Lingxi Peak, Azure No. 4 Courtyard.
The candle flame swayed gently, warmth suffusing the room.
After hearing Xiao Nu's advice to lie low, seek stability, and quietly avoid trouble, Yang Jing's brows drew together slightly. Deep down, he disagreed.
Ever since he had begun rising from his humble beginnings as a boy in Yuhe County, he had never relied on bowing his head, swallowing indignities, or retreating from danger. More often, he had fought for every step forward, advancing against the tide.
Pingtian Academy was indeed a sacred ground of the Martial Path across the Four Provinces. Heavenly prodigies gathered there, monstrous talents abounded, and countless formidable figures stood among the extraordinary minds drawn from across the land.
Its circumstances were tangled, its factions numerous, and its competition brutally fierce.
Yet precisely because of that, the road ahead was unknown. Amid that boundless sea of people, no one could predict what figures, conflicts, or struggles they might encounter tomorrow.
If one retreated whenever a stronger person appeared, bowed whenever a heavenly prodigy emerged, deliberately humbled oneself before everyone to avoid trouble, and sought only to survive in safety and smooth over disputes, never daring to compete or willing to fight, then one's cultivation would lose all its edge. Even one's Dao Heart would gradually wither and stagnate.
The Martial Path was, by its very nature, a struggle against heaven, a march into adversity, an unyielding refusal to break. If one feared battle before fighting and fled competition before it began, then even in the finest sacred ground, with endless resources at hand, one would ultimately struggle to reach the summit or attain the Great Dao.
Yang Jing's thoughts were clear. He could keep a low profile and conceal his abilities, avoiding trouble and reckless aggression. But he could never endlessly