I couldn''t sleep. The opportunity Commander Wood had presented me was too significant to ignore. A chance to go to Veridia City—to be close to Isabelle again. My mind raced with possibilities as I stared at the ceiling of my quarters.


    "Isabelle," I whispered her name into the darkness, wondering if she was thinking of me too.


    Thest time I''d seen her face, those beautiful eyes had been filled with tears. The Ashworths had taken her away, thinking distance would break our connection. They were wrong.


    I got up and walked to the window, gazing at the night sky. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of my new role with the Dragon Tiger Team. But my true focus remained clear: this position was simply a means to an end—a path back to Isabelle.


    Dawn broke too slowly for my liking. I dressed quickly and headed to the training grounds earlier than necessary. My mind was already formting the training program I would implement—one that would challenge these soldiers without destroying them.


    When the team arrived, they eyed me with a mixture of respect and wariness. Word of yesterday''s events had clearly spread.


    "Gather around," I called out, my voice carrying across the field with newfound authority.


    Twelve men formed a semicircle before me. Their postures were rigid, faces expectant.


    "From today, I''ll be overseeing your training," I announced. "My methods will be different from what you''re used to."


    A few exchanged nces. One soldier—ric, I remembered—stepped forward slightly.


    "With all due respect, sir, what qualifies you to train us?"


    Commander Wood, who had been observing from the sidelines, started forward with a frown, but I held up a hand to stop him.


    "Fair question," I replied. "Yesterday, I saved your lives after incorrect training nearly destroyed your meridians. Today, I''ll show you the correct way to strengthen them."


    I gestured toward the center of the field. "Form a line and face me."


    Once they were positioned, I demonstrated the first stance—feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, arms extended at specific angles.


    "This is the Iron Foundation," I exined. "You will hold this position for thirty minutes."


    Murmurs rippled through the group.


    "Thirty minutes?" one soldier protested. "That''s impossible!"


    "It''s not," I countered. "When held correctly, this stance redirects your energy flow to strengthen your core meridians."


    They adopted the stance reluctantly. Within five minutes, several were trembling. By ten minutes, half had fallen out of position.


    "Reset," I ordered. "Again."


    We repeated this cycle three times. By the final attempt, even the strongest could only maintain the stance for fifteen minutes.


    "Not bad for a first day," I conceded. "Tomorrow, we''ll aim for twenty."


    "Sir," Zane Avery approached from where he''d been silently watching. His demotion had clearly wounded his pride, but he wasn''t done fighting. "Perhaps you could demonstrate? Show us how it''s supposed to look after thirty minutes?"


    His challenge hung in the air, a trap designed to undermine my authority.


    I smiled. "I can''t."


    The admission seemed to stun everyone, including Commander Wood.


    "You see," I continued calmly, "this training isn''t designed for someone with my cultivation level. It would be pointless for me."


    "So you''re asking us to do something you can''t do yourself?" Zane pressed, triumph gleaming in his eyes.


    "No," I corrected. "I''m asking you to do something you need that I don''t. Different bodies, different needs."


    Commander Wood stepped forward. "Knight knows what he''s doing. Anyone who questions his methods can report to me personally."


    The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and Zane retreated, though his eyes promised this wasn''t over.


    I continued with the training, introducing three more stances that targeted different meridian pathways. By midday, the entire team was exhausted but intact—no injuries, no copses.


    "That''s enough for today," I announced. "Rest. Tomorrow will be harder."


    As they dispersed, Commander Wood approached me. "Unconventional methods," he remarked. <kbd ss="meta-ref-static">* is the home of this chapter</kbd>


    "But effective," I replied. "They''ll feel the difference within a week."


    "And these stances—they won''t cause damage like Avery''s program?"


    I shook my head. "No. Actually, I''ve prepared these."


    From my pocket, I withdrew a small pouch containing dark green pills.


    "Have them take one each tonight. It will prevent muscle tears and elerate recovery."


    Commander Wood epted the pouch, studying the pills with curiosity. "You really dide prepared."


    "I try to be," I said simply.


    When the team gathered again the following morning, the difference was noticeable. The pills had worked—they moved more fluidly,ined less about soreness.


    "Today," I announced, "we double the difficulty."


    I demonstrated a moreplex series of stances, each one designed to push their limits without breaking them. This time, they approached the training with less skepticism.


    After three days of this regimen, I called Zane Avery aside.


    "You''ll be taking over the daily supervision," I informed him.


    His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why the sudden change of heart?"


    "Not a change of heart," I rified. "A division ofbor. I need to prepare for Veridia City."


    Understanding dawned on his face. "The tournament."


    I nodded. "I''ve written out detailed instructions. Follow them exactly—no improvisations."


    I handed him a bound notebook containing precise descriptions of each exercise,plete with illustrations and timing requirements.


    "This is..." he hesitated, flipping through the pages. "Very thorough."


    "It needs to be," I said. "Their lives depend on it."


    For once, Zane seemed to take my words seriously. Perhaps witnessing how close his men hade to permanent injury had sobered him.


    "I''ll follow it to the letter," he promised.


    Commander Wood confirmed my new arrangements that afternoon. "You''ll depart for Veridia City in two weeks," he informed me. "The team will follow a weekter for the tournament."


    An extra week in Veridia City—time to locate Isabelle before thepetition began. It was perfect.


    "Thank you, Commander," I said, unable to keep a hint of anticipation from my voice.


    He studied me with knowing eyes. "This ''unfinished business'' in Veridia City—I hope it won''t interfere with your duties to the team."


    "It won''t," I assured him, though we both knew I wasn''t being entirely truthful.


    ---


    Far away in Veridia City, within the opulent mansion of the ckthorne family, Dashiell ckthorne lounged in his study, sipping expensive wine.


    A quiet knock interrupted his reverie. "Enter," he called, not bothering to look up from the documents spread before him.


    His steward stepped in, bowing deeply. "Young Master, I have news you may find concerning."


    Dashiell raised an eyebrow. Few things warranted such a description. "Go on."


    "It''s about Adrian Whitlock''s defeat."


    "Old news," Dashiell dismissed with a wave. "Some unknown fighter got lucky."


    "Not luck, sir," the steward insisted. "I''ve confirmed the victor''s identity. His name is Liam Knight."


    "Knight?" Dashiell frowned, the name triggering a distant memory. "The former son-inw of the Sterling family? The one who was thrown out like trash?"


    "The same, sir. But there''s more." The steward lowered his voice. "He defeated Adrian, a Fifth Rank Grandmaster, less than three months after beginning his cultivation journey."


    This caught Dashiell''s attention. He set down his wine ss. "That''s impossible."


    "I''ve verified it multiple times, sir. The timeline is urate."


    Dashiell stood, walking to the window that overlooked the sprawling city below. "Three months from nothing to defeating a Fifth Rank Grandmaster?"


    "Such a record..." the steward hesitated before continuing, "even Ignazio Bellweather couldn''t achieve it back then..."