The God Within Me

As the morning mist lingered over the sect, daily routines quietly returned. The training grounds buzzed with renewed energy—crisp air charged with determination as disciples gathered, each carrying a different goal in their hearts.

Yanzhi stood among them, his eyes still heavy from the previous day's trials, but something inside him had shifted. A new fire stirred—uncertain, but undeniably present.

The instructors began dividing the disciples into teams for a training competition. The purpose was simple: to refine control over spiritual energy and improve teamwork.

Yanzhi was paired with a disciple named Liang, who had already shown considerable skill with wind-based techniques. Their task: test each other in simulated attacks and defense.

Yanzhi clenched his jaw. He wasn't afraid of the fight—his body was strong and trained. But when it came to elemental techniques and spiritual control, he knew he was still behind. Worse yet, the power he relied on… wasn't entirely his own.

"Planning to get swept away like a dry leaf, or should I step in?"

The familiar voice echoed in his mind. He was used to the fire spirit's sarcasm by now. Yanzhi clicked his tongue.

"I can handle it."

"Of course. All you need is, what, another ten years?"

Yanzhi sighed. "You really enjoy mocking me."

"It's my only source of entertainment in this stubborn body of yours. But the offer still stands—just borrow a little of my strength. Just a little."

He hesitated. But Liang was already gathering wind energy in his palm. Yanzhi knew he didn't have much time.

"…Fine. But don't try to take over my body."

"Please. If I wanted control, you'd be asleep already."

Yanzhi took a deep breath and clenched his fists. He opened a small channel within his soul, allowing a flicker of the spirit's power to flow. Flame flickered in his palm—hot, alive… but unstable.

When it was Yanzhi's turn to strike back using the fire spirit's energy, he tried to summon the flame with control. But as always, it trembled—wild, unpredictable—much like the spirit itself.

"Focus, human. You're embarrassing me in front of these kids."

"If you'd shut up for once, maybe I could focus."

"Look at that… A flame as shaky as its master," the spirit taunted again, snickering inside Yanzhi's mind.

Yanzhi frowned but stayed silent. He tried to maintain his grip over the fire, but Liang seized the opening and launched a gust of wind that snuffed out Yanzhi's flame. Round one—lost.

Still, Senior Lu Ming offered him a small smile.

"Yanzhi, you're not perfect yet—but remember, control requires inner calm."

Yanzhi lowered his head, then raised it again, voice steady. "Understood, Senior Lu Ming."

As training continued, Yanzhi began to really listen—not just to the spirit's words, but to his own instincts. Slowly, the flames he summoned grew more stable. He wasn't just reacting—he was directing. And soon, he was even able to assist Liang in holding their ground.

After training ended, Yanzhi sat beneath a tree, taking a long breath. In his heart, he admitted,

"Maybe this spirit really is annoying… but I need him. I have so much more to learn."

The fire spirit stirred again, voice laced with that ever-present sarcasm.

"Well, would you look at that. The thick-headed one can learn. There may be hope for you yet."

Behind the teasing and unstable flames, one thing had become clear.

Yanzhi wasn't walking alone anymore.

And for the first time… he was beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

---

That morning, the sky was a dull shade of gray, as if the sun was still hiding behind the mist. In the main courtyard of the sect, the disciples stood quietly in rows, waiting for the results of the personal mentor selection.

On the raised stone platform, the senior cultivators stood in a line—each of them a high-level practitioner about to choose a disciple to guide directly. For the young disciples, this wasn't just tradition—it could shape the course of their future.

The voice of the Sect Leader echoed through the courtyard, calm yet commanding.

"Seniors, please state your selections."

One by one, the seniors stepped forward and called out names. Every time a name was spoken, a disciple stepped out, their face a mix of relief and pride.

"Lin Xue."

"Han Cheng."

"Mo Ran."

"Qi Yun."

Name after name was announced. Yanzhi stood still in the back row. A few disciples began to whisper. Some glanced his way with confused looks.

Why hasn't he been chosen? With his unclear background and reputation for unstable aura control, many assumed no one would pick him.

Then the final senior stepped forward—Lu Ming. He stood tall, calm eyes scanning the rows of disciples… and paused.

A disciple next to Yanzhi whispered,

"He's going to pick Lin Fei. He said he prefers students with steady wind elemental control."

Lu Ming looked briefly at Lin Fei. But then, his gaze shifted—landing directly on where Yanzhi stood.

"Yanzhi."

His voice was steady. Clear. Undeniable.

The entire courtyard fell silent.

Yanzhi raised his head, eyes slightly wide. Even Mo Ran, standing a few feet away, glanced over—just to make sure he'd heard right.

"I choose Yanzhi as my personal disciple," Lu Ming continued. "Because he possesses something rare—the courage to keep standing, even when he hasn't yet found his direction."

Yanzhi stared at Lu Ming. In his words… there was more than acknowledgment—there was hope.

"Training begins this evening," Lu Ming said, then returned to the senior lineup.

Yanzhi stepped forward slowly. As he stood at the front, it felt like the doubts that had always clung to him… were starting to burn away.

And of course, the voice in his head didn't stay quiet.

"Well, well. Look at our rock-headed boy, personally chosen by the handsome senior. Rising up fast, aren't you?"

Yanzhi sighed. "He's just a mentor. Don't exaggerate."

