The night after Haotian and Lianhua's arrival had already passed into sect rumor. Within the sealed walls of their residence, no sound was supposed to escape. Yet the Azure Dragon Sky Sect was not a place of ordinary silence—its elders had ears sharpened by centuries, and its formation halls hummed with resonance at the faintest ripple. Though no disciple dared speak aloud of what they suspected, in the upper tiers of the sect's grand pavilion, the elders convened.
The Sect Master, Long Tianzhao, sat at the head of a crescent table carved from dragonbone. His expression was unreadable, though the faint twitch at the corner of his brow betrayed his struggle. Behind him, incense coils released a thin smoke that drifted like coiling azure dragons toward the rafters.
Elder Qingyuan coughed lightly, his face caught between amusement and solemn duty. "Sect Master, I fear the new residence may require reinforcement. Last night's… cultivation session shook the resonance threads of the Soundless Formation. Not shattered—but it trembled."
Several elders exchanged looks. Elder Meiyun, her phoenix-gold robe shimmering faintly, raised a slender brow. "Trembled? I inspected that formation myself. Not even three Nascent Ancestors channeling in unison could disrupt it."
"Exactly," Qingyuan replied dryly. "Which is why we must treat this as both a warning and a gift. The descendants of the Saint Dragons are not bound by our conventional limits."
Sect Master Long Tianzhao closed his eyes, fingers tapping the table. "I owe debts to their ancestors. That much is true. But even so… for the formation to strain from a single night of dual cultivation—what will the future hold, if such intensity continues unchecked?"
An elder across the table cleared his throat. "If nothing else, it proves the boy's foundation is monstrous. The girl, too—her resonance intertwined seamlessly. That is not the mark of reckless indulgence, but of perfected harmony. The kind that can overturn fate."
At this, the hall fell quiet. Harmony was a word rarely spoken by cultivators. Power, dominance, supremacy—those were expected. But harmony was something rarer than heaven's lightning.
Tianzhao finally exhaled, the weight in his tone heavy yet laced with wry humor. "Very well. Let us pretend we heard nothing. The sect's duty is to guide, not to pry into the privacy of saints' heirs. Strength, even when born of passion, is still strength. From this moment on, not a single whisper of last night is to reach the outer halls. Understood?"
The elders bowed their heads in unison, though Qingyuan smirked faintly, muttering just low enough for the others to catch: "Privacy, yes. But perhaps we should allocate more resources for soundproof reinforcement. Before the disciples start thinking the sun rises twice in a single night."
A ripple of suppressed laughter traveled the crescent table. Even the Sect Master allowed himself a thin smile before waving his sleeve dismissively. The meeting dispersed.
The next morning's light painted the Azure Dragon Sky Sect in brilliant gold, the peaks gleaming like dragon scales beneath the sun. Haotian and Lianhua emerged from their residence with an air of quiet composure, though the subtle curve at Lianhua's lips betrayed the peace that lingered between them.
Elder Qingyuan was already waiting along the jade stairway, sleeves folded neatly, his eyes carrying that ever-present spark of amusement.
"Haotian," he greeted warmly, dipping his head in acknowledgment. "I trust your first night here was… enlightening?"
Lianhua nearly faltered, a blush rushing to her ears. Haotian, unmoved, bowed politely and cut through the teasing with his steady voice. "Elder Qingyuan, I wished to ask—back at the Burning Sun Sect, I accumulated contribution points. Is there a method to convert them here, or must they be forfeited?"
Qingyuan's beard twitched upward in a faint grin. "No need for worry. High Elder Zhantian has already informed us of the agreement. Burning Sun to Azure Dragon points convert at a five-to-one ratio. Generous, considering the gap between our sect's resources." He swept his sleeve wide. "Come. We'll walk to the Mission Hall and handle it personally."
The three moved together down the mountain path. Disciples along the way slowed their steps to watch, curiosity whispering through their ranks. It was rare for Elder Qingyuan to personally escort new arrivals, rarer still to speak so openly to them. But then—these were not ordinary disciples.
The Mission Hall soon loomed before them. Carved in the likeness of an open dragon's maw, its gilded scales shimmered as though alive. The wide doors parted with a resonant hum, spilling a wash of azure light across the steps. Inside, lines of disciples waited before polished stone counters, overseen by elders and attendants who managed the sect's mission contracts, rewards, and contribution balances.
As Haotian and Lianhua entered at Qingyuan's side, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations dimmed. Whispers rose.
"Is that them? The ones the Sect Master received personally?""His aura… it doesn't feel like a newcomer at all.""I heard he was from Burning Sun. How many points could he possibly have?"
