Morning light slanted across the polished stone of the Forging Hall's lecture hall, its tiered seating already filled before Haotian even arrived. Apprentices, journeyman smiths, senior crafters — all craned their necks when he stepped in.
At the front row, Lianhua was already waiting. She sat dead center, hands folded neatly in her lap, but the slight quirk of her lips told him she had plans beyond just listening.
Haotian set his notes aside and began without preamble, voice steady. He spoke of qi-flow resonance in forging, how runes should be layered to match the metal's spirit, and how formations could be integrated directly into the forging process to stabilize difficult constructs.
From the start, Lianhua's eyes never left him. When he explained heat distribution patterns with clean precision, she tilted her head slightly, studying him more than the diagrams. When he described rune-engraving techniques, she gave him a faint, teasing smile — the kind meant to poke at his focus without a word.
Haotian kept his voice even, though the corners of his mind felt the pressure of her gaze.
Questions and Realizations
When he reached the end of his prepared material, Haotian paused. "Questions? Clarifications?"
Hands shot up across the room. He chose randomly, answering each with measured detail — about mixed-material weapon balance, rune stability in extreme climates, and forging under battlefield conditions.
But as the questions came, a thought struck him: I haven't set foot in the Forging Hall's own library yet. Without those specialized references, he was pulling entirely from memory and the golden texts. If he could study their archives, his lectures could be sharper — with examples pulled directly from the hall's own recorded cases.
Closing and Departure
By noon, he wrapped up. "We'll hold the next session in three days. Bring your toughest questions."
He caught Lianhua's eye and gave a small signal. She rose immediately, falling into step with him as they left through the side passage.
Outside, the hall's noise faded into the open air. "Lunch?" he asked.
She smiled. "Lunch."
They walked together toward the dining hall, the warmth of the midday sun spilling over the stone paths — forging knowledge and quiet companionship blending without rush.
After their meal, Haotian and Lianhua lingered for a moment beneath the shade of a tall cypress near the dining hall steps.
"I'm going to the Forging Hall's library this afternoon," he said, adjusting the strap of the satchel on his shoulder. "Just so you know where I am. I won't vanish."
Lianhua blinked, then smiled — a small, warm expression that softened her usual sharpness. "You've grown a little." She tilted her head slightly. "Thank you for telling me."
Haotian inclined his head. "It's only fair."
Forging Hall– Library Entrance
The library sat deeper within the Hall's grounds, a long, low building with copper-clad doors that glimmered in the afternoon light. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oil, parchment, and faint metallic tang — the aroma of centuries of recorded craft.
A senior attendant rose from behind a broad oak desk. "Disciple Haotian. Forgemaster has authorized your access to the second-tier stacks. Any material you remove must be handled under supervision."
Haotian nodded and stepped into the aisles. Shelves towered above him, lined with scrolls bound in black leather, manuals marked with gold stamping, and boxed blueprint sets for specialized weapons and armor.
The Search Begins
The Eyes of the Universe lit faintly as he scanned the shelves, pulling volumes on rare alloy forging, rune integration into high-tension weapons, and records of experimental projects that had failed — their mistakes offering as much value as their successes.
He carried the first stack to a long table by the window and began to read, golden script peeling off each page into the vast shelves of the Golden Text Library within his mind. Every diagram, every note on heat ratios, every detail of qi-conductive materials found a place.
This would be the foundation for his next lecture — and perhaps more than that.
Halfway through an ancient volume bound in cracked black leather, Haotian's brush paused mid-note. The page detailed a Qi-Synergy Forging Method — a process that bound multiple sets of gear together through a shared formation core, allowing their qi flows to resonate across wearers in combat.
He immediately thought of Lianhua, the guards, Yueying, and Xiaoque. In theory, this technique could let their armor and weapons react to each other — boosting defense when one was struck, amplifying speed when another attacked, even sharing energy reserves in an extended fight.
His fingers tapped the margin. It was ambitious, even risky… but worth attempting. Just not yet. The sect master's lecture requirement came first.
Haotian closed the book with deliberate care, sliding it into his growing stack of references. For now, it would remain in the vault of plans in his mind.
