Ether Clone let the idea go for now.
Instead, he remembered a promise from years ago: to evolve Free Fire itself, making it advanced enough to thrill him even as his power grew.
A game where he could feel the rush of mortality again.
He began brainstorming.
Should he connect it directly to his mind—controlling characters with pure thought?
Or create a massive, real-world continent dedicated to the game—vast battlegrounds, where players could "log in" through space links?
But his power was too vast now—a single continent felt too small, too limiting for true entertainment.
After some thinking, the Ether Clone decided.
He stood up, turned off the game, folded space in a single smooth motion, and stepped through—arriving directly inside the official residence of the Indian Prime Minister.
In Mordan's office, the Prime Minister sat slumped in his chair, face etched with exhaustion so deep it seemed carved into his skin.
Umang stood nearby with the same weary expression, shoulders heavy.
General Amit shared the same tired look, arms crossed, eyes shadowed from sleepless nights.
Umang was reporting in a grim, low voice.
"Sir, we've lost thousands of soldiers in the confrontations with Xing Nation. They're also trying to ally with the Freedom Union—Freedom Union hasn't responded yet, but it's only a matter of time. Their cutoff of our supply routes has hit us hard. The public is furious, the economy is bleeding. We're holding on for now by exporting advanced technology, but Xing Nation has already reverse-engineered many of those designs. In the long run… this isn't sustainable. Xing Nation is becoming more aggressive by the day."
General Amit gave a dry, sarcastic laugh.
"Well, Xing Nation lost their super talent to us. Anyone would be upset."
He still didn't know why Mordan had decided to "kidnap" Xinxuan—or where the young man had disappeared to after being taken. There was no news, no trace.
Mordan's position had nearly collapsed under the backlash if not for the sudden appearance of that miraculous potion and breathing technique, which had bought him breathing room and quieted critics.
Mordan had refused to explain their origin, only saying firmly:
"This technique and potion were acquired after many risks. We must keep them secret."
From that day, Mordan had quietly created a separate, ultra-secret organization—composed entirely of cultivators who had mastered the breathing technique.
Their power had grown astonishingly fast—in mere months, some had reached strength rivaling a lion, capable of feats no ordinary soldier could match.
Even Mordan, Umang, and a handful of the most trusted individuals—including General Amit—were now practicing the breathing technique in secret.
The method was remarkably simple, almost deceptively so. Anyone could learn it, regardless of age, background, or prior talent. It required only consistent daily practice, correct breathing rhythm, and a quiet place to focus.
Yet results varied.
Some progressed slowly, gaining modest strength and vitality after months. Others surged ahead, their bodies and minds transforming at a visibly faster rate despite using the exact same technique and resources.
After months of careful observation, logging every practitioner's daily progress, recovery speed, and strength gains, Mordan's inner circle quietly compiled their own internal talent ranking.
General Amit ranked at the top—top-level talent. His body adapted almost greedily, absorbing the magic energy with exceptional efficiency. Every session pushed his physical limits further; his stamina, reaction speed, and raw power grew at a rate that left even Mordan quietly impressed.
Amit joked that he felt like he was twenty-five again, but the truth was deeper—he was surpassing his own prime.
Mordan and Umang fell into the middle-level talent category. Respectable, steady progress—neither explosive nor sluggish. Mordan felt three times younger: his mind sharper than it had been in decades, decisions coming faster and clearer.
Umang mirrored the change—old fatigue lifted, replaced by renewed energy and focus. They were stronger, healthier, more capable than at any point in their adult lives.
But they weren't at Amit's level.
When Mordan and Umang heard Amit's sarcastic remark, they only exchanged a wry smile.
Yes, they had gained a powerful connection with Sir Heart, become stronger and younger, built a secret force of cultivators—but the loss of thousands of soldiers still weighed heavily on them. No amount of personal power could erase that grief.
General Amit leaned forward, curiosity burning in his tired eyes.
"Sir… can't you tell me—just me—why you took Xinxuan? And where did you get that potion and technique?"
Mordan's face twitched.
This was the twelfth time Amit had asked the same question.
He opened his mouth to give the thirteenth refusal—
—but both Mordan and Umang suddenly froze.
They sensed a presence behind General Amit.
Clearing their eyes, they saw the familiar masked figure in white robes standing there—silent, calm, radiating that unmistakable warm aura.
Their faces lit up with instant excitement.
"Sir Heart!"
They noticed immediately: unlike the last time, when he had quietly put the bodyguards to sleep during the disciple transfer, General Amit was still wide awake.
Sir Heart had chosen to reveal himself willingly to Amit.
That could only mean one thing: he trusted the general.
General Amit reacted to the sudden shift in Mordan and Umang's expressions.
He turned—and froze.
Even with the mask concealing the face, the figure's presence was unmistakable: the long black hair, the tall, perfectly proportioned build, the silent yet powerful presence.
Amit's mind raced.
This had to be the one—the mysterious benefactor who had given Mordan the technique and potion.
No one else could command such instant respect from the Prime Minister.
The Ether Clone stood there calmly.
He had revealed himself to General Amit deliberately.
Using his Divine Sage profession, he had calculated the man's loyalty—deep, unshakable, rooted in duty to India rather than personal ambition.
Amit would not betray him.
He would not betray India.
So there was no need to hide.