Later that night, Wu Chen stood at the edge of the village, his gaze fixed on the shadowed forest beyond.
The moon hung high, casting its silver glow across the treetops, painting the trees in silver and shadow. A faint breeze blew stirring the leaves, and Wu Chen just starred with a light feeling of melancholy.
Beneath his skin the energy from the demonic cores pulsed like a steady drumbeat—alive, a little volatile, and brimming with power.
Footsteps approached. Quiet, but not stealthy. Wu Chen didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Honoured one…"
The voice startled him—not because he hadn't heard the approach, but because the title still sat uneasily in his chest.
"Just call me Wu Chen," he said calmly, his eyes still on the forest.
A pause.
Li Wei swallowed hard. "Wu Chen...sir." The honorific slipped out anyway, ingrained by years of village hierarchy. Then he clenched his fists, knuckles whitening and said. "I—I need to thank you. For Li Mei. For all of us."
This time Wu Chen didn't reply for sometime, and after a while he turned, facing the youth. Moonlight carved the sharp planes of his face, His expression was serene, unreadable.
"Gratitude is unnecessary.....I only did what had to be done."
Li Wei nodded, but his eyes shone with determination. "I want to help. I want to fight by your side. Please… teach me how to be strong."
Wu Chen studied him. The boy's posture was stiff but earnest, his fists clenched tight, knuckles pale. He recognized the fire in his eyes—that same desperate resolve that once burned within him, back when survival was his only goal.
"Strength isn't just power," Wu Chen said quietly. The night air carried the scent of damp earth and distant smoke. "It's knowing your limits… and when to break past them. If you truly want to fight, you must be ready to bear the consequences."
"I am," Li Wei said without hesitation. "I won't stand by and watch everything I care about slip away again."
"So please...teach me"
There was a long silence. Then, Wu Chen gave a nod.
"Alright, we'll train together."
Li Wei bowed deeply. "Thank you, sir."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the night, his steps lighter, steadier.
Wu Chen turned back toward the forest, the wind brushing past him once more.
Over the next few days, Wu Chen began training Li Wei and the other youths of the village.
He didn't just teach them how to fight—he also taught them how to think in battle.
To read the shift of a predator's weight before it lunged.
To strike not at flesh, but at the spaces between—where tendons and arteries lay vulnerable.
To breathe through the burn of exhaustion, and turn fatigue into fuel.
In essence, he taught them to read their enemies, strike with precision, and conserve their strength for the moments that truly mattered.
Every swing, every dodge, every breath became a lesson.
And as Wu Chen guided them, his own understanding of combat deepened.
He wasn't a master of martial art in traditional sense, infact if it was before, he is a complete noob in it.
But his Supreme Intelligence granted him great perception and instinct. In a fight, he could sense things even seasoned veterans would miss—minute shifts in posture, the flicker of intent, the tension before an explosion of force.
To Wu Chen, many of his actions felt basic to natural. But to those watching, they were nothing short of profound.
A movement he considered instinctive could appear impossibly advanced to others.
That was the true mystery of his talent—he didn't seek to impress, yet everything he did left others in awe.
So the training continued.
Wu Chen moved among them, his corrections brutal in their precision
"Your enemy's elbow bends inward before a lunge—watch for it."
"That strike wasted three breaths' worth of energy. Do it again."
"Pain is just your body's cowardice, so Outlast it."
It was harsh, demanding—but the results were undeniable.
After some days, the once timid youths now stood taller, their stances firm, their eyes sharp with purpose. Under Wu Chen's calm yet unyielding guidance, fear gave way to focus.
From the sidelines, the villagers watched with a growing sense of pride. These were their children—stronger than ever, braver than they had hoped. Hope bloomed where despair once lingered.
Now in combat Li Wei moved differently—his stance no longer like before.
Some of the children even mimicked his footwork with stick-swords, their laughter ringing across the training grounds.
Even Old Man Zhang seeing this chuckled, then nodded in approval, as he sharpened his sickle, the steel singing with each pass of the whetstone.
But even as the village prepared for the next attack, Wu Chen's gaze kept drifting to the tree line. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming.
The forest was too quiet, a silence that rang too loud.
No rustling, No cries, No scattered beasts, No screeches of night birds.
Just an unnatural hush.
The villagers didn't notice. They stoked cookfires, mended walls, their hope a fragile armor against what they couldn't hear.
But Wu Chen did.
Truly The demonics weren't gone.
It is as if the creatures were waiting, biding their time.
One evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills and shadows stretched long across the land, Wu Chen sat in meditation at the village's edge. The wind whispered through the grass, carrying with it a pulse of energy—faint, distant, but strong.
His eyes snapped open. Cold clarity settled over his expression.
It was here.
Not the lesser creatures. The one behind them.
The source.
The boss.
He turned his gaze toward the distant hills, where the trees stood like sentinels cloaked in dusk.
It's watching us, he thought. Planning its next move.
This wasn't a simple beast. If it had the intelligence to command Level 3 and Level 2 demonics, then it was far more dangerous than he had initially imagined. A creature of such command wasn't just strong—it was cunning and calculating.
It wouldn't make the same mistakes as it minions.
Wu Chen rose to his feet, the evening light catching the edge of his silhouette.
The real battle is coming.