Elder Grigs' lecture tapered off without ceremony.
One moment his voice filled the hall, heavy with authority and numbers that shaped destinies. The next, he simply… stopped.
Without another word, Grigs stepped back, robes fluttering as his feet lifted cleanly from the ground. He drifted away from the center dais as though gravity itself had grown optional, floating toward the side of the library where a few other elders were observing in silence.
A ripple of confusion spread through the seated disciples.
Then someone else moved.
She stepped forward from among the adults with no announcement, no introduction, no need for either.
Zareck's breath caught.
He recognized her instantly.
Her hair was dark, tied loosely behind her back, a few strands falling freely along sharp cheekbones. She wore simple robes, too simple for an elder, too plain for someone whose presence alone caused the air to tighten. Her stride was unhurried, almost lazy, yet every step carried a faint, unspoken pressure.
Whispers erupted around the hall.
"That's—"
"No way…"
"She's real?"
Will leaned closer, voice barely audible. "Zareck… is that really Marrionette Hans?"
Zareck nodded slowly, eyes never leaving her. "Yeah."
Marrionette Hans.
The youngest elder the Hans clan had produced in generations.
Thirty-six years old.
The youngest, aside from the clan head himself, to reach the Dantian Foundation Realm among all living Hans members.
And—
Malichi's aunt.
She stopped at the centre of the hall and looked around as if taking inventory of furniture rather than people. Her gaze slid over the hundred disciples without interest, then briefly toward the instructors and elders at the edges.
Bored.
That was the only word Zareck could find for it.
She exhaled softly.
"I'm Marrionette," she said, voice flat, unamused. "I'll be the one assessing and teaching your combat ability."
No emphasis. No pride.
Just fact.
A few of the children straightened unconsciously. Others swallowed.
Marrionette continued, already sounding tired. "Before we start, you'll need techniques. Something you can actually use."
She gestured vaguely toward the rear of the library.
"The lower levels contain basic combat techniques suitable for Body Forging cultivators. Pick one. Any one. Preferably something you won't embarrass yourself with."
A pause.
"I'll give you some time."
She turned around immediately and walked away, robes swaying faintly as she passed Elder Grigs without so much as a glance. In moments, she had vanished deeper into the library.
Silence slammed into the hall.
Not the respectful kind.
The awkward kind.
The instructors exchanged glances. The elders remained impassive. The children stared at one another, unsure if they were supposed to move.
"…That's it?" someone whispered.
Zareck blinked.
Will let out a quiet breath. "She's… different."
Zareck nodded absently.
Different was one way to put it.
Slowly, the hall came back to life. Disciples stood, groups forming as they moved toward the staircases leading down into the lower levels of the library.
Zareck rose with Will, his thoughts swirling.
A combat technique.
The Hans Flower Technique focused on balance and foundation. The family combat repertoire would reflect that philosophy. Measured, orthodox, safe.
His fingers brushed unconsciously against his robe, where a certain tattered manual did not rest.
Thy Image of Zenith.
He wondered, distantly, what Marrionette Hans would think of a path that reforged eyes and dared to touch the mind itself.
Zareck and Will moved with the flow of bodies toward the rear of the library, joining the steady stream of disciples heading for the staircases that led downward.
Will leaned closer as they walked. "Any idea what you're looking for?"
Zareck shook his head. "Something practical. I don't think flash will impress Marrionette Hans."
"Yeah true."
They had taken no more than a dozen steps when someone stepped into their path.
"Well," a familiar voice said lightly, "I was hoping you two wouldn't run off without me."
Zareck's eyes lifted.
Malichi Hans stood there, hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed and perfectly composed. His robes were immaculate, his expression open, but his eyes carried quiet amusement.
Zareck felt a flicker of relief. "Malichi."
Will raised a brow. "Didn't think you'd be slumming it with us." He said jokily.
Malichi smiled. "Someone has to keep you both out of trouble."
He fell into step with them easily, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
The three of them together drew attention immediately.
Zareck noticed it without trying.
A few disciples glanced over, then quickly looked away. Others stared openly, brows furrowed in confusion or thinly veiled disdain. A pair of instructors even paused their conversation just long enough to watch them pass, expressions unreadable.
The son of the clan head.
An inner-city orphan of the main line.
And a servant's son.
Walking side by side.
No one said anything. But the silence spoke loudly enough.
Will noticed too. His mouth twitched. "You'd think we were committing a crime."
Malichi chuckled quietly.
They reached the staircase, stone steps spiralling downward into dimmer levels of the library. Runes etched into the walls glowed faintly, illuminating rows of shelves far below.
"So," Malichi said casually as they descended, "have either of you settled on a technique yet?"
"Not even close," Will replied. "I just want something that works."
Zareck nodded. "Same."
Malichi hummed thoughtfully. "Lower-level techniques will mostly focus on force transmission, positioning, and efficiency. Nothing too profound."
Will glanced at him. "You say that like you've already read them."
Malichi didn't deny it. He smiled instead. "I may have… browsed."
Zareck shook his head faintly. "Of course you did."
They reached the lower floor, where the air felt cooler, heavier with dust and old paper. Shelves stretched in long rows, each marked with simple plaques denoting categories.
Unarmed Combat.
Weapon Forms.
Movement Techniques.
Body Application Arts.
Zareck slowed, eyes scanning the plaques. "We should probably avoid anything too specialized."
Will nodded. "Something adaptable."
Malichi gestured toward a central aisle. "Then we start there."
The trio moved along the shelfs. Looking at scrolls and manuals alike. Old man Krab never fully left Zareck's mind even now but he focused. For choosing his first combat technique wasn't a light matter no matter how plain Elder Marrionette made it seem.