It had been a little over a day since Alex moved into the Wyndhams' house. His room was ready, nothing fancy, just enough space for him to breathe.
Once he settled his things, he went straight to the most important task on his list — learning the technique Elder Rooney had handed him.
A technique meant to hide his stage.
His lifeline.
Alex sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes half-closed, trying to follow the flow the way Elder Rooney described. During the process, he discovered there were actually two ways to hide his stage. Two paths — one weak, one dangerous, one useful.
The first method was to mask his cultivation using another technique. It worked… but only on people close to his level. Anyone stronger, or anyone who tried entering his sea of consciousness, would expose him instantly.
A fake wall that collapsed with one push.
And right now, hiding his real stage was everything. If someone figured out he had such a solid qi foundation despite not being a paragon warrior, the questions would start. Questions he couldn't answer.
So he turned to the second method — suppression.
Alex gathered his peace energy and pressed it down, slowly wrapping it around his qi core. Not crushing it. Not blocking it. Just covering it to the level of someone who hadn't even begun cultivating.
The suppression settled in. Clean. Smooth. Almost perfect.
If anyone scanned him now, they would see nothing special — just a kid who hadn't taken his first step. His sea of consciousness looked empty, harmless, untouched.
The small traces of qi still floating around didn't matter. The energy inside his artificial qi core didn't count toward his cultivation stage anyway, so he left that part alone.
Alex stood in the wide training field, a garden-sized stretch of grass and hard-packed dirt. Training equipment was scattered everywhere — punching bags swinging in the wind, wooden dummies lined up like soldiers, and sparring pairs trading hits with loud thuds.
Dozens of trainees worked across the field. Some practiced kicks. Some sparred. Some just shouted to hype themselves up. All of them wore dogo clothes in different colors, marking their rank or training group.
Alex was in the middle of it, running laps like a man being chased by fate itself.
Huffing.
Panting.
Sweat flying off him with every step.
His yellow dogo cloth was soaked through, sticking to his back and chest.
"Pick up the pace! No stopping!" a voice boomed from behind him.
The sound shot through Alex's spine like cold water. He forced his legs to move faster even though they already felt like wet sandbags.
'Great… it sucks being normal again,' Alex cursed inside.
He pushed forward — and something slammed into his shin. Hard.
He didn't even see what hit him. His foot folded, and he went down face-first into the dirt.
"Alex. Get up!" a deep voice barked.
Alex blinked and looked up. Towering over him was a man he recognized instantly. Bald, broad shoulders, pale skin, dogo cloth with the upper part tied loosely around his waist — showing a torso that looked carved from stone.
Gavalich.
Alex knew him from yesterday. He was one of the men sent to collect Alex from the city. And by the look on his face, Gavalich was enjoying this a little too much.
'Yeah… he's paying me back,' Alex thought dryly.
On the left side of the field, a soft giggle slipped out. Alex turned his head and spotted a small group of teenagers, all in the same yellow uniform as him.
Among them were his three cousins — Zephyr Wyndham, Lennox Wyndham, and Isla Wyndham — each watching him with different levels of amusement and secondhand embarrassment.
Growing up, these three had been Alex Knightmare's personal nightmare squad. Always pranking him, always loud, always in his space.
And even though he didn't feel that same fear anymore — not after becoming a Paragon Warrior — a small, annoying part of him still believed they'd find a way to stress him out.
'If I hadn't suppressed my stage… I swear I would've knocked one of their teeth out today,' Alex grumbled in his head, jaw tight.
Suppressing his stage came with a price. With each level he forced himself down, a chunk of his power sank with it. His qi flow weakened. His senses dulled. The sharpness he relied on became muddy.
It wasn't permanent, but if he pushed too hard — if he drew on real power — the suppression would snap. His true stage would flare up like a torch. And boom — cover blown.
Because of that, Alex was back to living like a normal human. A strong one, sure. But still human.
He still had a lot of qi in his artificial core, but using it was clumsy. It had to pass through his main core first, and that slowed everything down. That was one of the reasons the Buster Technique felt unstable in his hands… like holding a blade with a slippery handle.
