The transition from the damp, dark forest to the peak of luxury was seamless. General Surya's private motorcade a fleet of three black, armored SUVs glided through the city streets like silent predators. Inside the middle vehicle, Arga sat in the plush leather seat, his eyes closed. To anyone else, he looked like he was napping, but Yasmine, sitting across from him, could see the faint distortion of the air around his body.
She held her breath, her hand still resting near her sidearm. She was one of the top elite agents in the country, yet in the presence of this young man who looked no older than twenty-five, she felt like a child staring at a mountain.
"Yasmine, stop fidgeting," General Surya commanded, his voice now booming with a strength he hadn't possessed in a decade. He turned to Arga with profound respect. "Master, we are approaching the Peak of the Clouds. It is a private estate built on the highest natural elevation in the city. The air is the purest here, and I have spent billions ensuring its privacy."
Arga slowly opened his eyes. The golden glint had receded, replaced by a deep, abyssal black. "Privacy is good. But I require more than just a quiet room, General. I need medicine. Old medicine."
"Anything you require, Master. Just say the word," the General replied, leaning forward.
"I need Ginseng at least five hundred years old. Vermillion Fruit. Cold Pond Lotus. And the marrow of a mountain tiger," Arga listed the items as if he were reading a grocery list. "This body is a sieve. If I do not seal the leaks in my foundation within seven days, the energy I used to save you will rebound and shatter my internal organs."
The General's face turned grim. "Five hundred year old Ginseng is rare, usually only found in the private vaults of the Hidden Sects or top-tier auctions. But the Surya family has deep roots. I will have my people scour the black markets of Asia immediately. Yasmine, make the calls."
"Yes, Grandfather," Yasmine whispered, her fingers flying across a secure tablet. She stole another glance at Arga. Who is he? He speaks of five hundred year old herbs like they are common weeds. And that 'Nine Sun' energy... it felt like standing next to a nuclear reactor.
The motorcade crested the hill, passing through three layers of high-tech security gates before reaching the villa. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture glass, steel, and white stone, perched on the edge of a cliff. Below them, the lights of Jakarta stretched out like a sea of diamonds.
"This will suffice," Arga said, stepping out of the car. He could feel a slight pull of Earth's magnetic field here. It wasn't the Celestial Realm, but it was better than the cramped apartment of the Wijaya family.
As they entered the grand foyer, a butler in a crisp tuxedo bowed deeply. "Welcome home, General. Welcome, Master Arga. Your quarters have been prepared."
"Leave us," Arga commanded. He turned to the General. "I will begin my closed-door cultivation now. Do not disturb me unless you have the herbs I requested. And General... if the Wijaya family or Kevin's people come looking for me, do not kill them yet."
General Surya bowed. "Understood, Master. But may I ask why? With one phone call, I can bankurpt their textile empire by sunrise."
Arga looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the distant skyline. A cold, predatory smile touched his lips. "Because a quick death is a mercy. I want them to experience the slow, agonizing realization that the 'trash' they stepped on is the very god that holds their lives in his palm. I want Kevin to watch his empire crumble brick by brick. I want Linda to beg for the very scraps she threw at me. Only then will I allow them to disappear."
The General felt a chill run down his spine. He had led armies and signed death warrants, but the sheer coldness in Arga's voice was something beyond human cruelty. It was the indifference of a deity.
"As you wish, Master," the General said. "I will personally handle the 'containment' of the Wijayas. They will find that every door in this city is suddenly closed to them, and they won't know why."
Arga nodded and walked toward the meditation wing of the villa.
Inside the room, which was lined with aromatic cedar and floor-to-ceiling glass, Arga sat on a silk cushion. He ignored the luxury around him. He took a deep breath, and for the first time since his rebirth, he triggered the Second Revolving Cycle of the Nine Sun Current.
CRACK.
His shirt tore as his muscles expanded and rippled. The bronze glow returned, ten times brighter than before. The black impurities that had seeped out earlier were now replaced by a grey, misty vapor as he began to burn the very fat and weak tissue of his mortal body.
Pain is the forge, Arga thought, his face contorted in a mask of divine focus. And I am the hammer.
As he delved deeper into his trance, Arga's consciousness touched the edges of the city. He could feel thousands of tiny life forces, but two stood out two flickers of energy that felt familiar.
Far away, in the Wijaya mansion, Siska sat in her dark bedroom, looking at the empty spot on the bed where Arga used to sleep. She felt a strange, cold void in her chest that she couldn't explain. She picked up her phone to call Kevin, but for the first time in years, she felt a wave of revulsion at the thought of his voice.
She didn't know it yet, but the "Invisible Shield" that had protected her family's business for three years the secret, passive Qi Arga had subconsciously radiated to keep them safe was gone.
And the wolves were already at the door.
Back at the Peak of the Clouds, Arga's aura suddenly flared, shattering the glass windows of the meditation room. The shards hung in the air for a moment, suspended by his will, before falling gently to the floor like snow.
"The first gate is open," Arga whispered, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "Now, let the world witness the rise of the Sovereign."