“Master, today I want to take on this five-hundred-pound plinth. I can’t stand looking at it anymore—it’s practically become our dining table!”

  Timo Yang steeled himself and strode toward the massive stone.

  His disciple had changed beyond recognition, wielding essence with practiced ease. Yan Tang watched in silent anticipation.

  Timo rolled up his sleeves, gathered his strength, and let out a guttural roar. Essence surged into his palms; every muscle coiled like braided rope. With a resounding clang, he heaved the plinth upward.

  “Master—I did it! I did it! I’m off to train. I will grow stronger!”

  He set the stone down carefully, then rolled it toward the cave mouth that led into the valley.

  “It’s clear today,” Yan Tang wrote. “This afternoon we’ll hunt for high-tier magical beasts. Take it steady. Let’s hope luck is with us. Wait… could this be the captain’s Blazing Chain Lance?”

  Timo, straining as he pushed the plinth, paused at the words “Blazing Chain Lance.”

  He glanced back. Yan Tang raised one hand, and the rusted iron rod flew straight into his callused, bark-rough palm.

  Joy flooded Yan Tang’s face. In his memory, the captain had wielded this weapon to fell countless foes. Even when essence ran dry, he had carved through enemies with sheer physical prowess.

  Yan Tang wrapped earth essence around the rod, polishing away the rust. Where it touched, gleaming silver emerged.

  He twisted one end; a razor-sharp spearhead extended, half the length of his forearm.

  Another twist at the base, and the rod segmented into six linked sections—a chained lance.

  Fire essence flared along its length, wreathing it in flames. Then wind essence followed, amplifying its power tenfold.

  Yan Tang swept the weapon in sweeping arcs: blades of flame one moment, cutting gusts the next. In seconds, deep gashes scarred the stone wall.

  Earth essence flowed again; the cuts sealed seamlessly. Satisfied, he retracted the lance back into its rod form.

  He spun it once. Wind howled, whipping Timo’s loose strands of hair forward.

  “Master… essence can be used like that?” Timo’s eyes widened, as if he had discovered a new world.

  “Of course. A well-trained essenceless fighter can stand against essence cultivators single-handed. Who knows how far magical technology has advanced in these years?”

  Yan Tang toyed with the rod a moment longer, then tossed it to his disciple.

  “Magical technology—what’s that?”

  Yan Tang waved away the question. “You’ll see for yourself when you leave. If it fulfills its promise, the age of essence cultivators may soon end.”

  “You know so much, Master.” Timo grinned, turning the rod in his hands. “I was going to use this thing to grill fish, but the Blazing Chain Lance… it’s incredible.”

  “Grill fish? What a waste. Flame nourishes it. Master this weapon, and you can face anyone head-on.”

  “I picked up a treasure!” Timo swung the rod eagerly. “This should slice through sea demon tentacles like nothing.”

  “The Blazing Chain Lance has quite the history. It needs pure fire essence for its full potential, but paired with your refined wind essence, it’s still a formidable weapon. Take it to the training ground—study it.”

  Timo collapsed it into chained segments, stuffed it into his pouch, roared with effort, and pushed the plinth toward the valley.

  Yan Tang laughed heartily, pride swelling as he watched. This boy would achieve greatness once he left this place.

  When they first met, Timo had been a scrawny child, battered and broken. Who could have foreseen he would grow into a warrior rivaling any in Yanyao? Yan Tang felt deep contentment.

  He traced the faded illustration of Flareglory City in one of the books, memories of his wife and children’s smiles warming him. Timo—and even that ugly fish—had given him reason to live again.

  “Master, the fish is burning!”

  Timo’s shout echoed from deeper in the cave. Yan Tang snapped back to the present and tended the grill.

  Since the boy and that troublesome fish had arrived, life felt almost like a holiday. He had resumed training; his cultivation had returned to its former heights.

  “One final push!”

  Timo’s towering frame rolled the five-hundred-pound plinth up the slope to the valley. Just a little more, and he would reach the training ground.

  He rolled up his sleeves again, summoned every drop of essence, and shoved.

  With a mighty roar, muscles straining, teeth bared, he sent the plinth tumbling out of the cave and into the open valley.

  The valley bloomed with ice-crystal flowers; towering peaks formed a natural vaulted ceiling overhead.

