Chapter 6 Ten Days Left

He hadn't met them. Didn't even know what they looked like. Basically, he had been in seclusion, focusing on improving his cultivation for the tournament.

And frankly, he didn't care. for now his first priority is to become stronger and he has many ways to do that.

"The best talents of last year?" His voice was a quiet chuckle. "How unfortunate… for them."

He turned from the quest board, robe fluttering slightly with the morning breeze. His steps were calm, unhurried. There was no fire in his stride. No urgency to chase anyone. Just… certainty.

He walked in the stone paths, passing disciples who moved in groups—talking about their next quest, the tournament, or who broke through recently. It didn't matter. None of it concerned him.

His current cave dwelling sat at the edge of the cliffside—a damp, narrow crevice just barely large enough for a bed and a place to meditate. 

In three months, he would turn seventeen.

By normal cultivation standards, a Blue Grade talent like him would require five years to reach the Foundation Realm.

He'd done it in four.

Still, if it had been the old Kai—the Kai before awakening—he would've needed to be selected into the top 100 of the tournament. That was the only way to be recognized, to gain access to inner sect resources and finally escape the endless errands of outer sect life.

Because staying in the outer sect too long?

Meant working like a servant. Running errands. Cleaning arenas. Hauling water.

That Kai would've bled for a spot in the inner sect. Craved it.

But not me.

Kai Zheng leaned against the cave wall, folding his arms casually.

"I've already got what I need," he muttered to himself. "The rest… is just for show."

What he needed now wasn't fame, nor rank. It was clarity.

His soul-bound abilities—Metal Manipulation, Teleportation, Fear—were more than just fancy tricks. They were a path, one he alone could walk. But to walk it properly, he needed more than instinct. He needed understanding—of their reach, their limits, their cost.

This wasn't about proving anything to the sect.

It was about proving something to himself.

Could these powers, awakened from a soul not native to this world, stand against those so-called outer sect geniuses ?

He had ten days.

Ten days to test whether he could bend a sword with thought alone.

If he could teleport through a storm of blades.

If his fear-based aura could break a genius from the inside out.

Inside his cave, he approached the wall where a simple, dull-metal sword leaned untouched. Its edge was chipped. The hilt wrapped in faded cloth. But it would serve.

"Last night, I was too preoccupied with settling my thoughts," he murmured, stepping forward. "Now... let's see what I'm truly capable of."

He extended his hand, palm open.

His eyes shifted—dark blue light pulsed from his eyes like a calm tide beneath the cave darkness.

A subtle hum filled the cave. The sword shivered.

The metal responded—not to Qi, but to something deeper.

The will of his soul.

Slowly, the weapon rose from the ground, hovering weightlessly in the air, trembling in defiance of gravity.

Kai Zheng narrowed his eyes, watching. There was no Qi fluctuation. No meridian flow. No spiritual technique.

Only intent.

It wasn't a martial art. It wasn't a spell.

It was him.

His soul—raw, alien, and powerful—reaching into the world.

But even as the sword floated, he felt the sting of truth behind the power. His Qi, though burning gently within his body, didn't restore what had been expended.

His soul did not recover.

Because in this world, soul power wasn't something Qi could heal.

Not yet.

To repair and refine the soul, one needed true soul cultivation. He had read of it before—the Narcist Soul Realm. Only after stepping into that mysterious domain could a cultivator begin to supply Qi to the soul. Until then, soul-based techniques were like trying to fuel a forge with ashes—fragile, limited, and ultimately one-use per day.

"I'll need to reach the Narcist soul Realm," he muttered. "Only then will these abilities become truly mine."

He twitched his fingers.

The sword spun slowly in the air, graceful and obedient, before gliding back down to the floor.

His eyes dimmed, the glow vanishing.

He allowed himself a faint smile.

"When the time comes, I won't need gestures. I'll move blades with a thought—across entire battlefields."

His gaze shifted toward the mouth of the cave. Five meters away, a jagged rock outcrop jutted from the wall.

"Let's try the second one."

He focused.

Reality twisted.

In a single breath, he vanished.

Kai Zheng reappeared beside the rock, silent.

There had been no wind, no light, no sound.

Just a lurching of space, like his body had skipped a beat in time.

Then the message rang in his mind:

[Teleport: 1/1 Usage Consumed. Recharge: 24 Hours.]

"One time per day," he muttered, frowning. "Five hundred meters. Line of sight."

Limited. But lethal.

He could disappear in front of an enemy, reappear behind them—and end it before they blinked.

Kai Zheng exhaled and returned to his bed. The cave's cold silence wrapped around him like an old friend.

"Everything has its limits. All he need to do is train his metal manipulation and before the tournament he need SP point. everything can evolve."

He sat, legs crossed, eyes calm.

With a thought, Kai Zheng summoned his status panel.

A translucent screen bloomed before his eyes—simple, clean, and humming with faint light. His gaze shifted to the Cultivation tab, and he tapped it.

Three techniques appeared.

[

Qi Breathing Technique] (Profound Rank – Low)

Iron Bone Tempering Manual] (Mortal Rank – High)

Cloud Piercing Sword Art] (Profound Rank – Mid)

]

Kai Zheng's eyes scanned the screen, expression calm.

Nothing surprising. These were the techniques he'd practiced for years. The body tempering manual focused on hardening bones and enhancing physical resilience—basic, but stable. The sword art relied on sudden burst strikes and clean movement—sharp, efficient, and predictable. The breathing technique was common in the outer sect, nothing fancy, but good enough for slow and steady cultivation.

He knew their limits, their weaknesses, and how to make them look more impressive than they were.

The only thing new was how different it all felt now.

Because he had changed.

His soul-bound powers—Metal Manipulation, Teleportation, Fear—those were real weapons. Dangerous. Unknown to the sect. And right now, they were the only reason he stood a chance.

Kai Zheng exhaled and dismissed the panel.

"These techniques won't get me to the top hundred," he muttered. "Not unless I push them past their limit—or cheat the fight itself."

The tournament was less about cultivation and more about momentum. Who stood out. Who fought smart. Who won with style. The top 500 might earn entry into the inner sect, but the top 100? That came with recognition. Resources. Influence. Leverage.

Something the old Kai would've desperately fought for.

But not him.

He tapped his finger on the bed frame, thinking.

He couldn't brute-force his way into the spotlight with his current cultivation. And he didn't care about fame. What he needed was simple: get into the inner sect. And for that, he needed to win just enough, and only reveal just enough.

He'd show strength.

But not his full strength.

Let the others waste their trump cards fighting for position. Kai's abilities were his real edge—but using them would invite questions. Interest. Danger. Unless he had to, he'd keep them hidden.

As the cold mountain breeze swept through the cave entrance, Kai Zheng closed his eyes.

Ten days.

Time to prepare.