They reached the center counter, where a robed attendant bowed hastily, clearly unsettled by the presence of Elder Qingyuan himself. "Elder… what may I prepare?"
"Contribution transfer," Qingyuan replied. "From the Burning Sun Sect's records. The disciple's name is Haotian."
The attendant swallowed, hands forming quick seals to summon a jade ledger. Azure light flared, filling the hall with the faint resonance of karmic threads tallying years of labor, missions, and rewards.
"State your accumulated total," the attendant requested nervously.
Haotian's golden eyes held steady. "Two hundred and thirty thousand Burning Sun points."
The hall fell silent. Disciples froze in place. Even the scratching of brushes from the scribe's corner ceased. The attendant nearly dropped the jade ledger.
"Two… two hundred and thirty…?" His voice cracked.
Qingyuan's smile deepened, his gaze sliding toward the other elders at the counters, who were now staring openly. "You heard him. Do the conversion."
The attendant scrambled, forming seals as the ledger glowed. With each calculation, the jade pulses grew brighter until the numbers reformed in azure script.
"By the five-to-one ratio…" The attendant's voice trembled. "…this equals forty-six thousand Azure Dragon points."
Gasps rippled through the hall. To the sect's ordinary disciples, such a total was unfathomable. Even their inner sect elites often struggled for a few thousand at a time. Forty-six thousand was enough to dominate decades of rankings, enough to leapfrog into the upper echelons instantly.
Qingyuan turned to Haotian with a nod. "There. Your past efforts have not been wasted. With this, you may access any resources short of the ancestral vault itself. A fine start for one who has only just entered."
Haotian inclined his head slightly, his composure unshaken despite the stares drilling into him from every side. Lianhua stood close, serene as flowing water, as if daring anyone to question their right.
Behind them, whispers broke out again:
"He's richer than most elders already…""Forty-six thousand points at entry? He could buy out an entire cultivation peak.""Who exactly is he?"
Qingyuan let them whisper. He alone wore the knowing expression of one who understood that this was only the surface. The true storm had yet to come.
He motioned to Haotian and Lianhua. "Come. Now that the conversion is complete, let us see what missions the hall has to offer you. With your foundation, the standard tasks may prove… laughable."
And with that, the dragon's maw swallowed them deeper into the heart of the sect's machinery.
The next morning's light painted the Azure Dragon Sky Sect in brilliant gold, the peaks gleaming like dragon scales beneath the sun. Haotian and Lianhua emerged from their residence with an air of quiet composure, though the subtle curve at Lianhua's lips betrayed the peace that lingered between them.
Elder Qingyuan was already waiting along the jade stairway, sleeves folded neatly, his eyes carrying that ever-present spark of amusement.
"Haotian," he greeted warmly, dipping his head in acknowledgment. "I trust your first night here was… enlightening?"
Lianhua nearly faltered, a blush rushing to her ears. Haotian, unmoved, bowed politely and cut through the teasing with his steady voice. "Elder Qingyuan, I wished to ask—back at the Burning Sun Sect, I accumulated contribution points. Is there a method to convert them here, or must they be forfeited?"
Qingyuan's beard twitched upward in a faint grin. "No need for worry. High Elder Zhantian has already informed us of the agreement. Burning Sun to Azure Dragon points convert at a five-to-one ratio. Generous, considering the gap between our sect's resources." He swept his sleeve wide. "Come. We'll walk to the Mission Hall and handle it personally."
The three moved together down the mountain path. Disciples along the way slowed their steps to watch, curiosity whispering through their ranks. It was rare for Elder Qingyuan to personally escort new arrivals, rarer still to speak so openly to them. But then—these were not ordinary disciples.
The Mission Hall soon loomed before them. Carved in the likeness of an open dragon's maw, its gilded scales shimmered as though alive. The wide doors parted with a resonant hum, spilling a wash of azure light across the steps. Inside, lines of disciples waited before polished stone counters, overseen by elders and attendants who managed the sect's mission contracts, rewards, and contribution balances.
As Haotian and Lianhua entered at Qingyuan's side, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations dimmed. Whispers rose.
"Is that them? The ones the Sect Master received personally?""His aura… it doesn't feel like a newcomer at all.""I heard he was from Burning Sun. How many points could he possibly have?"
They reached the central counter, where a robed attendant bowed hastily, clearly unsettled by the presence of Elder Qingyuan himself. "Elder… what may I prepare?"
"Contribution transfer," Qingyuan replied. "From the Burning Sun Sect's records. The disciple's name is Haotian."
