The training ground fell into an eerie silence. The laughter and scorn that had filled the air only moments ago had vanished, replaced by the distant rumble of retreating thunder.
Lin Feng stood there, chest rising and falling heavily. His clothes were tattered, his skin marked with faint burn lines, yet his eyes gleamed faintly with arcs of lightning.
He clenched his trembling fists. The pain… it's fading. No—my body feels… different.
It was subtle. The spiritual qi around him no longer slipped through his grasp like water through cupped hands. Instead, it lingered, attracted to him, spiraling gently toward his skin before seeping inside. Each breath he took felt richer, heavier, filled with energy.
The disciples who had mocked him moments earlier shifted uneasily. Their gazes, once sharp with ridicule, now carried a trace of uncertainty. One finally scoffed, though his voice wavered.
"Don't… don't get ahead of yourself. So what if some strange bloodline appeared? Trash is still trash."
But none stepped forward to strike him again.
From the cliffside steps, Elder Zhao descended slowly. His robes fluttered in the sea wind, his sharp eyes fixed on Lin Feng. The murmurs of disciples quieted at his presence.
"Lin Feng," the elder's voice carried calmly, yet with a weight that pressed upon everyone. "You… have awakened something unusual."
Lin Feng lowered his head, still struggling to steady his breathing. His heart pounded, but not from fear. For the first time, it beat with… hope.
"I—I don't understand, Elder," he admitted honestly. His voice was hoarse, but clear. "What happened to me just now?"
Elder Zhao studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his tone slow and deliberate:
"Within your blood flows a constitution long believed lost to the Endless Seas—the Storm Veins. Few in the history of the Azure Tide Sect have even heard of it. With it, you may control wind, water, and lightning. A blessing… and a curse."
The words hung in the air like heavy mist.
Lin Feng's eyes widened. Storm Veins…? Me?
A strange warmth stirred in his chest, quickly followed by doubt. He remembered the years of humiliation, of being beaten down, called useless. Could a single awakening erase all of that?
Elder Zhao's gaze deepened, as though he had read Lin Feng's heart. "Do not be quick to rejoice. A bloodline is but a seed. Without tempering, it will rot before it ever sprouts."
The elder turned away, hands clasped behind his back. "From this day forth, you will be moved to the inner sect. There, your aptitude will be tested properly. Fail, and you will return to being the trash these disciples see you as. Succeed…"
He paused, his eyes lifting toward the distant horizon, where storm clouds still drifted slowly across the sea.
"…and the heavens themselves may tremble at your steps."
The disciples gasped in shock. Inner sect? The trash outer disciple… entering the inner sect?
Lin Feng's lips parted, but no words came. His heart surged with conflicting emotions—joy, fear, determination. He looked once more at his hands, faint arcs of lightning still dancing between his fingers.
He whispered, barely audible:
"…then I'll succeed."
The sea breeze carried his vow away, mingling with the endless sound of waves crashing against the cliffside.
And so, with a single flicker of stormlight, the first step of Lin Feng's true path began.