The world was sharper now. For Blitz, the morning air wasn't just something to breathe; it was a substance he could feel parting against his skin, each molecule a tiny checkpoint in the endless race of existence. For Zhèn, the ground wasn't just something to stand on; it was a conversation of pressure and stability, his feet listening to the whispers of the earth. Under Kael Jin's quiet tutelage, their raw, world-shaking power was being gently, insistently, asked to learn its own name.
Their training had begun not with shouts or blows, but with silence. They would sit for hours in the dew-laden grass of the courtyard, Kael between them. "You contain a hurricane," he had said to Blitz on that first day, his voice as steady as the mountains around them. "But can you hear the single drop of water that begins it? Find that stillness." To Zhèn, he had said, "You are the unmoved mountain. But can you feel the root that connects you to the mountain across the valley? Find that connection."
It was infuriating. It was profound. It was the first week.
They were in the middle of one such meditation, Blitz vibrating with the effort of being motionless, Zhèn's breathing so deep and slow it seemed to draw in the dawn itself—when a new sound broke the ritual calm.
Not the sound of Circuit's machines. This was the soft, determined crunch of footfalls on the gravel path, the rustle of a traveler's pack, and the faint, controlled rhythm of breath held just a little too tightly.
A boy stood at the edge of the property. He looked to be about Zhèn's age, perhaps thirteen, but where Zhèn was built like a young oak, this boy was all lean, tensile wire and sharp angles. He wore simple, worn traveling clothes, dust from a long journey coating his sandals and the hem of his trousers. His black hair was cropped short and practical, and his eyes, a dark, serious brown, swept over the scene with an analytical intensity that felt older than his years. He carried himself with a straight-backed poise that spoke of rigid discipline.
He bowed from the waist, a perfect, formal gesture. "I seek Master Kael Jin. I have traveled from the Temple of the Whispering Fist in the Eastern Peaks."
Kael opened one eye, then the other. He didn't stand, but a flicker of assessment crossed his weathered face. "A long journey for young legs. What do you seek?"
"Training, Master," the boy said, his voice clear and unwavering. "My name is Ren. I have trained for eight years, but my masters said my path led west, to the guardian of Moonshadow Pass. They said you could teach me what a temple cannot."
"Eight years," Kael mused, finally rising with a fluid, effortless motion. He circled Ren slowly. "A temple boy. Good. Structure is a fine beginning." He glanced at his two students. Blitz had given up on stillness entirely and was examining a beetle on his knee. Zhèn had opened his eyes and was watching Ren with open, friendly curiosity. "It seems our school is growing. Ren, these are my students, Blitz and Zhèn."
Ren bowed again, sharply. "Honored."
Blitz gave a little wave. "Hey. You run fast?"
Ren's serious expression didn't crack. "Speed is a component of technique. It is not the technique itself."
Kael chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Philosophy already. Good. First things first. Ren, Blitz. A simple question. Do you have any knowledge of martial arts? The forms, the stances, the theory?"
Ren's chest puffed out slightly. "Yes, Master! I have drilled the 72 Forms of the Whispering Fist, the footwork of the Cloud Step, and the meditative—"
"Nope," Blitz interjected cheerfully. "I just go zoom and then bam."
Kael nodded as if this was a perfectly balanced report. "So. Two out of three. I can work with that. Theory is useless without instinct, and instinct is dangerous without understanding. Come."
He led them from the courtyard to a wide, open field behind the house, where the grass was lush and a single, ancient ginkgo tree stood sentinel about a hundred meters away, its golden leaves beginning to turn.
"A simple test," Kael said, walking to a specific spot and planting his staff in the earth. "It is one hundred meters from this staff to that tree. I want to see how many seconds it takes you to run there, touch the bark, and return to this spot."
A slow smirk spread across Blitz's face. Zhèn looked intrigued. Ren stepped forward, his confidence radiating.
"Hah. Allow me to demonstrate first, Master," Ren said, moving to the starting line. He settled into a perfect starting stance, body coiled low, fingertips brushing the grass. Every line of him was optimized, a diagram of kinetic potential.
Kael walked to stand by the tree. He pulled an old, brass stopwatch from his robe. "Ready. Set... Go!"
Ren exploded forward. He was fast, not supernaturally so, but with a clean, breathtaking efficiency that spoke of those eight years of dawn drills. His form was flawless, his footfalls light and precise. He reached the tree, slapped the bark, and pivoted in a tight, graceful arc, his return trip just as controlled. He skidded to a stop back at the staff, barely winded.
Kael clicked the stopwatch, his eyebrows rising in genuine, impressed surprise. "One hundred meters there and back... in ten seconds flat. Unbelievable. What a feat," he said, a grin breaking through his stern demeanor. "And what feet! Such economy of movement."
Ren allowed himself a small, proud smile as he straightened his tunic. "As expected. The Cloud Step focuses on minimizing air resistance and maximizing stride efficiency."
"Zhèn," Kael called. "Your turn."