  Yan Tang had reshaped the ground: jagged rocks piled to one side, leaving a broad, smooth training area.

  Yet the air was bitterly cold. Only the faint glow of the flowers pierced the darkness.

  “Feiyu, did you put out the braziers again?”

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  Timo knew the little creature loved testing him—defeated time and again, yet ever eager for another bout.

  He planted his feet, eyes flashing. The Blazing Chain Lance whipped from his pouch with a hiss of wind, leaving afterimages in its wake.

  From the gloom above, razor claws descended straight for his crown.

  “Feiyu, you’ve improved! But no one moves in perfect silence. Your wind gives you away!”

  Though Feiyu’s speed defied the eye, Timo flowed like air itself, dodging effortlessly on currents.

  He leaped atop a boulder. Gleaming claws followed. As they closed in, Timo considered the lance—he had seen its power and refused to risk harming his brother.

  A grin split his face. Blue light flared in his eyes. Mist coalesced around him, freezing into thin ice.

  The ice trapped the oncoming claws. With a crack, it shattered. Feiyu landed, but Timo had already vanished.

  In the darkness, Feiyu searched frantically. His flat nostrils flared, seeking human scent.

  Scallop-like ears twitched for sound. He panted through an open mouth; once-protruding buck teeth had aligned into sharp, even rows.

  His face had grown more humanoid, the bulging eyes now bright and expressive rather than grotesque.

  The stunted tail had nearly vanished; short legs had lengthened into scaled, bow-shaped limbs with broad, webbed feet. Retractable barbed claws tipped each toe and finger.

  Now standing atop the boulder, Feiyu reached more than half Timo’s height. Lean but powerfully muscled from years mimicking Timo’s training, his deep-blue scales hid corded strength far beyond ordinary sea demons.

  The rattling hiss came from the spines along his back—linked fins that propelled him through water and shielded him on land.

  Through innocent azure eyes, the valley’s darkness was daylight to Feiyu. Yet even so, his brother remained unseen.

  “Good brother, your tricks are strong!”

  Feiyu’s voice came out in a playful teenage lilt, his breathing quickening. Nearly dehydrated, his gaze drifted longingly to the glowing pool of icy water nearby.

  Timo Yang, cloaked in a shroud of frozen mist, knew this little rascal too well—cunning, manipulative, always probing for emotional weaknesses.

  Feiyu leaped toward the water. But the moment his feet touched the edge, the puddle beneath the stone wall flash-froze into thin ice, one patch after another. His strength ebbed; he weakened.

  “Good brother… dying of thirst! No more playing!”

  Feiyu flopped to the ground like a sulky child, tongue lolling.

  “You really done?”

  Timo’s voice sounded from behind him. Feiyu whirled, claws slashing—only for Timo’s figure to shatter into ice shards.

  “Over here, little guy!”

  Another shout. Timo’s form flickered into view elsewhere, then dissolved into mist.

  “Humans… tricky!”

  Feiyu retracted his claws, staring at five lingering afterimages of his brother, and let out a resigned sigh.

  “It’s not that humans are tricky,” Timo said, his illusions crumbling one by one into vapor. “I’m just getting stronger. You’re built for water combat—land isn’t your element. Your movements are sharper than that humanoid sea demon I ran into earlier.”

  As he spoke, his true form materialized beside the plinth. He began pushing it in steady laps.

  “My kind… don’t act alone…”

  Feiyu paused, struggling with human speech—too slow, too clumsy. He switched to the sharp, melodic tongue of the sea demons.

  “This shallow sea is claimed by adult sea demons. One like me couldn’t survive here alone.”

  Feiyu’s playful mood faded. He approached the line of round stones and hefted a hundred-pound boulder.

  “I went to the reef graveyard you mentioned. Saw all those shipwrecks. That’s where I met the humanoid—it was about your size, but it seemed to control a nightmare sea demon far larger than any adult.”

  Feiyu absorbed the words, his face registering shock.

  “Never seen… sea demon controlled!”

  In his memory, nightmare sea demons were all fangs and terror—instinctive dread loosened his dorsal fins; the stone slipped from his grasp. He wanted only to flee.

  “Feiyu, easy. No sea demons here. Sheathe those claws—don’t scratch Master’s training gear.”

  At the reminder, Feiyu retracted his barbs and scurried to gulp down icy water, steadying his nerves.