The attendant swallowed, hands forming quick seals to summon a jade ledger. Azure light flared, filling the hall with the faint resonance of karmic threads tallying years of labor, missions, and rewards.
"State your accumulated total," the attendant requested nervously.
Haotian's golden eyes held steady. "Fifty-one million Burning Sun points."
The hall shattered into silence. Not the silence of disbelief, but the silence that comes when the world itself refuses to process a truth. Brushes stilled mid-stroke. Breath caught in lungs. Even the formations engraved in the pavilion's pillars seemed to flicker once, as if struggling to bear the karmic weight of such a declaration.
The attendant nearly collapsed, clutching the ledger as his hands shook. "F–fifty… million…?" His voice broke on the word, echoing absurdly loud in the hush.
Qingyuan chuckled softly, though his eyes betrayed the sharp gleam of someone enjoying the collective shock. "You heard him. Fifty-one million. Don't faint now. Do the conversion."
The attendant scrambled, forming seals as the jade ledger pulsed with wild azure light. The numbers cascaded like falling stars, recalculating again and again until the conversion stabilized in dragon-script glyphs across the ledger's surface.
"By the five-to-one ratio…" The attendant's voice cracked again, trembling as the final figure blazed across the hall. "…this equals ten million, two hundred thousand Azure Dragon points."
The collective gasp that followed shook the rafters. Disciples staggered as though the figure itself weighed down on their shoulders. Elders at the counters gawked openly, their composure splintering. For context, even the sect's inner elites rarely possessed more than a few hundred thousand points after decades of service. Ten million two hundred thousand was not a fortune. It was an empire.
Whispers exploded like wildfire:
"He could buy out an entire sect armory with that!""Ten million points… he could monopolize every cultivation resource for a century!""That's more than some elders' lifetimes combined!"
The Mission Hall, a place built to manage the ambitions of thousands, now seemed too small to contain the karmic gravity that Haotian carried in his palm.
Qingyuan turned with calm satisfaction toward the youth at his side. "There. Your efforts have not been wasted. With this, you could access anything short of the ancestral vault itself." His smile deepened, voice edged with humor. "And if I'm being honest… with numbers like that, I suspect even the ancestral vault will open its doors to you, given time."
Haotian inclined his head slightly, unmoved by the chaos around him, his calm composure like a blade sheathed in silence. Lianhua remained by his side, her serene gaze daring any to question his right.
The attendant, still pale, whispered almost reverently as he finished sealing the account: "Haotian… from this moment, your name will be carved into the Mission Hall's ledgers for eternity. None will ever forget this day."
Qingyuan let the murmurs rise unchecked, then gestured deeper into the pavilion. "Come. Now that the conversion is complete, let us see what missions the hall has to offer you. Though I warn you—their definition of 'elite' may seem… laughably trivial to one who carries the weight of ten million scales."
The dragon's maw closed behind them, swallowing the stunned whispers of the sect as Haotian stepped into a new stage of his path.
The deeper they walked into the Mission Hall, the more the atmosphere shifted. The walls glowed with carved dragon reliefs, each holding jade plaques that listed missions for the disciples to take on. Rows upon rows shimmered with faint light—everything from herb gathering in the lower valleys, to escorting merchants through bandit passes, to slaying rogue beasts in the outer mountain ranges.
Qingyuan led Haotian and Lianhua directly to the top floor where the "elite missions" were displayed. The hall there was quieter, guarded by two solemn elders, and its jade plaques glowed with a deeper, heavier light. Ordinary disciples whispered outside the stairs, unable to even qualify to walk past the barrier.
Haotian scanned the plaques, his sharp golden eyes flicking across the inscribed missions.
Hunt a Heaven-Tier Beast near the Cloudveil Ridge: reward 20,000 points.Escort an envoy to the neighboring sects through the Dragonveil Gorge: reward 15,000 points.Clear out a demonic infestation on the northern cliff caves: reward 30,000 points.
Lianhua leaned closer, her delicate brow furrowing as she whispered, "These are supposed to be the elite ones?"
Haotian gave a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed no arrogance—only disappointment. "They call this elite, but… I have fought beasts that swallowed mountains whole. I have already destroyed infestations that swallowed sects. These are tasks meant to test inner disciples, not to challenge the descendants of Saint Dragons."
Qingyuan chuckled beside them, unoffended. "The Azure Dragon Sky Sect does not yet realize how wide the gap is. But you are not wrong. These missions may seem laughable to you, but to most disciples, they would be matters of life and death."
Haotian studied the plaques a little longer, but in the end, he made no move to select one. His heart was elsewhere.
He turned toward Qingyuan. "Elder, if possible… I wish to enter the sect's library and archives. Missions can wait. To study, to learn—that is my true passion."
