New Strength
As morning practice wrapped up, the trainees drifted out of the hall, filing out one by one.
The younger clan members, still winded from their matches, let their wooden swords drop to their sides, throwing quick glances at the two siblings who had just finished sparring.
Robert wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest rising with steady breaths, not from exhaustion—but focus.
His breathing had settled into a steady rhythm, but the ache in his arms brought back memories of every fight he had faced.
The swords weren't weapons anymore—they were part of him.
Eissa looked over and gave a slight nod. "You've made progress since I last saw you."
Despite the exhaustion, a quiet smile found its way onto Robert's face as he met her stare. "Still a lot to figure out."
"We all do." Eissa's expression softened. "I should go speak with Mother about the upcoming competition. "We've got work ahead if we want the clan to be ready."
"Of course."
They parted ways just outside the hall, each heading toward their own path. Eissa headed toward their mother's chambers, her footsteps echoing softly down the corridor.
Robert watched her go for a moment before turning toward his room.
The walk back to his room dragged on, every step a reminder of the sparring match.
His arms were sore, not in a painful way, but enough to make him feel the weight of every swing he'd thrown.
He kept running the Twin Dragon Fang patterns through his head—where he'd faltered, where it flowed, what still felt off. It wasn't perfect. But it was better than before.
His room hadn't changed. Same narrow bed, same rough desk shoved under the window that looked out over the training grounds.
Robert closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling a long breath he hadn't even noticed he was holding.
This morning had been rough, but he was okay with feeling this tired.
He'd proven to himself—and to the clan—that he was no longer the failure they once knew.
As he settled onto his bed, Robert closed his eyes and reached out with his consciousness.
"System, show me my current status."
A calm voice echoed in his mind—steady, unmistakable.
System Status
Name: Robert Osborn
Cultivation Level: Body Tempering - Level 7
Sword Style – Twin Dragon Fang Technique: Mastery Level 1 (50%)
Completed Techniques:
Shadow Step: Silent Footfall - Level 1 Achieved
Mountain Fist: Grounded Form - Level 1 Achieved
Soul Realm Progress: Sense Awakening – Level One Reached.
Robert listened to the system's information, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling over him. The information represented months of harsh training, countless hours of practice, and the gradual reconstruction of his reputation within the clan.
The Twin Dragon Fang Art still needed work—fifty percent mastery meant he'd barely scratched the surface of its true potential.
But the completed techniques gave him confidence.
"Silent Footfall had already proven useful—his steps now ghosted across stone and wood without drawing so much as a whisper. In training, it let him circle opponents before they even knew he'd moved."
The Grounded Form of Mountain Fist provided him with a solid foundation in hand-to-hand combat.
And Soul Sense Initiation had opened his perception to the subtle energies around him in ways he'd never imagined possible.
Waking slowly, he turned his gaze to the window and walked over. The training grounds below were empty now, but he could still hear the distant sounds of clan members going about their daily routines.
The upcoming competition weighed on his mind. Eissa's return meant the clan was taking it seriously, and her offer to guide him and the others suggested the stakes were higher than he'd initially understood.
Robert began his afternoon cultivation routine. The familiar flow of qi through his meridians felt stronger now, more controlled.
Each breath drew energy into his body, slowly but steadily advancing his progress toward the next level.
He paused, then reached into the system store.
He decided to take the Body Refinement Pill, which was one of the few precious resources he had remaining.
Without hesitation, Robert placed the pill on his tongue and swallowed it whole.
The moment the pill dissolved on his tongue, a slow warmth gathered in his chest, then spread like heat through iron, threading into every vein.
A fierce yet painless rush forced him to turn his focus inward immediately.
He dropped into a seated stance, spine straight, palms resting on his knees.
His breath slowed, syncing with the practiced rhythm of the Dragon Heart Pulse.
Each inhale pulled the pill's energy deeper. Each exhale strips away impurities.
What filled him wasn't just heat—it was pressure, dense and coiled, like something alive struggling to find space inside him.
Warmth spread across his arms and legs like a storm held barely in check—forceful, not painful, but overwhelming.
A shiver ran through him. Muscles tensed.
The Dragon Heart Pulse kicked in—drawing, breaking, refining. It wasn't elegant. It was work.
The pill's power didn't just blend with his qi—it tested it. Burned away the weak parts.