Three Days Later – Forging Hall Lecture Hall
The seats were full again, and this time the hum in the air wasn't just curiosity — it was expectation. Lianhua sat in the same spot as before, though this time she wasn't teasing him. She watched, calm and intent, as Haotian began.
His tone flowed evenly, the pacing natural. Every concept he introduced came with a clear example, each supported by direct references from the Forging Hall's own archives. He cited alloy ratios from the Nine Metals Compendium, rune stability patterns from The Silver Seal Codex, and even failures documented in The Tempering Ledger to show how mistakes could be turned into breakthroughs.
Q&A Mastery
When the questions came, his answers carried not only technical clarity but the weight of precedent. "In case study 147-B, they solved that exact problem by…" he would begin, weaving in details from the archives so precisely that even senior forgers leaned forward in interest.
By the end, there was no mistaking it — Haotian wasn't just passing along ideas; he was expanding the hall's collective understanding.
When the session ended, the hall rose in respectful applause. Lianhua smiled faintly as he stepped down, meeting his gaze without a word.
Two days after his forging lecture, Haotian found himself standing at the entrance of the Alchemy Hall's grand lecture hall — Elder Yao at his side, grinning like a man who had just secured an unshakable victory.
"You didn't really give me a choice," Haotian muttered.
"You can thank me later," Elder Yao replied without shame. "Or curse me. Either way, you're here."
The hall was overflowing. Rows of disciples, journeyman alchemists, and even senior elders filled the tiered seats. The scent of herbs and faint medicinal smoke clung to the air, the usual background fragrance of the hall.
Haotian stepped to the lectern, brushing a hand once over the smooth surface before speaking.
The Lecture
From the first sentence, his delivery was sharp and deliberate. He walked them through advanced refining sequences, qi-flow management inside the cauldron, and timing adjustments for volatile ingredients. Every point he made tied back to a text from the Alchemy Hall's own archives, ensuring his authority was grounded in their shared resources.
He didn't embellish. He didn't need to. The clarity of his method was enough to hold the room.
The Question
When the time for questions came, hands started to rise — but Elder Yao was already standing. His voice cut through the low murmur: "Formations and runes. Tell them everything."
It was the question everyone had been holding back, the one whispered about since Elder Yao's first frantic reports. The room stilled, all eyes fixed on Haotian.
He nodded once, as though he had been expecting it.
The Explanation
"Formations," he began, "are frameworks. They direct the flow of qi — gathering it, stabilizing it, or redirecting it — to support the refining process. In pill crafting, a chi-gathering formation ensures every particle of spiritual energy from the environment is drawn into the cauldron, supplementing the base power of the ingredients themselves."
He paused, letting that sink in before continuing.
"Runes are amplifiers. When engraved on a pill, they change its interaction with qi — increasing potency, stabilizing effects, or extending duration. The runes I used on Yueying and Xiaoque's pills increased their efficiency by thirty percent. Not through more herbs or higher heat, but through precision inscription."
He looked across the hall, voice calm but unwavering. "Using the two together — formation for refinement, rune for application — makes the process both more effective and more efficient. That is why I can produce more pills, of higher quality, than the standard method allows. It is not trickery. It is proper synergy."
A long silence followed, not of doubt, but of minds trying to reconcile the implications. Even the most senior elders leaned forward, as if trying to catch more than his words — to catch the logic behind them.
Elder Yao's grin widened.
The moment Haotian stepped down from the lectern, the Alchemy Hall was in uproar. Disciples whispered to each other, scribbling notes; elders huddled in tight groups, debating whether his integration of formations and runes could be standardized. One junior instructor muttered, "If this is true, we've been wasting centuries of potential."
By evening, the sect master received his third formal report in as many weeks about "disciplinary interest" in Haotian — this time from the Alchemy Hall. His sigh echoed in the hall as he read it.
Three Days Later – Alchemy Lecture, Part Two
The room was packed again. Lianhua claimed her usual seat in the front row, one leg crossed over the other, her eyes fixed on Haotian even as murmurs buzzed behind her.
Before he could open his mouth, an elder in green robes stood. "Can you explain more about formations and runes?"
Another, a stocky man with streaks of white in his hair, rose immediately after. "Better yet — can you demonstrate them?"
