For five days straight, Jalen and Lloyd trained beneath the pale sun and the whispering trees of the Raine Sect's inner courtyard. Sweat soaked their robes, and the air shimmered with the residue of light-based techniques. Jalen, ever the quiet mentor, guided Lloyd through the final stages of the Nineteen Light Art Technique, helping him refine the concept he'd been nurturing for weeks—Photon Dust.
It was a subtle, insidious art. Nearly invisible particles of light, released into the air like drifting pollen, would infiltrate a cultivator's system. Once inside, they stirred chaos within the core, mimicking the backlash of clashing energies. Not lethal to those of equal strength, but devastating if one dropped their guard. Against weaker opponents, it could be fatal.
Lloyd's control sharpened with each session. The dust shimmered faintly, dancing like motes in sunlight before vanishing into the ether. Jalen watched with quiet pride, arms folded, eyes thoughtful.
"You're getting it," he said. "Just remember—subtlety is your weapon. Don't rely on brute force."
Lloyd grinned, brushing sweat from his brow. "I'll make it my signature."
They trained. They drank. Lloyd laughed freely, and Jalen, though reserved, allowed himself the occasional smile. And sometimes, when the moon hung high and the courtyard lay silent, Lloyd would slip away to visit his night girl—a fleeting escape from the weight of cultivation and duty.
On the sixth morning, Patriarch Shanell arrived.
She stood tall, her robes embroidered with the sigil of the Raine Sect, eyes sharp and unreadable. Her presence alone silenced the courtyard.
"Lloyd," she said, "the Tian Realm will open in two days. I want you to represent our sect, alongside several of your seniors."
Lloyd blinked. "Me?"
"You've grown quickly. You're ready. The Tian Realm will push you further. And there are treasures within that may help you improve even more."
"I'll go, Patriarch," Lloyd said, then turned to Jalen. "You coming with me?"
Jalen shook his head. "No. My presence might stagnate your growth. You need to walk this path alone."
Lloyd hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Then I guess it'll be months before we see each other again."
Jalen smiled faintly. "Who knows?"
Shanell bid them farewell and returned to her quarters, her robes trailing like mist.
__
The next morning, Lloyd departed with three seniors and an elder from the Immortal Realm. He paused only once—to say goodbye to Jalen. With Lloyd gone, Jalen had no reason to linger. He left for Kyra, a coastal state known for its bustling markets and oceanic beauty.
Tidefall City, the capital, greeted him with noise and color. Towering buildings of polished stone loomed over winding streets. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the harbor, shimmering like liquid sapphire. Jalen walked with his hood drawn low, blending into the crowd.
"Watch out!"
The shout came from behind. A boy—no older than fourteen—barreled into him, tumbling to the ground with a grunt. Jalen had sensed him moments before but chose not to move.
The boy scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with panic. But it was too late.
Three other boys rounded the corner, faces twisted with rage. Early-stage Emerald cultivators, judging by their aura.
"There he is!" one shouted.
They didn't hesitate. Fists flew. The boy cried out as they beat him mercilessly. Jalen watched, unmoving. The boy clutched something tightly in his hand, refusing to let go even as blood stained the cobblestones.
Eventually, the attackers grew bored and walked away, laughing.
The boy lay there, trembling. Slowly, he sat up and glared at Jalen. You could've helped, he thought bitterly. You just stood there.
Jalen stepped forward. The boy flinched, expecting another blow. But Jalen simply rested a hand on his shoulder. A soft glow pulsed from his palm—Flare Recursion, activated at a scale subtle enough not to draw attention.
The boy gasped. His bruises vanished. Cuts sealed. Pain faded. But more than that—something deeper shifted. His shattered meridians, long declared irreparable, realigned. Qi stirred within him for the first time. A spirit root began to form.
He blinked, stunned. Impossible, he thought. The elders said it was too late. That I'd never cultivate.
Jalen turned and walked away.
"Senior!" the boy called, scrambling to his feet. "Please wait!"
Jalen didn't stop. The boy chased after him, weaving through the crowd.
"Senior, what did you do back there? I mean—thank you…"
No response.
Desperate, the boy ran ahead and blocked Jalen's path. He knelt on the stone street, head bowed.
"Please… teach me."
Jalen stepped around him without a word and continued walking.
But the boy followed.
___
Eventually, Jalen found his sanctuary—the library. Nestled between marble towers and whispering trees, it was a quiet haven where ancient tomes and scrolls pulsed faintly with residual energy. Even here, the boy followed.
This time, he didn't beg. He simply sat in silence, watching Jalen flip through books with the ease of a master, absorbing knowledge like breathing air. Hours passed. The boy's eyes drooped. Eventually, he curled up in a corner and slept, lulled by the rustle of parchment and the scent of old ink.
When Jalen finally rose, he didn't leave the boy behind. He carried him out gently and laid him on a flat stone beneath the moonlight.