Lloyd slumped, breath ragged.
"Thank you," he breathed. His insides felt like he'd been struck by lightning and liquefied from within. Then after a few minutes passed and he felt like he could breathe easily again he asked, "Could you help me get out of here?"
Jalen tilted his head slightly, tone unreadable.
"Interesting. You refused to take my warning, trigger death formations, and now ask if I'm helping? You've got nerve."
"Are you helping me or not?" Lloyd snapped, half-shaking, half-proud.
"How about I help you get stronger instead?"
"I'm grateful," Lloyd muttered, "But no thank you."
"Why would you practice an earth technique when your qi is aligned with light? It's completely irrational."
Not only had Lloyd been stalling his progress by doing this—he had been actively dismantling the very foundation of his cultivation. His qi was naturally aligned with light: radiant, fluid, and refined. Yet the techniques he practiced were rooted in earth essence, dense and grounding, designed for a body attuned to weight and resistance. The contradiction wasn't just inefficient—it was catastrophic. His dantian had begun to destabilize under the strain, and his crystallized core, meant to store and refine energy, had grown increasingly fragile. His body was at war with itself. Every cycle of cultivation pushed incompatible forces through his meridians, grinding them down like stone against silk. Frankly, it was a miracle he was still alive before Jalen found him.
However if Jalen had not intervened—had he or rather the origin shard not brought Lloyd to the sub realm, this causing the fusion with the Light Spirit Seed—Lloyd would have died within months from internal collapse. His dantian would have imploded, unable to contain the conflicting energies, and his meridians would have ruptured under the pressure of techniques that didn't belong in his body. The damage would have been irreversible. The fusion didn't just awaken his potential—it saved him from spiritual disintegration.
Yet even now, with a body attuned to light, the earth essence hadn't completely vanished. It lingered—quiet, residual, like sediment at the bottom of a clear stream. Dormant, but not gone. It clung to the edges of his core, resisting dissolution, a stubborn remnant of the path he should never have walked. And though it no longer threatened to tear him apart, it still whispered to his qi, distorting its flow in subtle, unpredictable ways.
But Jalen would fix that soon. He had to. Because if he didn't, the residue might one day awaken—and Lloyd's second chance would unravel before it ever truly began.
"Like I said earlier," Lloyd replied. "Light techniques are weak."
Jalen exhaled sharply. "What if I make you stronger using the inherited light technique from this Vault?"
Lloyd stared at him. What could this kid teach? He didn't even look like a real master—but something about him felt… wrong. Or maybe too right.
He played along.
"What do you want in return?"
"Serve under me."
Lloyd laughed. "Serve you?"
Jalen watched him carefully. Light flickered beneath Lloyd's skin—raw, unstable.
I don't need just strength, he thought. I need loyalty. Soldiers I can trust. And whether he knows it or not, Lloyd's already bound to me by fate.
"Yes," Jalen said calmly.
Lloyd scoffed. "And if you can't make me stronger?"
"Then I'll help you leave. And we won't ever have to bother each other again."
Silence stretched.
Lloyd weighed it. His pride said, Walk away. His instincts said, Stay. Somewhere in between, something whispered, This Boy is not normal.
"I'll stay," he said finally. "If you prove it. Show me a strong technique."
"I'll do even better." Jalen unmasked his aura. Lloyd's knees buckled, and he crumbled.
"You...you're a…Spirit Fusion Realm cultivator," Lloyd finished, his voice barely audible. The pressure weighed on him like thunder—raw, oppressive, undeniable. Every instinct screamed at him to bow, but pride kept him standing.
Jalen retracted his aura casually, like closing a curtain.
"Now you see," he said coolly. "Strength isn't about shouting or swinging swords—it's about control. You asked for a powerful technique…"
He raised a hand.
Shadow qi flowed effortlessly along his arm, forming a black crescent that shimmered with internal threads. The room dimmed slightly, the ambient light bending away from his presence.
"This is Night Vein Compression," Jalen continued. "A shadow technique designed to focus destructive force into a single point. Silent. Precise. Fatal."
He struck forward—not at Lloyd, but at a broken slab of stone across the temple floor. The impact was nearly soundless. The stone didn't explode—it imploded, folds crumpling inward like a collapsed star.
Lloyd stared, jaw clenched. Even his bones felt the aftershock.
"That… wasn't even light qi," he whispered.
"No," Jalen said. "But it's one of many tools I've mastered. You're asking for strength—so I'm showing you paths. Yours will be different. But that doesn't mean weaker."
Lloyd stood quietly, the weight of everything sinking in.
He didn't understand light. He didn't understand his own gift.
But he understood one thing—this boy could kill him with a single breath if he wanted to.
And yet he'd saved him.
"I'll learn," Lloyd said.
Jalen gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.
"Then we start now."