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Wish

  Kael Draven stepped out of the cave with the others.

  The passage behind him was narrow and damp, the stone walls uneven and marked by age. Torches fixed along the tunnel burned weakly, their flames shifting with the movement of air. A few young cultivators ahead of him discussed the manuals and artifacts they had collected inside. Their voices echoed faintly against the rock.

  Kael remained silent.

  The engraving carved deep within the cave wall was still clear in his mind. In his previous timeline, discovering it had changed nothing. By the time he found it, his talent had already been fixed by Heaven’s law. The opportunity described in that forbidden text had long passed.

  Now, as he stepped into the open air, cool wind brushed against his face.

  He had returned to an earlier point in his own life.

  The forest outside was quiet. Sunlight filtered through tall trees, casting scattered shadows across the ground. The group began descending toward the city below. Kael walked steadily among them, neither rushing nor lagging behind.

  Nothing about him appeared different.

  The Draven family mansion stood at the center of the city.

  High outer walls enclosed the estate, constructed from dark stone reinforced with formation markings. The main gates were wide and solid, guarded by uniformed attendants who bowed as members passed through.

  Inside, the grounds were expansive and well ordered.

  Stone pathways connected open courtyards. Covered corridors supported by red pillars linked the main buildings. The tiled roofs curved upward at the edges, layered neatly and maintained with care. Spirit lanterns hung beneath the eaves, unlit in daylight but prepared for evening.

  Training grounds occupied the eastern section of the estate. Residential courtyards lay deeper within. At the center stood the family hall.

  The hall was the most prominent structure in the mansion.

  Broad steps led to its entrance. Thick wooden columns supported the high ceiling, each carved with restrained patterns. The interior was spacious, lit by suspended lanterns that cast steady light over the polished stone floor. A long carpet extended from the entrance to the main platform at the front.

  At the front of the hall were eight elevated seats positioned at high altitude. Of those eight, only two were occupied by Rank 8 masters. Their presence alone commanded attention. Along both sides of the hall were seats reserved for Rank 5 to Rank 7 cultivators. Behind them, rows extended outward for roughly one to two hundred family members gathered for the ceremony.

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  The atmosphere was formal and controlled.

  When Kael Draven entered, a Rank 7 cultivator standing near the center aisle announced in a clear voice, “Kael Draven. Age sixteen. Mother deceased during childbirth. Father fallen in the Northern War.”

  Soft murmurs passed through the hall.

  Kael walked forward calmly and stopped at the awakening platform.

  The formation beneath his feet activated with a low hum. Pale light rose steadily from the stone, surrounding him in a controlled glow. The illumination did not fluctuate. It remained stable and even.

  After several breaths, the assessor declared, “A-grade talent.”

  The hall filled with quiet discussion.

  “An A grade…”

  “Rare.”

  “Promising.”

  Before the voices could rise further, Elder Veyron, one of the Rank 8 masters, spoke.

  “Silence.”

  The single word settled the hall immediately.

  Elder Veyron fixed his gaze on Kael. The pressure was not overwhelming, but it was deliberate. Kael felt the weight of that attention, his heartbeat tightening slightly for a moment. He maintained his posture and kept his breathing steady.

  After a brief pause, Elder Veyron withdrew his gaze.

  Elder Kaelith then spoke evenly. “As you have awakened A-grade talent, according to Draven family rules, you may request one wish within reasonable bounds.”

  Kael bowed respectfully. “Honorable Elders, I wish to enter the Holy Pond.”

  A short silence followed.

  The Holy Pond was located within the inner grounds of the Draven mansion. It was sustained by a spirit vein and protected by layered formations. Only those with A-grade talent were allowed to request entry.

  Elder Kaelith looked at him. “You are certain?”

  “Yes,” Kael replied calmly. “I am certain.”

  Elder Veyron gave a slight nod. “Your wish is granted. You may enter the Holy Pond within three days. You may leave.”

  Kael bowed again and stepped down from the platform.

  He walked through the central aisle without hesitation and exited the hall.

  After Kael left, the doors closed.

  The Rank 8 masters remained seated at the front.

  Elder Kaelith spoke first. “What is your impression of Kael Draven?”

  A Rank 7 cultivator answered, “He is composed. He did not react excessively under scrutiny.”

  Another elder added, “He could be thoughtful. Or overly cautious. It is too early to determine.”

  Elder Veyron folded his hands within his sleeves. “He grew up without strong backing. Yet he shows no visible resentment.”

  One of the elders said quietly, “There was another child in that generation.”

  A brief silence followed.

  “His brother,” Elder Kaelith said. “The child did not survive.”

  The statement was simple and without emphasis.

  Elder Veyron nodded slightly. “That matter was recorded. It does not affect the present.”

  The discussion moved on.

  “He chose the Holy Pond,” one elder observed. “That suggests he values foundation.”

  “If he lacked judgment,” another replied, “he would have asked for immediate resources.”

  Elder Veyron concluded calmly, “He is steady. That is sufficient for now.”

  Outside, the Draven family mansion remained orderly beneath the fading daylight.

  Servants moved through courtyards. Younger members spoke quietly among themselves. The family hall stood unchanged, dignified and silent.

  Kael Draven walked back toward his residence within the inner compound.

  His expression was calm.

  The Holy Pond awaited.

  Nothing outwardly distinguished him from other promising disciples of the Draven family.

  Yet this time, he carried memory of what lay ahead.

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