The training hall suddenly didn't feel quite so quiet anymore.
Nova's words lingered like a stone dropped into still water.
Elders can judge a person's true character with a single glance.
I leaned back slightly, letting my aura dissipate as the redirected mental waves settled into a quieter rhythm.
"…You really know how to ruin a moment," I said.
[I am not ruining anything.]
"You just told me that even if I solve this mental-wave problem, the old monsters will still see through me."
[Correct.]
"…Comforting."
[Accuracy is rarely comforting.]
I exhaled slowly and stood up.
The training hall felt different now. Not hostile. Just… smaller.
Because now I understood something.
My camouflage would fool most practitioners.
Maybe even mid-level experts.
But the old ones?
If my guess is correct.
The ones who had lived through wars, betrayals, cultivation breakthroughs, and political purges?
The ones who had spent centuries studying people instead of techniques?
Those ones wouldn't read aura fluctuations.
They'd read me.
"…So what exactly do they see?" I asked.
Nova paused.
Then answered.
[They do not see.]
I frowned.
"That's vague."
[They feel it.]
I began walking slowly across the hall, rolling my shoulders to release tension.
"Explain."
Nova obliged.
[Experienced combatants eventually learn to read intent through aura. They do not rely on techniques or perception skills alone.]
[They rely on instinct built across thousands of battles.]
I nodded slowly.
That made sense.
Anyone could sense mana.
But sensing intent was something else entirely.
[For example,] Nova continued, [they can tell when an opponent's attack is real… and when it is a feint.]
"You mean they can tell if my aura is lying?"
[Yes and no.]
I stopped walking.
"Helpful."
Nova ignored the sarcasm.
[Mostly, this instinct develops through combat.]
[But some old individuals who have retired—and have no realistic hope of advancement—cultivate this sensitivity simply to entertain themselves.]
I rubbed my face.
"…You're telling me there are elders who spend their free time analyzing people for fun?"
[Correct.]
"…Damn. Aren't these old fossils a little too free?"
Nova did not answer immediately.
Then—
[Free?]
Something in its tone shifted.
Not irritation.
Something sharper.
[Those you call fossils are the reason your family still exists.]
I raised an eyebrow.
"That sounded suspiciously like respect."
[It is respect.]
I leaned against one of the reinforced pillars.
"Go on."
Nova obliged.
[When practitioners reach certain heights, their cultivation slows.]
[Their bodies remain powerful.]
[Their techniques remain deadly.]
[But their advancement becomes nearly impossible.]
"Because of talent limits?" I asked.
[Because of Laws.]
That made me straighten slightly.
[At higher stages, power is no longer measured in mana or aura.]
[It is measured in comprehension.]
I nodded slowly.
Law comprehension.
The foundation of every ascension path.
[When progress stops… time does not.]
Nova's voice became quieter.
Sharper.
[Imagine living two thousand years.]
[Three thousand.]
[Five thousand.]
I stayed silent.
[After a certain point, combat becomes rare.]
[Enemies die.]
[Rivals disappear.]
[Wars end.]
[Dynasties collapse.]
[The world moves on.]
[But they remain.]
The training hall suddenly felt colder.
[What remains… is observation.]
[They study people.]
[They study patterns.]
[They study intent.]
[They study lies.]
Nova continued.
[Eventually, they become extremely good at reading people.]
I crossed my arms.
"So they're walking character analysers."
[No.]
I blinked.
"No?"
[They are walking disasters.]
That was… worse.
Nova elaborated.
[As centuries pass, they collect knowledge.]
[They refine what they already know.]
[They test theories.]
[They search for anything—anything—that might push their understanding forward.]
I tilted my head slightly.
"So they watch the younger generation."
[Yes.]
"To learn?"
[To remember.]
I frowned.
"Remember what?"
Nova's reply came without hesitation.
[Ambition.]
Silence stretched across the training hall.
[When cultivation stagnates, the danger is not death.]
[The danger is complacency.]
Nova continued.
[Some old practitioners become lazy.]
[Some become paranoid.]
[Some become tyrants.]
[But the most terrifying ones…]
It paused.
[…remain curious.]
A faint chill crawled up my spine.
"Curious."
[Yes.]
[They look at every talented youth and ask the same question.]
"What question?"
Nova answered quietly.
[What do they see that I missed?]
I stared at the empty air.
"…That's unsettling."
[It should be.]
I began pacing again.
"So if someone like that looks at me…"
[They will notice something.]
"Even if my aura camouflage works?"
[Yes.]
I exhaled slowly.
"…Because I'm strange."
[Because you are inconsistent.]
That word made me pause.
"Inconsistent?"
Nova elaborated.
[Your instincts are too sharp for your experience.]
[Your strategic thinking is too structured for your age.]
[Your reactions sometimes resemble someone who has experience far more than you should have.]
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"…That sounds dangerously close to reincarnation detection."
[It is.]
That shut me up.
For several seconds.
"…So what do I do?" I asked finally.
Nova's answer was immediate.
[You improve your mental discipline.]
I blinked.
"That's it?"
[Yes.]
"You're telling me my survival strategy is to just think less."
[No, just don't let others find out what you are thinking through your behaviour.]
I scratched my chin.
"…So the plan is simple."
A pause.
"Hide my thoughts, hide my reactions, hide my instincts, and hide the fact that I'm hiding things."
Nova responded instantly.
[Correct.]
I sighed.
"…Great."
"Deception layered on paranoia. My future looks incredibly healthy."
Silence settled over the training hall again.
I was about to say something else when—
The heavy doors of the training hall slammed open.
The sound echoed across the reinforced chamber.
I turned.
Victoria walked in.
Not her usual quiet glide.
She strode in like someone delivering bad news and enjoying it.
She held a sealed envelope between two fingers.
"…You know," I said slowly, "normally when you enter a room, you try to look like you weren't waiting outside the door the entire time."
"I was," she replied calmly.
Of course she was.
Her eyes flicked briefly across the hall, searching for the aftermath of my training.
Then she tossed the envelope toward me.
I caught it.
The wax seal bore the Ironcreed crest.
"…Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."
Victoria smiled.
Soft.
Dangerous.
"It is exactly what you think it is."
I broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
One line.
Clean.
Formal.
Cold.
Challenge of the Worthy.
A duel request.
My name.
Their name.
And the date.
Tomorrow.
I stared at it for a moment.
Then sighed.
"…I just finished my promotion procedures."
Victoria clasped her hands behind her back.
"Yes."
"And now someone wants to punch me."
"Yes."
I rubbed my forehead.
"…Who is it?"
Victoria's smile widened slightly.
"A cousin."
That explained everything and nothing at the same time.
I folded the paper.
"…Let me guess," I muttered.
"They think my promotion was a mistake."
Victoria tilted her head.
"More accurately," she said pleasantly,
"They think you are the easiest stepping stone available."
I stared at the challenge letter.
Then looked back toward the training hall.
The quiet suddenly felt different again.
Less philosophical.
More… practical.
I exhaled slowly.
"…Well," I said.
"Looks like I am destined not to have peace."
Behind my eyes, Nova spoke.
[Indeed.]
A pause.
Then—
[Try not to die.]