Calen knelt beside the underground spring, clutching the bundle of rare herbs Jalen had entrusted to him—Flame Lotus, Crimson Vine, Sunroot Bloom, and Ember Moss. Their fiery auras pulsed faintly, each one carrying restorative heat and vitality.
He remembered Jalen's instructions: the order of blending, the rhythm of qi infusion, and the way to shape the pond using the spring's natural flow.
He crushed the Flame Lotus first—its essence igniting the water with warmth. Then came the Crimson Vine, its threads weaving vitality through the current. Sunroot Bloom followed, grounding the mixture with steady resilience. Finally, he ground the Ember Moss into a paste, infusing it with his qi until it dissolved into the water like molten light.
The pond shimmered.
Steam rose, tinged with flame. The scent was sharp—earthy, bitter, and laced with medicinal heat. Calen shaped the stone with his qi, guiding the flow until the water pooled into a wide, shallow basin. When he was done, the pond glowed with healing energy, its surface rippling with fiery vitality.
Jalen stirred.
Without a word, he stripped down and stepped into the pond.
The water devoured him.
It stung—violently. The heat clawed at his wounds, the herbs biting into his flesh like fire itself. But he didn't flinch. He sank deeper, letting the pain wash over him until it dulled into a throb. Eventually, it wasn't unbearable. Just constant.
The first days were agony, but those days stretched into a month and a half before he rose again.
In that time Calen watched over him, worry etched into every breath. When he wasn't tending the herbs, he practiced—refining Solar Dance, strengthening his physique, and occasionally joining Jalen in the pond to absorb the medicinal qi. His skin would redden, his muscles ache, but he endured. He had to.
Jalen rose from the pond, steam curling off his skin. He wasn't fully healed, but his qi had returned—at least half. He wrapped himself in fresh robes as Calen rushed over.
"Master, you're alright!" Calen said, eyes wide with relief.
Jalen nodded. "Sorry I made you worry. I hope you haven't slacked off on your cultivation while I was out of commission."
"Of course not, Master," Calen replied quickly.
"Good boy," Jalen said, ruffling his hair. "Train hard. Two months from now, we'll be heading out. You need to be challenged to grow—and I need to do some serious cultivating."
Calen nodded, determination burning in his gaze.
The two months passed in a flash.
They spent it deep in training. Jalen would lower his realm to Enlightened just to spar with Calen. The battles were fierce, fast, and brutal. Calen lost every time—but not without progress. Sometimes he came close. Sometimes he nearly landed a decisive blow. But Jalen always had a surprise—an unseen strike, a hidden technique, or a shift in rhythm that turned the tide.
Each defeat taught Calen something new.
When the two months ended, they left the underground ridge and traveled beyond the borders of Rican Country. The terrain shifted—lush forests gave way to jagged cliffs and misty valleys. The air was thicker here, saturated with ancient qi.
It was in this new state of Tomas that Calen felt it.
A pull.
At first, he ignored it. A whisper in his spirit sea. A faint call. But as they traveled deeper, the pull grew louder—like a heartbeat echoing through his bones.
Jalen noticed.
"You're distracted," he said.
"There's… something calling me," Calen admitted. "I don't know what it is."
Jalen studied him, then nodded. "Don't ignore it. Sometimes, the path chooses us. Let's follow it."
They veered off the main road, guided by instinct and qi resonance. Eventually, they stumbled upon a hidden subrealm—an ancient fissure in space, veiled by illusion and sealed by formation glyphs. The air shimmered with power. The trees bent away from it. Even the wind refused to cross its threshold.
Jalen's second spirit core pulsed. His Luminal Heart stirred.
"There's an eternal-grade spirit tool here," he murmured.
Calen stepped forward, drawn by the call.
Jalen held him back.
"There are offensive formations all over," he warned. "If you go any further, you'll be attacked."
Calen gulped, stepping back.
Jalen narrowed his eyes, studying the glyphs. They were layered—flame-based, reactive, and designed to target movement. But to him, they were transparent. He traced the qi threads, mapping anchor points and pressure triggers with the ease of a master reading a child's handwriting.
He took Calen's arm and activated Luminous Veil Step.
Light bent.
The world blurred—not with speed, but with resonance. Jalen's body shimmered, his form refracting through ambient illumination. He didn't run. He threaded. His movement folded through beams of light, vanishing where shadows held, reappearing where moonlight touched.
The formation reacted instantly.
Flaming qi arrows erupted from the glyphs—hundreds, then thousands. They spiraled, curved, and adapted. But they never touched him.
Jalen didn't dodge. He preempted.
Each step left behind a luminous echo—false trails of light that tricked the formation's targeting glyphs. Arrows struck afterimages. Traps triggered on illusions. Jalen's rhythm was not linear. It looped. It spiraled. It shimmered.
He moved like a sovereign of light—untouched, unchallenged.
Calen clung to his arm, breath caught, watching the world blur around them. He felt the heat of the arrows. He saw the fury of the formation. But none of it reached them.
Jalen's gaze never wavered.
In twelve steps, they crossed the entire formation.
Not a scratch. Not a ripple.
They emerged into the clearing beyond.
But they weren't alone.
Ahead, in the clearing beyond the formation, stood a group of cultivators—five in total. Their robes bore the insignia of their clan, their auras sharp and hostile. One of them stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he studied Jalen.
"You made it through the formation," he said. "Impressive."
Jalen said nothing.
Calen stepped behind him, instinctively.
The cultivator smiled. "But I'm afraid this is as far as you two will go."
Jalen didn't spare them a glance.
He simply walked past, Calen at his side, his pace unhurried yet unreachable. The cultivators tensed, but none moved. In the blink of an eye, he was already deeper into the realm—his presence fading like a ripple swallowed by still water.
None of them could keep up.
And that was when they understood.
Though his life force pulsed with the vigor of youth, Jalen was beyond them. Far beyond. His cultivation, his rhythm, his presence—it eclipsed theirs like the sun eclipses a candle.
They had seen others enter this realm. Arrogant ones. Desperate ones. Many had drawn blades. Most had died.
But this man?
They were lucky they hadn't been foolish.
Because if they had raised a hand against him, they wouldn't have had time to regret it.
They would already be dead.