The Cauldron's Whisper, The Crimson Wyrm Awakens.
Li Yongyi stood before the apothecary counter of Rejuvenation Hall, his azure robe swaying faintly in the breeze, his stance rooted like an ancient oak. The twelve layers of The <
"This cauldron is no mere relic," Li Yongyi murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "It draws primal essence, forges jade elixir, and harbors the spirit of the Wyrm. Yet its form remains indistinct—more tempering is needed to unveil its true power." His eyes gleamed with quiet resolve, sensing the cauldron's potential would unfold with his own growing strength.
Seating himself in meditation, his qi flowed, slower but more robust than before, brushing against the venomous cold that had plagued his heart for a decade. This poison, once an agony that tore at his soul, now seemed to wane as The Ballad grew stronger.
As Yue Qingfeng had foretold, the mightier he became, the less the poison could bind him. That night, he slept dreamlessly, his heart at peace.
At dawn, the Mountain God Temple bustled with clamor—armored constables stood vigilant, blades gleaming. Li Yongyi channeled qi to his eyes, seeking the majestic silhouette of the Crimson Wyrm, but found only mortals in its place. "Yue Qingfeng has departed," he thought, lingering briefly before hastening to Rejuvenation Hall.
A carriage rested before the hall, where wounded guards laughed heartily with a young man—the young master of Rejuvenation Hall, offering coin, herbs, and promises of increased wages to soothe their injuries. Old Physician Chen shook his head, muttering, "The young master is generous to the guards, yet he speaks not of Li." Li, unperturbed, sorted herbs with steady hands, his mind charting the path ahead.
Fugitives in the land of Chen, he and his aunt had fled to Guanwing City, their eyes set on the Eighteen Provinces of Jiangnan. Yet the "pass warrant" barred their way—without household registry, no border could be crossed. Three years at Rejuvenation Hall would grant him Yongyi city's registry, and thence a pass warrant. In these chaotic times, gold was the true currency, and he resolved to amass it while honing his martial prowess to the "Threshold of Mastery," the realm of wandering knights.
In the hall's rear chamber, the young master's voice cut through: "The losses were heavy. We must cut costs. That injured apprentice—useless for months—let him go." Old Steward Zhao's protest was met with a chuckle: "Let the others work harder. Simple enough." Li Yongyi, sensing his dismissal, felt no bitterness, only clarity. He followed Zhao to a street-side tavern.
At the table, Zhao slid forward a letter of recommendation: "The Willow Family Academy is renowned. Your skill with numbers may find a place there." Li ate heartily, devouring rice and meat with gusto. Leaving ten coppers, he grinned at the tavern keeper: "Next time, a fine drink for Old Steward Zhao on me." The keeper laughed, "A man of principle!"
By afternoon, Li Yongyi stood before the grand Willow Family Academy, its gates thronged with the carriages of noble scions. As he stepped forward, a carriage rolled to a halt, a fragrant breeze wafting forth. A maiden's voice, clear as a bell, announced, "My lady, the Willow Family Academy awaits."
The Cauldron stirs, the Wyrm's shadow looms—whither leads the path of this steadfast youth?
**(End of Chapter)**