Not much to his surprise, all those who had managed to sense Chi under his guidance had survived the assessment this time, there were a few others that can be counted with numbers who hadn't sensed Chi but survived.
John wouldn't be too surprised if their mentors had taken it easy on them, recognizing them as potential Chi masters, valuable assets the League wouldn't want to waste. Seeing their happy, comfortable looks a mix of relief and nascent pride, he shook his head. If they thought this was the peak of their challenge, then he pitied them. He knew with chilling certainty that the final assessment, both theirs and his own, would be even more brutal.
To John's mild surprise, once he sat down, his table was full again. He raised a brow but focused on feeding himself; he was ravenously hungry and needed to compensate for the immense energy he'd spent.
One of the trainees spoke up, a young man with a genuinely grateful expression. "We want to thank you, John. With your help, we managed to survive and now have hope of clearing this assessment."
"No need for that," John replied, as nicely as he could muster, his voice flat. "It was mutual. You all helped me in turn."
The directness of her question caused a ripple of tense silence through the table. Everyone leaned in, eager for an answer, yet wary. John calmly finished chewing a mouthful of food, then met her gaze.
"Yes," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "My assessment is different."
He paused, letting his words hang in the air, allowing them to interpret the gravity of his response. "You are learning to find Chi. I am expected to master it. The intensity of our assessments reflects that distinction." His gaze swept over their faces, registering their dawning comprehension, the renewed awe mixing with a fresh wave of fear.
"And it will only get harder for all of us," he continued, his tone flat, analytical. "The League will not stop pushing until it finds the limits of your potential. Or breaks you." He took another bite, leaving them to ponder his stark words. The atmosphere around the table, once filled with relief, had now settled into a cold, grim realization of their next assement.
One of the boys, Kael, his voice trembling, broke the silence. "What would you have us do, John?"
The question halted John. He slowly turned his gaze towards them, and his expression now made it chillingly clear just how distant he was from them. The subtle shift in his demeanor, the cold, calculating glint in his eyes, solidified the chasm between their desperate hope and his pragmatic reality.
"You will do as you please," he stated, his voice flat, emotionless. "Find your own way of survival. The only way you can be of help to me is if you can use your Chi in a combative state, else our interaction will only end with our usual meditation sessions."
With that, John stood up to walk away, his meal unfinished. But he was held back. He looked down at the hand gripping his arm, then at the owner of the hand, the girl who had asked about his assessment. Her eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and stubborn resolve, couldn't quite meet his, but her grip was surprisingly strong.
"You are our only hope of survival," the girl insisted, her voice steady now. She finally raised her head, her eyes meeting John's with a cold intensity that immediately made him tense up. It wasn't pleading anymore; it was something sharper, more dangerous.
The other trainees, who had remained silent, now met his gaze with the same chilling resolve. They were no ordinary kids; John was quickly reminded that these were all potential assassins, honed by the brutal realities of the League.
"We learn and we grow fast," the girl continued, her voice gaining a surprising edge of defiance. "You need pressure to force your growth, John, and it's understandable that you think we can't provide this pressure. We've all been presenting ourselves as weaklings to you."
She stood up fully, closing the small distance between them, staring John directly in the eyes. "Give us an opportunity to show you how much pressure we can be. Just as you need pressure to grow, so do we."
John held her gaze, a flicker of something new in his eyes – not surprise, but a re-evaluation. Their audacity was unexpected, their insight into his own needs startlingly accurate. They weren't just desperate; they were observing, learning, and adapting. They had seen his brutal assessment, understood the chasm of skill, yet still faced him with defiance.
"Pressure," John finally echoed, the word a low murmur. He assessed their faces again, seeing the cold, dangerous glint in their eyes that mirrored his own. This was ambition, sharpened by the League's relentless culling.
He considered the state of his body. Healing was paramount, and even with his enhanced abilities, the mentor had inflicted significant damage. Pushing too soon, even for this intriguing new challenge, was a foolish risk.
"Alright," John said, his voice flat but firm, cutting through the tense silence. "Give me four days to heal. No interruptions. No training sessions with me during that time." His gaze swept over them, a silent challenge. "Prove you are serious. Think. Plan. Figure out how you intend to provide this 'pressure' without getting yourselves killed. If you do not meet my expectations after four days, our arrangement reverts to its previous terms."
He didn't wait for a response. With that, John turned and walked away, leaving the circle of trainees to process his terms, their desperate hope now infused with a new, dangerous purpose.
The four days passed quickly, each one a testament to John's relentless drive. By the end of it, he was back in full health, his body mended, his Chi flowing freely, and his mind sharper than ever. He had used the time not just for physical recovery, but for deeper self-analysis and strategic planning, preparing for whatever challenge the trainees might present.
The entire living quarters and canteen had been uncharacteristically quiet during this period. Each trainee seemed lost in their own thoughts and beliefs, a palpable tension growing with every passing day. It was the silence of anticipation, of individuals grappling with a dangerous, yet potentially life-saving, proposition. They were, John knew, either devising a plan to meet his terms or succumbing to the overwhelming pressure.
They met out in the open training ground, the pale morning light just beginning to burn away the night's chill. The trainees were already there, a nervous energy vibrating amongst them. Some stretched, others whispered, discussing strategies with low, intense voices. But all discussion ceased, all movement paused, the moment John walked towards them, his faithful dog trotting calmly at his heels.
His dog, sensing the somber mood or perhaps just seeking comfort, found a patch of warm earth to lay down on, its head resting on its paws. His pet wasn't the only animal presence; cats, sleek and watchful, could be seen perched on distant walls, and birds, silent for once, observed from their chosen branches in nearby trees. John walked to the very center of the assembled group, a lone figure now surrounded by the silent, expectant trainees.
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