Haotian glanced between them, then nodded. "Yes to both. But not here. This hall isn't suited for clear observation."
Training Grounds – The Demonstration
A large cauldron was set in the open center of the grounds, its bronze sides gleaming under the midday sun. Elders, instructors, and disciples ringed the field.
Haotian stood before them, rolling back his sleeves. "First, the formations. There are countless types — each designed for a purpose: gathering qi, isolating impurities, stabilizing volatile blends, and more. Their structure can be as simple as three interlocking nodes, or as complex as multi-layered, self-correcting arrays."
With a sweep of his hand, he began to draw in the air. Lines of chi flared into existence, linking together into a shimmering geometric lattice. Then another, more intricate, its lines bending into spirals that twisted around a central core.
"These," he continued, "are advanced variants — each with its own rhythm and function. A formation is only as effective as its compatibility with the task at hand."
Next came the runes. He traced smaller symbols into the air, each one pulsing briefly before fading. "Runes are tailored instructions for qi. They can alter flow, amplify effect, or preserve potency. Where formations are the stage, runes are the actors."
The Refinement
Satisfied that they were following, Haotian stepped to the cauldron. "I will now refine a pill of my own design — the Detoxifying Jade Pill, created for my ancestors."
He set the ingredients in sequence, the chi-gathering formation flaring to life beneath the cauldron. The air grew thick with spiritual energy as it was pulled inward, the cauldron's surface etched with glowing lines. When the mixture reached its most unstable point, he activated the stabilizing array, then began engraving runes into the forming pills mid-refinement.
The spectators leaned in, breaths held, as the pills rolled free — each one flawless, each rune glinting faintly in the sunlight.
Haotian held up one of the freshly formed pills, the faint green glow of its runes catching the light.
"This is the Detoxifying Jade Pill," he said, his tone even but carrying across the training grounds. "It purges residual toxins, dissolves hidden impurities in the meridians, and restores vitality to depleted qi channels. Used properly, it can roll back years of accumulated damage. On rare occasions, it can even reverse the physical toll of aging."
A low murmur swept through the gathered crowd — elders exchanging glances, disciples leaning forward as though hoping to catch an unspoken secret in his words.
The Ripples Begin
By the time the demonstration ended, the story was already spreading beyond the Alchemy Hall. The Martial Hall heard first, then the Beast Handling and Forging halls, each adding their own color to the account. "Flawless refinement," some said. "Runes on the pills," others whispered. "A pill that can restore youth," spread the most quickly of all.
The sect master called an immediate meeting in the upper council chamber.
Sect Master's Hall – Council Meeting
"I'll say this once more," the sect master began, voice flat. "We are not going to drag Haotian into another round of hall infighting. This matter is closed."
The room was quiet — until one of the elder archivists leaned forward. "Sect master… there's a matter you might want to consider before closing it."
An uneasy stillness filled the chamber. "News reached us from the central provinces some months ago," the archivist continued. "Four elders of the Zhenlong household — presumed at death's door — regained their youth and cultivation vigor after consuming a certain detoxifying pill."
Another elder frowned. "You're saying this… pill…"
"Yes," the archivist said, eyes narrowing, "matches the one we just saw Haotian refine."
A longer pause followed, then another voice — low, careful. "If that is true… is this Haotian of the Zhenlong household? The same line rumored to have an ancestor in the Emperor Realm… the one who endured the Golden Lightning Tribulation?"
The sect master's fingers drummed once on the armrest, his expression unreadable. "We will not act on speculation," he said at last, though his gaze had shifted — colder, sharper — as if he were already weighing the implications.
Haotian walked back toward his quarters, the familiar path shaded by the evening light. Yet something felt… off. Disciples he passed glanced at him too long, some whispering behind cupped hands, others bowing with unusual formality.
Lianhua was waiting outside. Her eyes narrowed immediately. "They're looking at you strangely. Did something happen while you were out?"
Before he could answer, two outer disciples approached and bowed. "Disciple Haotian, the sect master requests your presence in the main hall."
Haotian nodded once and followed without hesitation.
Main Hall – Council Assembled
The great doors opened onto a hall already thick with presence. Every elder seat was filled. The sect master sat high on the dais, his gaze steady.
