While Ankit sat in deep seclusion, methodically integrating the next universal forces into his newly formed Crown Core, the Heart Clone moved swiftly across the world.
His task had been simple and direct.
In less than a day, he had located and captured all thirty-two beasts possessing purple or red soul talents—rare, powerful creatures scattered across oceans, mountains, and hidden wilds.
None resisted for long.
A gentle pulse of heart essence calmed their instincts, and they entered the special beast storage pouch crafted by the Solar Clone—a vast, self-contained spatial realm rich with essence, comfortable and secure for any living being.
With the beasts safely stored, the Heart Clone turned southward.
In a single blink of folded space, he arrived above the india capital, the capital's lights sprawling beneath him like a mortal constellation.
He descended silently, divine sense guiding him straight to the heavily guarded official residence of Prime Minister Mordan.
No alarm triggered.
No guard noticed.
He stepped through layers of security as though they were mist, appearing directly inside the private office where Mordan sat with three trusted subordinates.
The room was tense.
Umang, a sharp-featured middle-aged man in a crisp uniform, was speaking earnestly.
"Sir, we have already created a solid framework for the breathing technique, but we aren't seeing real results yet. The magic energy—essence flow—enters the body just fine, but it refuses to stay. It leaks out almost immediately…"
Mordan cut him off sharply, leaning forward over his desk.
"I don't want explanations, Umang. I want results. Xinxuan is growing stronger every day—he can already lift a car, though with difficulty. That proves consistent progress is possible. The Xing nation is feeding him Magic Energy affected herbs, pushing him further. We have similar herbs gathering dust because no one here can properly absorb them. We need a working breathing technique now, or we fall behind—dangerously behind."
Umang straightened, voice firm. "Yes, sir. We will deliver it as soon as possible."
A second subordinate stepped forward to give his report, mouth already opening.
Then every pair of eyes in the room widened.
Mordan froze.
Umang's words died in his throat.
The third subordinate paled.
All four stared past the reporting officer—toward the far wall where a tall figure now stood in complete silence.
Over six feet in height, dressed in simple loose white robes that seemed to drink in the light, face hidden behind a plain white mask that revealed nothing.
He had not been there a moment ago.
The second subordinate turned slowly, following their gazes, and saw the same impossible presence.
Umang reacted first, voice rising in alarm.
"Who are you?! How did you get in here?! Guards!"
He shouted toward the door, but no answer came.
No footsteps rushed in.
Umang shouted toward the door again, voice rising to full volume this time, raw with urgency.
"Guards! Intruder! Get in here now!"
Still, No answer came.
No footsteps pounded in the corridor.
No doors burst open.
The silence felt heavier than any explosion.
A cold shiver ran down Umang's spine. Mordan noticed it too—the complete absence of response from men stationed just outside. His hand hovered closer to the hidden panic button, but the masked figure made no move to stop him.
Mordan tested it deliberately.
"GUARDS!" he bellowed, loud enough to rattle the windows.
Still nothing.
The thought struck him like ice: are they even alive?
Yet the stranger's calm aura carried no killing intent. Mordan's sharp mind raced—sound isolation technology. India had developed prototypes that could create silent zones, but nothing this seamless, this instantaneous. No device visible, no hum of machinery.
He glanced at the masked man's empty hands. No weapon in sight. Simple white robes, no bulges, no gadgets.
But modern threats were smaller now—nanotech, concealed energy emitters, things that could kill without a trace.
Even beneath his tailored suit, Mordan wore the latest defensive armor—woven graphene layers capable of stopping sniper rounds or small explosives.
Still, he did not relax.
He leaned back slowly, forcing his voice to remain steady and commanding.
"Who sent you? Freedom Union? Xing Nation?" His eyes narrowed.
In his mind, only those two powers had both motive and capability. Espionage, intimidation, or recruitment—either could explain this breach.
The Heart Clone sensed the rising tension in the room—hearts pounding, fear sharpening thoughts into weapons.
He did not wish needless alarm.
A gentle pulse of fear element flowed outward, subtle as a warm breeze, soothing frayed nerves and easing clenched muscles without them noticing the source.