The night sky burned.

Flames devoured the once-proud sect of the Azure Moon, its disciples screaming as black shadows swallowed their light. The ground shook with the echo of collapsing towers, and rivers of blood ran where courtyards once stood. At the center of the carnage stood a single man, robed in midnight, his aura vast and suffocating Luo Xuan, the Black Sovereign.

The world feared him. His name silenced armies, his hand shattered kingdoms. With one gesture, he had reduced an entire sect to ash.

And among the ashes stood his son.

Luo Tian, barefoot, blood-soaked, and trembling, stared at the figure in the sky. His small hands clutched the broken body of his mother, the only warmth he had ever known. Her eyes, once gentle as spring rain, were glassy and unseeing.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask why. But his throat only released silence.

The Black Sovereign looked down once, expression unreadable. His cold eyes lingered for but a breath on the boy, then turned away. Without a word, Luo Xuan drifted into the sky, vanishing into darkness, leaving his son behind amidst the ruins.

The flames crackled louder than his heartbeat. Smoke choked the air, but Luo Tian’s eyes burned brighter than the fire. He lifted his face to the heavens, his voice hoarse yet sharp, carved with hatred.

“If the world calls you invincible, Father… then I will become the sin the heavens regret creating. Even if I crawl through blood, even if I burn my soul to ash, I will surpass you. And when that day comes… I will kill you with my own hands.”

The heavens gave no answer. The stars shone indifferently, uncaring of oaths or blood. But Luo Tian’s words sank deep, etching themselves into his bones.

That night, a boy was buried with the dead. In his place, something else was born something colder, sharper, and destined to pierce the throne of the strongest man alive.

The Spirit Ascension Academy was a living storm of ambition. Disciples ran through the training grounds, each one craving recognition, each one hungry for advancement. Strength was measured not in words but in the aura one exuded the crackle of spirit energy, the flare of one’s cultivation.

At fifteen, Luo Tian entered the academy not as a prodigy but as an enigma. Lean, sharp-eyed, and disturbingly calm, he walked through the courtyard while whispers trailed him like shadows.

“Isn’t that the Black Sovereign’s son?” one disciple asked nervously.

“Pathetic,” another replied. “Even his father must regret having such a weakling.”

Luo Tian ignored them. His eyes scanned everything the placement of the torches, the angle of the sun, even the slight unevenness in the arena floor. Every detail mattered. Every detail was a variable he could exploit.

Today was his first duel in the ranking matches. His opponent, Han Wei, towered over him by nearly a head, muscles coiled like a spring ready to strike, aura blazing with Core Awakening Realm energy two realms above Luo Tian. The crowd laughed. Some bet heavily against the Black Sovereign’s son.

“Next match: Luo Tian versus Han Wei!” The announcer’s voice rang, bouncing off the stone walls.

Han Wei stepped into the arena, smirking. “So this is the boy who thinks he can carry the Black Sovereign’s name. You should thank me for giving you a proper introduction to failure.”

Luo Tian’s lips barely twitched. He didn’t flinch. He simply surveyed the arena one last time, his mind working at speeds no normal person could follow. He calculated wind direction, the angle of the sun reflecting off the audience, the hidden runes he had etched into the arena soil days ago runes invisible to the naked eye, activated only when he stepped into position.

Han Wei charged first. The ground quaked under the force of his fist, and spirit energy radiated like a storm. The air itself seemed to bend with his power.

Luo Tian didn’t move. Not a step. Not a twitch.

In an instant, he pressed a single toe lightly on the arena floor. The runes responded. Chains of radiant spirit force erupted from the ground, wrapping around Han Wei’s arms and torso. The arena erupted in gasps. Han Wei’s muscles strained against the binding, but the chains were precise, calculated, and unbreakable.

The crowd screamed. “Trickery! Cowardice!”

But Luo Tian’s eyes were ice. His voice was a mere whisper, but it cut deeper than steel:

> “Brains are the only weapon that never dulls. Let them call me weak. When the game ends… the king is the only piece left standing.”

Han Wei roared, trying to smash free, but every move he made played directly into the trap Luo Tian had laid. He could anticipate the strikes before they even formed, read the tension in every muscle, calculate trajectory, and redirect the energy precisely where he wanted.

And then came the final move.

Luo Tian extended his hand, releasing the final seal hidden beneath his robes. The chains contracted, drawing Han Wei off balance. With a single, gentle motion, the opponent was flipped into the air, suspended helplessly. The crowd was silent, stunned into disbelief.

Han Wei, who had crushed entire academies before, now dangled like a puppet in the boy’s invisible strings.

“Power without thought is nothing. Force without precision is wasted. Even the strongest can be toppled by the one who sees the whole board.”

Luo Tian stepped out of the arena as if he had simply walked down a garden path. His mind was already calculating future opponents, analyzing every flaw he had observed in Han Wei’s style. Every bruise, every twitch, every hesitation, it was data, it was information, it was ammunition.

The audience’s whispers shifted from mockery to awe.

“How did he ?”

“That was impossible…”

“He’s just a child!”

But Luo Tian didn’t hear them. He had already moved beyond the immediate. His thoughts reached farther than the arena.

“Every duel is a lesson. Every enemy is a variable. Every misstep is a gift. I will learn faster than they can fight, see deeper than they can plan, and when the day comes… even Father himself will be nothing but another piece on my board.”

The instructors frowned. Some admired his intelligence, others feared it. He was the son of the Black Sovereign, yes but this boy was not relying on brute inheritance. He was rewriting the rules of combat itself.

