Free Feathers Martial Arts School

Kizaer hurriedly made his way to the Free Feathers Martial Arts School, just like many other children and young people did every morning.

In reality, despite the abundance of children and youth, the Free Feathers Martial Arts School was a place intended for poor children without the proper aptitude to cultivate the Flux. At least there, they could learn the basics of martial combat and receive superficial teachings about the Flux.

"Very well, get into formation," instructed one of the teachers in the central courtyard. "Salute the school director."

"We salute the Venerable Director Ling." The students chanted in unison, their voices cheerful.

"Hmm… Excellent. Study diligently and dedicate yourselves to Flux practice. Each of you has the capacity to achieve unparalleled feats and unlimited potential, regardless of what others say about you—even if you've been rejected by other schools." Venerable Director Ling spoke while nodding approvingly, admiring the students. "Remember: Every Tyrant Dragon that reigns powerful and unstoppable beneath the seas once crawled through mud puddles during its weakest moments in life. Today, you crawl and fight against everything around you; tomorrow, you'll become incomparable, like the mighty Tyrant Dragons of the sea."

Venerable Director Ling was a tall man, around 1.82 meters (6 feet) in height. His long hair was secured with golden ornaments, and he wore martial attire in a celestial blue hue. His amber eyes held sincerity and receptiveness. Despite appearing to be around 40 years old, he was much older, his aging slowed due to his cultivation level.

"Roar!" The students shouted together that morning.

"Very well, each of you to your classes, let's begin." One of the teachers raised his hand to signal silence and coordinated the students by separating them and redirecting the students to the 3 pavilions; Knowledge Pavilion, Cultivation Pavilion, and Martial Pavilion..

Each class took place in separate classes within the pavilions. The school itself occupied an area of 100 hectares of land, where various buildings stood. Some buildings were used for teaching, others stored materials and supplies, and a few served as residences for notable teachers and students.

Despite the Free Feathers Martial Arts School being a place for poor and rejected children, its owner—Venerable Ling—was a man of means and always showed benevolence toward the little ones seeking education under his wing. "Every child represents a seed of unlimited potential in the eyes of this old man, regardless of their abilities, circumstances, or limitations," Venerable Ling repeated whenever questioned about the capabilities of the members of his Martial School.

The daily life in that place was bustling. Indeed, any place where children and young people learn and share life is vivid and brings joy to the eyes of those in need of a reason to smile. And those students were the reason for Director Venerable Ling's smiles.

The day unfolded naturally. Kizaer was in the final moments of the Writing and Reading class when the teacher, interrupting the boredom that had settled over him, caught his attention. "Kizaer, please stand up and read to us about the origin of our city's name, 'Path of Rest.'" requested the teacher.

"Darn it… why me?" Kizaer thought to himself. "Madam, yes, honorable teacher," Kizaer replied with a military tone, something his classmates and teachers were accustomed to and ignored. After all, he was the grandson of Old Rymann Bandolen, known as the "Fiercy Blood," who was well-known for his strict behavior and posture… Well, perhaps not so strict when near Miss Mayare.

"Our small city—Path of Rest," Kizaer continued, opening his book. "Our small city has existed for a few hundred years. Despite that, the population hovers around a few thousand and is situated in the northern part of the Country of Wenen on the continent of Brafand."

"Our city is known as the City of Rest because, after the Border Wars between the Northern Kingdom—Arom—and the Eastern Kingdom—Mikar, soldiers returned home, wounded and weary. They stopped periodically to rest briefly and resupply."

"Weary from the long journey, they set up a small camp in a River Plain surrounded by five prominent mountains. Each mountain was—and still is—majestic and imposing, its peaks touching the clouds."

"The concentration of Flux was quite dense, and for some reason, that place evoked feelings of tranquility and protection for those who stopped there to rest."

"Some of the soldiers, after a few days of rest, broke camp and continued their journey. However, there were others who had suffered serious wounds and decided to stay. Forcing a journey while injured would only delay their comrades and hasten their own deaths."

"None of the wounded wanted to be a burden to their comrades at any point during the journey. Nor did they want to force their fellow warriors to end their suffering with a merciful blow. Thus, a few moribund, less injured soldiers, and those who had nowhere else to go volunteered to stay in that place and care for those in critical condition until their final days."

"There is a recorded statement from a soldier at the time: 'After an exhausting military campaign, the resting place for our bodies would not be on the battlefield surrounded by death and valor alongside our brothers, but in a natural paradise enveloped in peace and harmony with the Flux of heaven and earth… For a soldier, this is a humiliation.' As he observed that beautiful scene, which seemed to have been woven by the very Gods. The five mountains stretched along that vast valley, with sunlight touching each peak. The river plain cut through the heart of the mountains, bringing life and contributing to the circulation and accumulation of Spiritual Flux in the area."

"The soldiers who were less severely injured, despite their reluctance to leave their comrades, continued their journey back to their much-desired homes. Those who remained simply awaited the moment of death for their critically wounded companions. After all, that place would become the Eternal Resting Ground for some of their fellow warriors."

"Within a few weeks, something unbelievable happened to the soldiers who stayed in that location. The gravely injured began recovering at an astonishing speed, perhaps due to the influence and abundance of pure Flux present there."

"As time passed, the recovering wounded established a small settlement. They built houses and laid out gravel streets. They used the river to acquire food and the spiritual herbs from the mountains to treat injuries more easily. Over time, the small settlement began to grow, and news spread throughout the Kingdom of Waven and the Northern Kingdom of Arom that there was a human refuge in that location."

"For travelers, it would be merely a brief stop for Rest and replenishment before continuing their journeys. 'Rest before Continuing' became the motto of that small settlement, which soon turned into a village and, consequently, a small town. But for the older founders—the surviving soldiers—it would be the place where they would Rest Eternally. However, by a stroke of fate and blessings from the heavens, they received a second chance to enjoy a little more of life before departing."

"That's why the city became known as Path of Rest; for some, it's just a transient place, while for others, it's a place of second chances. In every sense, it's a milestone that everyone must pass—pause, recover, and then continue." Kizaer concluded, closing the book with a serious expression on his face and a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. Meanwhile, he grumbled in his heart, 'What a load of nonsense!'"

"Very well, we conclude here. Proceed to the Flux class," said the teacher, releasing the class, which erupted in joy at finally being free from that tedious lesson.

'Finally something worth putting real effort into learning.' Kizaer thought to himself as he hurriedly made his way to the Flux classroom.