When Xiao Yan returned to Pan Men, he coincidentally met Wu Hao and Hu Jia. Seeing his gloomy expression, the two exchanged puzzled glances, bewildered by the sudden source of the young man’s rare fury, since he generally wore a cheerful smile. As their gazes lingered behind Xiao Yan’s figure, Hu Jia finally couldn’t help breaking the silence in a low voice— “Where is Xun Er?” Xiao Yan momentarily stilled his steps, exhaling slowly before answering, “She left.”
“Left?” The two gasped in astonishment as realization finally dawned before breaking into flurried expressions of disbelief. “Gone where? When will she return?”
“She returned to her clan. I doubt she will return any sooner.” Xiao Yan had reached the entrance, pausing once to mutter indifferently as he pressed forth into his quarters, shutting the door behind in with a loud slamming. Staring blankly at the door sealed tightly in front of them, Wu Hao and Hu Jia stood wordless for some time before a muted sigh escaped their lips. The gentle, smiling presence once shared by all in Pan Men had etched itself in all hearts through their long time spent together—an instant loss that naturally left hollows within one’s chest upon sudden parting.
“Oh, if this news should spread, undoubtedly many of our Pan Men kin might feel down,” Hu Jia finally sighed out after a contemplative pause to Wu Hao. Shrugging faintly, the youth gave a reluctant acknowledgment: “Little wonder her behavior lately felt off… she was planning on leaving, huh?”
“She must be hurting pretty badly herself,” sighed Hu Jia once again with an expressive gesture of helplessness before continuing, “Well, better leave him for now. Let the lad be left to his reflections.”
Nodding, the two drifted away gradually as a soft floral musk wafted delicately into an adjacent, smaller private room—the very fragrance Xun Er had unconsciously left lingering. Xiao Yan lay prone on a silk mattress, letting his vision fade to black, the visions of the lass’s charming expressions carving deeper into his mind.
Though her existence brought comfort and familiarity, this moment now left a gnawing sense of vacancy deep inside his chest as the realization unfolded with agonizing clarity through the emptiness of the void where she’d once been beside him—feelings that twisted and clung like tendrils, ensnared within his very being.
Xiao Yan’s breath exasperatingly caught again before he softly whispered into the hush of silence, “I promise… I will search for you…”
…
The dawn following brought renewed vigor to the long-hushed Internal Sector of the academy—buzzing with excited anticipation, as the top ten names from the current Strong List standings were preparing entry into the Tian Feng Alchemic Tower to undergo Core Flame Ordeal, an ordeal renowned across all ages for its unique capacity to forge powerful cultivators and pave the way for ascension to Rank Lord—if one survived it.
Pan Men had gathered a sizable crowd around the sector of a quiet pavilion, eyes all peering silently at its entrance, hushed voices murmuring their thoughts. But as low conversations filled up the quietude, a faint ‘clicking’ sounded forth as if a whisper against the stone. In a flash all murmuring ceased—a shared intensity reflecting within every eye, as they awaited.
At long last, from beyond that wooden frame appeared with unhurried steps a solitary cloaked figure—clad in robes deep as evening shade—a youthful visage unshaken, bearing the serene charm his kin admired most. His appearance sent hearts ablaze and hope blooming across every gathered member’s souls, lifting invisible chains off their shoulders through shared loyalty and shared belief, for Xiao Yan symbolized a leader in every way.
Seeing the familiar smile had Xiao Yan and Hu Jia breathe freely at last. Had the expression yesterday persisted, no doubt the enthusiasm in camp itself might have wavered. Gazing around at those expectant gazes, the black-cloaked youth returned his own subtle smiles, raising a single hand—silent and commanding. Then, with a single commanding bark, resoluteness etched into his tone:
“Let us go!”
Immediately, he set off forward as if leading an army, and a great multitude rallied with him—a living tide of black-draped Pan Men acolytes trailing behind him, each sharing an exulted fire and a pride unmatched. Moving in full view across courtyards brought a stir that spread like wildfire through the campus walls. Those watching from a distance soon turned and gawked in revelation upon laying eyes on their familiar young leader—an envious wonder filling each onlooker.
For the past months, under Xiao Yan’s guidance, Pan Men’s dominance had grown from simple herb and pill commerce to virtual exclusivity over potion supply in their Internal Arena—a feat that outshone every other guild in sheer scale and efficiency. The influx of ‘fire-natural’ energy reserves through sales allowed the sect unparalleled leverage in both internal competition among factions like the older Pharmacist Guild, as well as strengthening the unique energy-reliance structure in Pan Men’s reward system. Hence, among academy scholars, admiration for a fellow acolyte’s privileges and fortune within the sect was widespread regardless of allegiance allegiance or clan.
Moving steadfastly toward Alchemic spire in full splendor brought the gathering into confrontation. Several factions, though not few, seemed pale in presence when matched against this grand march, for even among them their champions numbered among the Top Ten, the weight their leader carried—such dominance was not easily borne when memories surfaced of even someone like Liu Cheng falling before Xiao Yan. Though both he and Xiao Yan missed out due to exhaustion at the last stages, none doubted that these two could’ve challenged even for spots within first ranks had circumstances altered even briefly.
Not long before Alchemic Tower appeared, Xiao Yan’s troop intersected once again, this time with Lin Xiu Cliff’s. At once the rival sects met, mutual expressions of start rose slightly before giving way to hearty words.
