By dawn, the continent did not awaken to birdsong, but to tremors. Invisible waves of qi still rippled across mountains, rivers, and deserts, carrying the echo of what had happened on Tiān Lán's plateau. The ordinary farmers tilling the northern fields felt only an unease in their bones, the way one senses a storm before clouds gather. But for cultivators—even those secluded in meditation—this was no illusion. It was real, undeniable, a pulse that rattled the marrow of the land.
And so, before the sun had fully risen, whispers became storms.
---
The Northern Capital – Jade Cloud Sect
Within the austere marble halls of the Jade Cloud Sect, twenty elders convened around a jade table etched with celestial diagrams. Lantern light flickered across their lined faces, yet no one spoke easily.
Elder Han was the first, his voice steady but betraying an undercurrent of awe.
"Reports from the western mountains are… consistent. A cultivator, young by all accounts, who commands not only Nascent Soul Peak strength but wields a Guardian as though born to it. A storm of energy, refined, not wild. Controlled. If this is true…"
He trailed off, unable to finish.
Elder Li leaned forward, her sleeves pooling like ink on jade. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut steel.
"Do not underestimate the implications. A youth commanding such strength is not just a prodigy—he is a catalyst. The continent's balance will not survive a catalyst unmonitored. We cannot ignore him. If we delay, by the time we act, it may already be too late."
The elders exchanged grave looks. The silence that followed weighed heavier than stone.
---
Southern Deserts – Rogue Cultivators
Far to the south, in a sand-swallowed ruin, a band of rogue cultivators halted their ritual mid-chant. A crimson array circle glowed faintly at their feet, but its light paled against the ripple that brushed their senses.
One man dropped his incense burner, his face drained of color.
"That… that wasn't Nascent Soul. It wasn't even Spirit Realm. It was… something else. An abyss pretending to be a pool."
Another spat into the sand, forcing bravado he did not feel.
"No. Impossible. Whoever it is, he cannot maintain it long. Power like that burns out. Unless…"
His words faded, leaving only the desert wind to answer.
---
The Western Plateau – Tiān Lán
While the continent stirred, the source of their unease stood silently at the edge of a scarred plateau. His black hair caught the cold dawn wind, his robes—still singed and torn from the trial—fluttered like banners of defiance.
Beside him, Yao Xiangyi's hand rested lightly on the hilt of her blade, eyes sharp as she scanned the horizon. She had fought alongside him, witnessed the Guardian's awakening, yet even she felt the strangeness of the world's reaction. It was as though the heavens themselves leaned closer, watching him.
"They're approaching in waves," she said quietly, her voice carrying despite the vastness of the plateau. "Some cautious. Some reckless. But all… curious."
Tiān Lán's gaze stretched across the distant valleys, where faint lights—scouts and disciples—moved like fireflies against the mountains. His voice, when it came, was calm, yet beneath it thrummed the power of storms.
"Curiosity tests them. Ambition drives them. And both, if unchecked, lead to recklessness. Let them come. I will show them not just strength… but consequence."
---
First Confrontation – Azure Star Sect
By afternoon, the first true faction arrived. The Azure Star Sect—cultivators of storm qi, proud yet ambitious—advanced in formation. Five masters, their auras entwined, creating a spiraling gale that split the grass and scattered loose stones.
They meant not to bow, but to intimidate.
Tiān Lán did not move. He let his perception flow outward, slipping like a phantom hand through their formation. He felt everything—their careful rhythm, their synchronized breath, even the faint tremor of doubt in their leader's heart.
Then, with a flick of his sleeve, he answered.
The earth shivered. Stones lifted into the air, suspended as though caught in an unseen tide. The wind that had once obeyed the Azure Star masters twisted violently, scattering their formation as though it were paper before a storm.
The five halted, their faces paling as pressure bore down—not crushing, but suffocating in its inevitability.
The sect leader, robes snapping in the disrupted gale, clenched his fists. "He… he holds an abyss within. Even together… we are children before a mountain."
Tiān Lán's voice carried across the plateau, calm, steady, unshakable.
"I do not seek conflict. But should you force it, remember this: every step against me bears a price. Think carefully whether you are prepared to pay."
The five exchanged glances, pride and fear warring in their eyes. And then, one by one, they bowed—not in loyalty, but in acknowledgement of disparity. They retreated, their storm qi scattering into harmless breeze.
---
Yao Xiangyi exhaled slowly, tension easing from her stance.
"Even a gesture… and they retreat like beaten hounds. How many before the whole continent understands?"
Tiān Lán did not answer immediately. His eyes were on the horizon, where more lights flickered. More scouts. More challengers. More vultures circling the scent of power.
Finally, he murmured, "Not yet. This is only the first ripple. Soon, greater waves will follow. And when the Spirit Realm opens, they will come not just with curiosity… but with desperation."
---
Across the Continent
By evening, news had spread further.
In sect halls, masters restructured their strategies.
In noble houses, heirs were ordered to prepare journeys westward.
In remote valleys, young disciples whispered the name already taking shape in rumor: The Mountain Phantom.
Some said he was the reincarnation of a fallen immortal.
Others claimed he was a calamity in human form.
But all agreed on one thing—he was no ordinary cultivator.
---
Nightfall
As twilight bled into night, Tiān Lán remained at the cliff's edge, the Guardian hovering silently at his side. His silhouette was etched against a sky of molten gold and deepening violet, as though heaven itself painted him into legend.
Yao Xiangyi stood a step behind, her eyes flickering between awe and unease.
"They will test you," she said softly. "Some for glory. Some for answers. Some for greed. Not all will bow as easily."
Tiān Lán's lips curved faintly, though his gaze never left the horizon.
"Let them come. Every blade, every scheme, every drop of ambition poured against me will forge me sharper still. By the time the Spirit Realm opens, they will not simply know my name—they will remember it."
Above, the stars shone cold and unblinking.
Below, the continent trembled with whispers.
And on the scarred plateau, a single cultivator stood at the center of it all—calm, resolute, unyielding—waiting not just for challengers, but for destiny itself.