The Dragon Festival came only once every five hundred years, and already the Broken Heaven trembled with excitement. From the outer markets to the most secluded courtyards of the Spring Serene, every cultivator, elder, and child awaited the day with bated breath.
It was said that when the first Dragon Festival had been held, the sky itself had split, and a great golden dragon coiled through the rift, scattering pearls of flame across the heavens. Since then, every festival had been marked by dragons—whether in the form of living descendants, illusions woven by sect elders, or echoes of long-forgotten scales imprinted on the world's qi.
Now, lanterns shaped like serpentine dragons floated above the city. Some belched sparks, others shimmered with liquid light, while children laughed beneath their glow. Stalls brimmed with fragrant foods—steamed buns glowing faintly with spirit qi, candied fruits spun in golden syrup, rice cakes stamped with scales. Cultivators traded talismans and spirit stones openly, their voices merging into a chorus of bargaining and laughter.
For Zhao Lian, it was overwhelming. She walked among the crowd with Zhao Mei at her side, wide-eyed, tugging her sleeve in excitement.
"Jiejie, look! Look at that one!" Mei pointed to a troupe of dancers in crimson robes, their sleeves trailing fire as they spun. Each step summoned sparks that leapt into the air, forming dragon shapes before dissolving into mist.
Lian smiled faintly. To Mei, the world was always sharp lines and stern teachings—yet here she laughed, her eyes glittering with wonder. That was enough to make Lian's chest warm.
But she felt it too—the pulse beneath the festival, the heavy thrum of qi rolling through the air. It wasn't just joy. It was power. The festival was no mere gathering; it was a trial ground hidden in celebration. Disciples from the six Serenes mingled freely, but their eyes watched one another with caution. Beneath the smiles, rivalries simmered.
At the heart of the festival lay the Dragon Arena. A colossal square of jade tiles stretched wide, encircled by towering dragon statues. Each statue's eyes glowed faintly, alive with stored qi. It was here that the Dragon Dance would reach its peak—the rite where chosen disciples performed arts to honor the dragon's spirit.
"Lian," Mei whispered, tugging her sleeve again. "They're saying one of us will be called. From the Spring Serene."
Lian blinked. "One of us?"
"Yes. A few tester from Spring Serene the has arrived. They'll pick someone from the six Serenes to perform the first offering dance." Mei's face lit with excitement. "Wouldn't it be incredible if…"
She didn't finish.
Because at that very moment, the gong rang again.
The crowd fell silent. The sound was not festival joy—it was solemn, resonant, commanding silence.
A man in violet-gold robes stepped into the arena, his aura so vast that even the air bent around him. His voice carried like thunder:
"By decree of all the testers, the first performer shall be… Zhao Lian, of the Zhao family, Lotus Wave Manor."
A ripple tore through the crowd. Mei froze, mouth falling open. Yue—standing further back—stiffened in disbelief, her nails digging into her palms.
Lian herself went still, her heart hammering.
"What? Wait! There should be a mistake. According to all of this, I'm from the Broken Heaven. Not in any Serene..."she muttered to herself looking up at the man that announced those words like her arch enemy.
She had not asked for this. She had not prepared. And yet, as if mocking her hesitation, the system chimed within her mind:
[Mission: Perform the Dragon Melody before the Six Serenes.]
[Reward: Recognition + Unknown Blessing.]
Her throat went dry.
"Player fit@up: Guqin ability will be enhanced for three breaths of time."
A guqin case shimmered into existence at her feet. The crowd gasped.
And before she could gather herself, attendants were already guiding her to the center of the jade tiles.
The arena was silent. The statues' eyes gleamed brighter. The festival's joy hushed into anticipation.
Zhao Lian sat, fingers trembling against the strings of the guqin. She swallowed, eyes darting once toward Mei's anxious face, then lifted her chin.
The first note rang out.
It was low, resonant, like the rumble of a dragon stirring beneath the sea. The second note followed, sharp and bright, like scales flashing in sunlight. Then the melody unfolded, slow and patient, weaving sorrow with hope, longing with power.
The Dragon Melody was no mere song—it was a story. A story of a dragon that soared too high, lost its way among the stars, and descended in search of home. The strings sang its sorrow, its fury, its yearning.
Around her, qi stirred. The dragon statues trembled. Light flared in their eyes. One by one, spectral dragons uncoiled from stone, rising into the sky in shimmering arcs.
