The old man waited for Zarak to respond. But when Zarak stayed silent, his eyes focused elsewhere, the old man followed his gaze.
High in the sky, barely visible against the bright morning light, was a small dot floating far above the city.
The old man's lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Ah, that floating thing," he murmured with a nod. "That's the Emperor Academy."
Zarak gave a slight nod, his gaze fixed on the tiny dot in the sky, as if it called to him in a way he could not ignore.
"I know it well," he murmured, his voice steady yet thoughtful. "That's the Sky Emperor Holy Land, one of the Seven Holy Lands."
Silence settled around him, and mories from his years in the mountain stirred, bringing to mind the ancient records he had studied.
These Seven Holy Lands were not ordinary places; they had existed for ages, each one a leftover remnant of powers far beyond what mortals could understand, shaped by beings who had moved beyond the bounds of the world long ago.
Those figures were nearly myths now, their mories faint as legends, but their lands remained as lasting symbol to their might.
Each Holy Land held its own unique power and wisdom, untouched by the mortal world. They were places that declared themselves beyond the common man, closed off to all but the rare few, shielding their secrets from those who could not grasp them.
These beings called themselves "immortals," souls who had sohow moved beyond the limits of death and ti.
And of course, zarak belonged to one of such holy land.
He recalled his master' word: The holy land existed outside of mortal concerns, untouched by the passing of years.
And while the other six Holy Lands chose complete isolation, severing their ties to the outside, one was different.
The Sky Emperor Holy Land alone had chosen to remain connected to the mortal world. It was a place where anyone, regardless of their birth, lineage, or race, could enter; if they t the academy's standards. The doors were open to all who had the potential, no matter their origins.
It was an invitation for those who dread of sothing more, for those who dared to reach beyond their limits.
Rembering the old man's words, Zarak turned and asked, "Do people here call it Emperor Academy?"
The old man nodded slightly. "That's right. It is known as the gathering place for geniuses."
Zarak considered this, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. Being one of the Seven Holy Lands, it made sense for the academy to be highly selective.
A place of such renown would have to carefully choose its mbers from countless hopefuls.
In the holy land he ca from, things worked similarly. Candidates faced intense trials, tests of strength, skill, focus, and more, all crafted to single out the truly exceptional from the rest.
Only those who proved themselves in every way could advance and earn a rare privilege: ntorship by a master.
For a young ascendants, having such a guide ant the difference between struggling in the dark and walking a brighter, surer path.
The old man's eyes twinkled with curiosity.
"You seem interested," he said slyly, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Are you thinking of challenging the top students at the academy?"
Zarak paused, a brief look of contemplation flickering across his face. He shook his head slowly.
"No, I can't spend my ti like that," he replied, his tone quiet yet resolute.
He hadn't co to this empire just to test his skills against the academy's best. His mission here was not about rivals or competition, no matter how famous the academy's students were.
His purpose was tied to sothing much more pressing, sothing he could not afford to ignore.
His master had given him a task, and there was a strict tiline he needed to follow.
For a mont, Zarak's gaze drifted back to the faint dot of the academy in the sky, his expression unreadable.
The old man watched him quietly.
In the end, being a talented genius himself, it was natural for him to look another such talent to test himself against.
After a mont, he patted Zarak on the back, breaking the silence with a chuckle. "Whatever it is you're after, I hope you find it."
As Zarak and the old man moved down the busy streets of the capital, the city's lively energy swirled around them. Crowds bustled past, rchants shouted to advertise their goods, and the scent of roasted ats and spices filled the air.
Zarak glanced down at a small crystal in his palm, frowning each ti he looked at it. He hoped it would show him sothing, so sign, so direction, but the crystal remained silent and dark.
With a sigh, he pocketed it and shifted his gaze forward, his senses sharpening as he absorbed the atmosphere around him.
Everywhere he looked, he noticed flashes of aura, like a hidden embers scattered among the crowd.
He could feel the presence of many ascendants, each aura distinct and strong, rising above the usual hum of ordinary people.
"I did not expect to see so many ascendants in a mortal empire," Zarak comnted, surprised. "Is there so sort of gathering here?"
As they had ventured deeper into the city, he could not ignore the increasing number of these ascendants.
In most mortal cities, spotting one or two would be rare, but here, he sensed several, so with such refined energy that they could easily stand among the top contenders in his holand's holy land.
The old man chuckled and gave him a knowing glance. "Didn't you know, lad? Emperor Academy opens its gates at the year's end. All of them are here hoping for a chance to earn their place."
"Ah, so that's the reason," Zarak mused, nodding.
In his holand, things were different. Admission to such revered institutions was not open to just anyone.
Disciples were carefully chosen by the elders, guided by ancient rites and divinations. Only those who survived a series of grueling internal trials could hope for entry.
Zarak's eyes drifted over the groups of young ascendants scattered along the street, each one carrying an unmistakable air of ambition.
So sat in quiet circles, discussing strategy and honing their skills, while others leaned against walls, their gazes sharp and focused as they watched potential rivals pass by.
He could see the determination on their faces, their eyes filled with dreams of glory.
He and the old man paused near a bustling square, where a group of young ascendants was sparring in a makeshift arena. Their movents were swift and graceful, each strike filled with a precision, and power.
Curious onlookers gathered around, cheering and gasping at the impressive display.
Zarak watched with quiet interest. Though he had no plans to enter the academy himself, he respected the drive he saw in these young contenders.
Beside him, the old man crossed his arms, chuckling as he watched the eager faces around them.
"There's nothing like the fire of youth," he remarked. "They co here with big dreams, ready to fight for their place in the academy. So of them will go far...others, well, they'll have to find a different path."
The old man chuckled, glancing over at Zarak with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"So, did anyone catch your attention?" he asked, clearly amused.
Zarak took a mont, his gaze scanning the crowd before he nodded. "A few."
The old man raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what's so special about them?"
Zarak's eyes swept over the young contenders scattered across the square. His gaze lingered, thoughtful. "One of them has an unusually strong soul power, it's rare to see soone here with such a refined spirit energy.
Another has an imnse amount of raw energy, like a reservoir that has yet to be fully tapped.
Then there is another...his energy is different. It is faint but complex, maybe a dual or even a mutated soul. I think he might've sensed , too."
The old man nodded slowly, impressed. "And the rest?"
Zarak shrugged, his expression calm. "Nothing that stands out. They're skilled, but nothing exceptional."
"Such confidence," the old man teased with a chuckle. "So, you think you could handle them all?"
A slight smile played on Zarak's lips, and he paused before answering, his voice steady and sure. "Unless those three joined forces against , it wouldn't be much of a challenge."
[A/N: "Nah, I'd win." Ahh dialogue]
It was not arrogance, just fact. Zarak had trained among the best. He was the top seat back in the holy land, honed by years of intense training and powerful techniques.
The abilities and insight he possessed were things most young ascendants here could not imagine, no matter how much natural talent they had.
The two continued down the bustling street, with Zarak trailing slightly behind. After a few minutes of silent walking, he broke the quiet.
"Where are we going?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the old man's back.
The old man glanced over his shoulder with a faint smirk. "To my next destination."
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