After Calen's fusion with the eternal-grade spirit tool, the heat realm dimmed and faded behind them. Jalen guided him back through the spatial seam into the original subrealm, where the air was cooler, the terrain more varied, and the spiritual density still rich with opportunity.
They didn't rush.
Instead, Jalen decided to tour the realm's deeper regions. He moved with the ease of a sovereign, his spirit sense sweeping wide. Hidden groves, collapsed ruins, and forgotten altars revealed themselves to him like old friends. He found rare herbs growing in the cracks of spirit-forged stone, spirit tools buried beneath layers of time, and elemental stones humming with dormant power.
He gave them all to Calen, who stored them carefully, his pocket world now brimming with treasures that would make even a clan heir envious.
Every now and then, they'd cross paths with other cultivators—most in the Spirit Fusion Realm. But the moment they sensed Jalen's presence, they scattered like leaves before a storm. No one dared approach. No one dared ask questions.
They simply watched from a distance, whispering.
"Who is that man?"
"Why is someone like him traveling with a boy?"
"Is he a hidden elder? A sovereign on pilgrimage?"
Some guessed Calen was a royal heir. Others thought he was a disciple of some ancient sect. But none dared speak to them. Jalen's aura made sure of that.
In time, Jalen stilled his hand. Treasure was endless, but legacy was finite. To strip the realm bare would be greed without honor. Better to leave embers for future flames—so that other cultivators might one day find their own path through struggle and discovery.
They exited the subrealm and arrived in a nearby city nestled between two spirit-forged peaks. For once, they didn't camp beneath the stars or sleep on stone. They found an inn—quiet, warm, and well-kept. The baths were hot, the beds soft, and the food rich with qi.
They stayed for two months.
Calen soaked in the comfort, his body finally allowed to rest. Jalen meditated in silence, his mind still, his spirit cores rotating in perfect rhythm. For a brief moment, they lived like mortals—no battles, no beasts, no burdens.
But peace never lasted long.
On the sixty‑third day since arriving at the inn—three days after leaving its comfort behind—the mist and frost qi thickened around them. Without warning, a spatial rift tore open beneath their feet. They were pulled in—no resistance, no warning.
When they landed, they were in a new subrealm.
This one was wild.
The skies were dark, and the ground was cracked and jagged. Spirit beasts roamed freely—massive, ancient, and violent. Each one was attuned to the realm's laws, and each one attacked based on the intruder's cultivation.
For Calen, that meant beasts in the early to mid-Star Realm.
For Jalen, it meant mid- and late-Sage Realm monsters.
They fought for survival.
Calen was forced into life-and-death battles daily. He bled. He burned. He broke bones. But he never gave up. Ria, the eternal-grade spirit tool within him, saved him more than once—shielding him, guiding him, even unleashing bursts of solar qi that turned the tide.
Jalen, meanwhile, danced through the realm like a shadow of war. He fought mid and late-Sage Realm beasts with ease, but he didn't kill them. He let them push him, test him, and sharpen him. They were no threat—but they were useful.
And just like that, two years passed.
Calen became battle-hardened. His movements grew sharper, his instincts faster. He no longer hesitated. He no longer feared. He had survived what would have killed most cultivators ten times his age.
Yet he still looked fourteen.
Because this realm was not the origin realm. Time flowed differently here. Two years in this subrealm meant barely a breath had passed outside. Calen would need another 148 years before he aged even a single year.
The same was true for Jalen.
They also made some friends in this realm—wandering cultivators, rogue beast tamers, and even a few ancient spirits. Calen met a rival, Tobias—a young man, nearly three hundred years old—in the early Star Realm. Their clashes were frequent, fierce, and evenly matched, neither able to claim dominance. It was a rivalry tempered by fire and respect. Once, their duel drew a beast into the fray, forcing them to fight shoulder to shoulder. When the dust settled, neither spoke of victory—only of acknowledgment and the silent respect of warriors who had tested each other's limits.
Jalen, meanwhile, attracted attention of a different kind.
Many beauties tried to approach him—some subtle, some bold. But he turned them all away. He had no interest. As long as he had Rana, he needed no one else. His heart was already full. His discipline, unshakable.
Still, in quiet moments, he thought of his children—Jael, Raja, and Jala. He thought of his father and his siblings, Lloyd, Nate, and Calista. He thought of the Flare empire. Even the Ron Empire, if Ameer was keeping things under control.
But he didn't dwell.
He cultivated.
Then three months later, he found a technique.
Ancient. Violent. Pure.
The High Voltage Technique.
It was a lightning art of the highest tier—designed for destruction, speed, and overwhelming force. It consisted of ten offensive moves, each one more devastating than the last.
It took him ten years to master them all. Ten years of agony forged mastery. His veins burned with lightning, his spirit cores trembled on the edge of collapse, yet he endured. Each technique carved itself into his body until the storm itself bent to his will.
#1 technique Bolt Fang—A piercing thrust of lightning that ignores physical defense.
#2 techniqueStorm Lash—A whip of thunder that strikes multiple enemies in a single arc.
#3 techniquePulse Breaker—A concussive blast that disrupts qi flow and shatters formations.
#4 techniqueSky Rend Spiral—A rotating spear of lightning that drills through barriers.
#5 techniqueFlash Step Tempest—A movement technique that leaves behind thunder clones.
#6 TechniqueArc Reaver—A wide-range slash that severs spirit threads.
#7 techniqueThunder Cage—A binding technique that traps enemies in a dome of lightning.
#8 techniqueVoltage Howl—A roar of thunder that stuns and deafens all within range.
#9 techniqueHeaven's Fang Descent—A massive lightning strike from the sky, guided by Jalen's will.
#10 techniqueJudgment Pulse – The final move. A full-body discharge of all stored lightning qi, obliterating everything in a radius.
Each technique was a weapon. Together, they were a storm.
While Jalen trained in silence, the world outside moved on.
In the Flame Clan's mountain stronghold, Jael stood in a training hall, his body drenched in sweat, his breath steady. Before him stood Elijah, arms folded, eyes sharp.
"You've improved," Elijah said. "Your dragon qi is stabilizing."
"It's all thanks to your effort, Master," Jael replied with reverence.
He turned to leave, but Elijah raised an eyebrow. "Off to the brothel again?"
Jael froze. "O-of course not, Master. I was just going to my room to meditate."
"Of course you are." Elijah smirked. "Just be careful when you go 'meditate,' as you call it. The Iron Cloud Clan is still out for blood. They've been watching your every move these past years."
"Don't worry, Master. I will."
"And wear protection," Elijah added dryly. "I don't know how I'd explain to your father, my sworn brother, that I let you get someone pregnant on my watch."
Jael groaned. "Don't worry, Master. I don't plan to be a father anytime soon."
"So you are admitting that you're going to the brothel after all."
Jael laughed. "Alright, you got me. But if my dad finds out, I'll just tell him you brought me there."
"You bad disciple," Elijah muttered, then flicked Jael's forehead with a burst of qi.
"Ow!"
Elijah ruffled Jael's hair, leaving it in disarray.
"I won't stop you from chasing pleasures, even if I'm against it."
Jael winced. "Now you're making me feel guilty, Master."
"That's not my intent," Elijah said, his tone softening. "Just something worth thinking about."
"I'll think about it," Jael replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Good. And don't be out too late. If you run into danger—"
"I'll call you," Jael finished quickly. "I know."
Elijah gave a small nod, satisfied.
Jael left the training hall, his steps light, his heart steady. He was growing stronger—more confident, more disciplined. Yet deep down, he knew the truth.
He still had a long way to go.