NOTE- Talent is a lie. Fate is a chain. Those who break it must be ready to bleed.
The village awoke slowly beneath the soft light of dawn. Smoke curled from chimneys, hens clucked in the yard, and the wind carried the scent of wet earth and pine. I ran barefoot across the cobblestones, the hem of my robe damp with morning dew. My name was Linfeng, though for the first years of my life, it felt no heavier than the whisper of wind.
I was an orphan, raised by Old Granny Mei, a quiet woman whose back was bent from decades of labor. She scolded gently, fed me warm rice porridge, mended my clothes, and often sat with me under the plum tree in our yard.
"Linfeng," she said one morning as I chased a chicken into the garden, "the world is bigger than this yard. Bigger than the hills. One day, you must decide what you want to reach for."
"I want to be strong!" I shouted, feathers flying in every direction.
Her eyes softened. "Strength is not just in your arm. Strength can protect, or it can destroy. Choose wisely, little one."
I did not understand then. To me, strength was simple: it was the ability to stand taller than others, to never be mocked, to never be helpless.
Years passed quietly. I learned to run, climb, lift heavy stones, and wield a stick as a makeshift sword. I raced other children, wrestled goats, and carried water from the stream for Granny Mei. Life was peaceful, structured, and safe. Yet inside me, a spark glimmered — a restless ember that whispered there was more to the world than mud, stone, and hearth.
Legends surrounded the Azure Cliff, whose peak pierced clouds even in summer. Mortals respected it with awe and fear. Martial artists, they said, lived within the cliffs, moving as if the air itself bent to their will. Some called them ghosts who demanded obedience from mortals. I listened to these stories by the fire, imagining faces I would never see and powers I could not comprehend.
The morning the recruitment came, I was ten. Villagers gathered at the mountain base, whispers rising like wind. Drums echoed through the valley. Boys and girls from surrounding settlements were being selected for Azure Cliff Martial Hall, where masters were said to carve mortals into warriors.
Old Granny Mei's hand rested on my shoulder, her knuckles white from gripping my robe. Her eyes, lined with decades of worry, searched mine.
"Linfeng… the path is steep, the masters unforgiving. Are you certain you want this?" she asked, voice trembling slightly.
"I… I will endure, Granny," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.
Her eyes softened, but a shadow of fear lingered. "You are small, Linfeng… so small. Do not hide from them, do not falter, but… promise me, come back if it becomes too much. Promise me you will not throw your life away for pride."
"I promise," I said, though my heart thundered. Her hands released me slowly, the warmth fading as I began my climb. Every step felt heavier, carrying both her hopes and her fears.
The path was steep, cobbled with uneven stones, slick from rain. My legs ached, my lungs burned, yet I climbed, eyes fixed on the massive gates looming above.
Master Shen stood at the threshold, tall, broad-shouldered, face etched with storms weathered and victories earned. His gaze scanned the children like a hawk circling prey.
"Step forward, boy," he said, voice firm.
I did, gripping my wooden staff. Other boys towered over me, confident and skilled. Some laughed softly at my small frame. I did not speak. I only met Master Shen's gaze.
"Why do you wish to join?" he asked.
"I… I want to be strong. To never be helpless again," I whispered.
"Strength?" he repeated, tilting his head. "Do you know what that costs?"
"I… I will endure," I said, not yet knowing the depth of the word.
The trials began.
First, the stone path — narrow, slick, disappearing into clouds. Each child had to cross without faltering. One misstep meant falling into nets below, bruised and shamed.
I stepped forward. My legs trembled. Around me, other children moved with ease, some laughing, some cursing. My heart pounded. One slip — a stone underfoot — sent me sliding toward the edge. Hands scraped stone, blood mixing with mud. I inhaled sharply, forcing myself upright.
For a brief moment, my blood-red eyes flared, a spark of instinct and fury. Muscles reacted faster than thought. I found my footing. A murmur ran through the masters.
"Unusual," Master Shen muttered.
Next came combat drills. We faced older students, each strike a torrent of force and precision. I was small, weak, yet I moved with intent. Each step measured. Each strike deliberate. Tao, a tall, gifted boy, moved effortlessly, but I adapted, stumbling yet learning.
"Watch him!" someone shouted as I dodged a wild swing.
My staff became an extension of my will. My movements clumsy at first, gradually found rhythm. By the end, my arms shook, my chest burned, and my sweat mingled with rain. And yet I stood.
"Why do you endure when talent is scarce?" the black-haired woman asked, her eyes sharp.
"Because I must," I said simply. Words tasted of iron.
"Endure… but at what cost?" she whispered.
The final trial tested observation and reflex. Stones hurled, staffs swung, commands shouted. Many children fell immediately. I stumbled, dodged, staggered — and then, instinct took over. My staff moved with uncanny precision. A stone came hurtling toward me; my blood-red eyes flared, and I struck it midair, shattering it against the ledge.
Silence fell. The wind stilled. My heart pounded — fear, exhilaration, and a hint of something deeper, dormant, awakening.
Master Shen descended the steps. Cane tapping stone. "This boy survives not because of talent, but because of will. Untrained, unpolished… yet persistent. He is accepted."
I fell to my knees, shaking, exhilarated. The Hall loomed around me like a living being, echoing centuries of sweat, discipline, and ambition. I had crossed the first threshold.
That night, as children slept, clouds churned above the cliffs. A silver light sliced through the darkness. I stepped onto the balcony, staring upward.
The wind whispered my name: "Linfeng…"
My blood-red eyes widened. A shadow moved across the clouds — immense, unseen, and ancient. My heart thumped with fear and anticipation.
The Hall was only the beginning. Something beyond the skies had marked me.
And for the first time, I felt the weight of a destiny that was no longer mine alone.