Within the spaces of the grand palace walls, all was silent, except the sound of a choking voice.

Words of reasoning were no longer needed, as this had become a common occurrence for those that walked these halls. In the center of an expansive auditorium, two men were connected by a tightened fist. Long, thin fingers wrapped tightly around a pale neck, squeezing as if it were trying to pull out every word of unspoken secrets. A vacant gaze of gold weighed heavy, attempting to pass on some sort of judgment. Those eyes were glazed over like sweet honey, yet they offered not a drop of sweetness.

This event was one of thousands; over and over again, this dream began. The future persisted with every passing plea for air. It made itself known with a single fact: This scene would eventually become reality. It lingered with that threat, and heavy thoughts of demise came packed with a promise of ruin.

Fu Ran’s fingers grasped at his own throat.

Fu Ran had been reassured many times that his ailments should improve as he aged, but no matter what changes occurred, he had been tormented with recurring nightmares since he was young. While some dreams came, and then disappeared as usual, this particular dream had never vanished. Foresight was a curse. Fu Ran’s fingers clutched onto his neck, it had grown clammy and wet with sweat. The lasting anxiety had forcefully tightened his nails, leaving marks of frustration into the pale skin. Having visions visit him when he channeled for them was one thing, but those that came in the dead of night were…. Unwanted.

"Gold. It isn’t pretty at all," Fu Ran said, his words hoarse, and his breathing still heavy. His face and back were uncomfortably hot, and his thin white robes were soaked deep in sweat. To die at the hands of the same person, nearly every night… Is far too much!

Remnants of gold occupied his mind. Even while full of rage, those eyes shimmered, and would have looked so lovely under an atmospheric light. During any other time, Fu Ran would have admitted that they were the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. But not when they visited him at night.

Fu Ran’s hand had balled up a fistful of these silky white bed sheets, and brought it up to his forehead. He desperately wiped at the beads of sweat coating his skin. His lungs heaved. They were forced to work erratically, as his heart drummed out of rhythm.

It took longer than usual for his heart to return to a normal pace. He decided against returning to sleep, as the paintings of bright morning lights tried to usher him from his covers. This would not stop him from mindlessly lying in bed and allowing his thoughts to wage mental warfare, however.

“I am wide awake now,” Fu Ran murmured, his eyes distantly locked onto ceiling planks. His voice covered the entire tea house building, but it was soft and weary. Although quiet, it still filled the silence of his pavilion home well enough. It served as proof that he was alive, and very unlike the state of his dream-self. Fu Ran pulled the covers down and abruptly his peaceful serenity vanished. Knocking noises came from the door, shifting into a barrage of bangs before he could even respond.

Shoulders stiffening, Fu Ran nervously looked towards the entrance.

After banging more than a dozen times, the words of a man joined the sharp violent noises. "Fu Shidi, you can't miss our meeting by sleeping in again. Not this one, it is one of the few important ones in the year." The familiar sounding tone caused Fu Ran’s brows to furrow.

There was a low, annoyed grumble from outside his walls when he didn’t answer.

Fu Ran didn’t want to see Zhi Lao this morning. Fu Ran turned his shoulder to lay back onto the comfortable mattress, wishing he could ignore the words.

“I’m coming inside,” Zhi Lao said, alongside the immediate sound of his sliding door.

Fu Ran’s eyes widened, and he nearly shot right up into a full sitting position. "Zhi Shixiong, no! Please don't come in!" he cried.

Zhi Lao had made great haste in entering into the sparse and empty bedroom.

Fu Ran grit his teeth and his fists shook in frustration. Zhi Shixiong, when you barge in without permission, you make me want to see you even less! Why must this be a daily occurrence as of late? He wanted so badly to really say those words, but it was so hard to speak more than a single sentence when every time his martial brother barged in, he looked so full of rage.

Zhi Lao made heavy steps to Fu Ran’s bedside, and crossed his arms. His tired and masculine features were a fright to see in the dead of night, and who knew they continued to be terrible to see in the morning pinks too! With the way he always wore that scowl on his face, no one would believe he is usually a very good caretaker and Shixiong.

He stood, towering over Fu Ran with a deep, sunken in frown, and his eyebrows were knitted in impatience. His words must not have been for threats alone, as today he appeared more intimidating than usual. Light blue robes swayed with the readjustment of his legs and he began to repeatedly tap his foot on the ground like an angry wife. "Get up," Zhi Lao growled.

