Kuangshen, now four years and nine months, moved with his usual precision, feet barely disturbing the dew-soaked grass. The lessons from the eastern and northern grounds had sharpened his senses further—his perception of qi flow, spatial alignment, and elemental synergy had all improved. Yet today, he would face something new: a cultivator who could think, adapt, and challenge him.
The boy arrived at the western courtyard to find a young cultivator already waiting. Slightly older than Kuangshen, perhaps five or six, his stature lean but powerful, with piercing amber eyes and a sharp glare that seemed to weigh Kuangshen like a scale. His hair, dark as raven feathers, was tied tightly at the back, and his movements carried the fluid confidence of someone used to winning.
"I am Feng Xuan," the boy announced boldly. "I've heard of Yan Kuangshen. They say you are extraordinary… but I do not fear you."
Kuangshen studied him, noticing the subtle fluctuations in his aura. Feng Xuan's cultivation was unusually refined for his age—every movement, every energy release carefully calculated. "Then let us test that," Kuangshen said calmly, the faintest curve of a smile forming. "Show me your strength."
---
The spar began without ceremony. Feng Xuan struck first, unleashing a complex combination of wind blades and fire threads, each attack designed to probe Kuangshen's reaction. The boy moved with effortless grace, predicting the attacks almost before they arrived, the air around him bending slightly as he shifted with uncanny precision.
Kuangshen's abyssal eyes scanned every movement, calculating trajectory, timing, and energy dispersion. Instead of meeting each attack head-on, he subtly manipulated space, redirecting the energy harmlessly while maintaining perfect posture.
Feng Xuan's eyes narrowed. "Interesting. You are fast… but your reaction is too clean, too… controlled. You don't truly anticipate—I can see your calculations."
Kuangshen tilted his head. "Observation is anticipation. Reaction is prediction. You mistake calm for simplicity."
The clash continued, intensifying. Feng Xuan's techniques were adaptive; he altered forms mid-attack, blending elemental strikes with physical assaults. Kuangshen countered effortlessly at first, but the boy's creativity began pushing him to think beyond raw technique. Subtle adjustments were needed: a fraction of spatial manipulation here, a slight change in elemental harmonization there.
For the first time in weeks, Kuangshen felt a spark of genuine challenge. His body moved with instinct, his mind analyzing, his bloodline energy simmering beneath the surface. With each exchange, he grew—not only in strength but in strategy, learning the value of unpredictable innovation.
---
After what seemed like hours compressed into minutes, both boys paused, facing each other with barely a hint of fatigue. Feng Xuan's amber eyes burned with restrained fire, while Kuangshen's abyssal gaze remained calm, yet sharper, more refined.
"You… are unlike anyone I've faced," Feng Xuan admitted. "Your strength is… incredible. But I will surpass you. Mark my words."
Kuangshen's lips curved slightly. "And I will not stop growing either. Strength is infinite—if you seek to surpass me, I welcome the challenge. But remember: learning is the first step. Humility is the second."
The statement hung in the air, an unspoken bond forming between the two young cultivators. Neither was defeated, yet both recognized the other as a mirror of potential—an adversary who would push them beyond limits neither could reach alone.
---
Later that afternoon, Kuangshen returned to the northern stream to meditate. His mind raced, cataloging Feng Xuan's techniques, predicting possible strategies, and imagining countermeasures. For the first time, he realized the importance of rivals—not as threats, but as accelerators of growth.
Yan Tianhuo, watching from afar, spoke softly to Mei Xueling. "Our son has found his first true rival. This boy, Feng Xuan… he will shape Kuangshen's path more than any passive lesson could."
Mei Xueling nodded, a hint of a smile touching her lips. "And Kuangshen will shape him as well. Rivals are not enemies—they are catalysts."
---
That night, as Kuangshen meditated, his abyssal eyes reflected the flickering candlelight. He had gained more than just a sparring partner; he had gained a mirror, a challenge, and a path toward new heights.
Growth was no longer about controlling his body or mastering his bloodline—it was about mastering the unpredictability of others, learning through confrontation, and refining every aspect of himself through observation and adaptation.
And as he drifted into meditation, the first tendrils of a silent rivalry began to weave themselves into the tapestry of his young life—a rivalry that would push him toward powers even the Saint-level cultivators of the Yan estate could barely imagine.