The world returned with a rush of sound.
Wind, fresh and cold, washed across Necro's face, carrying the scents of pine resin and mountain stone. His feet found solid ground, the polished jade tiles of the Sacred Azure Sect's outer platform, ringed by floating lanterns that danced on the wind. Beyond the railings, clouds rolled like white seas, parting occasionally to reveal jagged mountain peaks rising from the mist.
A semicircle of disciples stood there, clad in azure robes embroidered with the mark of the Sacred Azure Sect, each with a different expression—shock, awe, curiosity, and, in some, poorly hidden envy.
San Xianying, his robes fluttering in the cold wind, beamed at him, his youthful face flushed with excitement, his eyes bright like twin stars.
"Congratulations on passing every test, Junior Brother!" he said, clapping his hands once, the clear sound echoing across the platform.