Lianhua tilted her head, smiling softly. "Second passion."
Haotian blinked, caught off guard, then allowed the faintest laugh to escape his lips. "You're right. Second. The first is dual cultivating with you."
Her cheeks flared crimson, though she did not look away. Qingyuan, for his part, coughed into his sleeve with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. "Very well. The library it is. I expected this answer, truth be told. Few your age value knowledge the way you do."
They left the Mission Hall behind, the whispers of disciples trailing after them like a tide of curiosity and awe. The path upward curved along a ridge of azure cliffs, leading to a sprawling tower that rose like the spine of a dragon piercing the clouds. The Azure Dragon Library, said to contain scrolls, jade slips, and texts spanning a thousand generations, its secrets guarded like the marrow of the sect itself.
Inside, the air was still and heavy with the scent of ink and aged parchment. Rows of towering shelves stretched higher than the eye could follow, lined with jade scrolls that glowed faintly with protective inscriptions. A silence lay over the place, thick as ocean depths.
As they stepped in, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"Oh? So you finally made it here."
Haotian froze, recognition sparking instantly. From between the towering shelves, a stooped elder with sharp, mischievous eyes emerged—his gray robes lined with the unmistakable emblem of a rising sun woven faintly at the hem. Elder Renshu. From the Burning Sun Sect.
Haotian immediately bowed deeply. "Elder Renshu… you made it here as well."
The old man chuckled, leaning on his staff. "Welcome, young brat. And you even brought your girlfriend with you. Hah!"
Both Haotian and Lianhua stiffened, their faces burning crimson. Lianhua tried to keep her composure, bowing politely despite the blush on her cheeks. "L–Lianhua greets Elder Renshu."
Renshu waved her formality away with a laugh. "Save the politeness, girl. Anyone who can keep this brat in line deserves more respect than half the elders here."
Qingyuan stepped forward, cupping his hands with a smile. "So it is Elder Renshu. I wondered why the Library Elders were so smug lately. I didn't know they managed to recruit you."
Renshu smirked. "Recruit? Hah. More like I decided the Burning Sun had no more books worth my time. So, I packed up and followed the only dragon bloodline worth watching. And here he is." He jabbed his staff lightly toward Haotian.
Then his eyes slid toward Qingyuan. "You can take your leave now. From this moment forward, this brat is under my supervision here at the library. The library's disciples and duties are mine to oversee."
Qingyuan, unbothered, bowed with his hands cupped. "Then I'll leave him in your care. May the Saint Dragons guide your scrolls."
He turned to Haotian and Lianhua, giving them a final nod before striding out, his robe sleeves flowing behind him.
Haotian watched the elder depart, a faint crease forming in his brow. Why is Elder Renshu here of all places? Did he know I would come?
But before the thought could deepen, Renshu snapped his fan open with a sharp flick. "Enough staring. Go in. You have full access up to the eighth floor. The higher levels remain for the Sect Master and Great Elders, but eight floors will be more than enough for now. And yes," his eyes flicked mischievously to Lianhua, "your girlfriend may enter too."
Lianhua blushed again, but Haotian only bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, Elder."
Renshu waved the gratitude away. "One more thing. Meals will be brought to you as you read. Do not waste time hunting for food. From today, the library is your second home."
The words struck Haotian deeply. His second passion—learning, studying, devouring every scroll and text he could find—now lay open before him. With Lianhua at his side, and Elder Renshu's watchful eye above, he stepped past the carved gates and into the sea of knowledge that stretched higher than the sky.
The Azure Dragon Library had accepted him.
And from the eighth floor, the dragon's secrets waited.
The gates closed behind them with a low, resonant hum. The Azure Dragon Library's air was unlike any other place Haotian had set foot in—dense, refined, humming faintly as though the very ink on the scrolls pulsed with life. It was a sanctum where words were more than words, each text inscribed with the distilled will and comprehension of those who had transcended the ordinary.
Haotian and Lianhua wandered together through the labyrinth of shelves. The lower levels stretched vast and wide, filled with mortal histories, martial treatises, and elemental primers. Disciples in simple azure robes sat cross-legged in corners, jade slips glowing faintly as they studied. On the second and third floors, the atmosphere shifted—more profound, sharper. The jade slips carried low-grade manuals, and cultivators hunched over them with the hunger of those desperate for advancement.
By the fifth floor, a subtle pressure pressed down on their shoulders. Even Lianhua's steady step faltered slightly as they passed beneath the glowing arch. Here, the library held Sky-Grade cultivation methods. Scrolls bound in dragonhide glowed faintly from within their protective cases, and the shelves themselves were reinforced with inscriptions to keep the aura from leaking. Each manual here was worth kingdoms, representing lifetimes of enlightenment.
