The throne hall was finally still. The corpses of the Shadow Clan assassins had been cleared, and only the faint trace of blood and burnt qi lingered in the air.
Kael sat cross-legged on the polished marble, eyes shut, drawing deep breaths as the chaotic energies of battle still raged inside him. His dantian trembled with the weight of his aura-farming harvest, his body bruised and battered from facing the Vice Master. Yet beneath the exhaustion was an ember of triumph. He had survived.
From the dais, Academy Master Arathor descended with calm steps. His robes still shimmered faintly with the authority of a Demi-God tier presence. Vice Master Sylara followed beside him, blade strapped to her back, her sharp gaze never leaving Kael.
"Enough for now, Kael," Arathor's deep voice carried like thunder yet soothed like a father's tone. "You've taken wounds beyond your body's limits. Cultivate, recover, and grow stronger."
He reached into his sleeve and produced a small jade bottle. Inside, a single pill gleamed faintly — golden veins coursing through its surface like rivers of sunlight.
"This is a Grade Six Restoration Pill. Consume it. It will mend your meridians and restore your foundation. But remember — power given is not power earned. Use this only as the soil. The harvest must still be yours."
Kael bowed, accepting the pill with both hands. "Thank you, Master."
Sylara's expression softened slightly as she added, "Do not rush back to fight. Even farmers must rest between seasons. Heal well, Kael."
With a flick of her hand, she sent a thread of qi into his body, stabilizing the faint cracks in his meridians. Kael felt warmth seep through his bones, easing the pressure in his chest.
Then, with the matter settled, Arathor turned to the King of Azura.
---
The Brothers' Talk
The two men stepped aside, into the quieter council chamber adjoining the hall. Guards bowed deeply and sealed the doors behind them.
For the first time since the battle, the Azure King let out a weary sigh. His golden aura dimmed as he removed his gauntlets and placed them upon the table.
"I like that child," the King said, his voice low but firm. "He has a spirit that does not bend, even when cornered. That kind of will… is rarer than divine steel."
Arathor smiled faintly. "He reminds me of you, brother, when you were his age. Reckless. Stubborn. Too proud to admit weakness."
The King chuckled, though his eyes still carried the sharp edge of a ruler. "Perhaps. But that pride has carried me far. That boy's pride will carry him farther still." He paused, leaning forward. "You know… you could marry my daughter to him. Secure not just an alliance, but a future. He is no ordinary disciple — he is from the Veynar Clan. Rank Three of the Demi-God lineages. If he rises, he may well surpass even us."
Arathor folded his arms. "So you see it too. That boy is a golden ticket. His harvest will one day shake the heavens. I would not be surprised if he becomes the blade that cuts down gods themselves."
The King's expression softened into something rare — hope. "Then let us test him further. By tomorrow morning, we depart for the next trial. Tonight, we let him rest. The storm ahead will demand his very soul."
Both men shared a silent nod, knowing the peace of that night would be fleeting.
---
Cultivation Interrupted
Kael sat alone in his guest chamber, lit only by moonlight spilling through the carved windows. He placed the Grade Six pill on his palm, its glow illuminating his determined face.
"This will heal me… but I must make it my own."
He swallowed the pill. A surge of energy flooded him, golden rivers racing through his meridians, stitching cracks, nourishing his dantian. His body trembled, his skin steaming as impurities were forced out. He clenched his fists, enduring the pain until his breathing grew steady.
Hours passed. He sat unmoving, a statue forged in battle, aura pulsing softly around him.
But then — the door creaked.
Kael's eyes snapped open.
Standing in the doorway, half-shadowed by moonlight, was the princess of Azura.
Her steps were light, almost playful, as she crossed the room without waiting for permission. The scent of jasmine lingered around her.
Kael frowned, straightening his posture. "You—why are you barging into my room at this hour?"
She tilted her head, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "Oh? Should a princess knock when visiting her guest?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Yes. Especially when that guest is trying to cultivate."
Instead of leaving, she walked closer, her eyes scanning him as though he were a rare treasure. "I watched you today. You suppressed even a Vice Master of the Shadow Clan. For someone at Tier Four, that is… astounding."
Kael exhaled, trying to calm the storm in his veins. "Flattery will not help you. I am who I am, nothing more."
"Oh, but you're much more," she whispered, circling him slowly. "You carry scars not just on your body, but on your spirit. You fight like a man who has lost everything once already."
Kael stiffened, her words cutting deeper than he expected. He turned his gaze away, unwilling to let her see the memories that haunted him.
But then she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder.
The contact jolted him, qi flaring instinctively. He nearly shoved her away — but stopped, seeing the earnestness in her eyes.
"You can't just touch me like that," Kael said harshly.
"And yet," she replied softly, "I did."
Silence filled the room.
The princess finally withdrew her hand, though her gaze lingered. "Rest well, Kael of the Veynar Clan. Tomorrow, your storm continues. But know this — not everyone in Azura looks down on you. Some of us… are curious to see how far you'll climb."
With that, she turned and left, the door shutting quietly behind her.
Kael sat in silence, staring at his trembling hands. His heart beat faster than any battle could make it.
"She's dangerous," he muttered to himself. "Far more dangerous than she looks."
But he could not deny — part of him was curious too.
---
The Night Before the Trial
In the council chamber, the King and Arathor spoke of preparations. The Shadow Clan would not retreat easily. Their spies still lurked. And the Third Trial awaited at dawn.
Meanwhile, Kael sat in meditation once more, the princess's words echoing in his ears, his master's trust heavy in his heart.
His aura surged, steadier than before. Stronger. His wounds closed fully.
Tomorrow would test him again — and Kael vowed he would not falter.
Because every battle was another harvest.
And he would not stop until his field stretched across the heavens themselves.