By the next morning, the Azure Tide Sect was no longer the same.
Outer disciples moved in groups, speaking in hushed tones as they swept the courtyards, fetched water, or sharpened their weapons. Everywhere Lin Feng's name was whispered—sometimes with disbelief, sometimes with jealousy, and sometimes with poorly hidden fear.
"I heard Elder Zhao himself confirmed it… Lin Feng awakened a heavenly constitution."
"That useless fisherman's brat? Impossible. He must have stumbled on some treasure!"
"Tch. If it weren't for Elder Zhao, someone would've already 'tested' him to see if it's true."
The rumors spread like ripples across the sea. Some scoffed and dismissed them, others sharpened their interest. A few already looked at Lin Feng with eyes that measured him not as a fellow disciple, but as prey.
But Lin Feng knew none of this.
...
That night, he sat cross-legged within his small wooden hut near the outer sect's cliff edge. His room was plain—a straw bed, a cracked table, and a single oil lamp flickering weakly. The ocean breeze seeped through the window, carrying the faint scent of salt.
He closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
Once again, he reached for the threads of qi around him. Wind, water, lightning. They came with ease, weaving into his meridians like streams flowing home. His body no longer resisted; instead, it welcomed them, his bloodline guiding the process naturally.
Time passed. The lamp's flame shrank, then died, leaving only moonlight spilling through the window.
At some point, Lin Feng drifted into a strange state—half meditation, half dream.
He found himself standing upon a boundless ocean. The waves beneath his feet were not water, but lightning, surging and crashing with each roll. The sky above was split by endless storms, winds howling, thunder roaring.
And in the center of it all, a vast silhouette moved within the clouds. Its shape was unclear—sometimes a dragon, sometimes a giant bird, sometimes only the vague outline of a beast larger than mountains. Its eyes opened, filled with stormlight, and the ocean trembled.
Lin Feng's breath caught. His body felt as small as a grain of sand.
The storm-beast's voice rumbled—not with words, but with thunder that echoed directly inside his soul:
—You have awakened. The storm has chosen.
Lin Feng tried to speak, but his voice vanished in the roar of wind.
The sea rose higher, waves like mountains crashing toward him. Lightning split the sky, rushing down like spears. He felt his veins burn, his body dissolving into the storm itself.
Pain. Fear. Awe.
Just before he was consumed, the beast's eyes narrowed. The thunder became a whisper:
—But are you worthy?
The vision shattered.
Lin Feng gasped, waking with sweat soaking his back. The faintest traces of lightning danced across his skin before fading. The room was quiet, the sea's endless rhythm steady outside.
He pressed a hand against his chest. His heart still pounded, heavy with the echo of the dream.
"…Storm Veins," he murmured. "What have I truly awakened?"
The night gave no answer. Only the waves spoke, crashing softly against the cliff below.