The crowd gasped, disciples dropping to their knees in reverence. Mei covered her mouth, eyes wide in awe.
And hidden in the corner, Yue's jealousy turned to dread.
For she realized something chilling.
Her little sister—the one she mocked, the one she dismissed—was not ordinary. She was becoming the center of a fate too vast to be ignored.
___
Xinyue had arrived, and the sight before her made her forget to breathe.
The Dragon Festival was unlike anything in her memory. Lanterns shaped like phoenixes drifted lazily in the sky, each one glowing with a spiritual flame that painted the night in hues of crimson and gold. Fire-dragons twirled across the heavens, leaving trails of sparkling motes that rained down like blessings upon the crowd. Stalls lined the streets, selling candied fruits glistening with sugar crystals, trinkets carved from spirit jade, and scrolls that shimmered faintly with minor enchantments.
Her lips parted before she realized it, and for the first time in many years, she felt like a child seeing the world anew. She had lived in Qingxuan Yujing too long, surrounded by endless serenity and stillness. This noise, this chaos, this joy—it was overwhelming. And yet beautiful.
So lost was she in the wonder that she did not notice the child running toward her until the last second. The little girl nearly collided with her, but Xinyue's reflexes, honed by a life of discipline, saved them both. She sidestepped neatly, her sleeve brushing past the girl without harm.
The child stumbled, blinked up at her with round eyes, then stammered, "I—I'm sorry!"
Xinyue bent slightly, her voice soft yet distant. "Are you alright?"
The girl nodded quickly, cheeks pink.
"Good," Xinyue murmured, standing straight again. She did not linger. Her master's warnings rang in her head—Do not draw attention to yourself. She turned to leave when something else caught her.
A sound.
A melody.
It floated through the square, piercing the clamor of merchants and laughter like moonlight through a storm. The notes were steady at first, almost tentative, before unfolding into a powerful cascade that seemed to seize the heart of everyone present. Heads turned, bodies stilled, even the fire-dragons above seemed to pause mid-flight as though honoring the sound.
Xinyue froze. Her heart thundered. Her breath caught in her chest.
The Dragon Melody.
Her hands trembled within her sleeves. "How…? What is it doing here? Who dares play such a song?" she whispered to herself.
That piece was older than the sects themselves—passed down in whispers, guarded in fragments. It was said only the most gifted masters of the guqin could attempt it, and even then, never flawlessly.
Driven by instinct, Xinyue pushed through the crowd. Children hopped to see above shoulders, merchants abandoned their stalls, tall men craned their necks while shorter women rose on their toes. Yet no matter how hard she tried to cut through, she could not reach the player in time.
The last note fell, lingering in the air like the sigh of a dragon before fading into silence. The crowd erupted into applause, cheers echoing into the night.
But when Xinyue finally reached the front, the young girl who had performed was already gone, swallowed by the sea of admirers.
She clenched her fists beneath her robe. "I must tell Master. Someone has revived the Dragon Melody… flawlessly."
Her eyes narrowed. Whoever this girl was, she was no ordinary disciple.
Meanwhile, not far from the stage, Zhao Lian clung to her elder sister's sleeve, her face glowing with satisfaction.
"Elder Sister, how did I do?" she asked eagerly, eyes shining like two bright stars.
Mei's lips parted slowly, her voice carrying a rare softness. "Good. Very good. How… how come I never knew my little sister was talented like this?"
Lian puffed her cheeks playfully. "Because you all spent too much time praising Second Sister. You forgot I might have a few gifts of my own." She tilted her head, grinning impishly. "Like making you laugh."
Mei's stern facade cracked, and for the first time in years, she let out a small laugh. It was short, almost hesitant, but real.
Lian's heart soared.
"It's our fault," Mei said, her eyes dimming with guilt. "Once our parents come out of the isolation chamber, I'll speak to them. They must understand."
Lian's grin softened into something more fragile, more vulnerable. She had won something far greater than applause tonight—her sister's acknowledgment.
The festival began to wane. Lanterns drifted higher, the fire-dragons dispersed, and people trickled away. Lian and Mei turned to leave together, hand in hand.
And that was when fate struck.
As they rounded the corner of the square, they collided with someone. The impact was soft, but enough to make both parties pause.
The silver-hooded girl looked up, her gaze calm yet carrying depths unfathomable.
Mei and Lian froze.
Coincidence—or something far deeper?
No one could tell.
But the air between them shifted, as though the heavens themselves had paused to watch.