The fifteen candidates gathered on the stage, waiting for instructions. Then—a sharp cry split the air. Heads tilted skyward.

  Shadows stretched, blotting the valley floor. A cry rolled across the ridges—low, commanding as thunder. Four great beasts descended, each bearing a carved wooden platform large enough for five.

  The students froze a breath too long. Hao Jin’s steady voice cut through.

  “Board quickly.”

  His sleeve flicked as he strode toward one beast, Madam Ling and Elder Yi gliding behind with effortless poise.

  The command jolted the others into motion. Robes swished, boots scraped stone as they hurried forward. Excitement burned in their eyes—barely checked, feverish.

  Xiao Lei moved with them, yet apart. His steps were measured, his gaze level, his expression still—as if this were no more than a morning errand. To look at him was to see someone untouched by anticipation, though he was about to step into a land whispered of as blessed.

  Around him, eagerness gleamed, sharp-edged. Even Shi Mai, known for her serenity, could not entirely mask it. A faint flush warmed her cheeks, composure softened at the edges by something rare—undisguised anticipation.

  Xiao Lei climbed onto the platform of a waiting beast, the planks creaking beneath his boots. Shi Mai, by coincidence or intent, followed. She lowered herself beside him, her presence marked not by words but by the gentle curve of a smile.

  For a few breaths, silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint shift of feathers and the guttural rumble of the beast below. Then, softly, she spoke.

  “I am glad you made it back in time.”

  He turned toward her. Unlike their first meeting, Xiao Lei now knew who Shi Mai was—how much weight her name carried among the students. His lips curved into a smile, clear and unguarded, its warmth startling in its sincerity.

  “Fortune must favour me,” he said, voice calm and smooth, “if someone like you was waiting.”

  Her composure faltered. Colour rose across her face. She had expected distance, courtesy—perhaps indifference. Instead, his words struck with quiet boldness. Her eyes darted away, then returned, caught by the steadiness of his gaze.

  Elsewhere, another gaze lingered. From the back of a different beast, Peng Yu’s eyes locked onto them, sharp with undisguised anger.

  Ahead, Hao Jin raised his hand. The headmaster gave a single nod. At once, the creatures spread their colossal wings.

  The air surged. With a thunderous cry, the beast hurled itself upward. Its companions followed, their voices rising together into the sky, a chorus that shook the heavens.

  Soon, the four beasts dwindled into the distance—first black smudges against the sky, then nothing at all. Those left behind craned their necks until the heavens swallowed every trace. A long sigh rippled through the crowd. Envy sharpened their gazes; for the fifteen chosen, even survival promised a future the rest could only dream of.

  High above, the ride was swift. Wingbeats boomed, yet no wind tore across the passengers. A strange stillness wrapped the platforms, as if the beasts carried with them a pocket of calm that denied the world outside. Within that hush, Xiao Lei sat at ease, posture unhurried, voice low as he exchanged words with Shi Mai.

  To the three other young men sharing the platform, the sight grated like sand between teeth. Xiao Lei’s name already carried weight in the academy—his feats had travelled farther than most of them liked. Still, each was a prideful talent in his own right, and pride rarely sat quietly when challenged.

  At last, one broke. A sneer cut his face, and his voice rose sharp over the hum of wings. “I didn’t know Shi Mai favoured such taste. Passing on gold, choosing mud.”

  The insult landed heavy. His two companions laughed—thin, brittle, eager to drive the barb deeper.

  Shi Mai’s expression darkened. Her hands curled tight upon her knees, knuckles pale—then, with effort, she smoothed them out, forcing her composure back into place. She held her silence, though her eyes were cold enough to cut.

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  The restraint only emboldened the trio. Jeers wove one over another, souring the air.

  Xiao Lei did not rise. Their voices washed over him like rain on stone—unwelcome, unworthy of reply. Yet a question lingered. Shi Mai was known for her influence, her strength among the outer academy students—why then did she not strike back?

  As if sensing the thought behind his stillness, Shi Mai spoke, quiet and clipped. “The one in the middle is Peng Ji—cousin to Peng Yu. Their family is powerful, and mine… our business ties with them run deep.”

  Her gaze flicked to the youths, then away. “Not long ago, Peng Yu sent his father to ask for my hand. Both families agreed. I stalled for time. It only fuelled his anger. Now he is jealous. He would see me cornered.”

  Xiao Lei listened, the faintest nod tilting his head. Family—sometimes a shield, often a chain. He knew his own parents might one day use him the same way.

  His eyes lowered, the thought settling cold in his chest. Bonds cut deepest when they became chains.

  Neither Shi Mai nor Xiao Lei offered a reply. Their silence stretched, heavy as stone. The three youths quieted at last, but the mockery lingered in their eyes, sharp as knives, clinging to the pair who sat unmoved.

