The training grounds of Combat Peak echoed with rhythmic bursts of mana and the clashing of elemental spells. A hundred robed disciples stood like war gods in formation, each radiating immense pressure—high Earth Immortal Wizards, the elite core of the Royal Academy. They moved in perfect unison under the sharp eyes of Master Lei Zhen, whose presence alone demanded reverence. His aura, calm yet forceful, kept even the most arrogant disciple restrained.
Just then, a disturbance arrived—unlike a wind or roar, but still potent enough to break the focused silence.
Kent walked in, dressed in a black and gold robe, his dragon pet Sparky—now reduced in size—resting beside him with vigilant eyes. Though Kent’s cultivation was still one realm below the others present, the pressure he emitted was no less fierce. The recent tales of his bow mastery and Storm God techniques had spread far and wide.
Lei Zhen paused mid-instruction, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward Kent. The disciples stopped, their training forgotten for a moment, as murmurs began to ripple through the group.
“Is that… the bow user from the Hua family incident?”
“The one who summoned the golden storm chariot?”
“What’s he doing here?”
Kent ignored the curious whispers and walked calmly toward the Master. Without bowing, without hesitation, he spoke clearly, “I’ve made my decision. I want to participate in the Golden Heir Tournament.”
The training ground fell into complete silence.
Lei Zhen tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk rising on his otherwise stoic face. “Are you sure?” he asked. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of thunder.
Kent nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Yes.”
A storm of reactions followed. The disciples exchanged looks, some scoffing, others raising eyebrows in disbelief.
“He’s just a mid Earth Immortal Wizard…”
“Does he even know what kind of monsters show up in that tournament?”
But Lei Zhen silenced them with a single wave of his hand.
“Then get ready to leave in two days,” Lei Zhen declared. “Once you depart, you will not return for an entire year. That is the path of the Golden Heir Tournament.”
Kent’s expression didn’t falter. He simply asked, “Where are you taking me?”
Lei Zhen’s smile faded into mystery. “You’ll know soon enough.”
Kent nodded. “Then allow me to take permission from my master.”
Lei Zhen turned back toward his disciples. “Go. But be swift. We don’t have time to waste. The clock has already started ticking, and the world will not wait for your approval.”
Kent clasped his fists respectfully, then turned to leave.
The whispers returned as he walked away—but this time, they carried a different tone. Mixed with surprise… was a shade of awe.
Back straight, steps steady, Kent walked out of the Combat Peak like a man already marching into the storm of destiny.
–
The sky above the Poison Peak was blanketed in thick mists, carrying the scent of strange herbs and potent toxins. The buildings of the Poison Sect rose like dark towers of alchemical knowledge, ancient and silent, except for the occasional eerie hiss from the poison lakes below.
Inside a secluded hall carved from purple-black stone, Peak Master Wei Zhong of the Poison Sect sat cross-legged amidst jade vials and antique scrolls. His eyes were shut in meditation, but he opened them the moment he felt Kent’s presence approaching.
“You came,” Wei Zhong said with a faint smile, eyes gleaming behind his aged, cracked monocle.
Kent bowed deeply, the utmost respect evident in his voice. “Master, I’m leaving for the Golden Heir Tournament. I’ve come to seek your blessings.”
Wei Zhong chuckled softly, stroking his long white beard. “So the rumors were true. You’re walking the storm’s path now.”
From a nearby shelf, the master pulled out a deep blue manual with golden etchings and placed it in Kent’s hands. “This manual contains a lifetime of my research—antidotes, rare venom refinements, and self-purging techniques. It may not help you win battles, but it will help you survive them.”
He then brought out a sack filled with glittering mana pearls and a sealed jade box. “Take these. Use the pearls when you must burn your cultivation in critical moments. And in the box… you’ll find a poison so deadly, it can kill even a high immortal if used correctly. I leave it to your judgment.”
Kent received them with solemn gratitude. “Thank you, Master. I will return stronger.”
Wei Zhong’s old eyes grew distant. “Don’t return only stronger—return alive. Not many who walk the Golden Heir path come back.”
–
Kent’s next stop was the slave village. It had grown peaceful under his protection, its children playing in the fields, the elderly finally sleeping without fear. But as soon as he entered, Ai Ping rushed toward him, anxiety etched on her face.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, her hands trembling. “Then what about us? The Hua family—they won’t stop! They’ll come when you’re gone!”
Kent gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “I won’t leave you unprotected, Ai Ping. I’ll do something before I go. Trust me.”
She lowered her head, but her eyes showed a flicker of hope.
As word of his departure spread, the beasts of the mountain began to gather one by one—each walking solemnly toward Kent. The air turned heavy with emotion.
The Wolf Chief stepped forward and knelt, followed by the others.
The first gift was handed to Kent by a silent, horned beast—a wrist cloth woven with golden teeth, silver fur, and sun-thread silk, shining faintly with beast aura. “Wear it in battle. It will protect your fate line,” the Wolf Chief said.
