The cave beneath the Forbidden Valley was silent.
So silent that even the flow of prana seemed to pause.
Siddharth sat at the center of the formation he had prepared days in advance. Ancient ruin inscriptions—copied from the incomplete Beast Emperor Scripture—glowed faintly on the cave walls, responding to the rhythm of his breathing.
On his chest, the necklace warmed.
"Siddharth," Kaushik's voice echoed, deeper than before. "You have laid the foundation long enough. It is time to complete Beast Transformation Art: Part Two."
Siddharth opened his eyes.
This time, there was no hesitation.
"Begin."
Prana surged.
Unlike the first part of the art—where monster blood tempered flesh and bone—this phase did not focus on the body alone.
It targeted existence itself.
Kaushik's instructions flowed directly into Siddharth's mind, precise and merciless.
"Space is not distance," Kaushik said. "It is permission."
The blood essence within Siddharth's body ignited.
Not explosively—but smoothly, as if it had been waiting for this moment.
His senses expanded.
The cave vanished.
Not physically—but conceptually.
Siddharth felt the space around him: the thickness of the air, the resistance of stone, the subtle folds where reality thinned. He perceived distance not as meters, but as steps of intent.
His heart thundered.
So this is space…
The first ability awakened naturally.
Siddharth stood—then vanished.
There was no flash, no sound.
One breath earlier, he was at the center of the cave.
The next—he stood beside the entrance.
Short-range teleportation.
Effortless.
He stepped again.
Vanished.
Reappeared behind a rock formation thirty meters away.
A third time.
This time, he appeared midair, corrected his position instinctively, and landed lightly.
His breathing remained steady.
No backlash.
No instability.
Kaushik's voice carried a note of satisfaction.
"You have grasped Spatial Step. Crude for now—but reliable."
Then came the second awakening.
Siddharth closed his eyes.
The world did not darken.
Instead, it unfolded.
He sensed movement far beyond the cave—monsters prowling, prana currents colliding, even the subtle disturbances caused by his own puppets stationed deeper within the valley.
Spatial sensing.
Not sight.
Not hearing.
Awareness.
A map of existence formed in his mind.
He smiled faintly.
Nothing enters my domain unnoticed.
Finally, Kaushik spoke again—slowly.
"Now… reach for them."
Siddharth turned his attention inward.
Three presences answered immediately.
Not voices.
Not emotions.
Positions.
The two Sadhak-rank puppets and the single Yogi-rank puppet stood scattered across the valley, guarding key routes as ordered.
Siddharth raised his hand.
The space beside him folded.
One heartbeat later—
A puppet stood at his side.
No movement.
No delay.
Perfect placement.
Siddharth's pupils contracted.
He gestured again.
The second puppet arrived.
Then the third.
All three stood silently before him, exactly where he intended.
Kaushik's voice was solemn now.
"Within your spatial domain, your puppets are no longer bound by distance. They are extensions of your will."
Siddharth exhaled slowly.
Instant repositioning.
Perfect coordination.
Zero response time.
This isn't just mobility, he realized.
This is absolute control.
The ruin inscriptions dimmed.
The pressure in the cave eased.
Siddharth stood amidst his puppets, calm and composed, yet something fundamental had changed.
He was no longer merely strong.
He was untouchable.
"From now on," he said quietly, "battlefields will exist only where I allow them to."
The puppets bowed in unison.
Deep within his secluded cave, Siddharth stood before a new refining formation.
Unlike the previous puppets—built for combat and slaughter—this one had a different purpose.
Control.
Influence.
Secrecy.
The materials laid before him were modest by his current standards.
Shishya-rank monster bones, finely polished.
A carefully refined blood essence core, condensed to its purest form.
Flesh-binding powders derived from valley herbs.
And most importantly—
His own blood.
Siddharth raised his hand and let a single drop fall onto the core.
The formation ignited.
This time, the refinement was slow—deliberate. He followed a different sequence from the Beast Emperor Scripture, focusing not on strength, but on stability and disguise.
Bone softened.
Flesh formed.
Muscle and skin layered themselves seamlessly.
Hours passed.
By the time the formation dimmed, a figure stood quietly within it.
A young man, average in height, unremarkable in appearance. No monstrous features. No exposed core. Even prana fluctuations were perfectly human.
Siddharth circled him once, activating his eyes.
Cultivation: Shishya Rank.
State: Stable.
Threat Level: Negligible.
Perfect.
He stepped forward and placed his palm against the puppet's forehead.
The mental link formed instantly.
Clear. Silent. Absolute.
This one felt… different.
Lighter.
Less imposing.
But no less loyal.
"You will act as my proxy," Siddharth said calmly. "From this moment on, your identity belongs to the market."
The puppet nodded once.
"Yes, Master."
The voice was natural. Emotionless—but not hollow.
Siddharth narrowed his eyes slightly.
Indistinguishable… even in speech.
That night, the puppet appeared inside Shubham's private chambers—not by walking in, but by space folding silently around him.
Shubham stiffened.
Before he could shout, the puppet raised a hand.
"I am not your enemy," he said evenly. "I represent the supplier you know as the masked man."
Shubham's breathing steadied, though sweat gathered on his brow.
"A… proxy?" he asked carefully.
"Yes," the puppet replied. "From this point forward, all negotiations, deliveries, and communications will go through me."
Shubham hesitated. "And if I need to speak to him directly?"
The puppet met his gaze.
"He will hear everything."
Far away, in his cave, Siddharth opened his eyes.
Through the mental link, he saw what the puppet saw.
He felt what it felt.
Distance no longer mattered.
"If danger arises," Siddharth said calmly through the link, "I will retrieve you instantly."
The puppet inclined his head.
"As you command, Master."
Shubham exhaled slowly.
"So… the rumors were true," he muttered. "A man without a face."
The puppet said nothing.
It didn't need to.
Outside, the market of Ayodhya continued its endless flow—unaware that from this night onward, every trade of blood essence passed through an unseen hand.
Siddharth leaned back against the cave wall, eyes closed.
Influence no longer required his presence.
He had learned how to rule—
Without ever being seen.