The avian beast cut through the skies, its wings flapping steadily, carrying Hope and the rest of the group over vast stretches of land.

  From the moment they had taken off, Hope had kept his focus inward, lost in his thoughts. Despite the breathtaking sight of the world below, there was little for him to do but sit in silence. The others around him had taken to various activities, some talking among themselves, some practicing their cultivation, while others, like him, chose to simply watch the clouds drift beneath them.

  A few of the participants tried to engage with each other, forming small groups. Some of them spoke excitedly about what awaited them in the Crimson Phoenix Empire, while others were more focused on comparing their cultivation techniques or discussing their experiences during the trials. There was a distinct sense of nervous energy in the air. Yet, despite the constant buzz of conversation around him, Hope remained untouched, a solitary figure on the back of the great beast.

  He noticed that no one came near him.

  The image of him drenched in blood after tearing Zane apart was still fresh in the minds of the others. The brutality of that moment, the raw power and ferocity he had displayed, left a lingering fear among the participants. Most avoided him, and Hope didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. The more they distanced themselves, the less he had to interact, and the more time he had for contemplation. He had never been one for idle chatter, and in a world of scheming and betrayal, silence was often more valuable than words.

  As the hours passed, Hope’s mind wandered. The sensation of flight, so natural to the avian beast, stirred a deep yearning within him. It wasn’t just the freedom that the beast seemed to embody, but the idea of flying under his own power.

  He could feel it—he wasn’t far from it. He knew that once he reached the Will Awakening realm, he would be able to fly, at least in a rudimentary form. But that was a long way off. He wasn’t even at the middle stage of Soul Resonance yet, and he could already feel the weight of the journey ahead of him.

  Still, the thought of soaring through the skies on his own, free from any constraints, filled him with a sense of longing. It was the kind of freedom that could only be gained through strength. Strength that he was still cultivating, step by step, every day. The thought made him feel good.

  Suddenly, his reverie was broken by a soft voice. “Did we already meet?”

  Hope blinked and turned his gaze toward the source of the voice. It was Ren, a fellow participant from the trials. Hope hadn’t really paid attention to him before, but now that he was close, he could sense the subtle aura of cultivation around him. Ren was a bit older than some of the others, though not by much. His features were sharp, and his eyes held a curious glint.

  Hope furrowed his brow. “Just in passing,” he replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

  Ren seemed to pause for a moment, as if trying to remember. “You seem familiar” he said, frowning slightly. “But I don’t seem to recall our meeting.”

  Hope shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t that important” he replied, his tone flat.

  Ren seemed to consider this for a moment, then smiled. “Hmm, maybe. Anyway, I’m Ren” he said, his voice light and friendly. “Hope I can count on you when we arrive at the sect.” The way Ren said it felt more like a statement than a question. His tone suggested that it was a matter of course—something expected rather than a request.

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  Hope didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he merely nodded and said, “I’m Hope.”

  Ren didn’t seem to mind the lack of enthusiasm. With a smile, he stood up and walked away, looking for another place to sit and meditate. Hope watched him go, then turned his attention back to his own thoughts.

  Ren's words, though seemingly innocuous, lingered in Hope’s mind. Count on me? For what? Hope had never been one to rely on others, and the idea of someone relying on him seemed equally foreign. But perhaps that was something he would come to understand in time. The Crimson Phoenix Empire was full of people with their own ambitions and schemes. Alliances, whether temporary or lasting, were bound to form. Hope would need to be careful, always watching for opportunities—and dangers. In the end, there was only one person he could truly rely on: himself.

  With that thought, he closed his eyes and began to cultivate.

  As he entered his meditative state, he assessed his progress, going over the details of his cultivation. It seems like I’m still a bit away from the middle stage of Soul Resonance, he mused. It was true. Despite his recent growth, he was still not quite there yet. The Soul Resonance realm was one of resonating and manipulating the energy around him, and Hope knew that he was far from mastering it.

  His body, on the other hand, had made some slight progress but it was still far away from the middle stage of Eternal Cinderheart Awakening.

  His fire intent was nearing the middle stage. He could feel his control over it growing and his understanding deepening. His destruction intent, however, had already reached the middle stage. That was a surprising development for him, considering how quickly his affinity for destruction had bloomed. He had always felt a strange connection to destruction, an inherent understanding of it, but to reach the middle stage so quickly was a testament to his natural talent—or perhaps it was attributed to something else.

  But as he sat there, quietly reflecting on his progress, Hope's thoughts turned to another aspect of his cultivation.

  The sword.

  Hope had always felt a certain connection to the sword. It was simple yet profound, a tool that could be both beautiful and deadly. Hope had always carried a sword with him since he was little. There was a truth buried deep within the blade, one that he had yet to comprehend.

  He reached down and grasped the sword, pulling it onto his lap. It was a familiar weight, one that had become second nature to him. He held it loosely, allowing it to settle in his hands as he closed his eyes again.

  What was the meaning of a sword? Was it just a tool for killing, a weapon to destroy? Yes, it was, Hope knew. But could it be more? Could the sword be something else entirely? He felt there must be more to it.

  As he meditated on this, he found himself considering the possibility of sword intent. The idea came to him naturally, as though it had been waiting just beyond his reach. He already understood two intents—fire and destruction—and those had become an intrinsic part of his being. It seemed logical, then, to try to comprehend sword intent as well.

  Sword intent, he repeated in his mind, focusing on the very essence of the word. He felt a strange pull in his chest, a tugging sensation that seemed to draw him deeper into his own thoughts.

  The more he meditated on it, the more he began to feel something shift within him. The sword was not just a tool for violence; it was a symbol, a vessel for the will of its user. To wield a sword was to embody the essence of the blade itself—sharp, unyielding, and precise. The sword was the extension of the will, the focus of intent.

  Hope's mind seemed to expand as he let the feeling wash over him, and for a brief moment, he saw the sword in a new light. It was not simply a weapon. It was a key. A key to understanding the world around him.

  He was closer to understanding the sword intent.

  The next few days passed in a blur. Four days of silence, contemplation, and slow cultivation. Hope focused on refining his intents, deepening his understanding of the path he was on. Time seemed to stretch and bend in the silence of flight, and before he knew it, the journey was over.

  As the avian beast began its descent, Hope opened his eyes. The Crimson Phoenix Empire was in sight.

  They have arrived.

  Milestones for extra chapters:

  Followers

  - 1

  - 10

  - 20

  - 50

  - 100

  - 150

  I will be adding more milestones as we proceed and as i think of them. Enjoy!