The second gift was a crystal vial, glowing with an inner golden hue. “Mountain Bee Venom,” said a fox-like creature. “It can close fatal wounds instantly. Use it only when death is near.”
The third gift was wrapped in sacred leaves—robes made from the skin of the White Sky Serpent, pure white and almost divine in appearance. “Only those loved by the beasts can wear this,” said the Bear King, bowing deeply.
Kent was overwhelmed. “I will not forget your kindness.”
The beasts—mighty and proud—lowered their heads and howled, not in rage or grief, but in prayer. Their chants echoed through the village as tears flowed from their fierce eyes. It was not a farewell; it was a blessing for victory.
–
The next morning, Kent walked up the stone stairs to Lin Lin’s villa, nestled near the alchemy garden.
Bai Qi was already inside, helping with bottles when Kent stepped in.
“I’ve come to say goodbye,” Kent said simply.
Bai Qi dropped the vial in her hands. “What?”
“I’m leaving for a Year of training. Won’t be able to see you this time.”
Kent opened his arms. Bai Qi ran to him without a word, throwing herself into his chest and holding on as though afraid he would vanish right there.
“No… don’t go. You just got back…” she whispered, sobbing like a child. “Why must it be you?”
Kent gently patted her head. “Because I can’t grow if I don’t step out. This is the only way forward.”
“But it’s dangerous…!”
“I’ll return in one year. I promise.”
Bai Qi clutched his robe tighter, unable to stop crying. Lin Lin looked away, her lips tight—but Kent saw the way her hand trembled, just a little, behind her back.
After a long pause, Lin Lin said softly, “Win… and come back. Alive.”
Kent nodded, turning his back to the warmth of the villa.
–
The faint bubbling of elixirs echoed through Lin Lin’s alchemy room, the warm scent of lotus fire and molten herbs saturating the air. Soft rays of light filtered through the crimson window cloth, casting a gentle glow on her slender figure, bent over a cauldron.
Kent stood quietly near the entrance, watching her with a calm yet uncertain gaze. This room—so full of mystery and intensity—had become a familiar part of his journey. But this time, he was here not for questions, not to interrupt her craft, but to say goodbye.
“I’m leaving for training… One full year.” he said, voice quiet but steady.
Lin Lin’s hand paused mid-air, still holding a measuring spoon. For a moment, she didn’t turn. She added the ingredient with exact care, stirring slowly as steam danced from the bubbling potion.
“I know,” she replied softly.
He waited.
Lin Lin finally turned. Her eyes were red.
Kent was stunned.
He had expected a sarcastic remark, maybe an eye roll, or a reminder to not mess up the tournament. But instead, he saw something far more fragile—tears she was trying to hide, lips trembling ever so slightly.
She looked at him only for a second, then turned her face away, pretending to clean the table.
“You should go…” Her voice cracked.
“Lin Lin…” Kent stepped forward, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t know you…”
“Don’t,” she cut him off, still facing the wall. “You’re going, and I’ve accepted that. Just don’t say anything stupid right now.”
Her hand clutched the edge of the stone table, whitening at the knuckles.
Kent opened his mouth, then stopped. He realized that any words might shatter what she was trying so hard to hold in.
“I’ll come back,” he finally whispered.
She didn’t reply.
He lingered for a breath longer, heart strangely heavy, then turned and walked away.
As the door shut softly behind him, Lin Lin finally let the tears fall silently down her cheeks.
—
Just a short walk from Lin Lin’s alchemy house was a small jade-tiled residence, cozy and charming—Yun Rou’s place, nestled near the lotus bridge. The wind carried soft notes of incense and flower petals, and the faint melody of a guqin played in the background.
Kent stood before the door. His fist hovered for a second before he knocked.
The door opened almost instantly.
“Kent?” Yun Rou blinked, a surprised smile lighting her face. “You came?”
“I needed to see you,” he said.
She stepped aside and let him in. The moment felt warm, gentle, like stepping into a hidden world.
He sat down. “I’m leaving for the Golden Heir Tournament training… might be an year..”
Yun Rou froze, the porcelain teacup in her hand trembling slightly. “…You’re what?”
She walked slowly toward him, her face unreadable.
“Why now?” she whispered. “Why so soon?”
Kent gave her a sad smile. “This is the path I have to take.”
Yun Rou didn’t say another word. She walked right into his arms and hugged him—tightly, fiercely, as if trying to hold the moment still. Her heartbeat was fast, her breath soft against his neck.
“You always leave,” she said, eyes misty. “But I won’t stop you this time.”
She walked to a drawer and pulled out a heavy pouch.
“Take this,” she said, pressing it into his hand. “Three hundred thousand mana pearls. Don’t reject it. You’ll need it more than I do.”
“Yun Rou…”
She stepped back and smiled. “Come back after you win, okay? We’ll share lotus tea and laugh about how scared I was.”
Kent looked at her long and hard, then nodded. “I promise.”
As he left her courtyard, the petals of the blossom trees danced in the wind behind him—just like the quiet prayers of those he was leaving behind.