Jalen Lin stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind tugging at his white hair. Red and black threads of his mother's memory stirred in his chest, but he smiled. It's time.
At eighteen, he had reached the Golden Core stage—a prodigy among prodigies. Every move he had ever seen, every skill he had ever tried, he had mastered. The flute at his side was the only thing he carried for comfort; the rest was skill, cunning, and determination.
Believing that he was ready, he activated the rift technique his parents had left in his mind. A tear in space shimmered before him, and Jalen stepped through.
On the other side lay Tyven—a planet torn by endless war, a place many had tried and failed to conquer. He didn't fear it. He would lead it. He would rebuild it, and then go on to claim what was rightfully his, and when the time came, find his brother.
The first step of his journey had begun.
Tyven's air was heavy with smoke and blood. The moment Jalen stepped through the rift, the sound of battle filled his ears—shouts, steel clashing, someone screaming for help.
He stood on a rocky hill overlooking a dirt road below. A group of assassins chased a carriage through the valley, blades flashing. Their target, a young man in silver robes, barely held them off with a trembling sword.
Jalen sighed, pulling his flute from his belt. "First day here, and it's already noisy."
He leapt down the hill, landing in front of the assassins with ease. The ground cracked under his feet, dust rising around him.
"Move," one assassin snarled, swinging his blade.
Jalen sidestepped, caught the man's wrist, and twisted. The assassin's arm broke with a sharp crack. Jalen pushed him aside and blew a single note on his flute. The sound rippled through the air—gentle, almost beautiful—until the three remaining assassins dropped, their cores shattered from within.
The young man stared, wide-eyed. "You—who are you?"
Jalen turned slightly, smirking beneath the breeze. "No one special. Just someone passing through."
He walked away as the bodies fell behind him, the red and black of his robe fluttering in the smoke.
The young man hurried after him, clutching his bleeding arm. "Wait! You saved my life—I can't just let you walk away."
Jalen didn't stop. "Then don't follow. Stay alive, and we'll call it even."
"I'm Ren Tao, heir to the Tao Clan," the young man said quickly. "Those assassins were from the Scarlet Faction. They won't stop until my clan is gone. You stepped in—they'll come for you next."
Jalen turned slightly, his tone calm. "Scarlet Faction, huh? Sounds like a headache."
Ren nodded grimly. "It's worse than that. Tyven is tearing itself apart. Every clan's fighting for control of the Spirit Wells that appeared last winter. My clan's surrounded on all sides. We could use someone like you."
At the mention of Spirit Wells, something flickered behind Jalen's eyes—his parents' voices, the memory of glowing water under crimson skies. "Spirit Wells," he murmured. "Looks like fate hasn't run out of surprises."
"You know of them?" Ren asked.
"Enough to be interested," Jalen said. A faint grin curved his lips. "Fine. Take me to your clan. I'll see what kind of world I've landed in."
Ren exhaled, relief softening his features. "The Tao Clan will welcome your strength. We may be weakened, but not broken."
Jalen adjusted the flute at his side and followed, the red and black of his robes shifting with the wind. "Let's hope your clan's smarter than your enemies."
As they walked toward the smoke rising on the horizon, Jalen glanced at the fractured landscape and smiled to himself.
A world drowning in war. A good place to make a name for myself.
The Tao Clan's stronghold came into view by dusk—a collection of stone halls surrounded by broken walls and tired guards. The banners were torn, the air heavy with defeat.
As Ren led Jalen through the gates, whispers followed them. Clan members stared at the white-haired stranger beside their young master.
Before they reached the courtyard, three men stepped out from a nearby pavilion. They were around Ren's age, dressed in better robes but carrying smug looks.
"Well, look who crawled back," one sneered. "We thought the Scarlet dogs had finally finished you."
Another chuckled. "You should've stayed gone, Ren. The elders already decided—you're not fit to lead with that weak cultivation of yours."
Ren stopped, fists clenched but silent.
Jalen tilted his head, studying them. "You're his clanmates?"
The tallest of the cousins sneered. "Cousins. Real heirs of the Tao bloodline. Not that it's your business."
Jalen's gaze turned flat. "Are you not the Young Master of this clan?" he asked Ren.
"Yes," Ren answered quietly, confusion flickering across his face.
Jalen furrowed his brows. A deep, invisible pressure filled the air. The cousins froze where they stood, faces draining of color as the weight pressed down on them like a mountain.
"Then," Jalen said softly, "is that how you speak to your Young Master?"
The men dropped to their knees, gasping for breath.
Jalen turned away from them as if nothing had happened. "Let's go," he said. "Take me to your clan leader."
Ren nodded quickly, still glancing back at his cousins—now trembling and unable to rise. As they continued toward the main hall, whispers followed in their wake.
The main hall of the Tao Clan was large but dim. Cracked lanterns hung from the beams, and the air smelled faintly of medicine and dust. The once-grand banners of the clan drooped like tired spirits.
At the end of the hall sat an older man with streaks of gray in his hair, his face pale and eyes sharp despite the weakness in his frame. He leaned heavily on the armrest of his chair, trying not to show the pain.
"Father," Ren said, kneeling. "I've returned."
The clan leader, Tao Jian, studied his son for a long moment before speaking. "You survived the Scarlet Faction's hunt. That alone is something." His gaze shifted to Jalen. "And who is this?"
"Jalen Lin," Jalen said simply. "A traveler who stepped in when your son was outnumbered."
