Months slipped by in a blur of sweat, laughter, and relentless effort. The training grounds of El-Dorado, once echoing with the uncertain footsteps of novices, now rang with the confident strides of young soul masters in the making. Under Tang San's guidance, the students' soul power surged, their bodies growing tougher and more resilient with each passing day. The air itself seemed to hum with energy, charged by the collective will of those determined to rise above their humble beginnings.
Tang San watched their progress with a quiet pride, but he knew that growth required more than just hard work. To truly push his students, he introduced a new system—one inspired by the meritocratic traditions of the Tang Sect but tailored to the unique spirit of El-Dorado. He called it the credit system. Each student could earn credits by mastering techniques, showing initiative, or helping their peers. These credits could then be exchanged for access to advanced skills, rare herbs, or even one-on-one training sessions with Tang San himself.
The announcement electrified the group. Suddenly, every drill became a competition—not just against each other but against their own limits. Students who had once lagged behind now found themselves striving to catch up, motivated by the promise of new knowledge and recognition. Friendly rivalries blossomed, and the training grounds buzzed with a new sense of purpose.
Xiao Wu, ever the heart of the group, threw herself into the challenge with characteristic zeal. Her leadership style was a blend of discipline and camaraderie; she pushed her friends hard, but always with a smile or a word of encouragement. Her kicks became a blur of pink energy, each movement precise and powerful, yet infused with a playful grace that was uniquely her own. She organised mock battles, pitting students against one another in chaotic but exhilarating contests. These matches were noisy and unpredictable, but beneath the surface, Tang San saw real progress. The students were learning to adapt, to think on their feet, and to trust in their own abilities and in each other.
One afternoon, as the sun dipped low and painted the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Xiao Wu called for a mock battle that would test everything they had learnt. The students gathered in a loose circle, excitement and nerves mingling in the air. Xiao Wu stood at the centre, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Remember", she called out, "this isn't just about winning. It's about learning, about pushing yourselves. Show me what you've got!"
The battle erupted in a flurry of movement—students darting, dodging, and launching attacks with newfound confidence. There were shouts and laughter, the occasional tumble, and more than a few spectacular displays of soul power. Tang San watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his lips. He could see the fruits of their labour in every exchange: the way they anticipated each other's moves, the subtle teamwork, and the flashes of creativity and courage.
But beneath his pride, Tang San's instincts remained sharp. He had sensed, in recent weeks, the presence of eyes that did not belong—Spirit Hall's spies, lurking at the edges of their world, watching and waiting. He wove subtle warnings into his training, teaching the students to be vigilant, to trust their senses, and to never underestimate an opponent. "They think we're nothing," he told them one evening, his voice low but fierce. "They see us as weak, as unworthy. Prove them wrong. Show them what El Dorado can become."
The words struck a chord. The students trained harder, their resolve steeled by the knowledge that they were being watched and judged. They were no longer just learning for themselves—they were fighting for their place in a world that had already decided their worth.
Grandmaster, too, found himself drawn deeper into the fold. Though his movements were stiff with age and old injuries, his determination was undimmed. He joined the drills, correcting stances, offering advice, and occasionally demonstrating techniques that left even Tang San impressed. For Grandmaster, El-Dorado was more than just a school—it was a chance to challenge Spirit Hall, to prove that greatness could be forged from the most unlikely of beginnings.
He watched Xiao Wu with particular interest, seeing in her a reflection of his own youthful fire. Her leadership was instinctive, her ability to balance discipline and friendship a rare gift. She inspired loyalty not through fear but through example—her tireless work ethic, her willingness to help others, and her refusal to give up even when exhausted. The students rallied around her, their respect growing with each passing day.
The Meme System, never one to miss an opportunity for mischief, chimed in with its usual irreverence. "Quest: Build an army from nobodies! Reward: +10 Underdog Vibes," it quipped, its digital voice echoing in Tang San's mind. He chuckled, shaking his head. There was truth in the joke—El-Dorado was, after all, a gathering of misfits and outsiders, united by little more than hope and determination. Yet in their unity, Tang San saw something extraordinary.
He often found himself thinking of Tang Yan, of the dream that had started it all. In the laughter and camaraderie of the students, in the sweat and struggle of their training, he felt his brother's spirit alive and well. El-Dorado was no longer just a name or a memory—it was a living legacy, a testament to what could be achieved when people believed in each other.
As the days grew longer and the students stronger, Tang San knew that challenges still lay ahead. Spirit Hall would not ignore them forever. But for now, as he watched his friends and students sparring in the golden light, he allowed himself a moment of peace. They were building something real, something lasting. And in that, he found hope—not just for El Dorado, but for himself and for the future they were all fighting to create.