The following days at the Heaven's Fracture Hall passed with a slow but rigorous rhythm. Every dawn, when the mist still blanketed the mountain peaks, Khanh and Le Vy had to rise and step into the harsh training regimen laid out by Vo Tinh Hai. The towering master always carried a wine jug at his side, his eyes hazy from drink, yet his booming voice echoed through the cavern with unrelenting force.
"Strike! Strike again! Your arms haven't torn yet, so don't you dare stop!" he barked, the smell of alcohol wafting from his breath as the heavy wooden swords clashed.
Khanh's sweat streamed down like rain, each swing of the six-jin wooden sword draining his strength. His muscles trembled, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. Beside him, Le Vy moved with greater ease; though fatigue tugged at her limbs, her strikes were still precise, steady.
Inside, however, she seethed with irritation. Discipline? What kind of discipline is this, when the so-called master spends his days drinking? Many times she wanted to speak out, but whenever she remembered the hopeful gaze of Ho Lam Uyen when she had left them behind, she swallowed her complaints and endured.
By the afternoon, Vo Tinh Hai hurled down two long bamboo staves, his voice rumbling:
"Fight each other! Steel is only proven when tested by fire."
Khanh and Le Vy stepped forward, their breaths still ragged. The sparring began. Bamboo clashed against bamboo with sharp cracks, the sound bouncing off the cavern walls. Le Vy was quick, agile, her strikes raining down and forcing Khanh back step by step. Khanh, slower and already drained, soon took a hard blow to the shoulder that sent him staggering to the ground.
"Enough," Le Vy exhaled, twirling her staff. "You can't win this."
But Khanh pushed himself up, his staff digging into the dirt for support, eyes burning with defiance.
"Again! I… haven't lost yet."
The cavern fell silent. Just as that fierce determination filled the air, a clear and melodic voice rang out:
"Oh, such spirit from two young disciples! But hold on—pause your duel for now. I've brought you a most marvelous gift!"
From the mouth of the cave stepped La Diep, cradling a sleek black wooden box in his hands. He set it down and carefully opened it, revealing a strange creation: a pair of spectacles with a smooth ebony frame, finely carved with intricate patterns, and lenses that gleamed like rippling water. Lifting them high, his voice sang with pride, as if unveiling a priceless treasure:
"Behold! The Divine-Demon Lens, just finished! With this, young Le Vy shall be able to see what hides in shadow—the flows of divine and demonic energy, every trace laid bare before her eyes."
Le Vy's eyes lit up with wonder, while Khanh, forgetting his exhaustion, leaned closer in curiosity. The tense air that had gripped the cavern softened at La Diep's triumphant presentation.
And then, while they were still caught up in the excitement, a familiar figure appeared at the cave's entrance. It was Minh Triet—absent for several days, now returned, a travel-worn cloak hanging from his shoulders, dust of the road still clinging to him.
All three turned to look. Vo Tinh Hai kept drinking, snorting softly. Le Vy froze for a heartbeat, while Khanh tightened his grip on the bamboo staff in his hands. Once more, the air within the cavern shifted—something was about to unfold.