For three days after his transcendence, Jalen sat unmoving in the hidden domain. His body radiated silver‑blue light, his spirit sea vast and steady, his dantian blazing with quiet power. The storm within him had finally stilled. The Origin Shard, now two‑sevenths of its whole, had gone dormant once more.
He exhaled, rose, and left the old‑fashioned way—flying back through the endless lands that had once carried him here. Normally, Flash Reversion could return him to places he had been almost instantaneously, depending on distance. But this time it could not pierce the seal of the hidden domain, so he endured the long journey himself. It took him nearly the same span of days as when the shard had dragged him in.
At last, the storm‑wracked skies of the Battle Realm opened before him. Floating cliffs drifted in the distance, rivers of qi shimmered across valleys, and the air was thick with the scent of battle.
Jalen searched the realm for a few days until he found them—Calen and his companions, gathered near a shattered altar, their auras now blazing with Spirit Fusion Realm power.
Calen was the first to notice. His eyes widened, and he bowed deeply. "Greetings, Master. Where have you been?" His voice carried both relief and reverence.
The others—Tobias, Jeremiah, Joshua, Ruth, Layla, Sania, and Mira—bowed as well. Their respect was instinctive, for Jalen's presence pressed upon them like a mountain. Even after centuries of guidance, they could not meet his gaze for long. Something about Calen's master unsettled them; his realm was too vast, his aura too sovereign. In the cultivation world, such figures rarely lowered themselves to socialize with juniors. Unless bound by blood, it was almost unheard of.
Jalen's expression softened. "It is time to return to the real world."
Calen nodded immediately, though his friends exchanged uneasy glances. They had been separated from him before, but this time felt different—final. They knew Calen was not of their world, that one day he would return to the origin realm. Still, the thought of losing him left their hearts heavy.
Ruth and Layla lowered their heads, eyes shimmering with sadness. For decades they had tried to draw his attention—subtle gestures, quiet devotion, playful challenges. And now, the moment they had dreaded had arrived.
Calen had noticed, of course. He was not blind. But he had chosen cultivation over romance, discipline over desire. It was easier than making a choice between the two. Both admired him deeply, and to choose one would crush the other, perhaps even ruin the bond they all shared. Calen could not bear to be the cause of such a fracture. So he endured their affection in silence, carrying the weight of restraint as heavily as any trial.
When the farewell came, Tobias clasped Calen's arm. "Will we see you again?"
Calen nodded. "When the time presents itself, I will return, old friend."
The others bowed once more, offering blessings and promises. Tobias clasped Calen's arm, his grip firm. "Don't forget the battles we fought together," he said, voice steady but eyes glistening.
Jeremiah and Joshua offered a warrior's salute, their gazes fierce with respect. "You sharpened our blades, Calen. May yours never dull."
Sania and Mira stepped forward, their voices trembling as they whispered blessings. "May the God of Beth guide your path, and may the storms never break you."
Each farewell was a thread cut, leaving Calen's heart heavy.
Then Ruth and Layla moved closer. They did not bow. They embraced him instead, long and lingering, as if unwilling to let go. Calen stiffened, self‑conscious, his control slipping, but he endured until at last they released him.
"I hope you don't find some beauty over there and forget us," Layla teased, her voice light though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"Stay safe, Calen," Ruth whispered, her tone steady, though her hands trembled against his robe.
Calen met their gazes in turn. "I won't," he answered Layla with quiet certainty. Then, to Ruth, he added softly, "I will."
Jalen watched with a faint smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. When the young women finally departed, he leaned toward his disciple. "So… Which one of those young ladies are you in love with? Or is it both?"
Calen groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't tease me, Master."
"Alright," Jalen chuckled. "But it is fine to choose one. You are not a boy anymore."
Calen's expression grew serious. "If I do, won't that hurt the other?"
Jalen tilted his head, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "So that's the real reason you're showing restraint."
Calen nodded. "A part of it. But more than that—I want to be like you, Master. One wife. One bond. Therefore, I need careful consideration before choosing."
Jalen's smile widened, pride gleaming in his eyes. "Good boy."
____
Within a single day, carried by Flash Reversion, Jalen and Calen stepped into Virtian City. Yet it was no longer the city Jalen remembered. Towers had risen anew, bridges reforged, and qi veins restored. Nearly six centuries had passed since the Flame Clan's near‑destruction, and only two hundred years ago had they re‑established their dominion. Now their banners flew proudly once more, a testament to survival carved from ruin.
The shadow dragon races had not struck again. Their true objective, then as now, was always Jael; the Flame Clan had merely stood in their way. With Jael gone, the clan was spared further assaults. Yet the scars of that war endured—etched into the city's foundations, preserved in records, and remembered by cultivators who had lived through it.
At last, they reached the Flame Clan compound. There he met with the Patriarch Ricard, flanked by elders—twelve half‑step Transcendent Realm experts and dozens of Sky Limit Realm cultivators. Their auras filled the private room, heavy and sharp, yet when Jalen stepped forward, the air shifted. His presence eclipsed them all.
There were greetings between Jalen and these elders. Then he asked. "Where is Jael?"
Ricard's voice grew solemn, his aura heavy as he spoke:
"Jael left with Elijah, your sworn brother. It was the only way to keep him safe. Since that day, I have not seen them. But I know why they left—enemies hunt the boy. Enemies who fear what he carries within."
Jalen's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Ricard exhaled slowly, as if the words themselves carried weight.
"Jael awakened the Verus Rex Sanguine—the true dragon bloodline. It is the marrow of kings, the origin from which all dragonkind descends. In him lies the destiny to rise as sovereign over every dragon race. But not all rejoice at such a return. Some clans fear domination; others envy power. They whisper that if the bloodline grows strong again, it will crush them beneath its rule. And so they hunt him, hoping to end the bloodline before it can rise."
Jalen's fist clenched, silver‑blue lightning crackling across his skin. His aura surged, pressing down like a storm. The ground trembled, elders staggered, and even Ricard was forced back.
"They dare hunt my son?" Jalen's voice thundered.
"You?" Ricard whispered, astonished. Just a couple hundred years ago this boy was in the Sage Realm. Now… he's half-step transcendent? This should not be possible.
What Ricard did not know was that Jalen had already crossed into the Transcendent Realm. The Origin Shard masked his cultivation, cloaking him as a half‑step to keep the eyes of the Upper Realms away. He could still wield transcendent power freely, though, but to others he would always appear just short of the threshold.
"Where is this shadow race?" Jalen asked, his voice sharp as thunder.
"They have no citadel, no banners," Ricard answered. "They move in shadow, striking unseen. Even our spies cannot find their lair.
Jalen was about to leave when a thunderous commotion erupted beyond the Flame Clan gate—shouts and surging qi shaking the compound as if a storm had descended.