Left only what could endure.
Hours went by. The afternoon sun faded into the evening's shadows, which then melted into the quiet darkness of night.
Robert stood still, completely immersed in his cultivation.
He gritted his teeth as the pill's energy surged again—hot, reckless, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
It wasn't calm, not like the manuals claimed.
The energy surged so strongly that it seemed like his body could tear itself apart from within.
Robert didn't move.
Hours passed—maybe more.
His spine cramped. Sweat soaked every thread, binding the cloth to his back as he pushed on.
But the energy kept flowing.
The first rays of morning slipped past the shutters as he slowly opened his eyes.
Without trying, he felt the change deep inside him.
His eyes opened—not slowly, but sharply, alert.
Everything felt sharper. Lighter. Stronger.
Power surged through his body—not wild or uncontrolled, but refined and perfectly integrated. His muscles felt denser, his bones stronger, his qi pathways wider and more efficient.
His eyes widened. Level 8.
He clenched his fists, feeling the tight pull in his arms and the strange buzz still running through him. It wasn't pain—it was something sharper, like his whole body was waiting for a reason to move.
A breath slipped out, half a laugh.
"Finally..."
The pill's power was no longer there, but it hadn't completely disappeared — it had become a part of him.
Embedded in his muscles, his bones, his memories.
It wasn't just advancement—it was transformation.
He sensed the change. His arms moved more easily, his steps steadied—like a fresh strength had quietly taken root within him.
Still, despite the quiet satisfaction, Robert held his feelings tight.
Although this is a sign of progress, it's only the beginning of a much longer journey ahead.
He'd seen too many cultivators become overconfident in their progress, only to stagnate or make fatal mistakes due to overconfidence.
The surge of power thrilled him, but Robert kept his focus steady—there was still a long road ahead.
He stood and gave a slow stretch, cracking his neck as he rolled his shoulders. Everything felt looser than before—like his body had finally decided to cooperate.
This breakthrough didn't leave him drained. If anything, he felt weird, like he needed to move or punch something just to settle down.
Without wasting time, he turned toward the training hall, his steps quick, driven by the need to test himself in real combat.
Outside, the morning air bit at his skin, crisp and alive with the usual sounds of the clan stirring to life.
When Robert stepped inside the hall, he spotted Emer talking energetically with several clan members near the middle of the room.
His stance held a confidence Robert hadn't witnessed before.
There was something different about his friend aura—stronger, more refined.
Robert smiled as he approached. He could sense it immediately: Emer had broken through to Body Tempering Level 9.
The moment Emer spotted him, a smile spread across his face. "Robert!"
He quickly excused himself from the other clan members and hurried over. "I was hoping to find you."
"Congratulations," Robert said, genuinely pleased. "Level 9."
Emer's expression grew serious, and he lowered his voice. "I owe you my thanks. That pill you gave me made all the difference.
Without it, I might have remained stuck at Level 8 for months."
Robert waved off the gratitude with a casual gesture. "We're friends, Emer. Your success is my success."
"I still owe you," Emer began.
Robert cut him off gently but firmly. "There's no debt between us. Right now, focus on your cultivation. The competition is coming fast—we need every edge we can get."
Emer gave a small nod, his thanks obvious. Just as Emer opened his mouth, the quiet was broken by hurried footsteps coming their way.
A young clan disciple approached swiftly, bowing deeply before speaking.
"Young Master Robert, Young Master Emer—the clan leader requests your immediate presence in the hall."
Robert and Emer exchanged glances. Summons to the clan hall were rarely casual affairs, especially when they involved multiple people.
"Did he mention what this concerns?" Robert asked.
"No, Young Master. Only that it was urgent and required both of your attendances."
"Very well," Robert replied. "We'll head there immediately."
The disciple bowed again and departed quickly, leaving Robert and Emer alone with their curiosity.
"Any idea what this could be about?" Emer asked as they began walking toward the clan hall.
Robert shook his head. "Could be related to the competition. Or perhaps something else entirely."
They left the training hall together, their footsteps echoing in the corridor that led to the heart of the Osborn clan's organizational depth.
Robert didn't know what awaited him in the clan hall, but he felt ready. The recent breakthrough had given him more than power—it had sharpened his confidence.
The clan hall's doors were shut tight, standing silent as if guarding mysteries Robert hadn't thought about yet.