I couldn't sleep. The opportunity Commander Wood had presented was too significant to ignore. A chance to go to Veridia City—to be close to Isabelle again. My mind raced with possibilities as I stared at the ceiling of my quarters.
"Isabelle," I whispered her na into the darkness, wondering if she was thinking of too.
The last ti I'd seen her face, those beautiful eyes had been filled with tears. The Ashworths had taken her away, thinking distance would break our connection. They were wrong.
I got up and walked to the window, gazing at the night sky. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of my new role with the Dragon Tiger Team. But my true focus remained clear: this position was simply a ans to an end—a path back to Isabelle.
Dawn broke too slowly for my liking. I dressed quickly and headed to the training grounds earlier than necessary. My mind was already formulating the training program I would implent—one that would challenge these soldiers without destroying them.
When the team arrived, they eyed with a mixture of respect and wariness. Word of yesterday's events had clearly spread.
"Gather around," I called out, my voice carrying across the field with newfound authority.
Twelve n ford a semicircle before . Their postures were rigid, faces expectant.
"From today, I'll be overseeing your training," I announced. "My thods will be different from what you're used to."
A few exchanged glances. One soldier—Alaric, I rembered—stepped forward slightly.
"With all due respect, sir, what qualifies you to train us?"
Commander Wood, who had been observing from the sidelines, started forward with a frown, but I held up a hand to stop him.
"Fair question," I replied. "Yesterday, I saved your lives after incorrect training nearly destroyed your ridians. Today, I'll show you the correct way to strengthen them."
I gestured toward the center of the field. "Form a line and face ."
Once they were positioned, I demonstrated the first stance—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, arms extended at specific angles.
"This is the Iron Foundation," I explained. "You will hold this position for thirty minutes."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
"Thirty minutes?" one soldier protested. "That's impossible!"
"It's not," I countered. "When held correctly, this stance redirects your energy flow to strengthen your core ridians."
They adopted the stance reluctantly. Within five minutes, several were trembling. By ten minutes, half had fallen out of position.
"Reset," I ordered. "Again."
We repeated this cycle three tis. By the final attempt, even the strongest could only maintain the stance for fifteen minutes.
"Not bad for a first day," I conceded. "Tomorrow, we'll aim for twenty."
"Sir," Zane Avery approached from where he'd been silently watching. His demotion had clearly wounded his pride, but he wasn't done fighting. "Perhaps you could demonstrate? Show us how it's supposed to look after thirty minutes?"
His challenge hung in the air, a trap designed to undermine my authority.
I smiled. "I can't."
The admission seed to stun everyone, including Commander Wood.
"You see," I continued calmly, "this training isn't designed for soone with my cultivation level. It would be pointless for ."
"So you're asking us to do sothing you can't do yourself?" Zane pressed, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
"No," I corrected. "I'm asking you to do sothing you need that I don't. Different bodies, different needs."
Commander Wood stepped forward. "Knight knows what he's doing. Anyone who questions his thods can report to personally."
The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and Zane retreated, though his eyes promised this wasn't over.
I continued with the training, introducing three more stances that targeted different ridian pathways. By midday, the entire team was exhausted but intact—no injuries, no collapses.
"That's enough for today," I announced. "Rest. Tomorrow will be harder."
As they dispersed, Commander Wood approached . "Unconventional thods," he remarked. * is the ho of this chapter
"But effective," I replied. "They'll feel the difference within a week."
"And these stances—they won't cause damage like Avery's program?"
I shook my head. "No. Actually, I've prepared these."
From my pocket, I withdrew a small pouch containing dark green pills.
"Have them take one each tonight. It will prevent muscle tears and accelerate recovery."
Commander Wood accepted the pouch, studying the pills with curiosity. "You really did co prepared."
"I try to be," I said simply.
When the team gathered again the following morning, the difference was noticeable. The pills had worked—they moved more fluidly, complained less about soreness.
"Today," I announced, "we double the difficulty."
I demonstrated a more complex series of stances, each one designed to push their limits without breaking them. This ti, they approached the training with less skepticism.
After three days of this regin, I called Zane Avery aside.
"You'll be taking over the daily supervision," I inford him.
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Not a change of heart," I clarified. "A division of labor. I need to prepare for Veridia City."
Understanding dawned on his face. "The tournant."
I nodded. "I've written out detailed instructions. Follow them exactly—no improvisations."
I handed him a bound notebook containing precise descriptions of each exercise, complete with illustrations and timing requirents.
"This is..." he hesitated, flipping through the pages. "Very thorough."
"It needs to be," I said. "Their lives depend on it."
For once, Zane seed to take my words seriously. Perhaps witnessing how close his n had co to permanent injury had sobered him.
"I'll follow it to the letter," he promised.
Commander Wood confird my new arrangents that afternoon. "You'll depart for Veridia City in two weeks," he inford . "The team will follow a week later for the tournant."
An extra week in Veridia City—ti to locate Isabelle before the competition began. It was perfect.
"Thank you, Commander," I said, unable to keep a hint of anticipation from my voice.
He studied with knowing eyes. "This 'unfinished business' in Veridia City—I hope it won't interfere with your duties to the team."
"It won't," I assured him, though we both knew I wasn't being entirely truthful.
---
Far away in Veridia City, within the opulent mansion of the Blackthorne family, Dashiell Blackthorne lounged in his study, sipping expensive wine.
A quiet knock interrupted his reverie. "Enter," he called, not bothering to look up from the docunts spread before him.
His steward stepped in, bowing deeply. "Young Master, I have news you may find concerning."
Dashiell raised an eyebrow. Few things warranted such a description. "Go on."
"It's about Adrian Whitlock's defeat."
"Old news," Dashiell dismissed with a wave. "So unknown fighter got lucky."
"Not luck, sir," the steward insisted. "I've confird the victor's identity. His na is Liam Knight."
"Knight?" Dashiell frowned, the na triggering a distant mory. "The forr son-in-law of the Sterling family? The one who was thrown out like trash?"
"The sa, sir. But there's more." The steward lowered his voice. "He defeated Adrian, a Fifth Rank Grandmaster, less than three months after beginning his cultivation journey."
This caught Dashiell's attention. He set down his wine glass. "That's impossible."
"I've verified it multiple tis, sir. The tiline is accurate."
Dashiell stood, walking to the window that overlooked the sprawling city below. "Three months from nothing to defeating a Fifth Rank Grandmaster?"
"Such a record..." the steward hesitated before continuing, "even Ignazio Bellweather couldn't achieve it back then..."
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