The morning sun had barely cleared the rooftops, yet the mission hall was already crowded. Voices hummed in low clusters, boots scuffed against the polished stone floor, and the faint musk of ink, old wood, and damp robes lingered in the air.

  At the centre of the wide plaza, the massive task board flickered with shifting lines of light, its inscriptions reshaping into new missions every few breaths. Normally, cultivators’ gazes clung greedily to those shifting glyphs.

  However, today they were ignored. Every gaze had turned toward a single desk, where the air itself seemed to grow metallic, like the breath before a storm.

  Xiao Lei followed the collective stare. A thin youth stood there, tall and wiry, no more than eighteen or nineteen. His stance was loose, yet his presence radiated the prickling edge of provocation.

  Xiao Lei searched the crowd. The ‘protectors’ from yesterday were absent. His expression remained calm, though his thoughts tightened. ‘Doesn’t seem like he is targeting me? Maybe he really wants the mission?’

  He drew a slow breath, then smiled faintly. “If brother desires this task,” he said evenly, “then take it. I’ll choose another.”

  For the briefest heartbeat, the youth’s expression cracked. A flicker—hesitation, surprise, something hidden. Xiao Lei caught it at once. He had studied human hearts too closely these past days not to see through such a slip. ‘So, you came seeking trouble. But why?’

  His feet moved before his mind finished the thought. He turned without pause, already stepping toward the task board.

  Around him, disappointment rippled through the crowd like a snuffed flame. They had gathered for spectacle, only to feel robbed of their early entertainment.

  “Hmph.” The youth’s voice cut sharp, brittle. “What do you mean by this? Turning your back on me—disrespecting me?”

  He lunged. In that instant his leg shone yellow-brown, thickening with the density of qi. His foot lashed out like a stone pillar cracking through air.

  Xiao Lei turned, arms lifting to block. Impact thundered through his bones. He skidded back two steps, heels grinding against the polished floor. The youth hardly moved.

  Gasps burst from the crowd.

  Chi Yu’s eyes flared, then dropped, jaw twitching as if to grind the shame away. A flush crept across his cheekbones, impossible to hide. Sixth stage of Qi Awakening, his strength should have been absolute over a fourth-stage student. Yet the boy had met his strike head-on and survived without crumpling.

  Xiao Lei’s voice came low, steady. “I meant no disrespect. If brother felt so, then I apologize.” His bow was brief but deliberate. Then he turned again, strides carrying him toward the exit.

  He had made his choice already. For now, he would remain low, feel the currents of the academy before stepping into them. His cultivation might stagnate for a while—but caution would grant him time, and time was worth more than a single clash of pride.

  He reached the hall’s threshold. Behind him, the youth still stood frozen, face caught between confusion and humiliation.

  “Chi Yu again? Gods, he’s desperate—nearly twenty already.”

  “Yeah. If he doesn’t reach the inner academy within the year, he’s finished. That’s why he bullies the rest, scraping for scraps.”

  “The seniors keep him around for one thing only—settling their grudges.”

  “Slip him a pouch of stones and he’ll bare his fangs.”

  “Oh? Then maybe…” someone leaned in, lowering their voice, “this isn’t random. Didn’t the new boy offend Senior Mu Pei? Who else would send Chi Yu?”

  The words froze Xiao Lei’s steps.

  Slowly, he turned back. His gaze found Chi Yu again, his expression unreadable but his voice cutting clean across the murmurs.

  “Brother,” Xiao Lei said, tone light as though making casual conversation, “don’t tell me Mu Pei sent you here?”

  Chi Yu had long since grown used to whispers. The outer disciples spoke his name with derision, though once they had praised him as a prodigy. At fourteen, he had entered the academy with a radiance that promised greatness.

  But brilliance was a fragile flame. Injuries gnawed at his cultivation, slowing, then halting his ascent. And in a place where geniuses bloomed like wild grass, one step backward meant being swallowed whole.

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  He spat to hide the disdain, even now, because the quiet boy’s eyes told the truth everyone else already knew.

  The words had barely left Chi Yu’s mouth when Xiao Lei moved.

  The air snapped as Xiao Lei’s fist blurred toward Chi Yu’s skull. For a heartbeat the arena went still, disbelief striking the crowd even before the blow did. No one had expected the gentle, forgettable boy to strike first, nor with such lethal intent.

  Chi Yu staggered in shock, then his lip curled into a sneer. He roared and lashed out with a kick, qi surging down his leg.

  “Mudcrash Kick!”

  The collision rang like stone splitting under hammer. Fist met shin, and power rippled outward in a violent wave. Both figures were hurled back.

  Xiao Lei slid furthest, boots scraping across the stone floor, chest jolting from the force. He had pulled back, concealing his true strength. His fingers trembled from the impact but he forced stillness into them, lifting his gaze.

  The rise and fall of his chest traced an unhurried rhythm, as though the clash before him carried no weight. Across the arena, Chi Yu’s face flushed crimson, a veteran’s pride shredded by the reality of being matched by a newcomer three stages beneath him.

  The crowd erupted.

  “He met that head on—and he’s unhurt!”

  “That strike should’ve shattered his arm… yet he’s still there…”

  Each word stabbed at Chi Yu’s ears. His fury coiled tighter, until it snapped.