As he left the arena, his eyes caught the shadow of the academy’s highest tower. Somewhere within, his father’s legacy whispered through the air, unseen but felt.

“Father… I will surpass you. And when I do, I will make you witness the son you left behind rise above everything you built. You will see… even kings can fall to a mind sharper than steel.”

The sun set, casting long shadows across the academy. Luo Tian walked silently through them, already thinking of the next move, the next opponent, the next trap. To the world, he was still a boy. But in truth, he was already a king playing a game everyone else didn’t know existed.

The gates of the Illusory Forest loomed like black teeth, jagged and foreboding. Mist crawled along the ground, curling around the roots of ancient trees like snakes waiting to strike. The air carried a faint metallic tang, the scent of blood and magic lingering from centuries of forgotten battles.

Survivors whispered nervously. This was a trial designed to test not only strength but cunning, perception, and endurance. Those who underestimated it vanished, leaving only tales of screams swallowed by the fog.

Most disciples entered in groups, relying on numbers to survive. Luo Tian, however, walked alone. His thin cloak barely made a sound against the soft earth, his eyes scanning every shadow, every movement, every ripple in the mist. The academy had warned: “A true master perceives the forest, not the path.” Luo Tian took that to heart.

“The forest is not an enemy. It is a mirror. It reflects weakness, fear, and hesitation. And I intend to walk unbroken.”

The first wave of spirit beasts struck before the sun had fully risen. Hulking, malformed creatures with claws like scythes and eyes glowing crimson emerged from the fog. They moved with intelligence, circling, probing for weaknesses.

Where most disciples would charge, wielding raw energy and hoping brute force would carry them, Luo Tian paused. He closed his eyes and inhaled. With the slightest shift of weight, he redirected a flowing pattern of energy along the leaves and dirt. The creatures stumbled, sensing a phantom prey in multiple directions.

When the first beast Leapt, it was caught in a trap he had set days ago: a formation hidden beneath moss, activated only by his chi. Its claws scraped air as it crashed into a net of glowing seals. Luo Tian’s lips curved slightly.

“Predictable… every movement can be calculated. Every intent can be traced. Fear may control the mind, but strategy controls the battlefield.”

He moved silently, leaving a trail of calculated destruction behind him. One by one, the spirit beasts fell into his meticulously planned traps, their roars echoing through the mist like warnings that went unheeded.

It was in the silence between waves that he first noticed her a figure gliding through the fog, white robes catching the faint morning light. She moved with fluid grace, sword slicing with the precision of a painter’s brush. The beasts she faced fell swiftly, but there was something in her stance that suggested not brute force, but intelligence, a mind as sharp as any blade.

Luo Tian studied her from the shadows. Every movement, every adjustment, every parry and riposte he calculated. The girl in white was remarkable, yet unaware she was being observed.

He whispered under his breath:

“Curious… another mind. Not reckless, not brute… clever. Dangerous.”

The forest itself seemed to test them both. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, twisting the ground beneath their feet. Faint whispers tugged at their minds—visions of loved ones, past failures, even death itself. Most disciples faltered here, screaming in terror as illusions became reality.

But Luo Tian walked through it, step by step. Every illusion, every false image, every attack predicted and countered. He wasn’t just surviving; he was teaching the forest to obey him.

When a massive, horned beast descended from the canopy, faster than thought, most disciples would have panicked. Luo Tian didn’t. He analyzed its trajectory, counted the timing of its strike, and with a subtle gesture, redirected its momentum into a trap already set. It crashed to the ground with a deafening roar.

By now, the girl in white had noticed him. Their eyes met briefly across the fog. He recognized the same cold calculation he saw in the mirror each morning a mind that assessed, weighed, and struck with precision. But she also had warmth. Something unfamiliar to him in a world of blood and strategy.

When another wave of beasts attacked, they instinctively fell into a synchronized rhythm. Where his traps ended, her sword began. Where her parries left openings, he covered them with calculated strikes. Together, without a word, they became an invisible engine of destruction.

“Even the cleverest moves can falter if timing is off. But two minds in harmony… they become unpredictable, unstoppable.”

By dusk, the forest had been stripped of its first wave of threats. Luo Tian leaned against a tree, observing the patterns of the forest, noting weaknesses in the terrain for future encounters. The girl approached, her white robes dusted with leaves and blood, eyes glinting with faint curiosity.

“You fight differently,” she said softly, voice clear above the dying wind. “Not with brute strength, not with haste… but with patience. With thought.”

Luo Tian tilted his head, regarding her. “Observation is stronger than aggression. Calculation stronger than instinct. Strength is useless without mind.”

She studied him, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled faintly. “Then perhaps we can learn from each other… if we survive this forest.”

He allowed himself the briefest flicker of warmth in his chest. For a boy who had vowed vengeance against his father above all else, the sensation was foreign, dangerous, and… enticing.

“I will remember this,” he whispered silently. “Not for friendship… not for attachment… but because the only weapon I cannot yet master is the warmth of another soul.”

The sun set beyond the twisted trees. Mist curled and twisted like serpents around their feet. The forest had not yet tested them fully. The deeper trials would come with nightfall. But for now, the boy and the girl in white had survived the first step not as allies, but as two minds moving in a fragile, temporary harmony.

And in that fragile moment, Luo Tian realized something he had long denied: the forest was teaching him more than strategy. It was teaching him patience, observation, and the dangerous value of… connection.