested.
Some stood watch, wary even now.
Stephen didn't approach.
Instead, he found a secluded rise overlooking the valley and sat down heavily against a slab of pale stone. He pulled out the last piece of dried fruit from his pouch and chewed slowly, eyes half-lidded as he observed the terrain.
Three cities' worth of candidates, he reminded himself.
Ironveil.
Earth Mountain.
Sword Cloud.
Geniuses. Clan heirs. Backed talents.
And him.
A boy with no noticeable background to speak of.
Stephen clenched his fist, then relaxed it.
No.
Not just that.
He had survived the rift.
Outrun Masters.
Stood before Grandmaster beasts and lived.
He had endured.
His gaze drifted to the pale mist drifting through White Moon Valley, illuminated softly by moonlight.
Whatever awaited him tomorrow—rankings, trials, danger—it would be faced head-on.
Stephen closed his eyes and began circulating Breath of the Azure Phoenix.
Above him, the moon slid higher.
Across the world, Lyra Blaze was flying toward the capital.
And here, at the threshold of the next trial, Stephen Stormcloud prepared to take his next step—unaware that White Moon Valley would mark the true beginning of everything.