Owen's Training Vedio

Randall pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times before turning it toward Yvette. "Here… watch this."

Yvette narrowed her eyes but leaned in, her gaze locking onto the screen.

The video showed Owen in the middle of a snow-covered mountain, his body completely exposed to the freezing winds except for a pair of black military-style pants. His physique was nothing like before—every inch of him was sculpted to perfection, with defined abs, broad shoulders, and a chiseled chest that could rival the most elite warriors. His muscles flexed with every movement, veins subtly visible beneath his skin, adding to his powerful presence.

Snowflakes clung to his bare skin, melting instantly from the sheer heat radiating from his body as he pushed through intense training. He moved with precision, every motion calculated and deadly—punching, kicking, lifting heavy boulders, and performing flawless combat drills. Despite the brutal cold, his expression remained eerily calm, his breath controlled as if the freezing temperatures were nothing to him.

Yvette felt something tighten in her chest. She barely registered Randall's voice as he spoke.

"This was taken by a traveler who passed by the monastery. Look at him, Yvette. This isn't the Owen we knew."

She swallowed, gripping the phone tighter.

"He's..." she hesitated, eyes locked on the screen.

Randall nodded. "A force of nature. He doesn't just look different—he's become something else entirely. And I guarantee you, any woman who lays eyes on him now wouldn't hesitate to chase him."

Yvette's jaw clenched. She didn't know what she was feeling. Shock? Envy? Possessiveness?

But one thing was clear—Owen had become someone beyond her expectations, and for the first time, she wasn't sure if she could ever control him again.

Yvette sat in the backseat of her luxury car, staring blankly out of the window as the city lights blurred past. Her fingers unconsciously tapped against the leather seat, her mind still reeling from what she had witnessed in Randall's hotel room.

The image of Owen—shirtless, powerful, untamed—was burned into her memory. His physique, his movements, the sheer intensity in his eyes as he trained in the freezing snow… It was as if he had become a completely different person.

She had always seen Owen as weak, someone who begged for her attention, someone she could control. But now? Now, he was beyond her reach, a man who had severed his past—severed even his own ring finger—just to walk a path she knew nothing about.

Her grip on her purse tightened.

"Damn you, Owen…" she muttered under her breath.

Why was she feeling like this? Why did it bother her that he had changed? Shouldn't she be happy? He was finally out of her life, exactly what she had wanted all along.

Yet, the thought of another woman looking at him—admiring him—made her chest tighten with something she refused to name.

By the time she reached her mansion, she felt restless. She poured herself a glass of whiskey and sat by the large window, staring into the dark sky. The storm had passed, but the cold remained.

She took a slow sip, her mind repeating the words Randall had said:

"He doesn't just look different—he's become something else entirely."

Yvette exhaled sharply and closed her eyes.

"Owen… just what the hell have you turned into?"

Owen stood in the heart of the monastery, his grip firm on the Staff of Lord Shiva, its weight no longer a burden but an extension of his will. The cold mountain air carried the scent of incense as the monks gathered around him, their gazes solemn yet filled with respect.

The Head Monk, an elderly man with deep-set eyes and a long white beard, stepped forward. His voice was calm yet carried the weight of ancient wisdom.

"Owen, the path you walk is not an easy one. The Nightcreatures that plague your homeland are born from the deepest abyss, feeding on fear and chaos. This is the first true test of your destiny."

Owen, now a warrior of mind and spirit, bowed his head in reverence. "Master, I have trained under the ice and meditated through storms. I have abandoned my past and embraced the unknown. Please bless me for this destiny."

The monks formed a sacred circle around him, chanting ancient hymns as they poured water from the Ganges over his hands and forehead. The Head Monk placed a hand on Owen's chest, his fingers feeling the steady, unshaken heartbeat beneath.

"May the wisdom of Lord Shiva guide you. May your strikes be swift, your spirit unbreakable, and your heart remain pure. Remember, true strength is not just in power, but in knowing when to wield it."

Owen took a deep breath, feeling the divine energy surge through him. The staff hummed in his grasp, resonating with his newfound purpose.

"I will not fail."

With those words, he turned and walked toward the monastery gates, the massive doors creaking open to reveal the world beyond.

The journey back to his homeland had begun.