Haotian stepped forward, cupping his hands in formal salute. "Reporting to sect master."
The sect master didn't circle the matter. "Are you of the Zhenlong household?"
Haotian's answer came without hesitation. "Yes."
The elders exchanged glances — some startled, others grim — at the open confirmation.
The sect master leaned forward slightly. "And the matter of the Golden Lightning — the day an ancestor of Emperor Realm cultivation stood against it to save a descendant?"
Haotian paused only to gather the memory. "I was told of such an incident. I do not know every detail. But I do know that during a golden lightning tribulation, an elder ancestor came to rescue me. Yes, it happened."
A ripple of shock ran through the elders — even those usually composed.
The Question of Purpose
The sect master's voice lowered, almost measured. "Then tell us — why are you here?"
Haotian's reply was clear, his tone steady. "To learn. To gain knowledge — particularly in formations and runes. My ancestors told me only sects guard such books, and so I came. I am a seeker of knowledge… and a lover of books. I have no other intentions beyond that."
The words settled into the hall. The sect master studied him for a long moment — weighing whether this was truth or a careful mask. But in Haotian's gaze, he saw no guile — only certainty.
The main hall was silent but for the faint creak of the great doors in the wind. Every elder's gaze flickered between the sect master and Haotian, waiting for the first word to break the tension.
The sect master leaned back in his seat, fingers steepled. "The Zhenlong household… few in this hall need reminding of its legacy. Fewer still need reminding of the Emperor Realm cultivator who weathered the Golden Lightning. And yet—" his gaze fixed on Haotian "—you came to us not with banners and claims, but with books and questions."
Several elders shifted in their seats. Some looked uneasy, others openly calculating.
"This," the sect master continued, "is both unusual and… refreshing." He let the word linger. "But lineage, however illustrious, will not change your standing here — not without merit in the Martial Path. You joined as an outer disciple, and you will remain so until your strength warrants more."
He raised a hand before any elder could object. "However… your access to the third and fourth floors of the library stands. And you will continue your lectures for all halls as agreed. If your skill elevates you, so will your rank. Not before."
A murmur passed through the elders — some satisfied at the fairness, others clearly disappointed they could not use Haotian's heritage to bolster their own agendas.
The Closing
The sect master's eyes met Haotian's once more. "Your family name will remain known only to this council, unless you choose otherwise. In the Burning Sun Sect, your work will speak louder than your bloodline. Do you accept these terms?"
Haotian cupped his hands. "I accept."
The sect master gave a short nod. "Then this matter is closed."
With that, the tension in the hall broke. Elders began to rise, conversations starting in low tones. Haotian turned to leave, his expression as calm as when he had arrived.
The heavy doors of the main hall closed behind him, muting the murmurs of the elders. On the steps below, Lianhua stood waiting, arms crossed but eyes sharp with curiosity.
"Well?" she asked.
Haotian's expression was unreadable. "I'll explain on the way back."
They walked together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone path. Haotian spoke simply, recounting the sect master's direct questions — his admission of belonging to the Zhenlong household, the mention of the Golden Lightning incident, and his stated purpose for joining the sect.
At each point, Lianhua's eyes widened. "They asked you that?" she muttered, shaking her head. When he mentioned the Golden Lightning, she stopped mid-step, staring at him.
"You really don't know, do you?" she said slowly.
Haotian frowned. "Know what?"
"That the one who weathered that Golden Lightning Tribulation… was you."
He blinked at her. "…Me?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "And they didn't even ask the most important question — why there was a golden lightning tribulation in the first place. It happened because you broke through to the Core Condensation realm. That kind of breakthrough at your stage… it triggered the heavens themselves."
They walked on in silence for a few moments, her words hanging between them. But as they neared their quarters, a shadow of worry passed over Lianhua's face.
"If breaking through to Core Condensation caused that," she said quietly, "what happens when you reach the next realm? Will it bring down something even worse?"
Haotian didn't answer right away — but the flicker of thought in his eyes showed the question had taken root.
The moon hung low over the sect's courtyards, its pale light pooling across the flagstones. Most of the sect slept, but in a small room tucked away in the Martial Hall quarters, Haotian sat cross-legged at his desk.