Zhèn nodded, ambling to the line. He didn't assume a stance. He just... settled, like a rock finding its bed in a river. "Ready," he said.
"Set... Go!"
What followed wasn't the elegant poetry of Ren's run. It was a sudden, violent release of contained force. The earth cracked where Zhèn pushed off, leaving a small crater. He wasn't running so much as projecting himself forward in a series of powerful, ground-eating bounds. He touched the tree with a thump that shook branches loose, turned, and thundered back, arriving in a cloud of dust and displaced air.
Kael stared at the stopwatch, then at Zhèn, then back at the watch. His earlier surprise was now sheer disbelief. "...Eight seconds."
Zhèn blinked, brushing dirt from his shoulders. "Is that fast?"
Ren's confident smile had vanished. He stared at Zhèn as if he'd just witnessed a landslide personified. "What... what kind of foundational training have you done?"
"Carrying water," Zhèn said honestly. "And rocks."
Kael took a deep breath, centering himself. "Alright. Blitz. Now you."
Blitz practically danced to the line, his earlier smirk now a full-blown grin of anticipatory joy. He winked at Ren. "Don't blink."
"Ready," Kael said, his finger hovering over the timer. He looked not at Blitz, but at the space between the staff and the tree. "Set... Go."
Go was the wrong word. Go implied a process, a journey.
For Blitz, there was no journey. There was a BANG of displaced air that whipped the grass flat in a circle around the staff. A sharp sonic crack echoed from the ginkgo tree. And then he was simply back at the starting point, leaning casually against the staff, a single, golden ginkgo leaf pinched between his fingers.
He hadn't run. He had appeared. Twice.
The silence was absolute. The stopwatch in Kael's hand read 1.00. Ren's jaw was slack. Even Zhèn's eyes were wide.
"One second," Kael breathed, the words barely audible. He looked from the stopwatch to the faint heat haze shimmering around Blitz, to the two distinct plumes of dust settling on the path, one at the start, one at the tree.
Zhèn broke the silence, his voice full of pure, unadulterated wonder. "Wow. I can't wait to be that fast!"
Ren said nothing. He just kept staring, the entire foundation of his eight years of "efficient movement" quietly crumbling to dust.
The days that followed were a symphony of controlled agony. Kael's training was a brutal equalizer. Raw power meant nothing here. It was about control, endurance, and channeling.
He had them carry bricks. Not a few. Dozens. Woven into heavy, awkward yokes they had to balance on their shoulders while jogging, not on a track, but up the steep, punishing incline of the mountain pass, through ice-cold streams that stole their breath, and across meadows where the sinking mud threatened to swallow their feet whole. At the end of the first day, even Zhèn, with his mountain-born strength, slumped to the ground, his muscles trembling with a new kind of fatigue. Ren gritted his teeth and bore it in silent, stubborn pride. Blitz simply collapsed, a groaning heap of exhausted speed.
The months melted and reformed them. Combat training began, and Kael paired them strategically. Ren, with his flawless forms, was tasked with teaching Zhèn and Blitz the basics, the proper fist, the stable stance, the blocking angles. It was a humbling experience for the temple boy, Zhèn would perform a block with such immovable force it felt like hitting a cliff, while Blitz would perform the same move fifty times in the space of a second, creating a blurring wall of after-images.
And Kael expanded their world. He took them to the deep, clear lake in the valley. "Speed is not just for land," he said. For Zhèn and Ren, he taught them how to cut through water, to make their bodies arrows against the resistance. For Blitz, he issued a different challenge: "The water does not know you are fast. It only knows your weight. You must convince it otherwise." After days of spectacular, spluttering failure, there came a moment where Blitz, fuelled by sheer frustration and a burst of celestial energy he didn't yet understand, skittered across the surface for ten glorious yards, leaving a trail of tiny, perfect wakes, before plunging in with a victorious shout.
That was the true core of Kael's teaching: the harnessing of the ambient celestial energy. The same energy that had once been locked in the Stone and shards was all around them, a faint, cosmic wind. Kael taught them to breathe it in, to feel it circulate not as magic, but as an extension of their own life force, to let it fortify their bones, steady their minds, and fuel their feats.
"You are not just training your bodies," Kael told them one evening as they sat bruised and content under the stars. "You are preparing for a stage. A test. The world is changed. Power is scattered. It will attract conflict, spectacle, and ambition. You must be ready to stand in that light."
He paused, letting his words sink in.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJIlkfChpmC
"In three months' time, in the great fighting city of Shenzhou, they will hold the Jade Fist Tournament. It is a gathering of the world's strongest martial artists, mystics, and now, perhaps, those touched by the celestial fragments. It is where you will see what you are truly made of. It is where your training will find its purpose."
Three young faces looked back at him under the moonlight, one shaped by temple discipline, one by mountainous duty, and one by chaotic freedom. Their paths had converged in a quiet field. Their next chapter would be written in the roaring stadiums of Shenzhou, under the watchful eyes of the world. The training had begun. The countdown to the Jade Fist had started.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmGsnRCHtAX
and then Add to home screen.