The aftermath of the duel did not end on the martial stage.
It only began there.
The moment Kartik Yadav was carried away unconscious, the entire Ayodhya Gurukul plunged into a strange silence. Students whispered in clusters, elders exchanged meaningful glances, and more than a few gazes followed Siddharth wherever he went.
A Sadhak Rank 4 genius, third-ranked in the Genius Class.
Defeated—decisively—by a cultivator who had stepped into Sadhak Rank 2 only hours ago.
This was no longer just talent.
This was something dangerous.
Inside the Elder Hall, tension was thick.
Several elders sat around a circular stone table, spiritual lamps flickering softly between them.
"This matter has already reached the ears of the Yadav family," one elder said grimly.
Another scoffed. "Of course it has. Their youngest son was humiliated in front of the entire Gurukul."
"They will not act openly," a third elder added. "Not after losing fair and square on the martial stage. But subtle pressure… that is inevitable."
At the head of the table, Drona stood silently, hands behind his back.
"They can pressure whoever they want," Drona said calmly. "But the duel followed Gurukul law. Kartik Yadav challenged arrogance with strength—and lost."
An elder hesitated. "And Siddharth? What of him?"
Drona's eyes sharpened slightly.
"He has already shown restraint," Drona said. "He did not cripple Kartik. He did not humiliate him further. That alone tells me the boy understands consequences."
No one refuted that.
Still, unease lingered.
That same evening, within the Yadav family estate—
A jade cup shattered against the floor.
"You lost to him?" a deep voice thundered.
Kartik Yadav knelt with his head lowered, fists clenched. "Yes… Father."
The man standing before him radiated a terrifying aura—Yogi Rank power restrained only by will.
"A nobody," the patriarch said coldly. "A boy with no background dared to step on our name."
Kartik's voice trembled. "He's not normal. His control, his killing intent—Father, he's hiding far more than he shows."
Silence followed.
Then a low chuckle.
"So," the patriarch said slowly, "a hidden blade."
He turned away. "We will not move openly. Not yet. If he truly has no backing, pressure alone will crush him."
"And if he does?" Kartik asked quietly.
The patriarch stopped.
"Then," he said, "we will find out who stands behind him."
Back at the Gurukul, Siddharth remained calm.
He did not celebrate.
He did not boast.
He returned to his quarters, closed the door, and sat cross-legged on the floor.
Kailash's voice echoed softly in his mind.
"You have stepped onto a larger stage."
Siddharth exhaled slowly. "I know."
"You defeated a genius of an ancient family. Eyes will follow you now."
"They already were," Siddharth replied. "This only confirms their suspicions."
He clenched his fist.
"I don't regret it."
Kailash hummed approvingly. "Good. Regret weakens resolve."
Siddharth opened his eyes, gaze steady.
"But I also know one thing," he said quietly.
"Strength displayed must always be backed by strength hidden."
The next morning, a Gurukul announcement spread through every class.
> All Expert and Genius Class disciples are permitted to undertake independent training missions outside Gurukul grounds for a limited time.
Whispers erupted instantly.
To others, it was opportunity.
To Siddharth, it was permission.
He stood, pulling on his robe.
"The Forbidden Valley again," he murmured.
But this time—
He wouldn't be returning as prey.
He would return as a hunter whose name had begun to echo.
And somewhere in Ayodhya, unseen forces had already started moving.
Permission to leave the Gurukul was granted.
But freedom, Siddharth knew, always came with a cost.
By noon, word of Siddharth's planned departure had already spread through the Expert Class. Some looked at him with admiration, others with envy—and a few with thinly veiled hostility.
A cultivator who defeated Kartik Yadav could not remain unnoticed.
As Siddharth walked through the inner courtyard, two figures fell into step beside him.
Arjun and Shraddha.
"So it's true," Arjun said quietly. "You're leaving again."
Siddharth nodded. "The valley is the fastest way to grow."
Shraddha frowned. "After everything that just happened? The Yadav family won't let this go."
"They don't need to," Siddharth replied calmly. "I only need time."
She studied his face, then sighed. "Then we'll come with you."
Siddharth shook his head. "Not this time. You both advanced rapidly already. Stay here, stabilize your foundations."
Shraddha opened her mouth to argue—but stopped.
She knew that tone.
"I'll be fine," Siddharth added. "I promise."
Before leaving, Siddharth paid one final visit—to Drona.
The old man stood in the training yard, watching younger disciples practice.
"You're leaving again," Drona said without turning around.
"Yes."
Drona nodded slowly. "You've become a thorn. Not everyone likes thorns."
"I never intended to be liked," Siddharth replied.
A faint smile appeared on Drona's lips.
"Good. Then listen carefully."
Drona turned, his gaze sharp.
"From today onward, your name will reach beyond Ayodhya. If you stay weak, you'll die fast. If you grow too fast, you'll draw monsters you cannot yet face."
Siddharth bowed deeply. "I understand."
Drona tossed him a jade slip.
"An identity token," he said. "It marks you as a Gurukul disciple on sanctioned training. It won't save you—but it may stop unnecessary interference."
Siddharth accepted it with both hands. "Thank you."
Drona waved him off. "Go. And don't die."
At the city gates, Siddharth donned a black robe and mask.
Kailash slithered silently around his wrist, hidden beneath the cloth.
"Still hiding?" Kailash teased.
"Survival is not cowardice," Siddharth replied. "It's patience."
Without another word, he left Ayodhya behind.
Two days later, deep within the outer region of the Forbidden Valley—
A group of cultivators lay dead.
Their corpses were cleanly killed—efficient, precise.
Siddharth stood among them, eyes cold.
Bandits.
They had mistaken him for easy prey.
He searched their storage rings, expression unchanged.
"People are becoming bolder," Kailash noted.
"Or desperate," Siddharth replied. "Both lead to mistakes."
He turned his gaze deeper into the valley.
Far away, within a shadowed pavilion—
A hooded man knelt before a seated figure.
"The boy has left Ayodhya," the man reported. "Alone."
The seated figure tapped the armrest slowly.
"A Sadhak Rank 2 who defeated Kartik Yadav…" he mused. "Interesting."
"Should we test him?" the subordinate asked.
A pause.
"Not yet," the figure said calmly. "Let the valley do that for us."
Back in the wilderness, Siddharth reached a familiar mountain range.
The hidden cave.
His hand brushed the stone wall.
"I'll need more than cultivation now," he murmured.
Resources. Information. And time.
He stepped inside, the darkness swallowing him.
Unaware—or perhaps fully aware—
That unseen eyes were already measuring the price of his rise.