Chapter Two: The Ash-Born Spark
The path to the academy wound through jagged cliffs and mist-laced stairways, each step higher than the last.
Carved statues of elemental warriors lined the ascent — fireblades poised mid-slash, metal titans clutching halberds, water priests frozen in eternal chant. Their stone eyes shimmered with faint elemental glow.
Wan Juo climbed in silence.
Not out of reverence. Not from awe.
He was hungry.
His stomach groaned as the memory of steaming noodles haunted him.
"Forty silver coins," he muttered, "and I didn't even get a taste."
Each step reminded him of the Guiyan Wilds — the roots that tried to trip him, the cold that seeped into bone, the wolves that learned his scent.
Compared to that, stairs were kind.
When the group finally reached the outer courtyard of Tianxuan Academy, gasps broke out like firecrackers.
A city carved into a mountain towered before them
Temples spiraled outward in a hexagon of power.
Waterfalls of pure elemental energy poured down skybridges.
Floating platforms drifted like leaves in a current of light.
Students glided across the sky on windblades or sank into stone with a whisper.
Wan Juo stared.
Not with wonder. With quiet calculation.
A chubby merchant boy beside him gasped.
"Are those students flying?"
A noble girl whispered,
"Real elemental flight. Second Ring, at least…"
Above them, five towers pierced the sky - Fire, Water, Wood, Earth, and Metal - arcing inward like divine fingers around a pulsing orb of shifting light.
The Core Star.
It pulsed once.
Everyone flinched.
Wan Juo grunted.
"Felt that in my teeth."
"Welcome to Tianxuan!"
A voice fell like snow.
A woman in white descended, not walking, but drifting.
Hair like starlight.
Eyes too pale to be mortal.
"Head Instructor Lin…" someone whispered behind him.
She landed without sound.
"For those of you accepted today… congratulations," she said, voice calm enough to split stone. "You've taken your first step into a world where fate is forged, not followed."
Some nobles straightened, pride swelling in their chests.
"But…" she continued, "…this is only the edge. Your elements have awakened, yes. But that means little if you cannot survive the Gate Trials."
A hush swept through the crowd.
Everyone had heard the rumors.
Eight Spiritual Gates.
Channels within the body.
The path to elemental mastery.
First Ring: one gate open.
Second Ring: four gates.
Third Ring: all eight.
And beyond that?
Rare affinities. Sub-elements. True power.
"Fail the trials," Lin said, "and you won't be sent home…
You'll be sent to the ground-ashes and bone.
Because once resonance begins, if your body rejects the flow…
The backlash will burn you alive."
Someone whimpered.
Wan Juo only adjusted his belt.
Names rang out like strikes on a bell.
"Jiang Feng - House Cloudspire."
"Yan Mei - House Verdant Root."
"Tao Wu - House Argent Fang."
"Wan Juo…" the disciple squinted. "House… Cinder Root."
No one laughed.
But the silence was worse.
A noble girl whispered,
"That's the abandoned one, right?"
House Cinder Root
The outer rim of the academy. Cracked tiles. Rusted lanterns. A sigil half-faded, a flame struggling against the wind.
Wan Juo knocked.
No answer.
He pushed the gate.
An old bamboo chair creaked as it leaned back.
"Survived, did you?" said a grinning man with a wine cup.
Instructor Shen.
Part mentor. Part drunk. All shrug.
"Are there others?" Wan Juo asked.
"Used to be. Some died. Some left. Most failed." Shen sipped. "We're the leftovers, boy.
But sometimes… scraps make for the sharpest blades."
He tossed a badge - dull copper, flame nearly extinguished.
"Three days. Gate Trials.
Open one, or you're out."
"Out meaning dead?"
Shen grinned. "Technically… yes."
Day One
He awoke to silence.
No drills. No instructors.
Just peeling walls and moss-covered floors.
He washed in a cracked basin.
Stared at the reflection — a boy with stretched skin and eyes sharpened by survival, black unkempt hair....he knew he had to do something "important"
After a warm bath in the spiral bath tub,
He cleaned the hall.
Swept the dust. Patched a broken mat.
Fixed a shattered window with cloth.
He hated filth.
In the courtyard, he found an old elemental rune. Half-faded.
He sat cross-legged in its center.
And waited.
Day Two
He explored.
Behind the back hall, a meditation garden — swallowed by vines.
He cut a path through.
Uncovered statues of long-dead warriors, some beheaded, others weeping.
One of them — fire-element carved — screamed without voice.
Not in rage.
But in offering.
Later, he rang a training bell lost beneath dead leaves.
No one came.
Still, he trained.
Not techniques. Not forms.
Just endurance.
Balancing on stones.
Breathing in cold.
Holding still until the wind turned.
Letting pain become familiar.
That night, he lit a fire.
No larger than a candle.
His hands trembled.
He protected it from the wind.
Day Three
He dreamed of the pit.
Of Mei.
Of the bun.
Of the scream that never ended.
He woke with fire at his fingertips.
No heat. No smoke. Just a pulse.
His.
It didn't burn the mat.
Or the room.
But it burned everything else.
Instructor Shen leaned on a post.
"Saw you with the statue. Screaming thing."
Wan Juo didn't answer.
Shen tossed him a bun. "Most who come here think silence means failure.
You wear it like armor."
"I'm not going back," Wan Juo said.
Shen raised his jug. "That's not an answer."
Wan Juo turned to the brazier.
The flame flickered.
He smiled — thin, mocking.
"Then I'll burn forward."
Trial Grounds
The arena was carved into the mountain's side.
Runes glowed.
Constellations shimmered above in the sky-dome.
Gasps. Screams. Failures.
Wan Juo stood at the edge, arms folded.
"They say fire runs in blood," came a voice behind him, smug.
"Guess yours runs dry."
He turned.
Blazing Phoenix Sect.
Red robes. Arrogant smirk. Golden trim.
"Didn't I tell you insects not to speak?"
"And I thought Cinder Root bred beggars, not clowns."
Wan Juo ignored him.
A candidate collapsed, smoke curling from his mouth.
The instructor turned.
"Name?"
"Wan Juo."
"Element?"
"Fire."
"Strength?"
"Enough."
"Let's see."
The pain was instant.
Molten iron.
Spine split open.
Fire poured into veins.
He grit his teeth.
The Gate of Flame stirred - but refused him.
He pushed harder.
Mei's smile.
The blanket with a pup.
Blood on his hands.
The scream.
"More…" he growled.
The gate cracked.
Flared
BOOM.
A roar of fire burst from his back.
The ground hissed.
Energy snapped in the air.
"First Gate… opened," a judge whispered.
Wan Juo dropped to one knee.
Cloak singed.
Eyes calm.
Alive.
Back at Cinder Root, night fell.
He sat by the brazier.
A small flame danced in his palm.
No larger than a match.
But it danced.
And it was his.
Shen tossed him a cold bun.
"Still think you've had worse?"
Wan Juo smirked.
"That was just waking up."
From the shadows, a student cloaked in wood-element runes whispered:
"The mutt… actually made it through."
Far above, in the Fire Spire -
Instructors stood around a flame basin, watching the trial echoes.
An elder scoffed.
"A flicker. He'll be eaten before mid-year."
But Lin's gaze lingered.
"He reminded me of someone," she said.
"Who?"
She turned.
"Someone...who didn't let the world decide who he was."