The morning mist felt colder than usual as Lin Yan climbed the narrow path leading to Windspire Peak. He wrapped his thin robe tighter around himself, but it did little to keep out the chill. His breath came out in small white puffs, vanishing into the pale sky.
In his hand, Lin Yan held a jade pendant. Its surface was smooth, carved into the shape of a coiling dragon. The pendant was the only thing left to him by the old man he called Master. Three days ago, Master had disappeared, leaving no word except a short note: "Find the truth."
Lin Yan didn't know what truth Master meant. All he knew was that something had changed the night before Master left. That night, he had seen strange light flicker from the pendant, just for a moment.
He reached the top of the peak and sat down on a flat stone. The valley below lay covered in morning mist, with mountain peaks rising like islands in a sea of clouds. Birds cried somewhere far off, but the world here felt silent and alone.
Lin Yan held up the pendant, turning it to catch the light of dawn. Its green surface looked almost alive. He frowned, remembering the brief warmth he'd felt the night Master left. But now, it felt cold, no different from any piece of stone.
"Why did you leave without telling me anything?" he whispered into the empty air.
The breeze stirred, carrying the faint scent of pine. Lin Yan lowered the pendant and sighed. His stomach grumbled softly. He had little food left, only two dried buns and a small flask of water. For three days, he had come here every dawn, hoping something would happen. But nothing did.
He wondered if Master had simply abandoned him. The thought stung more than he expected. Master had been a strange man—stern and silent most days—but he had taught Lin Yan how to read, write, and meditate. He had taught Lin Yan to sit still until the noise in his heart grew quiet. And when Lin Yan had fevers as a child, it was Master who stayed up all night, placing a cool cloth on his head.
Lin Yan shook his head. Master wouldn't leave without a reason.
A sudden warmth spread through his fingers. Startled, Lin Yan looked down. The jade pendant glowed faintly, like a coal buried under ash. The warmth moved up his arm, spreading into his chest. It wasn't painful, but it felt strange, as if something inside him had awakened.
His heart beat faster. He watched in disbelief as a faint golden shimmer traced along the skin of his forearm. Just for a breath, he thought he saw scales—tiny, fine, and glinting like burnished gold.
Then it vanished. The warmth faded, leaving his arm bare and normal.
Lin Yan blinked. His breath came quickly, and his chest felt tight. He looked around, half-expecting to see someone watching him. But there was only the mist, the rocks, and the slow swirl of mountain wind.
"What… was that?" he whispered.
The pendant lay still in his palm, as silent and lifeless as before.
Lin Yan's thoughts ran in circles. Was it an illusion? He had heard of strange things in the world—cultivators who could summon fire, swords that flew through the air, spirit beasts as large as palaces. But he was just a poor boy from nowhere. How could something like that happen to him?
Yet the warmth had felt real. And the glimpse of scales... He rubbed his arm, but there was nothing there now.
He stood, heart still pounding, and tucked the pendant under his robe. Maybe Master knew about this. Maybe this is the truth he meant for me to find.
For a moment, hope lit in his chest, small but steady.
Then a sound reached his ears—soft footsteps crunching on gravel. Lin Yan turned sharply.
An old man stood at the edge of the clearing, robes the color of morning sky, trimmed in gold thread. His hair was bound neatly, and his eyes, though lined with age, were clear and sharp.
"You have sharp senses," the old man said, voice calm as flowing water. "Most would not have noticed my approach."
Lin Yan lowered his gaze, heart still racing. "Who… are you?"
The man stepped closer, hands folded behind his back. "I am Elder Wu, from the Azure Phoenix Sect. We are traveling these mountains, searching for youths with the heart to walk the path of cultivation."
Lin Yan swallowed. He had heard of the great sects from passing travelers—places where men and women learned to control Qi, refine pills, and wield swords that danced through the air. But he had never thought he would see someone from such a place.
Elder Wu's gaze lingered on Lin Yan's chest, where the pendant hid under his robe. His expression didn't change, but Lin Yan felt the weight of that look.
"What is your name, boy?"
"Lin Yan," he replied softly.
"Lin Yan," Elder Wu repeated, as if tasting the sound. "Do you wish to change your fate, Lin Yan? To rise above the life of a common man?"
Lin Yan hesitated. He remembered nights spent hungry, days hauling water, the ache in his bones from cold winters. He thought of Master's quiet words: "This world is larger than you know."
"Yes," he said at last, voice low but firm. "I do."
A faint smile touched Elder Wu's lips. "Good. Then come with me. The path is long, but it begins with a single step."
Lin Yan glanced once more at Windspire Peak, at the empty stone where he had waited for Master's return. The pendant felt heavy against his chest.
Master… I don't know if this is what you wanted. But I have to find the truth.
He turned and followed Elder Wu down the mountain path, leaving behind the lonely peak and the morning mist.
High above, unseen, a distant shadow moved through the clouds. And though Lin Yan could not hear it, a voice whispered through the wind:
"The child of the Dragon Vein… has taken his first step."