Morning sunlight spilled across the Raine Sect's eastern courtyard, casting golden rays over the polished stone paths and dew-kissed foliage. Birds chirped softly in the distance, and the mountain breeze carried the scent of pine and spirit herbs. It was peaceful—almost deceptively so.
Lloyd and Jalen walked together toward the sect's grand library, a towering structure carved into the mountainside. Its entrance was flanked by two stone lions, each etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly in the morning light. Inside, rows upon rows of scrolls, jade slips, and ancient tomes stretched across multiple floors.
Jalen moved with purpose, scanning titles and pulling out slips with practiced ease. Geography of the Great Wave Continent. Cultivation Theory. Historical Sect Alliances. Forbidden Techniques and Their Origins.
Lloyd watched, impressed. "You're really going to read all that?"
"Knowledge is power," Jalen said simply. "And I need to understand this continent better. Its terrain, its sects, its politics. Everything."
They settled into a quiet alcove, surrounded by floating lanterns and silence. For hours, they read. Jalen absorbed information like a sponge—his mind sharp, his focus unwavering. Lloyd tried to keep up but eventually leaned back with a sigh.
"You're insane," he muttered. "You read faster than I can breathe."
Jalen didn't respond. He was already halfway through a scroll on elemental convergence theory.
By midday, Jalen finally stood. "Let's train."
Lloyd blinked. "Now?"
"You've been slacking. I can tell."
"I've been cultivating!"
"Not enough."
They made their way to the sect's open training arena—a wide, circular platform surrounded by tiered seating and reinforced with protective formations. It was usually reserved for sect duels and elder demonstrations. But today, it would host something far more intriguing.
Word spread quickly.
Lloyd, the sect's number one disciple, was going to spar with his mysterious younger brother.
Disciples gathered in droves, whispering excitedly. Teachers and elders arrived, curious. Even Patriarch Shanell and two Immortal Realm elders, watching silently from the high balcony, turned their unreadable gaze toward the arena.
Jalen stepped onto the platform, his robes fluttering gently in the breeze. Lloyd followed, stretching his limbs and cracking his knuckles.
"This isn't a real fight," Jalen said. "Just a warm-up. I'll match your realm—Peak Moon."
Lloyd nodded, already summoning his light qi. "Let's see if you can keep up."
Jalen smirked. "I'm not the one who needs to keep up."
They activated their techniques simultaneously.
Luminous Veil Step.
Their bodies blurred, vanishing and reappearing in flashes of light. The first clash was a blur—two streaks of brilliance colliding midair, sending shockwaves across the arena.
Luminal Edge.
Their blades of light met with explosive force, creating ripples that cracked the stone beneath them. Formation specialists scrambled to reinforce the arena's barriers, shielding lower realm disciples from the residual energy.
The speed was unreal.
To those below Moon Realm, it was like watching lightning dance. Blinding flashes. Sonic booms. Echoes of movement that defied logic.
Strike after strike, they exchanged blows—each one precise, calculated, and devastating. Jalen's movements were impossibly smooth, his footwork flawless. Every dodge, every counter, every flick of his wrist was designed to disable or disarm.
Lloyd fought fiercely, pushing himself to the limit. He had trained for this. He had cultivated endlessly. But Jalen was different. Even while limiting himself to the Peak Moon Realm, his control, his instincts, and his sheer presence were overwhelming.
After a hundred exchanges, Lloyd staggered back, panting. His robes were shredded, his body bruised. Jalen stood across from him, equally tattered—but not tired.
"Are you ready to give up now?" Lloyd said between breaths.
"Why? I'm just warming up," Jalen replied.
Lloyd gritted his teeth. "Then let's see how you handle this."
He activated three of his signature techniques—moves he had forged through months of trial, failure, and refinement.
Luminous Rift Slash—a wide arc of radiant force that destabilized footing and shattered defenses.
Flash Bloom Barrage—petals of light qi burst outward, each one detonating with pinpoint precision.
And finally, Photon Mirage Bloom—his newest creation. Dozens of illusory clones shimmered into existence, mimicking his every move.
Jalen's eyes lit up with interest. He dodged the Rift Slash, danced through the petals, and then paused—watching the clones.
In seconds, he replicated the technique.
"Photon Mirage Bloom," he said calmly. "Clever. But it had a delay. I removed it."
Lloyd stared, stunned. "You just… copied all three?"
"And refined them," Jalen replied. "You're getting better. But I'm still ahead."
Lloyd groaned. "Is there anything that you can't do?"
"Yeah, be a sore loser like you are."
The disciples watching were speechless. Their number one had just been matched—and outclassed—by someone who hadn't even revealed his true realm.
Some were excited. Others were intimidated. But all were in awe.
The elders exchanged glances, murmuring quietly. Jalen's movements were surgical. His strikes were designed to incapacitate, not just impress. He wasn't showing off—he was demonstrating mastery.
Patriarch Shanell watched silently, her eyes narrowing. She saw it clearly. Jalen wasn't just talented. He was dangerous. Not reckless, not arrogant—but precise. Controlled. Deadly.
When Lloyd finally collapsed to one knee, exhausted, Jalen lowered his stance.
"That's enough."
He walked over, offered a hand, and pulled his brother up.
Jalen walked over, offered a hand, and pulled his brother up.
"You did well," he said. "You've grown."
Lloyd smiled weakly. "You're still annoying."
They vanished in a flash—Luminous Veil Step—leaving behind only a ripple of light.
The disciples erupted into chatter. The elders remained thoughtful. Shanell and the two elders with her turned away from the balcony, their minds already racing.
___
Jalen and Lloyd sat beneath a tall spirit tree, its leaves glowing faintly with residual qi. A small stream trickled nearby, and the air was cool and quiet—perfect for reflection or silence.
Jalen pulled out a flask and handed it over.
"Drink."
Lloyd took a sip, then coughed. "What is this?"
"Spirit fruit wine," Jalen said. "Made from a thousand-year-old flame qi fruit. Good for recovery. And for your extracurricular activities."
Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "Alright, enough of that. Let's just drink in silence."
Jalen nodded, then paused. "I thought you should know—I have a son."
Lloyd blinked. "What?"
Jalen didn't look at him.
"How?" Lloyd asked, incredulous. "Aren't you a virgin?"
But Jalen didn't answer. He just drank, eyes fixed on the stream. No matter how many questions Lloyd threw at him—how, when, who—Jalen acted as if he hadn't heard a word.
Eventually, Lloyd gave up. He leaned back against the tree, watching the leaves shimmer overhead.
They drank in silence.
And for a while, that was enough.