Next, he made the puppets move in a slow, steady sequence, tracing the shape of a coiling serpent biting its own tail. This time only Sanya answered, voice firm despite the sweat on her forehead. "A snake… no, a circle made from a snake."
"Exactly."
One more pattern appeared, this one a series of angled lines and broken segments that, from the proper vantage point, formed a jagged mountain range. Neelam's gaze sharpened. "Mountains," she said.
The law of observation continued like this for two full hours. Sometimes no one could answer; sometimes only one of them saw it; sometimes they all shouted different guesses and then argued in silence with only their eyes. But little by little, their vision broadened. They began to imagine the patterns from above, from the sides, from different heights, and their answers grew more accurate.
At last, Solar Clone dismissed the final set of puppets. "That's enough for today," he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "You did well. Remember this feeling of looking beyond your own point of view."
Solar Clone gave his family a brief wave. "Rest for now. I'm going to train the Mortal Foundation Scripture with Sacral Clone." With that, he turned and walked toward the far side of the cultivation ground, leaving them standing in the quiet field, minds still replaying the dancing lines the puppets had drawn.
Their own training platform was not hidden deep inside the fortress but set on one side of the main training ground.
Before beginning, Solar Clone and Sacral Clone released a thick veil of power that warped the air like heat haze, blocking sight and muffling every ripple of energy so their family would not be disturbed and their terrifying fluctuations would not leak outside.
Within that sealed space, the real, monstrous version of the Mortal Laws unfolded.
They had already finished the Law of IronBones and the Law of Burning Blood for the day, using hundred‑ton blocks and supersonic sprints that would have turned ordinary warriors to dust. Now they moved into the later laws.
Next came the Law of Heat and Cold. Solar Clone raised his hand and activated Infernal Core Burst, flooding the platform with waves of searing flame until the stone under their feet glowed a dull red, the air hot enough to melt steel. When their skin was on the verge of blistering and their muscles felt half‑cooked, Sacral Clone answered with VoidfrostDescent, calling down a howling blizzard that could have frozen iron solid. Unlike with the family, they used no protective cabinets; they simply walked and stood inside the clashing extremes, tempering flesh and will directly in the storm.
For the Law of Wounds and Healing, they turned on each other. Fists, elbows, and kicks crashed together with force that could level buildings; bones cracked, skin tore, and shockwaves carved grooves into the supposedly unbreakable platform. They refused to use any recovery techniques, forcing their bodies to heal naturally on their own—again and again—until fighting on the edge of destruction and then rapidly recovering became something their flesh could endure without breaking.
When it was time for the Law of Still Mind, all motion stopped. Heat and cold still raged around them, and the aftershocks of their battle still rolled across the sealed space, yet both clones sat cross‑legged in the centre, eyes closed, breaths slow and even.
As their thoughts rose and fell like waves, they each repeated the same silent promise they had made on the very first day—their Heart Vow to protect Ankit's path and raise their family so high that no one could ever threaten them again—until that vow sank deeper than pain, deeper than fear, becoming the core of their will.
In that silence, pain and fatigue became distant noises, nothing more. By the time they finally opened their eyes, the day's active laws—Iron Bones, Burning Blood, Heat and Cold, Wound and Healing, Still Mind, and the Heart Vow they reforged again and again—had all been pushed to a level only monsters could endure.
From this point onward, the remaining laws would follow them as constant, quiet companions: speaking only when truly necessary for the Law of the Silent Tongue, eating just short of fullness for the Law of the Empty Stomach, and sharpening the Law of Observing Eyes through every casual glance and passing moment, using their powers and perception instead of simple drills like his family.
All of it was anchored by the unshakable Heart Vows they carried in their chests.
While the clones were practicing the Mortal Foundation Scripture, the family had already returned to their rooms, still thinking about everything that had happened that day.
Physically, their injuries were healed, but their minds were exhausted, weighed down by pain, fear, and the shock of their new training.
One by one, they lay down and closed their eyes, slipping into sleep more from mental fatigue than from bodily weakness.
Both clones eventually emerged from the shimmering shield around the platform. They sealed the cracks in the compressed earth, smoothed out the scars left by their battle, and dispersed the lingering wind pressure and heat until the training ground looked as calm as before.
They were tired as well, but they did not rest. There was still more work to do.