Haotian paused, his golden eyes sweeping across the shelves. The names etched into the spines shimmered faintly: Heaven-Piercing Meridian Flow, The Ninefold Star Veins Sutra, Azure Flame Immortal Tempering. Each one radiated a pressure that could bend a lesser cultivator to their knees.
Lianhua whispered in awe, "Every single one… Sky Grade. Just lying here, waiting."
"Not waiting," Haotian murmured. His eyes shone faintly, reflecting the scripts. "Tested. They sit here to tempt the unready. To open one without the strength to bear it would tear a cultivator's meridians apart."
They moved on. The sixth floor shifted from the aura of cultivation methods to the sharp tang of metal and fire. It was the Forging Floor, shelves filled with manuals detailing tempering techniques, inscription diagrams, and weapon blueprints carved into jade. The air was thicker here, humming faintly like a forge's heartbeat.
Haotian lingered at one shelf, fingers brushing the spine of The Nine Hammers of Skyfall Forging. He smiled faintly. "Second-rate compared to what I learned under Ancestors… but this could birth a dozen sect forgemasters if studied well."
Lianhua's hand slipped into his, warm and grounding. "Then teach them one day. That is your way."
By the seventh floor, the air grew sweet and bitter, tinged with herb fragrances that weren't really there but bled from the jade slips themselves. Manuals of pill refining lined the walls—recipes that could mend shattered souls, restore lost cultivation, even extend life spans. Lianhua's eyes lingered here, her curiosity sharp as her hand traced the glowing characters. "So much here… enough to rebuild sects from ruins."
But Haotian's gaze had already turned upward.
The eighth floor.
They ascended the last stair, the air shifting the instant they crossed. A palpable gravity pressed down, not of weight, but of profundity. Unlike the overflowing shelves below, this floor was sparse. Dozens of cases stood in solemn order, each sealed with azure locks. Yet every scroll and book here radiated Sky-Grade Arts and Techniques—the pinnacle of human comprehension beneath divine law.
Haotian's eyes narrowed as he swept across them. "Fewer in number… but each one worth a war."
He stepped closer to a case. The jade plaque glowed as he approached, characters flaring to life.
Sky Art: Dragon Vein CollapseA technique that channels one's cultivation into explosive veins of draconic force, collapsing terrain and foes alike into ruin.
Another case.
Sky Art: Celestial Thunder PalmStrikes infused with sky lightning, capable of paralyzing even those a realm higher for three breaths.
Another.
Sky Art: Thousand Mirage StepsA movement art that allows one's body to split into afterimages, each carrying real momentum.
Lianhua walked beside him, eyes wide. "Every one of these could topple sects. And yet here… they are just books."
Haotian stopped before a sealed case etched with deeper runes. Its aura was heavier than the rest, pressing against his skin like an ancient dragon's gaze.
The plaque glowed:
Sky Art: Heavenly Void RendA blade art that slices across dimensions. Once mastered, its strike can reach an enemy before the sword leaves the scabbard.
His fingers hovered above the seal, but he did not open it. Instead, he inhaled deeply, his chest rising as if he were drawing in the weight of the entire floor.
Lianhua studied his face. "You're not choosing?"
"Not yet," he said quietly. "Knowledge is not something to be rushed. Each one of these arts… they are treasures. But I do not need to grasp at treasures. I need to understand them. I need to see the connections—the patterns hidden beneath all Sky-Grade arts."
He turned, his golden eyes shimmering with hunger—not for battle, not for power, but for wisdom. "This floor will be my cultivation. Not the missions, not the rankings. This. If I understand why these arts reach the Sky Grade, I can create my own. Better. Stronger. Beyond Sky."
Lianhua's lips curved in a quiet smile, pride and affection glowing in her gaze. "Then let us study together. If this is your passion, it is mine as well."
At that moment, Elder Renshu's voice echoed from the stairwell below, carrying up with dry amusement. "Good! Finally, some sense. If you'd picked up one of those scrolls and started waving it around like a toy, I would've smacked you with my cane. Read, brat. Devour everything. Tear apart the old masters' thoughts until you can laugh at them. Only then will you walk your own path."
Haotian's lips quirked faintly. He bowed toward the stairwell in respect, then looked once more at the eighth floor's shelves.
This was where his second passion lived.This was where the Saint Dragons' heir would forge his own future.
And in the silence of the eighth floor, surrounded by the weight of generations, Haotian and Lianhua began.