The mountain still breathed with chaos. Frost clung stubbornly to scorched earth, rivers of qi shimmered unnaturally in the air, and cracks spiderwebbed across the plateau as if the land itself had been forced to kneel beneath an unseen will. The experiment's aftermath had not faded—it lingered like a living wound, humming in resonance with every breath of wind.
At the center of this fractured domain stood Tiān Lán. His robe was torn, his long black hair whipped violently in the cold current, yet his eyes—dark and calm as the midnight sea—burned with an unshakable light. The Guardian of Synthesis hovered beside him, its ethereal form pulsing in steady rhythm, like a heartbeat for the mountain itself.
Yao Xiangyi's blade trembled in her hand, not from fear of Tiān Lán, but from the pressure that rolled off him like tidal waves. He… changed. He isn't the same cultivator who stood beside me yesterday.
The Guardian's voice resonated, not just in Tiān Lán's mind but in the very bones of the earth.
"Your awakening has shaken the veil. The twenty have felt you. The continent stirs. Already, eyes turn toward this place."
---
Elsewhere—Across the Continent
In the frozen north, a council of white-haired elders gathered around a jade table carved with runes older than dynasties. The hall itself quaked when the pulse of Tiān Lán's qi washed across their city. One elder gripped his staff tightly, knuckles pale.
> "This is no ordinary surge. Nascent Soul… yet beyond it. A resonance of artifact, medicine, and something older. Something dangerous."
Another elder's gaze hardened, pupils trembling as though gazing into the abyss.
> "From the western mountains. If left unchecked, this force could topple our balance of power. Prepare watchers. Quietly. The sect must not be caught unaware."
---
Far to the desert south, a band of rogue cultivators froze mid-ritual as a spectral ripple of qi swept across the sands. One collapsed to his knees, voice breaking.
> "That… that isn't human. It is as if the heavens themselves exhaled."
Their leader's face darkened, ambition sparking in his eyes.
> "Not human, you say? Then it must be someone worth following… or killing."
---
High in the celestial academies of the east, a prodigious young cultivator raised her head mid-meditation, eyes wide. Her master frowned deeply.
> "Teacher… who was that?"
The master's voice was hushed, tinged with dread.
> "A name not yet known. But soon… it will be all anyone speaks of."
---
Back at the Mountain
Tiān Lán's perception spread like a net through the land, carried by the lingering resonance of the Primordial Artifact. He saw the movements of scouts, the cautious mobilization of minor factions, the fluttering of young disciples' ambitions. Every ripple confirmed the Guardian's words—the continent was awakening.
Yao Xiangyi's voice broke the silence. "They're coming. The curious, the ambitious… the reckless."
Tiān Lán nodded, his expression unreadable. "Good. The world must learn the difference between potential and mastery."
The first to arrive were not the twenty strongest, but hungry wolves dressed in silk—young challengers from lesser sects, eager to test their luck against rumor. Three stepped forward onto the scarred plateau. Their qi flickered like storm lanterns in the wind, unstable yet burning with desperate ambition.
The leader, clad in azure robes, bowed stiffly. "We… we come to observe. And if permissible… to challenge." His voice trembled, but the spark in his eyes betrayed eagerness to prove himself.
Tiān Lán regarded him with the faintest curve of a smile. "Observation is welcome. Challenge… is permitted. But know this—what you call strength is only the shadow of true power."
He lifted his hand. No forceful strike, no overwhelming explosion. Just a gesture.
And the mountain moved.
A gust of elemental energy, subtle yet precise, swept across the plateau. The three young cultivators staggered as if a mountain pressed against their chests. Their qi flared in panic, desperate to stabilize. One dropped to a knee, blood at the corner of his lips.
Yao Xiangyi's breath caught. He didn't even attack. He merely exhaled his intent.
The challengers roared in defiance, summoning formations and minor techniques, hoping that numbers could pierce disparity. But Tiān Lán moved like water flowing through cracks—gentle, inevitable, unstoppable. Every flick of his sleeve unraveled their formations, every step pressed their qi into disorder.
Within moments, they collapsed, not broken but utterly humbled. The leader's forehead touched the fractured stone. "We… concede."
Tiān Lán did not gloat. He simply allowed the energy to fade, leaving silence in its place. "Return. Train harder. Grow stronger. Then come again."
The three bowed deeply and retreated, shame and awe written in every step.
But the message was clear. The "Mountain Phantom," as whispers would soon call him, was no rumor. He was real. And his power was immeasurable.
---
Dusk on the Plateau
As the sky blazed purple and crimson, Tiān Lán stood at the cliff's edge, his silhouette carved against the dying sun. The Guardian hovered silently, its light casting long shadows.
Yao Xiangyi approached, voice hushed. "You showed mercy."
Tiān Lán's eyes never left the horizon. "Mercy? No. I showed them reality. They will return stronger. That is the way of cultivators. But so will I. By the time they climb higher, I will already be standing at the gates of the Spirit Realm."
His words were not boastful—they were a statement of fact.
The Guardian pulsed, its voice deep and resonant.
"Prepare, Tiān Lán. Rivals will come. Allies will seek you. The world believes it has witnessed your peak… but they have seen only your first step. Beyond this path lies Spirit Realm—and beyond Spirit Realm lies destiny."
Tiān Lán closed his eyes, letting the cold mountain wind wash over him. His heart was steady. His resolve, unshakable.
"Let them come," he whispered to the stars now dawning above. "Let the continent rise against me, or kneel before me. I am ready."
And far, far away, in sects and courts and hidden valleys, cultivators of every realm trembled—not knowing yet why their souls shivered, only that something vast had awakened in the western mountains.
A storm was coming.
And its name was Tiān Lán.