  The flight pressed on. Below, vast lands rolled past: cities glimmering beneath haze, forests coiled like green seas, mountains jagged as broken blades. Other winged beasts sometimes rose, eyes glinting with hunger, shrieks raking the sky. Yet each threat dissolved before it neared—the handlers moved with ease, and the colossal mounts cut through danger with thundering grace, wings slicing air, bodies veering aside in perfect control.

  Gradually, the rhythm shifted. Wingbeats slowed, descent coiled in their stomachs. A shadow swelled across the horizon. Beneath them stretched a forest, black and fathomless, its canopy so dense no thread of moonlight pierced through. The closer they came, the deeper the darkness pulled—swallowing sound. It was less a forest than a veil, an entrance to something unseen.

  When the beasts touched ground, the stillness deepened. Students disembarked quickly, clustering along old lines. The ten from the inner academy stood in a seamless row of quiet pride, while the outer students drifted into smaller knots. Beside Xiao Lei, Shi Mai remained calm but watchful. A short distance away, the other three outers pressed close, eyes flicking between their companions and the treeline.

  Peng Ji moved without hesitation to join the inner group. Before leaving, he cast a brief nod toward Peng Yu. The exchange spoke volumes. Xiao Lei’s brow shifted, faint surprise in his eyes. He had taken Peng Ji for an outer student—Shi Mai herself had given him no reason to think otherwise. The mistake was his. Another truth filed away, another strand in a knot of hidden ties.

  His attention sharpened as Hao Jin stepped forward. In his palm rested a token, black laced with purple veins. It rose, humming softly, and drifted outward. The air trembled before it—an unseen wall revealed at its touch. Then the space split like torn fabric, a narrow wound of light against the suffocating dark.

  “Enter,” Hao Jin said, voice calm but edged with weight. “Remember: though rivals, inside you will face disciples of other sects and clans. Against them, you must stand together—or none will last. Survive ten days, and the valley itself will cast you out.”

  Others? Xiao Lei’s eyes narrowed. A curse flickered through his thoughts. So much remained hidden—the valley, its rules, even the academy itself. But how could he grasp more, when time had pressed him at every turn?

  One by one, students stepped into the rift, swallowed by the shimmering wound. At last, Xiao Lei moved as well. His breath steady, gaze unshaken.

  Knowledge or ignorance—what came, would come.

  The ragged veil of light wavered once, its edges folding inward as though stitched by unseen hands. With a final ripple, the gate sealed, leaving behind only a faint shimmer—like the last echo of thunder.

  Hao Jin exhaled slowly, amusement curving his mouth.

  “So,” he said, voice carrying an easy weight, “any wagers on who might claim the Sky-Grade Lightning Qi?”

  Madam Ling’s fan snapped open with a whisper of silk. Behind it, her eyes gleamed.

  “Shi Mai,” she replied without pause. “That girl has the hunger.”

  Hao Jin’s smile deepened. “A fine guess. Yet…” His gaze tipped toward the silent forest that had swallowed their disciples. “It is no small thing for outer students to stand against the inner court. Wouldn’t you agree, Headmistress Xyu?”

  The air stirred. A faint distortion rippled outward, and then a figure stepped free of nothingness.

  She did not descend. She simply was—suddenly present, as if the world had always held her shape but only now remembered it.

  Xyu Mui, Headmistress of the Inner Academy, still sat astride the great beast they had travelled upon.

  Her steps were unhurried, each motion precise as falling rain. When she spoke, her voice cut clean through the air.

  “I have never placed faith in excuses, Headmaster Jin. Guts and destiny—those alone seize opportunities such as this.” Her gaze lingered on the forest canopy, unreadable. “If I were to wager… I would choose Zhen Du.”

  Elder Yi shifted, robes rustling like dry leaves. His lips parted, but before he could speak, Hao Jin’s chuckle rolled out, low and knowing.

  “Ah, I see where your favour lies. Our newest monster, is it not? Breaking through to the ninth stage—commendable indeed. But this trial…” His eyes narrowed slightly. “This is a different battlefield entirely.”

  Elder Yi’s throat worked. At last, he inclined his head, voice reluctant.

  “You are not wrong, Headmaster. Still… if he does manage to surprise us once again—”

  A single gesture stilled him. Xyu Mui’s hand, pale as jade, brushed the air like a blade of moonlight.

  “If he succeeds,” she said flatly, “I will see him promoted to the Inner Academy without delay.”

  Her voice was cool, final. The silence after cut sharper than any blade. For the first time, Hao Jin’s composure wavered. The forest seemed to brood under her gaze, as if holding secrets none were meant to see.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.