Tao Jian gave a faint nod. "Then we owe you our thanks. Though I warn you, traveler, the Tao Clan is not what it once was. You won't find wealth or comfort here—only trouble."
"I've seen worse," Jalen replied, his tone calm. His eyes, however, lingered on the faint spiritual cracks spreading through the air near Tao Jian's chest. "Your condition… from a failed breakthrough?"
Tao Jian's expression hardened. "You can tell?"
Jalen stepped closer. "Your meridians are fractured, and your dantian is leaking energy. Left untreated, you'll lose your cultivation within months."
A murmur spread through the few elders standing nearby.
Ren turned to Jalen, startled. "Can you help him?"
"I can," Jalen said, as if it were obvious. "But I'll need access to your clan's Spirit Well and a few ingredients. In return, I want information—about Tyven, its factions, and every conflict tied to the Spirit Wells."
Tao Jian's eyes narrowed, studying him. "You speak boldly for an outsider."
"I speak from ability," Jalen said evenly. "You can test that, or you can stand by and fade like the rest."
For a long moment, silence filled the hall. Then Tao Jian gave a faint, weary smile. "You remind me of someone I once knew. Very well, Jalen Lin. The Tao Clan accepts your offer."
Jalen nodded once, turning toward Ren. "Prepare the well and the herbs. Your father won't last long without treatment."
As he left the hall, whispers followed him again.This time, they weren't mocking.
Ren led Jalen through the inner courtyard toward the heart of the Tao compound. Two guards stood at the entrance to an underground passage, their expressions wary. When they saw Ren, they bowed lightly, though confusion flickered across their faces at the sight of the white-haired stranger beside him.
At the bottom of the passage lay the Spirit Well—a pool of luminous blue water pulsing with gentle light. Even in its weakened state, the air hummed with spiritual energy.
Ren stopped at the edge. "This is what remains of our well," he said quietly. "It used to feed half the clan's cultivators. Now, it can barely heal a flesh wound."
Jalen crouched and ran a hand through the air above the surface. Tiny ripples formed, following his movement. "The well isn't dying," he said. "It's sealed."
"Sealed?" Ren asked.
Jalen nodded. "Whoever attacked you wanted the Tao Clan powerless. They damaged your father's cultivation and blocked the well's natural flow."
Ren frowned, uncertain. "Can it be fixed?"
"It can," Jalen said, dipping his finger into the water. The faint glow around his hand shifted from blue to crimson, and the surface began to swirl faster. "But first, I'll show you something else."
He gestured toward Ren. "Sit."
Ren blinked. "Me?"
"Yes, you," Jalen said. "Your Qi Network is a mess—too many rough edges from poor foundation techniques. You'll never reach the next realm like that."
Ren hesitated, then obeyed. Jalen placed two fingers on his back, and threads of golden light seeped into Ren's body. The Spirit Well began to react, its surface glowing brighter, as if pulled toward Jalen's presence.
Ren gasped, feeling warmth flood through his meridians. The pain that had always lingered during cultivation vanished, replaced by a smooth, flowing current. The pressure in the room shifted—Ren's aura rose sharply.
From behind them, Tao Jian watched, leaning weakly against the doorway. His eyes widened as his son's spiritual energy stabilized before his eyes.
In a matter of moments, the process ended. Jalen stood, brushing off his hands as the Spirit Well settled into calm ripples once again.
"There," Jalen said. "Your Qi Network's been reshaped. You'll find it easier to circulate energy now."
Ren looked down at his hands, stunned. "It feels... clear. Like I've been suffocating all my life and just started breathing."
Tao Jian stepped forward slowly, awe mixing with gratitude. "To reshape another's Qi Network without damage... only an expert in internal arts could attempt such a thing. Who exactly are you, Jalen Lin?"
Jalen turned, his expression calm but eyes sharp. "Someone who intends to restore balance to this world. But first, let's start with your clan."
Ren's eyes widened as Jalen listed the ingredients. "Whale Petal roots, Tier 2 Fire Crystal, and a large cauldron," he repeated, already thinking through their stores. "We have cauldrons in the alchemy hall, but the other two…" His voice trailed off.
Jalen glanced toward him. "The Whale Petal roots grow along water veins, especially near untouched spirit ponds. You may still have some in your southern forest, if poachers haven't stripped it clean."
Ren grimaced. "That forest's been contested for months. And the Fire Crystal… the only place to buy one is in Ole Gard. But the merchants there—" He hesitated. "They've refused to trade with us since my father's injury. They say the Tao Clan is finished."
Jalen's expression didn't change. His silver eyes reflected the flickering lantern light—cold, steady, and full of quiet command. "Then I will make them."
A faint tremor rippled through the room, as though his words carried weight beyond mortal sound. Ren stared at him in awe.
"Prepare your men," Jalen continued calmly. "Have a cauldron ready in your main hall by my return. I'll fetch the Fire Crystal myself." He turned toward the open courtyard, his white hair glinting beneath the moon. "You will search the southern forest for the roots. If you find them, keep them sealed in a jade box to preserve their potency."
Ren bowed deeply, his earlier doubt replaced by conviction. "Yes, senior. I will not fail."
Jalen paused at the edge of the doorway. "Failure isn't what concerns me," he said, his tone soft but sharp. "Loyalty is."
Ren's spine stiffened as Jalen stepped out into the night, a strange current of energy rippling through the Tao Clan grounds—as if the heavens themselves had taken notice of the prince who had descended to Tyven.