Lost in his thoughts and glaring at his cousins — plus whatever little fan club they'd gathered — he didn't notice Gavalich still shouting at him to stand up.
Alex ignored him. Honestly, he forgot the man existed for a moment.
Then the field went dead quiet.
Every trainee froze mid-action. Punches stopped. Kicks halted. People straightened up instantly as if someone pulled a string. Even Gavalich snapped upright, posture rigid.
Alex blinked, confused by the sudden silence. The air felt different — heavy, respectful.
He turned and saw why.
Walking into the training field were two figures in clean white robes.
The one-armed Lucius.
And John Wyndhams.
Their presence alone was enough to shut down the entire field.
Lucius didn't greet anyone. Didn't nod. Didn't even glance at the frozen trainees.
He walked straight toward Alex like an arrow cutting through wind.
He stopped right in front of him.
"I can see you've hit your limits," Lucius said, eyes scanning Alex from head to toe.
"Ah… no one told me it would be this hard," Alex replied, playing along with the act he'd been building since he got here.
'Hard? This is child's play compared to Dragon Roar training,' Alex sneered inwardly.
Lucius kept staring. Quiet. Focused. Too focused.
'His energy… it feels dull today,' Lucius thought, narrowing his eyes a little.
Alex felt it—like someone stripping him bare with their gaze. A cold shiver crawled down his back.
'Did he see through it? Did he notice the suppression?' Panic flashed through his mind.
Lucius didn't give him a chance to settle.
"Get up. It's time for the next stage of your training," he said, voice firm.
"What?…" John stepped forward immediately, his face sharp with worry.
He lifted a hand toward Alex, signaling him to stay down, then leaned close to Lucius to whisper.
"What are you doing? He only had one day of drills. And you're already planning to teach him qi?" John hissed.
Lucius didn't even blink.
"What do you know about training? I told you—the boy has great potential. Now if you'd step out of my way, I have work to do."
His tone hit harder than a slap.
John frowned, jaw tight, but he slowly stepped aside.
He didn't like it.
But Lucius wasn't exactly the type a sane man argued with.
Meanwhile, Alex and Lucius slipped away from the training field. No goodbye. No warning. Lucius simply walked, and Alex followed because… well, what else could he do?
They headed toward a familiar place—
the quiet pond with the waterfall crashing down like a constant drumbeat.
When they reached the water's edge, Lucius sat cross-legged without ceremony.
He pointed at the ground in front of him.
"Sit."
Alex lowered himself, still breathing a little hard from the drills.
Lucius watched the waterfall for a second, then spoke.
"You saw what I did here yesterday," he said. "I told you about the world hidden from normal people… but I haven't taught you how to become part of that world."
Alex nodded, acting eager, acting clueless.
He'd gotten pretty good at pretending.
"You're a gifted one," Lucius continued. "Someone born with the talent to step into this world. So today, I'm going to teach you how to harness qi."
Alex's face stayed respectful.
Inside, he wanted to slap his own forehead.
'Great… teaching me what I've mastered for months. Alright. Let's play along,' he thought.
He adjusted his sitting posture, doing his best to look like a confused beginner.
Because that's what Lucius expected.
Back at the training field, John remained behind, arms folded and his face carved into a deep frown.
He'd sent the trainees back to work, but the mood was already shaken.
He walked toward a cluster of teenagers—the ones in golden training clothes.
Zephyr Wyndham stood at the front, tall and solid for his age, pale like his father, head shaved clean.
"I still can't believe he was allowed to join us," Zephyr muttered. "And on top of that, he's wearing the golden clothes with us."
His voice held that quiet arrogance boys like him were born with.
John stopped beside them.
"I know. It's disappointing," John said, lowering his tone so others couldn't hear. "Which is why I want the four of you to do something for me."
Zephyr straightened, eyes sharpening as if he already guessed the order.
John leaned in slightly.
"Make his stay here a hell for him."
Zephyr's lips curled, not quite a smile—more like someone tasting victory.