The leaves rustled faintly overhead as Tang San adjusted the strap of his simple leather satchel, its weight made lighter by the lack of food. Over two weeks had passed since he left Nuoding City's boundaries to train in the wilderness under Grandmaster's orders.
He had become leaner—less boy, more tempered steel.
Not invincible.
Not unrivaled.
But unmistakably refined.
Each encounter with Spirit Beasts no longer left him panting for breath. His combat rhythm, once deliberate and methodical, had become fluid—adaptable. Still, every victory was earned by the blade's edge, and his meditation sessions often ended with bloodstained clothes and bandaged limbs.
What disturbed him, however, wasn't the danger of beasts…
It was the Black Stone.
At first, it had merely pulsed when he meditated. Then it began to stir on its own. Not violently—but as if in response to unseen forces.
Twice now, it had quietly absorbed a trace of something after he defeated Spirit Beasts—not spirit energy, but a wisp of… law? Tang San couldn't describe it. Only that, afterward, the Blue Silver Grass seemed to stretch farther, move faster.
But it wasn't just the stone changing.
He was changing.
It wasn't talent blooming overnight.
It was pressure.
It was as if the very air around him grew heavier, day by day, pushing him to refine his inner core, to strip away waste, to hone focus. The more he trained, the more he needed to train just to maintain his current state.
He had no teacher here.
No sparring partner.
Only enemies with claws, poison, or brute strength—and the mysterious wheel slowly turning in his soul.
On the nineteenth day, a sharp cry echoed through the twilight canopy.
Tang San leapt between branches, his soft steps silent. Up ahead, he saw a mid-tier Spirit Beast—Fire-Tailed Wind Fox, at least 600 years old. A good challenge.
He didn't hesitate.
The battle was fierce.
The fox was fast, weaving through the trees in zigzags of flame, but Tang San had fought similar creatures now. His traps were well-laid. His Blue Silver Grass had become instinctive—binding, snapping, yanking—and his hidden weapons were deployed like lightning.
The fox died gasping, its fur singed black from its own flames turned against it.
As Tang San sat to meditate near the fallen beast, a thin stream of spiritual energy entered him. Then, without warning, the Black Stone spun.
And stopped.
A pulse rippled through his dantian.
Tang San's eyes opened—and for a moment, he saw the Spirit Beast's death, felt its rage, its wild instincts… and something else. Something sacred, slipping away like mist.
"...Karmic thread?"
He stood up slowly.
This wasn't like before. It wasn't just Spirit Energy. The Black Stone had stolen something deeper from the beast. A connection? An imprint of existence?
But what use was it?
The only answer was silence.
When he returned to Nuoding City two days later, his body was heavier with fatigue, but his gaze was sharp. Grandmaster was waiting beneath the Academy's pavilion, reading from an ancient scroll.
"Good," the older man said without looking up. "You survived."
Tang San gave a slight nod. "I did more than survive."
Grandmaster's lips twitched. "Barely."
Later that evening, Grandmaster summoned Tang San into the side hall of the Academy's small library. The room was dimly lit, lined with scrolls and aged tomes. He placed a sealed envelope on the table between them.
"Open it," he said simply.
Tang San broke the wax and read its contents.
His hands froze.
"You want me to enter the underground Spirit Arena?"
Grandmaster nodded. "You've trained enough against beasts. Now you need to fight people."
"Other Spirit Masters?"
"Yes. With malice. With tactics. With ambition. You must learn how different Spirit Abilities interact. You'll be alone in there—no one will know who you are. You'll register with a fake name."
Tang San didn't object.
He simply asked, "When?"
"Two days from now."
That night, Tang San sat in meditation under the quiet moon. The Black Stone in his dantian hummed gently—like it agreed with Grandmaster's path.
He focused his breathing.
Spirit Energy flooded his meridians.
He was absorbing it slightly faster now—nearly 15% more efficient than two weeks ago. Not a huge leap. But in combat, such margins decided life and death.
His talent was slowly evolving.
Not by genius.
But by enduring the pressure.
Far above, beyond the sky Tang San could see, a cloaked figure walked through an ethereal fog between planes. His face was expressionless, but his eyes flickered as he stared toward the Lower Plane.
"He found the Wheel."
The air shuddered.
But the man did not linger.
"I gave him the stone. Now the Seal begins to stir. My presence here violates three laws. I must leave."
He stepped through a boundary—his figure fading, collapsing into threads of light.
"I'll return… in twenty-five years."
Back in Nuoding, Tang San stood before a mirror in his dormitory room, dressed in plain dark clothes. The next chapter of his life was about to begin—not among the trees or ruins, but in the underground pits where Spirit Masters sought power through pain.
He tied his hair back slowly.
No fear in his heart.
Only resolve.
And deep in his dantian, the Black Stone Wheel turned once more.
End of Chapter 14