  A roar tore from his throat. Behind him, the air convulsed, light twisting into a massive, horned silhouette. The ground itself seemed to shudder under the apparition’s weight.

  “The Earthly Bison Beast!” someone shouted. “A Rank Six Primordial Echo!”

  The phantom snorted steam, and Chi Yu’s body thickened with brutish power. Qi surged through his frame, muscles knotting like rope. Bones groaned, skin stretched taut, veins swelling dark with power. Then horns split through his brow, tearing skin as his body warped toward the beast.

  “His Echo Art—the Bison Body!” another disciple exclaimed.

  Someone gasped, voice shaking. “That boost… he’ll tear him apart!”

  Chi Yu lunged, transformed bulk thundering forward, intending to crush Xiao Lei beneath sheer force.

  His eyes tracked Chi Yu like a hunter watching prey stumble closer to the snare, patient, unblinking. He slipped aside, body weaving just beyond reach of the horns that split the air where he had stood.

  Another charge, another miss. The ground tore beneath Chi Yu’s hooves, yet Xiao Lei’s steps traced silence, his movements calm, patient.

  Each sidestep whispered across stone, precise enough to look effortless, his body moving with the inevitability of a drawn blade. Strength had grown, defence thickened, but speed had bled away. Every movement Chi Yu made grew heavier, more sluggish.

  Chi Yu knew it too. The Bison Body was borrowed time. His qi burned like oil in a furnace, his reserves crumbling with each rampage. And still Xiao Lei would not be goaded, would not strike back. Chi Yu spat venom, insults meant to ignite anger, but the boy only flowed away, leaving him raging at shadows.

  At last, Chi Yu faltered, breath dragging through his chest. He shed the form, horns dissolving into mist, body shrinking back to its human frame. The strain left him hollow, qi frayed.

  And in that instant—Xiao Lei vanished.

  The crowd blinked. One heartbeat he was darting aside, the next he was gone. A ripple of air shimmered at Chi Yu’s flank. Numbness struck the back of his skull a half-second too late.

  Xiao Lei emerged from the distortion, fist already descending like a thunderbolt.

  The blow hammered Chi Yu’s shoulder. Bone cracked, the sound sharp and cruel as lightning across stone. His scream tore the silence as his body lifted from the ground and crashed away in a spray of dust.

  The arena froze. Dozens of disciples stared at the newcomer, breath caught, words dying in their throats.

  Xiao Lei stood in the settling dust, hand still lowered from the strike. His expression was unshaken, his posture almost casual— his calm the very opposite of Chi Yu’s frenzy, as though patience itself had delivered the final blow.

  The crack of impact still hung in the air. Chi Yu staggered, breath shattering in his chest as his shoulder bent at an angle no joint should endure. A wet cough tearing from Chi Yu’s throat as a spray of crimson splattered across the ground. His hand pressed hard against his mangled shoulder, but even through the tremor of pain his gaze clung to the youth before him—the boy he had thought no more than easy prey.

  Murmurs rippled through the circle of onlookers.

  “He vanished…” one voice whispered, half-doubting itself.

  “Impossible—maybe a technique?” another ventured, and a sharp hiss of breath followed.

  No one dared say more, but greed flickered in their eyes, banked by fear.

  The stir broke when a group of older students arrived, their steps parting the circle with unspoken authority. At their centre walked a man in plain yet immaculately kept robes, hair touched with grey at the temples, eyes calm as still water. Even the air seemed to thicken, the restless whispers dropping as if pressed down by an unseen hand.

  “What happened here?” The man’s tone was soft, but it carried the weight of command.

  Xiao Lei stepped forward and cupped his fists respectfully. The cut of the man’s robes left no doubt—an instructor. “Nothing serious, Senior. Senior Brother Chi Yu was merely offering me some sparring pointers. Isn’t that right, Brother Yu?”

  Chi Yu’s jaw clenched. The words were nonsense; every person present had seen the truth. Yet beneath Xiao Lei’s calm gaze lay a lifeline. Face. A chance to salvage at least the semblance of dignity. His legs trembled as he forced himself upright.

  “…Yes. Brother speaks true.” His voice cracked, but the admission passed.

  The instructor’s eyes lingered briefly on Chi Yu’s pale form, then shifted to Xiao Lei. For a breath longer than comfort allowed, the man studied him. A flicker—approval, suspicion, or something else—passed in that look, then was gone. He gave a single nod and turned away. His group followed, their silence heavier than any reprimand.

  Chi Yu trailed after them, but as he passed, he leaned close enough for only Xiao Lei to hear. “This isn’t over.”

  Xiao Lei neither replied nor looked back. He walked as though measuring the stones beneath his feet, pace too deliberate to be mistaken for nerves.

  “Senior,” he said, placing the token on the desk. “The mission.”

  The clerk accepted it, eyes lighting faintly. With a few strokes of the brush, the task was inscribed under Xiao Lei’s name. The token was returned, a faint smile tugging the clerk’s lips.

  Xiao Lei inclined his head, wordless, and turned to leave. Behind him, the whispers swelled again—wonder, speculation, envy.

  The clerk watched his retreating back, thoughts curling unspoken. Interesting child.

  And among the gathered students, a new name began to take root.

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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.