"Oh sure. Just a mentor whose eyes sparkled when he said your name. Very normal."

"You're acting weird today. Usually, you only comment on my training."

"Funny. One day of being a favored disciple and you're already radiating a smugness I can practically smell."

Yanzhi frowned. "You mean I stink of sweat?"

"Forget it. Your brain clearly can't process subtlety. Just focus on training before I transfer myself to a more promising host."

Yanzhi let out a small huff. He knew the spirit liked to taunt him, but somehow, it always left his chest feeling hot—whether from irritation or embarrassment, he couldn't tell. He drew a deep breath and turned toward the training grounds.

Not long after the announcement, the formation lines dispersed. Disciples grouped up, chatting about the mentors who had chosen them. But among all the names, only one drew the most attention.

"Did Senior Lu Ming really choose Yanzhi?" a girl whispered to her friend, nudging her. "I thought he only picked disciples from powerful clans."

"I thought so too. Yanzhi's not from any known family, right?"

"Still, it's Senior Lu Ming," another replied, half in awe, half in envy. "Handsome, powerful, a sword master… Who wouldn't want him as a mentor?"

"He was already the favorite of half the female disciples before we even joined," someone else muttered. "And now… he picks Yanzhi?"

Envious eyes flicked toward Yanzhi, who stood a little apart, seemingly unfazed by the gossip swirling around him.

Nearby, a group of male disciples murmured quietly.

"Senior Lu Ming is perfect. Calm, strong, and looks like a hero straight out of a storybook."

"I bet half the girls in the sect wish they were chosen by him. And instead, it's Yanzhi—the stubborn guy."

"Hey, maybe he's got a hidden strength we haven't seen yet. Or… really good luck."

Through the noise, Yanzhi stood tall, pretending not to hear a thing. But his gaze was restless, hearing his name tossed around like market gossip.

The spirit inside him grumbled, voice echoing in Yanzhi's mind.

"A perfect start. You're already the idol of the day and you haven't even shown a single move."

Yanzhi replied inwardly, "They just like to make noise."

"Exactly. And you… are standing in the middle of it all, with no clue what to do next. This is delightful to watch."

---

It didn't take long after the announcement for their first day of training to begin. Disciples gathered in small groups according to their chosen mentors, clad in training robes with expressions ranging from nervous to eager.

Yanzhi stood among those selected by Senior Lu Ming. Some cast glances his way—curious, jealous, or both.

Footsteps echoed calmly from the edge of the field. Lu Ming approached with composed elegance, his white robe swaying gently in the morning breeze.

His gaze was calm but commanding. The disciples bowed as he came to a stop before them.

"I'll be guiding your training directly for the next seven days," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Don't expect mercy just because I don't shout."

A few disciples chuckled under their breath. Yanzhi simply lowered his gaze, unsure if he should feel relieved or wary.

"Starting today," Lu Ming continued, "I want to see more than power. I want to see your mindset. On a real battlefield, a steady heart is stronger than any blade."

A voice echoed in Yanzhi's mind—the familiar sarcasm of the fire spirit within him.

"How noble. A steady heart and a pretty face—what a perfect combination for a heroic tale."

Yanzhi ignored it.

Training with Lu Ming was intense. Though he never raised his voice, the senior knew exactly how to push each disciple to their limits—physical conditioning, defensive techniques, and elemental control through meditation.

To Yanzhi's surprise, Lu Ming seemed to pay close attention to him. Whenever he struggled to stabilize the flames within him, Lu Ming would step in with calm, precise guidance.

"Your energy is wild, but not directionless," he said one afternoon, as Yanzhi gasped for breath after a draining session. "You just haven't learned how to listen to it."

"I don't even know what that means," Yanzhi panted. "The only thing I hear is it yelling at me in my head half the time."

Lu Ming chuckled, assuming it was a metaphor. "Then learn to make peace with it."

The spirit snorted from within.

"I'm not some enemy that needs to be pacified. I'm a neglected guide."

"You just like to feel important," Yanzhi replied silently.

"I am important. You're just too slow to notice."

Their dynamic hadn't changed much—constant banter and sharp comebacks—but amidst all that, Yanzhi's strength slowly stabilized. The once-unruly flames began to respond, if only in brief moments. Not perfect, but enough to catch the attention of even the other instructors.

By the end of the week, a new announcement stirred the sect: an inter-sect sparring event would soon be held. Baiyuan Sect—Yanzhi's home—would be hosting.

Excitement spread fast. Everyone speculated about rival sects, unfamiliar techniques, and who would be chosen to represent them.

Yet, in the middle of all the buzz, Yanzhi found himself overtaken by a strange feeling—a mix of anxiety… and faint anticipation.

The spirit murmured in his mind, voice unusually calm.

"Finally. Let's see if you're all talk… or if you can actually fight."

Yanzhi took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay focused. "I don't need your commentary right now."

Spirit: "Not commentary. A warning. If you mess up, we both suffer."

Yanzhi: "I'm not that stupid."

Spirit: "True. But you're not that clever either."

Yanzhi: "Whatever. I'll do what I can."

Spirit (tone slightly softer, though still gruff): "Don't just do what you can. Do enough to make sure I'm not embarrassed to be stuck with you."

Among the murmurs and sidelong glances, Yanzhi stood alone—bearing a name, a flickering flame, and a weight of expectations.

And the world… was finally beginning to look his way.