Xiao Yan’s keen observance swept Lin’s troop’s modest number—around twenty all in—yet each bearing an unmistakable air of coiled intensity in their gaze, eyes flickering with latent force and battle readiness—a force that stood resolutely as warriors of rare, elite potential with no wasted energy. Inwardly, he mused admiringly,
‘Ah, these must be the “Wolf Fangs”—a compact yet fearsome phalanx where one may challenge ten. Such elite discipline commands respect!’
At the same time, Lin’s glances, once sweeping towards them, briefly flickered with vague expectation, only to fade when that missing essence—one memory carved so clearly—remained absent.
A brief moment later, mutual words exchanged, Xiao Yan’s group finally halted just a stone’s throw from their famed tower target’s gates—the entrance a veritable swarm already crowded densely with students. Since today marked entry into the lower levels for the ranked, access was forbidden for regular students, though murmurs of complaints rose here and there—though most begrudgingly bowed to old academy statutes.
Yet the very arrival of Xiao Yan’s force immediately seized all onlooker’s attentions; for now, even with equal renown, Xiao Yan carried that unique charisma. In a heartbeat, scattered murmurs confirmed identity and the names behind the approaching troop:
“Isn’t that he again? Xiao Yan!?”
But he gave little ear—instead, using sheer numbers as blade through the throng before him, carving a passage through the chaos. Unapologetically, the entourage forced their way steadily before reaching an unoccupied plot right in front of their tower’s gates—a privileged patch generally reserved for high-ranked factions. With the might Pan Men currently enjoyed there was no reluctance in their choice of territory.
Arriving on their designated site, Xiao Yan gazed at the distant packed throng beyond where he and fellow outsiders once stood long ago—inward sighs escaping him as he remembered how he once watched enviously those basking in favored spaces. Now the world had spun around—and he sat here instead.
“Hey,” chirruped Lin Yan, materializing beside him, slugging in beside him before adding, smirking, “Look—the fiery Lion’s Pride, that old thorn-in-our-side himself, arrives.”
Startled, Xiao Yan looked sharply along the gesture and sure enough, from the outer tumult, a mighty group forcefully emerged and surged into central space—a commanding form at the forefront: Lion-Lord Liu Cheng himself. On him was that familiar weapon, Split-Mountain Pike bound at his back, followed close by Liu Fei, Yao Sheng, and an accompanying force—all of whom bore an intimidating battle aura rivaling, if not surpassing, those elite ‘wolf teeth.’ As Xiao Yan locked stares with Liu Cheng, that powerful gaze momentarily turned toward their direction.
Two pairs of fire-willed gazes connected in momentary stillness.
In a heartbeat, Liu Cheng’s gait slowed, every step now weighted in expectation, drawing murmurs to their epic reunion. As all watched with baited breath, the two adversaries’ mutual hesitation finally shattered as Liu’s steps deliberately pivoted towards the young, smiling youth seated within his entourage of Pan Men warriors.
Tension ran palpable in the air; at a signal from their young commander the approaching warriors halted as a singular body, boots striking hard like rolling thunder, a chilling demonstration of discipline.
Liu Cheng walked forth alone now with companions: Liu Fei and Yao Sheng—stepping steadily toward Xiao Yan until he stood barely over ten meters away as they locked gaze with cold understanding—the latter, his smile ever serene.
For several measured beats, all that stood between them was an unbridgeable wall of animosity—pierced at last when Liu Cheng broke first, his voice thick with sincerity.
“You are strong—more so than I estimated.”
Xiao Yan merely gave a respectful bow, smiling faintly, answering humbly. “Just my luck.”
Liu Cheng shook head slightly with conviction. “In warfare, fortune holds no sway.” Pausing, he let conviction burn bright like smoldering embers. “Starting today, I too gain myself someone deserving as rival—something I welcome heartedly. Someday in future I shall return—we duel further for supremacy.”
Without further ado, and before Xiao Yan’s reply could follow, he pivoted decisively away without further word, motioning those under his charge to an undisturbed place. Quietly, Liu Cheng and cohorts settled to wait the looming gate-opening.
From behind as the retreating Liu group melted away with grace into the periphery, Xiao Yan let out only soft chuckle, whisper mirthful yet resigned: “An ardent competitor he is—a thorn worth watching, even if sometimes quite…troublesome…”
Not long following Liu Cheng’s arrival, scattered figures soon made entry into the area until finally after nearly half an hour more a sudden roaring burst of descending gales announced the arrival of several elder figures descending in a majestic array before the Tian Feng gates—one standing boldly apart at head—the venerable Head Master Su Qian!
“Excellent. All participants stand summoned!” Venerable Master’s eyes swept across, voice clear in crisp command without delay: “Heed my words closely. The time is nigh.”
With single fluid swing of robes he raised his hand—and as though commanded by some celestial force itself, slow grating groans echoed from the Tower’s gates with slow, reverent finality—as the heavy gates yielded to his gesture, creeping slowly open.
“Eleven warriors upon this Strong List shall enter with myself,” he spoke evenly as those watching stiffened at his presence. “Others are strictly barred access on the day. To attempt intrusion invites heavy punishment—an isolation ban of 6 months from this sacred site!”
Without waiting for their protest or comprehension, Elder Leader pivoted and vanished silently through the dark threshold beyond into the ancient sanctum. With calm finality, Xiao Yan rose then—stepping forward as thousands watched jealously behind—his feet echoing in quiet declaration as entry sealed his path toward the Tian Feng Alchemic Tower…
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