Invitation Letter to Scale Dalgona

The Next Day…

Noel had given Kazel a task—help his mother sort out the Immortal Sect's old belongings in the back. It wasn't anything particularly exciting, but Kazel simply nodded and followed his mother without complaint.

As they stepped into the storage area, she sighed, brushing her fingers over a dust-covered wooden crate. "We're sorting out the Immortal Sect relics," she said, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "It's a shame that such glory days have ended up buried under dust."

Kazel glanced around at the forgotten remnants of the sect's past. Though worn, the items still held a presence—a reminder of a once-thriving era now reduced to relics. He shrugged. "It's not like it couldn't be rebuilt."

His mother turned to him, a soft smile touching her lips. "Your grandfather would have been proud to hear that. And who knows, you might be able to do it."

Kazel smirked. ( It wouldn't be my first time. )

They continued walking until the sight before them confirmed his thoughts. The Immortal Sect… was in ruins.

The once-grand hall was now a skeleton of its former self—cracks lined the stone walls, pillars stood with chipped edges, and the emblem of the sect, though still visible, had faded over time. But rather than disappointment, Kazel felt something else. A challenge.

He began rummaging through a large wooden box, pushing aside old trinkets and robes. His fingers brushed against a particularly fine piece of cloth, and he pulled out a beautifully embroidered robe. Though aged, its craftsmanship was evident—once worn by those of high status within the sect. He set it aside and continued digging, his hand suddenly grazing over something small and smooth. He lifted it up, examining the faint energy leaking from it.

"What is this?" he asked, holding up the small, translucent stone.

"Oh, that's a Spirit Stone," his mother explained. "You can use it for cultivation or even as currency to buy things."

( So the currency of this world revolves around Spirit Stones. An interesting economic foundation. ) Kazel thought, turning the stone between his fingers before tossing it back into the box.

He continued searching until something different caught his eye. Buried beneath the other relics was an aged scroll, its parchment yellowed with time, its edges rough with wear.

Carefully, he unrolled it, scanning the text within.

"Invitation Letter?" he muttered.

Kazel's eyes skimmed over the content of the scroll, and his eyebrows lifted in intrigue.

Invitation Letter to the Immortal Sect to join the Scale Dalgona.

His expression shifted as curiosity took hold. He turned to his mother, his brows furrowing. "What is a Scale Dalgona?"

His mother raised her own brows, slightly surprised by his interest. "Oh, that's a tournament between invited sects. It's limited to only Body Tempering cultivators aged below twenty."

Kazel's ears twitched at the word tournament. "Tournament? As in, only one winner?"

"Yeee...ssss?" His mother frowned, her maternal instincts kicking in. "What are you thinking, Kazel?"

"This tournament," he said, tapping a finger on the scroll, "When will it be held?"

His mother crossed her arms. "Oh? Are you planning to enter?" Her voice carried a hint of worry.

"Of course," Kazel nodded without hesitation.

"But you need to join a sect first," His mother reminded him.

Kazel, however, merely grinned. "Mother, we are in a sect."

His mother's eyes widened as realization struck.

—

Inside the house, Noel was practicing as usual, his stance steady as he honed his technique. The rhythmic sound of his movements filled the training hall until a shadow loomed in the doorway. He turned his head, raising an eyebrow as he saw Kazel, grinning mischievously while carrying a large box.

Before Noel could question him, his wife stepped forward, her expression serious.

"My husband, Noel," she called.

Noel blinked at her formal tone. "Yes, my wife, Lana." He straightened, slightly wary. "Did I do something wrong?"

Lana shook her head. "No, but we need to talk."

Noel's brows furrowed further. "About what?"

Lana took a deep breath before recounting everything Kazel had just told her—his discovery of the invitation, his immediate desire to enter the tournament, and, most importantly, his bold declaration that the Immortal Sect still existed.

Noel stood at the doorway of Kazel's room, arms crossed as he watched his son rummaging through an old wooden chest, sorting through relics of the past. The scent of aged parchment and fabric filled the air as Kazel neatly folded a robe, setting it beside a banner bearing the faded insignia of the Immortal Sect.

"Kazel," Noel began, his tone firm yet cautious, "do you know what Scale Dalgona truly means?"

Kazel didn't look up, busy adjusting the items inside his box. "It's a tournament. I got the robes ready, I got the banner, I got the invitation letter, and I got me. It's all set, Father."

Noel let out a sigh, rubbing his temple. "Yeeesss, that is true, but do you know the competition?"

That piqued Kazel's interest. He finally turned around, facing his father with a curious look.

"I was in a Scale Dalgona once, back in my younger years," Noel admitted, his gaze distant as he recalled his own experience. "And the competition was fierce. One might even be critically injured there. Also…" He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I was with others back then. But you… if you're going to stand under the banner of the Immortal Sect, you'll be the only one representing it."

"Yes," Kazel raised a brow, waiting for the actual concern to reveal itself.

Noel sighed again, shaking his head. "Are you not… embarrassed? Those strangers will look at you with confused stares—most of them will be demeaning. You will stand alone, Kazel. I don't want you to do this just because you feel like you have to."

"I'll do it because I want to, Father," Kazel replied without hesitation. ( Besides, those strangers amount to nothing against the roar of ten thousand men trying to kill me. )

His father opened his mouth to protest, but Kazel continued before he could. "Besides, you and Mother will watch my matches, right?"

"O-Of course!" Noel nodded quickly. "But—"

"You two will support me however you can, right?" Kazel pressed further.

"Right on!" Noel nodded again, unable to refuse. "But—"

"Ah, nice to meet you again, great benefactor!"

His mother's voice rang from the courtyard, light and warm with familiarity.

Noel and Kazel both raised their brows at the unexpected greeting.

"Noel! Come here! It's Old Fu!" she called again.

At that, Noel's lips curled into a smile, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Old Fu?"

Kazel tilted his head slightly, unfamiliar with the name. "Who?"

Noel turned to him. "Old Fu, the physician who gave you medicine. Sponsored by the Rising Stone Sect."

The moment those words left his father's mouth, Kazel's expression shifted. His eyes darkened, shadowed by something unreadable. His body remained still, but there was a weight to his presence, an ominous air creeping into the room.

Noel didn't seem to notice, but Kazel's lips curled upward into a smile. Not one of gratitude. No, far from it. It was something sharper, something colder.