High above the crowded streets of Hong Kong, Jun ran with the city’s wind. Each night, when most people slept, he climbed out his window and leapt across alleys, over glowing signs and bustling markets. To Jun, parkour wasn’t just sport—it was a way to find freedom in a city built of walls. From his family’s cramped flat, Jun would trace secret routes up glass towers and down ancient stone stairways, mapping a Hong Kong few had ever seen. His favorite place was the old Star Ferry terminal, where skyscrapers touched the sky and the city lights reflected like stars in Victoria Harbour. One night, Jun heard rumors of a challenge: a secret group, the Vertical Frontiers, raced from the oldest temple to the highest rooftop before dawn. Curious and hungry for adventure, Jun accepted the invitation left on his favorite ledge—a simple origami crane. The race began beneath the moon, darting through bamboo scaffolding, over neon-lit trams, and across rooftop gardens hidden in shadow. As Jun raced, he remembered stories his grandfather told—of freedom, risk, and finding one’s own path. The final leap was the hardest: a wide gap between two towers, the wind fierce, the drop dizzying. Jun hesitated, then felt the city’s pulse beneath his feet. He ran, jumped, and soared, landing safely, the city stretching below. At the finish, he was met not by rivals, but by friends—artists, dreamers, and others who saw the city as their playground. Together, they watched the sunrise from the highest point in Hong Kong, realizing that real frontiers aren’t walls or towers, but the courage to leap beyond them. Jun’s world had grown—upwards, outwards, and into the clouds.