Under the cover of dusk, Jalen infiltrated the Raine Sect—not for pleasantries, not for politics. He was there for one reason only: to retrieve Nate.
He had long known the boy's location, thanks to a spirit sense he had placed on him months ago. It was subtle, undetectable, and it had pulsed faintly when Nate arrived at the sect. Jalen had waited for the right moment, and now, with the sky cloaked in twilight and the sect quiet in its evening rhythm, he made his move.
Inside Nate's quarters, the boy lay shirtless, half-asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. When Jalen appeared, silent as a shadow, Nate jolted awake. His mouth opened to scream, but Jalen was faster—he clamped a hand over Nate's lips.
Recognition bloomed in Nate's eyes. The fear melted instantly into joy.
"Master!" he whispered, voice trembling with emotion. He threw himself into Jalen's arms. "Where have you been? I thought you'd abandoned me. Are you okay?"
Jalen gave a faint smile and nodded. "I'm fine. It's time to go."
While Jalen was with Nate, a shadow clone of himself had moved toward his brother's quarters. But sensing that Lloyd was occupied, the clone didn't disturb him. It simply faded into the night. Jalen would see him again someday—no need for goodbyes.
And speaking of goodbyes, he was missing Rana.
Her breath against his skin. Her touch. Her scent. Everything.
Even days after leaving Riley State for the neighboring Shark State, memories of her clung to him like embers that refused to die. He found it difficult to focus on cultivation. His body, once disciplined and controlled, now betrayed him. Ever since they had shared that moment, he found himself wanting more. The desire crept in during meditation, during training, during silence. He had to fight it constantly, lest it consume him.
As for Nate, the boy had changed. When he wasn't tempering his physical body, he was training daily in the Spirit Wind Art. Jalen also took him on dangerous expeditions—deep forests, ancient ruins, and spirit beast territories. Nate had faced life-and-death situations, battling beasts of equal and a realm higher than his own.
In just a month, his boyish aura had begun to fade. His movements were sharper, his gaze more focused.
He had fully mastered Techniques One through Six of the Spirit Wind Art—each one etched into his muscle memory like the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Techniques Seven to Nine, he wielded with proficiency, though they lacked the fluid grace of true mastery. As for Techniques Ten through Fourteen, he could execute them, but only with effort and caution. Their complexity exceeded his current realm, and their power strained the boundaries of his cultivation. Still, his progress was undeniable: he had broken through to the mid-Amethyst Realm, a remarkable feat achieved in a fraction of the time most cultivators required.
Night fell over the mountainous region where Jalen and Nate had made camp. Within a cave nestled high above the valley, Nate sat cross-legged, studying a set of notes Jalen had given him. They detailed herbs, their properties, and how to use them effectively. Nate wasn't naturally gifted in alchemy, but he had learned a few basics.
"You can take a break," came Jalen's voice from the shadows.
Nate didn't need to be told twice. He closed the book and stretched. "So… are you going to teach me another technique?"
"No," Jalen replied. "You're going on another adventure."
"Again?" Nate groaned. "It's only been two days since the last one. That wasn't an adventure—it was torture."
Jalen poked his forehead. "Stop complaining and let's go."
Nate rubbed the spot, wincing. Even a simple touch from Jalen carried weight. "Alright, Master," he muttered, and the two of them stepped out into the night.
____
Great Ling Continent — Solar Sect.
In the quiet days following her return to the Solar Clan Rana noticed subtle changes in her cultivation flow. Her flame, once refined and soul-bound—capable of spiraling with elegance and striking with surgical precision—had begun to change.
It flared more violently now. Fierce. Unpredictable. Not wild from lack of control, but from something deeper. Something inherited.
During her morning meditation, she felt it again: a second rhythm pulsing within her core. Not a fluctuation of qi—but a heartbeat.
Life.
The realization hit her like a flare to the chest. She was pregnant. And the flame growing inside her wasn't just hers—it was his.
Jalen's.
The thought made her breath catch. Joy and fear tangled in her chest. What would the clan say?
She hadn't told anyone. Not yet. But the change in her aura was becoming harder to hide as the days went by. And by the time she was one month and a few days pregnant, Master Talia caught on.
On the tenth hill of the Solar Sect's sprawling territory, within the private quarters of the elite disciples, Talia paced furiously.
"Did I not tell you not to get pregnant?" she snapped, glaring at Rana. "The Patriarch will kill me when he finds out. I should never have left you two alone."
"I'm sorry, Master," Rana said softly, her head bowed. "We never meant for this to happen."
"You two were doing the baby ritual—what did you expect? Couldn't that little bastard control himself? Just pull out or something?"
Rana turned crimson, her mind flashing back to the moment she and Jalen had shared. It was all she had thought about since they parted. His touch, his voice, the way he held her—it haunted her in the best and worst ways.
"Master…" she whispered.
"Now you're being shy?" Talia scoffed.
"What should we do master?"
Talia sighed, rubbing her temples. "We might as well go tell the Patriarch the truth. He's bound to find out sooner or later. Maybe he won't be so mad if he knows the child belongs to that little monster."
"You think so?"
"You're the number one pupil under a hundred years old. A candidate to lead the Solar Sect one day. What do you think will happen?"
"I… I really don't know."
"Let's just go," Talia said, grabbing Rana's hand. "We'll head to the First Mountain. The Patriarch needs to hear it from us before the rumors start flying."
As they walked through the glowing pathways of the Solar Sect, lit by floating flame lanterns and lined with spirit trees, Rana's heart pounded. She wasn't afraid of punishment—she was afraid of what this meant. For her future. For Jalen. For the child.
Talia, despite her sharp tongue, held her hand firmly. She wasn't just a master—she was a shield. And Rana knew, no matter what happened next, she wouldn't face it alone.