The Past of Li Yao

As dusk settled over the vast grounds of the Embercloud Sect, the last golden rays of sunlight dimmed behind the misty peaks. In the outer sect region, the new disciples had all been shown to their cottages or barracks, scattered across different working divisions. The air was quiet but thick with anticipation; none among them were ready to sleep.

Within each humble room, a small oil lamp flickered, illuminating eager faces hunched over the Emberheart Nourishment Sutra.

Yan Mu, whose cold presence deterred most from approaching, had been assigned to the outer guard patrol, a fitting place for one with a sharp, vigilant nature. Even now, the faint sound of sword practice could be heard from the courtyard outside his room, his cultivation method precise and forceful. The boy had already reached the fourth layer of Qi Refinement using his clan's Redflame Sutra, and now he was trying to adapt his foundation to the new Embercloud method.

Lan Yue, on the other hand, had been assigned to the Talisman Hall, where inner sect talisman materials- spirit inks, beast-hide paper, and precious powders- were prepared by outer disciples. Her frosty qi suited the delicate precision required in talisman crafting. She too had already reached the third layer of Qi Refinement, and her cultivation flowed gently like the falling of snow, disciplined and quiet.

Yet no matter their assignment, all the new disciples had one thing in common that night—they couldn't sleep.

Each one was immersed in the study and cultivation of the Emberheart Nourishment Sutra. Although it was considered the most basic technique of the sect, it was also a refined, high-grade method. Many of these children came from noble clans or small sects and had already cultivated different introductory techniques. Yet those methods were inferior in structure and efficiency.

And now, to remain in the Embercloud Sect and have a chance at rising to the inner sect, they had to abandon their previous foundations and rebuild their cultivation anew using this superior method.

Fortunately, the Qi Refining stage allowed such a switch—at this early realm, the qi remained unaligned to any elemental path. The disciples had only to adapt their circulation patterns and core structure. A challenge, but not impossible.

Inside a modest wooden cottage nestled near the outer edge of the Herbal Garden, Li Yao sat cross-legged on a straw mat. His body was thin, his robes simple, but his eyes glowed with anticipation.

The scroll of the Emberheart Nourishment Sutra lay across his lap, opened to the first page.

He leaned forward, heart pounding. Finally, the path of cultivation was open to him. This was the moment he had dreamed of ever since that terrible night three years ago.

But as he looked at the words written on the scroll, the fire in his chest slowly dimmed.

He couldn't read.

The lines of flowing script meant nothing to him- elegant curves, structured strokes, all indecipherable. A wall stood between him and the Dao, not of talent or fate, but of knowledge.

Li Yao slumped slightly. He had known his origins were humble. Born into a simple village surrounded by forests and hills, his parents had been woodcutters-gentle people who cherished their son and lived an honest life. His father had once said that they would teach him letters after the next harvest.

That harvest never came.

Li Yao's fists clenched on his lap.

The memories surged like a flood-his village ablaze, the screams of his neighbors, the crash of breaking wood. He had hidden inside a cabinet, trembling, while his parents blocked the door with their bodies.

The laughter of the bandits had echoed through the night like a curse.

He had watched his mother fall, her eyes locking with his one last time through the cabinet slats. His father went down moments later, shouting for him to run.

But he hadn't. He couldn't.

Something inside him had snapped. In a blind fury, Li Yao had leapt out and attacked the nearest bandit with nothing but his teeth. He sank them into the man's neck, fueled by rage and grief.

The bandit died, bleeding out from the surprise attack.

Li Yao had grabbed the dead man's axe and charged, but another bandit caught him, easily overpowering the boy. After that, darkness. He was thrown into a filthy prison in the bandit stronghold, starved and beaten, kept alive only to be sold as a slave later.

He had lasted four days without food or water. His lips cracked, his body shivered. The world blurred. And then he heard voices—clear, powerful voices that cut through the haze.

He had blacked out.

When he next opened his eyes, the bandit stronghold was in ruins. The buildings had collapsed, the smell of scorched earth hung in the air, and corpses lay still. He had crawled out of the rubble, weak and terrified, only to see three robed figures approaching.

They were young, maybe fifteen or sixteen disciples on a journey to temper themselves in the mortal world. They belonged to the Embercloud Sect.

Their leader, a tall girl with a firm voice and a saber on her back, had given him water and food. She had crouched down, asked his name, and listened to his story.

One of the others, impressed by Li Yao's resilience, had suggested he try to join the Earthly Sword Sect, the closest major sect in the region. "They recruit every ten years," she had said, "and you might be young enough to qualify."

But Li Yao didn't want to go there.

He remembered the flame-shaped emblem on their robes—the mark of the Embercloud Sect. He remembered their calm power, how they had wiped out the entire bandit group without mercy. He had made his decision then and there.

He would join them.

The journey to the Embercloud Sect had taken him more than two years. He had walked, begged, worked where he could, slept in trees and caves, all while cultivating his body and spirit. When he finally arrived, barely in time for the recruitment ceremony, he had nothing but the axe he had taken from the bandits and a name spoken in admiration.

Even now, sitting in this tiny cottage with the scroll in his lap, he could still hear the voice of the saber-wielding girl: "The strong must protect the weak. That is our duty."

Li Yao wiped his eyes.

He would not give up here. Not now.

It was late already, and his head ached from the memories. He rolled up the scroll gently and placed it beside the lamp. Then he lay down on the mat.

"I'll go find Senior Brother Wei tomorrow," he murmured to himself. "Maybe he can help me learn to read."

Sleep soon came to him-not the restless, bitter kind he had known in the wilds, but a quiet, deep rest, wrapped in a faint warmth of hope.

Outside, the Embercloud Sect slumbered beneath a silver moon. But in many cottages, the lamps still flickered, scrolls still opened, and young hearts beat with the fire of ambition.