The morning sun spilled across the forest clearing, casting golden light upon the dirt where Leo Fang stood barefoot, sweat dripping down his brow. His hands trembled from the weight of the wooden sword, but his eyes carried the same determination that burned within his father years ago.
Across from him stood his father — Fang Tian, the man once feared across the continent, the one whom even the Four Legends had once regarded with caution. His long black hair swayed with the wind as he rested his blade on his shoulder.
"Again," Fang Tian's voice was calm, but heavy with command.
Leo charged, his small feet kicking up dust as he swung clumsily. The strike was fast, born from youthful vigor, but sloppy. Fang Tian twisted slightly, parrying with almost no effort. The wooden sword flew from Leo's hands and landed meters away.
"You still rely on strength, not intent," his father said, stepping closer. "Do you think brute force will save you against men who wield real killing intent? Against monsters who have already drowned in blood?"
Leo picked up his weapon again, biting his lip. "I will surpass even them, Father. Even the Four Legends."
For a moment, Fang Tian's eyes darkened. A shadow flickered across his face, remembering the night when his wife was killed, when the Four Legends descended upon their village. His silence was answer enough, and Leo felt it.
"Again!" Leo shouted, this time charging faster.
The clash of wood against wood echoed through the forest. Each failed strike, each stumble, was met with correction, never mercy. Fang Tian's movements were sharp, precise, yet always leaving Leo with a small opening to learn. Hours passed.
Finally, Leo collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. Fang Tian stood above him, looking down, his expression unreadable.
"You are still weak," he said, his words cutting deeper than any blade. But then, softer — almost hidden — he whispered, "Yet, your eyes… they burn with something even I fear."
Leo looked up, his blue eyes gleaming faintly, a trace of that mysterious power that had once terrified the elders at his birth. His father noticed, but did not speak of it.
Instead, he turned away. "From this day forward, you will train not as a child, but as my disciple. Twelve years of hardship will break you — or forge you."
The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it a sense of foreboding.
Leo gripped his sword tighter, his heart pounding. He didn't know what awaited him in the coming years, but one thing was certain.
He would never remain weak.
He would walk the path his blood demanded of him.
The path toward godhood — or ruin.
End of chapter 2