Fu Ran suddenly puffed up his cheeks and drew his expression into one of defense. "I am up!" He knew he was merely being contrary at this point so he wasn’t terribly shocked when a fist harshly patted down on the edge of his mattress. It did not provide any harm and it only shook him with a light bounce.

"Fu Shidi, you know what I mean. Get out of bed." Zhi Lao sharpened his gaze to clarify that he intended to give no room for debate.

It wasn’t good to raise your tone at an ‘angry wife,’ so Fu Ran just rolled his eyes. He got up easily with no more coaxing. He donned his favorite purple and gray robes and picked up the white sword that lay next to him on bed, before following his Shixiong to the courtyard.

It was spring and the flowers and trees atop the mountain sect were in full bloom. Usually, only his own private garden was covered in year-round pink and purple petal rain. However, today, flowers covered every inch of the sterile snow colored stone. Most of them had already been swept up into piles, but the flow of new petals was constant.

The meeting that Fu Ran was about to be late for, was that sect-wide entrance ceremony for the newest upcoming disciples. He had been hearing about it for a solid two weeks now. Every year the beginning of spring marked the wave of any new entries into the sect. With new children, it meant new disciples for the Peak Masters of An Xian Yun Peak. Some Masters took on many, and some turned away all.

Despite being the singular major cultivation sect left, An Xian Yun Peak only housed about two dozen Masters. Many of them were busy, and had been forced to take on many disciples to ease their burden and workload. But Fu Ran had been lazing about for three whole years now, and not taking a single disciple. This did cause a bit of an imbalance in the amount of jobs scattered around, as well as the amount of disciples coming in.

Just his presence alone seemed to give the gathering of Peak Master’s a more stiff air. They, no doubt, held their own reservations against Fu Ran’s ill fitting behavior.

How can I take on disciples, when I rely on Zhi Shixiong for such simple tasks?

Fu Ran spared only a single reluctant glance towards Zhi Lao. He felt guilty, like he had been taking advantage of his martial brother’s kindness and reliability.

Lamenting was put on hold when he heard distant gossip closing in as a few of the lady Peak Master’s walked by. "Did you hear that a unique little disciple is looking for a Shizun this year?"

How bold! To gossip needlessly about potential new disciples! Fu Ran mentally chastised the women.

"Is it about the new emperor's son?"

Fu Ran couldn’t believe his ears, and words were already flying out before he could stop himself. "New!?" He couldn't keep from shouting. And just as easily as he had complained about it, he found himself joining in on the gossip, instead. Startled, Fu Ran asked, "Since when was there a new emperor?"

“Zhi Lao, why didn’t you tell me! This is such simple news, and to not even be aware of this is simply too shameful!” Furious, Fu Ran grew close to really nagging his martial brother. Zhi Lao paid him no mind, as he had already begun reprimanding the gossiping Peak Masters.

Fu Ran opened his mouth to demand answers, but before he could question his Shixiong, he heard a bell. That bell signified that the bottom gates of the mountain sect had opened. It was such minimal mental overload, but it already caused his head to ache. Fu Ran could tell that this year too, he didn’t want any disciples.

He wanted to go gather dust.

As if reading his mind, Zhi Lao said, "You can't go another year without taking a disciple, you know. I've already taken on raising most of yours." A curt voice spoke beside him. To bring that up without a hint of hesitation, Zhi Lao was both the kindest, and the worst person on this mountain peak.

Fu Ran pursed his lips quickly, not daring to utter denial of his martial brother’s words. He silently lost himself in self reflection… What a terrible Shizun he was. His own dreams, thoughts and predictions had bedridden him to the point of affecting his disciples’ lives. His poor decisions affected his student’s lives, too.

He felt pity for them, as Zhi Lao was not the easiest to mentor under.

Before his sulking could hit full swing, the second bell of An Xian Yun Peak rang, and the upper gates of the sect had opened up. The large doors moved and remained open for a long while. A distant army of footsteps could be heard against stone stairs. When the first group of bright-eyed children were seen, Fu Ran could immediately tell they had all come from so many backgrounds.

Some of the children present appeared delicate and refined, as if their only hobbies were singing, picking flowers, and playing. Others had a rougher look about them, as if they had grown up in tougher cities where cunning was a way of life. But all in all, the children attending the ceremony were between the ages of 10 to 16, their little faces all trying their best to put on brave and confident expressions.

Fu Ran knew this scene well, as he had once stood in their very spot as a young disciple of the sect. As he watched the children's eyes dart around, sizing up the different masters, a small smile appeared on his face despite his earlier panic.