The Immortal Path Is Crowded

Cutting through the air, flying at great speed, was a large bird made of a strange dark material.

Every one of its movements was natural and realistic: the beating of its wings, the slight turn as it caught a current. If not for the array on its chest, which vibrated as it glowed faintly, anyone would have thought it was a living beast.

The other fifteen, a little older, sat in small groups discussing everyday matters: who had earned the most merits, which resources were worth exchanging for in the sect treasury, and what pills or cultivation techniques they hoped to obtain next.

Wei Han watched the landscape pass by, lost in thought. The mountains fell behind like green smudges and the wind tousled his bangs without him blinking.

Sitting beside him, Sun Qingli looked at the sky and, every now and then, at Wei Han's profile, as if she wanted to ask something but didn't dare.

A loud voice broke the calm. With his arms crossed, without even bothering to sit down, Xiong Li kept his balance with a big grin.

"What's up, kid Wei?!" he shouted over the wind. "Thinking about the brat you fought?"

Wei Han's unfocused eyes regained focus. He slowly turned his gaze toward Xiong Li, nodded once, and answered in a calm, indifferent voice:

"It's the first time in my two..."

Something in his gaze wavered, making it impossible for him to finish the sentence. He thought for a second and changed his words:

"It's the first time in my entire life that someone my age has pushed me when it comes to fighting with the sword."

Xiong Li burst into a loud laugh when he heard that answer, so loud that several of the disciples up front turned around. With a slight movement he shook his head and stared at him.

"I understand that feeling perfectly," he said, and as he spoke he glanced up slightly, where Ling Chen was flying on his sword, watching the surroundings.

Having thought of something, his smile faded slightly and his brow furrowed as he spoke again, lower so that only they could hear him over the wind:

"In a way, this is very strange and worrying for our generation of senior disciples. After all, according to my master, your talent is something you see once a generation, and even those holy lands would fight over someone with your spiritual root. So finding some brat in the middle of nowhere, in a simple branch of a demonic sect, who can overpower you... it's inconceivable."

Fang, who was the closest to them, sighed upon hearing the conversation. Turning slightly, he rested his elbow on his knee and stared at Xiong Li and then at Wei Han. He clenched his jaw a little, as if his pride had been stepped on.

"The peak master said something similar," he blurted out, shrugging with annoyance. "That this new generation will be chaotic and full of monsters... I don't really know what he means, since he always talks about things I don't understand."

He hadn't finished the sentence when a cold, indifferent voice sounded from above them. Ling Chen was flying elegantly, standing on his sword a few meters above the bird, his hands behind his back as he watched the horizon.

"It's unnecessary to worry about those things right now," he said bluntly. "The only thing Wei Han should worry about now is focusing on continuing to cultivate and preparing for the sect's New Generation Competition, which will take place in five months."

A small hand rose among them, drawing the attention of the four men who were only talking about things little Sun Qingli didn't understand. But upon hearing about the competition, her eyes lit up. When she saw that she had gotten everyone to look at her, she puffed out her cheeks proudly and spoke with complete confidence:

"Senior Brother Wei Han shouldn't worry about that! I'm sure that no one from his current generation...!"

Her confidence wavered for an instant as she remembered the young man who had almost defeated Wei Han, and she swallowed.

"...no one from his current generation in the sect is capable of fighting on equal footing with my Senior Brother Wei!"

Silence reigned for a few seconds on the bird's back. It was finally broken by Xiong Li's laughter as he slapped his thigh.

"Little Sun Qingli is right about that," he said, clapping the air as if he could already see it. "Wei Han's combat ability is far above what's currently in the sect. I even feel bad for the brats who have to be in the same generation as him."

For the first time, Fang let out a light laugh. He shook his head and pointed at Xiong Li with his thumb.

"You may be a muscular brute, but this time you're right... how many monsters like the young man who fought Wei Han can there be out there?" he said ironically and mockingly, completely sure of his words.

Hearing their words of praise for Wei Han, Sun Qingli puffed out her chest proudly, even though she wasn't the one being praised.

Oblivious to everyone's words, Wei Han turned his gaze toward the vast, endless sky. The clouds raced past above the puppet.

He thought about Senior Xiong Li and Senior Fang’s words. Talent. Even in this life, something like that still followed him. But that man’s words had not been a lie. He still didn’t fully understand this world, yet in a way, that only made it more exciting. And for the first time, he felt that even with his talent, there was still a horizon beyond his reach—a horizon he would have to fight for.

An imperceptible murmur escaped Wei Han's mouth:

"I wonder how he is doing... has he gotten stronger?"

When he realized what he had said, a faint, imperceptible smile formed on his face at the thought that, if it's Him, he is undoubtedly creating chaos wherever he is right now.

The great metal bird continued advancing at full speed, cutting through clouds, leaving the burned mountains behind.

Meanwhile, in another place far away from there.

A young man of average appearance, with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail, was panting violently. His face was visibly pale and he was sitting on a slope at the exit of an immense canyon, his back leaning against a rock.

His Crimson Demon Sect robe was torn in several places and stained with dust. His brow furrowed as he looked toward the bottom of the canyon.

Getting to his feet with a low grunt, he stretched the stiff muscles of his shoulders and arms, which were still trembling slightly. Gripping the rocky wall with both hands, he slowly began to climb upward, each movement steady despite the exhaustion weighing on his body.