Kirin’s mind was still burning with Vael’s words.Higher powers are watching you, he said.The thought felt like a brand carved into his skull. He had lived his entire life resisting chains, yet here he was, walking right into another cage, this time built not of iron bars but of suspicion. Vael had spoken with a calm warning, but underneath it, Kirin had heard the truth: they would not hesitate to erase him if he became a threat.And the worst part? They were right to be afraid.That vision of himself in full chaos, brimming with power that he could not recognise still lived in his chest like a restless animal. Sometimes, when he channelled his qi in training, he could almost feel that future self staring back at him. Was that what he was destined to become? And if it was, would there be anything of himself left?The prison memories came back. The chains. The endless humiliation. The screams in the dark. The laughter of demons who thought they had broken him.The thought of surrender

The burial was supposed to settle things. A cultivator dead, covered under stone and silence. But instead of calming the whispers, the academy only grew louder.The new transfers had stolen attention, Aza with her quick tongue and sharper mouth, Shen with his cold precision, and Kirin, the quiet shadow that nobody quite understood. They didn’t fit into the academy’s fragile order. They weren’t bred nobles or trained elites. They were outsiders and outsiders had a way of disturbing the peace.Vael knew it. He could feel it like a sickness spreading. Rumors turned to suspicion, suspicion turned to paranoia. The burial hadn’t been the end of unrest, it had been the spark. And so, he made the choice he always made when the academy threatened to unravel, he threw the weak into the fire and let the flames show who deserved to survive.That was the purpose of the Sky Arena.The arena was a monster of stone and air. Suspended high above the academy grounds, a floating circle of platforms conn

The days after the confrontation with the Judgers had left Kirin hollow. His body healed quickly, but his mind hadn’t. He found himself restless, unable to sit still, unable to sleep for long without snapping awake at the sound of his own breath. Every shadow in the Hollow Gate sect seemed sharper than before. Every passing glance felt like an accusation.He tried meditation, but his thoughts refused to quiet. He tried training, but the motions felt robotic, drained of spirit. He even tried forcing himself to eat, yet the food turned to ash in his mouth. Something inside him was fraying, tugging loose strand by strand.On the third night, when silence pressed down like a suffocating blanket, he decided he couldn’t remain inside his room. The walls felt too close, the air too stale. He needed space or maybe he just needed to move before his thoughts consumed him.So he slipped out.The Hollow Gate sect at night was eerily still. Moonlight bled across the tiled roofs, casting jagged shad

The days after his talk with Vael felt heavy. Kirin walked through the corridors of the Hollow Gate sanctuary with a storm on his face, but his silence spoke louder than any words. He had seen the Ashborne locked in that cell. It had looked back at him with those burning, empty eyes, a mirror of his own curse, a beast that was both alive and dead at the same time.And Vael, calm as always, had denied knowing how it got there.Kirin didn’t buy it. Not for a second.But what good was not believing when he had no proof, no strength, no authority? He could shout his doubts to the whole sanctuary, but all it would earn him was a swift death at the hands of the Hollow Gate sect. The truth was as simple as it was bitter, he was still too weak.He hated that feeling powerless. Like a dog barking at chains he couldn’t break.So for the next few days, he simmered in silence. He trained, ate, slept, but his mind never stopped pacing. His fists clenched until his knuckles cracked. The Ashborne’s

Kirin hadn’t trained in two days.That in itself was unusual. Training was usually the only thing that kept him sane, every repetition, every swing of a blade, every pulse of Qi forced his mind into structure. But after that dream, the one that left his chest hollow and his skin cold, even the thought of sparring made his stomach twist. He didn’t want to pick up a sword. He didn’t want to focus his breath. He didn’t even want to look at the Hollow Gate.He sat alone by the shallow pond at the edge of the sanctuary grounds, tossing pebbles into the water. Each ripple broke the perfect reflection of the red sky above. His hands shook when he touched the water, like the dream had burned something into him that he couldn’t wash away.He kept telling himself it was just a dream. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again, the Ashborne crying out, the chains pulling tighter, the blood raining down like an endless storm. He woke up sweating, nails dug into his palms so hard they brok