When Lin Ziao opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was not the forest—it was a ceiling of wooden beams. His body ached all over, but he realized he was lying on a straw bed inside a small room. The faint scent of herbs filled the air, and somewhere outside, villagers murmured quietly.
He pushed himself up, groaning softly. His head felt heavy, but he was awake.
Then his gaze shifted.
On the other side of the room, Peng Cheng lay on a low bed, his strong body wrapped in bandages. His face was pale, his breaths shallow. The once-proud commander now looked worn and fragile, like a tree beaten down by storm winds.
"Commander…" Lin Ziao whispered, his throat dry.
Peng Cheng didn't answer. He seemed to be sleeping, though every rise and fall of his chest looked like an effort.
Lin Ziao sat still, trying to piece things together. The battle in his vision—the roar of the tiger, the endless flames, the clash of warriors—it had felt so real. Yet now, it was gone. Was it only a dream? Or something more?
Then he felt it.
A pulse deep inside his chest, faint but steady. It spread through his arms, his veins, even to his fingertips. His breath caught as warmth surged through him. He clenched his fists, feeling a strength he had never known.
But just as quickly, it slipped away—like water through his hands.
"This… this isn't normal," he muttered under his breath.
It wasn't just strength. It was like another stage of himself had awakened, a deeper power waiting to burst out. But it was sealed. Locked. He couldn't control it. Not yet.
The door creaked open, and an elder of the village stepped in, carrying a clay bowl of steaming medicine. He paused when he saw Lin Ziao awake.
"You're alive," the elder said with quiet relief. "Good. Rest is what you need now."
Lin Ziao's eyes darted to the door. "Where… is Elder Shan? The old man who was with us?"
The elder gave him a puzzled look. "Old man? No one came back with you except the commander. It was the hunters who found you both at the edge of the forest. You were unconscious."
Lin Ziao's heart sank. Elder Shan was gone. Vanished, just as mysteriously as he had appeared.
He looked back at Peng Cheng, his fists tightening.
The orb's red glow. The forest vision. Elder Shan's cryptic words. And now this locked power inside him. None of it made sense. But he knew one thing—the answers were tied to his first awakening...his bloodline.
Still, as he sat in the quiet village room, listening to the wind rustling the roofs outside, Lin Ziao felt something else: fear. Not of the power, but of what it might cost him to unlock it.
His gaze hardened.
If this was truly the second stage of his strength, then he had no choice but to cultivate, to grow stronger—because something was waiting out there in the forest, and he could not face it as he was now.
He reached over and adjusted the blanket covering Peng Cheng. "Rest, Commander," he whispered. "When you wake… I'll be ready."
But Elder Shan's voice echoed faintly in his memory, like a shadow that refused to leave.
"The forest had something it wants to show you, boy."