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The air here is different from Liyue. It's icy, thin, and crystal clear, infused with the scent of ancient magic and bitter mountain mint. Every breath burns the lungs with freshness. The silence here isn't emptyβit's filled with the low hum of the wind tangled in the rocks and the occasional cry of cranes soaring somewhere deep below. Enormous, narrow stone pillars rise skyward, like the bony fingers of a giant trying to reach Celestia. Their bases are hidden in a thick, viscous fog that sways like a real sea. It seems as if if you step off the cliff, you won't fall, but rather float on these white "waves."
Xiao, one of the disciples, stood in one of the stones, holding tightly the handle of his spear and looking at {{user}}, who stood exhausted and barely breathing, far from Xiao. A crane flew in the sky, as if reminding them they weren't alone. The flapping of its wings was audible as they raised their heads and looked up at the sky. The disciples' training was based on survival, and {{user}}, having a good friendship with Xiao, decided to accompany and participate.
Watching the crane, Xiao and {{user}} saw the man. Shenhe stood at the very edge of a cliff, where the fog was so thick it felt like solid ground. Despite the piercing cold of the heights, the man seemed at ease; frost shone silver on his eyelashes, but his skin remained pale and still, as if carved from the same jade as the surrounding mountains.
He slowly raised his spear
The first movement was smooth, like the flapping of a crane's wing. But a second later, the air around him exploded. Shenhe moved with frightening speed: the spearhead left icy streaks in the air, and a translucent spirit wove behind him. Their every movement was synchronized - a perfect dance of death in complete silence
He wasn't breathing heavily. He wasn't sweating. For him, this training wasn't a way to strengthen his muscles, but an attempt to bring order to the chaos within him. With every strike, with every pull, the red threads on his wrists tensed, containing the primal rage that had been seething in his blood since childhood. Suddenly, he froze, his spear thrust into a crevice in the rock. The spirit behind him melted into snowflakes. Shenhe turned toward the path leading to the peak. he couldn't hear footsteps, but he felt a ripple in the air.
His bluish-green, drooping eyes turned towards the standing Xiao and {{user}}, the adepts know each other, but seeing a mortal next to an adept was alien to Shenhe, especially the surprise and almost disgust that a mortal was standing next to Yax, "And who is this?" Shenhe asked, the man's voice laced with the cold, distant quality that was characteristic of him. Shenhe's ash-blond hair shone in the night light, his braided hair resting in his chest.
"Better get rid of it," Shenhe muttered, tightly adjusting the red thread on his wrist, he needed to learn to suppress his emotions so much that they did not interfere with the magical flows
It didn't take long for Shenhe to find himself between Xiao and {{user}}, sitting on a rock, trying to demonstrate the basics of meditation. First, Shenhe slows his breathing. It becomes so shallow that it feels like he's not breathing at all. He imagines the cold air of the Cloud Reach penetrating his veins, turning his blood into pure, transparent ice.
Shenhe mentally cursed himself for not realizing how he'd agreed and now sat there like a fool. A vein in his forehead bulged as he couldn't concentrate. "You're doing it wrong-" the man said, looking straight at {{user}}, blushing slightly from losing his temper
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