  Nightmare sea demons truly were his nightmare now. He remained as timid as ever.

  “That fish-scale suit of yours saved me today,” Timo continued. “Without it masking my scent, I’d never have escaped so easily. Looks like Master and I have a tough road out of here.”

  Feiyu stood beneath a trickle of meltwater from the wall, letting it cascade over him like a cool shower. He gazed at his human brother. He didn’t fully understand emotions, yet he knew he loved this life among humans.

  At night he often stared at the drawings of human homes etched on the cave walls, dreaming of a world with only blue skies and white clouds—no nightmare sea demons, no fear-wolves to torment him.

  “One, two, three, four, five…”

  Timo’s rhythmic counting echoed as he hoisted the plinth again and again. His powerful human frame filled Feiyu with envy.

  Inspired by his brother’s drive, Feiyu resolved to push harder—to become the greatest of his kind. He joined in, lifting his hundred-pound stone in steady reps.

  Far away, in the ice prison of the Watch Legion, Yue Yang sat cross-legged on a frigid stone plinth, eyes closed in meditation. Her white robes hung pristine about her.

  New garments, spiritual medicines, and food from the physicians’ department lay neatly beside her. Without her healer’s status, her fate might have mirrored her brother’s.

  Yue Yang knew the true traitor now held power. She could sense the faction growing, yet one woman alone could not topple it.

  Sunlight refracted through the ice, casting faint warmth across her. Water essence swirled gently around her, lending its own comfort.

  The pale thunder markings on her neck were still visible—thin red lines like delicate threads woven beneath her skin, tracing every inch of her body.

  A soft squeak sounded.

  A head poked from a hidden passage in the ice. Yue Yang recognized Lulu Gan at once. Dressed like a tomboy, heedless of appearances, this girl had been her only link to the outside world for years.

  “Lulu, you’re not a child anymore. Grown women should mind their image.”

  Lulu grinned mischievously—she cared nothing for looks. Dressing too prettily only invited unwanted attention from the warriors. The tomboy guise kept suitors at bay.

  “Hehe… Sister Yue, I couldn’t testify for Timo back then, so let me take care of you in his place. Here—your favorite green wood fruits, plus water and wind essence herbs to aid your cultivation.”

  She pushed forward a wooden box brimming with gifts.

  “Thank you, little sister. Without you these years, I would have been truly alone.”

  “I know loneliness,” Lulu said softly. “Being shunned, whispered about. I’ve kept investigating the traitor as you asked. Unless the Elders themselves are compromised, I can’t fathom why anyone would want you and Timo dead.”

  Yue Yang smiled faintly. She had long since released her bitterness. Pain and regret lingered, but while she drew breath, she would never bow to darkness.

  “Believe me, this prison has been a blessing. Evil Cultivators, traitors—whatever comes, we cannot choose the hour. You, though—your cultivation has reached the essence peak. Why hold back from breakthrough?”

  Lulu munched a green essence fruit, stuck out her tongue, and sprawled in the passage with carefree abandon.

  “You’re amazing, Sister Yue—you felt that from here? I’ve been suppressing it. Fame breeds trouble.”

  Her innocent eyes fixed on Yue Yang’s flawless, porcelain skin. Even the faint thunder markings could not mar her beauty.

  “Sister Yue, have you considered my father’s elemental gene fusion technique? It could remake your body completely.”

  Yue Yang bit into a green wood fruit. Its sweet, refreshing juice evoked fields of fresh grass, easing her spirit.

  “Elemental gene fusion is a marvel—reshaping innate traits, optimizing mind and body… But I never wanted to be a warrior.”

  “Why not? Warriors are glorious! Merit, power, respect—no one dares cross you. With strength, you can protect the weak. Every physician I know dreams of it.”

  Yue Yang had once dreamed the same. But whenever killing intent or hatred stirred within her, the spirit lord inside grew restless. Who knew what she might do if it took control?

  She sighed. “I considered it once. Things are different now. With my gifts, healing the wounded is more than enough. As you say—too much strength only invites endless trouble.”

  Lulu thrived on trouble. Tactical manuals, chessboards—she never tired of them.

  “Trouble’s fun! These days I trail the Elders everywhere, watching them scheme and counter-scheme. It’s thrilling. Oh—they want me to join the Iron Code Division. No chance!”

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