Lianhua's words echoed in his mind — What happens when you reach the next realm?
He exhaled slowly, unfurling a blank scroll. His brush moved with quiet precision, sketching the rough outlines of layered formations — defensive arrays capable of dispersing or redirecting elemental force. Beside them, he began jotting rune sequences designed to stabilize qi channels mid-tribulation, even under the strain of heavenly retribution.
The Golden Text Library in his inner world stirred as he referenced techniques, pulling fragments from forging schematics, alchemical stability diagrams, and battle formations he had studied over the months. Piece by piece, he began to weave them into something new — a personal tribulation defense plan.
A Quiet Resolve
He paused only to drink a cup of cooled tea, his eyes fixed on the scrolls before him. Defensive gear for himself. Support formations for allies, should they insist on staying near. Pills to bolster stamina and rapid recovery.
If the next tribulation came stronger — and he suspected it would — he would not meet it unprepared.
By the time the first light of dawn touched the paper screens, his desk was crowded with diagrams and notes. Haotian leaned back, rolling his shoulders, a faint but certain smile on his lips.
Whatever the heavens decided to throw next… he would be ready.
The moonlight spilled across Haotian's desk, glinting off scattered brushes and inkstones. He sat with a blank scroll in front of him, Lianhua's words gnawing at his thoughts.
What happens when you reach the next realm?
He tried sketching formation arrays — ones that might disperse the heavenly force — but each configuration ended in a flaw. The power of a tribulation wasn't like mortal attacks; it came from above, absolute and unyielding. Even the most intricate rune chains in his Golden Text Library faltered under the imagined weight of heavenly lightning.
He flipped through stored knowledge in his mind, combining forging, alchemy, and formation principles. Every time he thought he saw a path forward, the logic collapsed. Either the materials wouldn't survive, the qi balance would overload, or the setup would take longer than a tribulation allowed.
A Frustrated Silence
Hours passed, his desk littered with discarded drafts. The candle burned low, its light wavering as though mocking his lack of progress. Haotian leaned back, rubbing his temples.
There was no clear answer — not yet. The tribulation was a problem beyond anything he could prepare for with his current knowledge.
For the first time in a long while, Haotian felt a pinch of frustration. His usual certainty was replaced with a quiet, grudging acceptance: until he grew stronger and learned more, this was a battle he could not predict… and could not yet solve.
He gathered the scrolls into a neat stack, placing them away in his storage ring. His gaze lingered on the moon outside. "Then I'll just have to be ready in another way," he murmured to himself.
When dawn's light began to creep over the horizon, he was still awake — not with a plan, but with a new resolve to keep searching for one.
Haotian sat slouched at his desk, surrounded by failed drafts and abandoned rune diagrams. The candle burned low, the faint scent of ink thick in the air.
Then, without warning, a ripple passed through his inner world. The vast Golden Text Library stirred, and a single, shimmering line of script appeared in the void between shelves:
Do not worry… it will not come again.
Haotian's breath caught. His eyes moved over the words slowly, as though memorizing each stroke.
"What does that mean?" he murmured aloud. It will not come again… the lightning tribulation?
He leaned back, brow furrowed. The phrasing was strange — almost reassuring, almost… final. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a voice, not a mere record. An entity speaking through the golden texts themselves.
His mind flashed to his childhood — the first time the texts had reacted, when he had shouted into the void that he would become "a god among heroes." Had that been the same presence? Something hidden, lying dormant inside him?
The thought stirred an unease he quickly pushed away. But for all his questions, the feeling was clear: he could trust those words. The worry that had been grinding at him since Lianhua's warning began to fade, replaced by a quiet certainty.
Before he could examine the message further, the golden line dissolved into nothing — leaving no trace it had ever been there.
The Next Day
Even as sunlight filled the Martial Hall courtyard, Haotian's mind kept circling back to those words. He didn't understand them fully, but he chose to believe them.
With the tribulation no longer hanging over his thoughts, he refocused. The next lecture series loomed, and this time it was for the Beast Handling Hall. He began assembling his notes — not just on Yueying and Xiaoque, but on training philosophies, qi synchronization techniques, and the subtle art of bonding with spirit beasts in battle.
The worry was gone. His steps were steady again.