Eighteen months passed like a fleeting breeze.
On the training platform of Chen Chao's mountain peak, two youths stood tall, muscles tight, battle stances sharp.
Neither of them looked like twelve-year-old children anymore.
Chen Chao's snowy white hair flowed like silk under the early morning wind, a stark contrast to his violet eyes that glinted like cold amethysts. His face had sharpened, lean and defined, his body now chiseled and powerful like a sculpture carved from jade. Standing there shirtless, fists clenched, he looked more like a youth in his late teens than a boy on the cusp of twelve.
Beside him stood Feng Yumo, no longer the round-cheeked kid he once was. His jaw was firm, eyes clear and serious. His baby fat had vanished, replaced by lines of training and focus. His lean frame was carved by months of brutal sparring, and his back was straight like a spear.
Across from them stood Uncle Hei, arms clasped behind his back, black robe fluttering in the breeze. His usual cold smirk was in place, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes that wasn't there eighteen months ago.
"Come," Uncle Hei said with a lazy grin. "Let's see if the two of you can land a strike before you collapse."
The instant the words left his mouth, both boys moved.
Bang!
Chen Chao launched forward like a cannonball, fist aimed at Uncle Hei's throat. Feng Yumo came in from the side with a sweeping kick low to the ground.
Uncle Hei didn't even blink. His hand slid out lazily, parrying Chen Chao's punch with his palm, while his foot shifted half a step to the side to dodge Feng's kick.
"Too stiff," he said. "Chao'er, tighten your left shoulder. And Yumo… you're too slow on the follow-through."
Even as he criticized, he kept moving, blocking each blow with frightening ease. The boys poured in everything they had—blood-pounding speed, brutal angles, calculated teamwork—but the man before them was a walking wall.
Chen Chao gritted his teeth, beads of sweat forming. Yumo's breathing grew rough. But neither let up.
For several minutes, it was like watching a storm of fists and feet swirl around a still lake. Uncle Hei never took a single step back.
And then, he started moving.
With a single shift, his hand lashed out and flicked Yumo's elbow. The boy lost balance and stumbled, barely recovering in time to dodge a backhanded slap that would've knocked him cold.
"You've improved, but you're not there yet," Uncle Hei chuckled darkly.
From then on, he no longer just defended.
He played with them.
Every movement was light, precise, and vicious. He struck with his fingers, his palm, his knees, even his shoulder. Not a single motion was wasted. Yumo was the first to go down—his arm locked and body thrown flat on his back with a grunt.
Now it was just Chen Chao. Alone.
The boy didn't retreat. His violet eyes burned like twin suns as he charged again.
Crack! Their fists met. Uncle Hei's grin widened.
"Not bad. You're finally using your hips properly."
Chen Chao didn't reply. His body moved with instinct now—parrying, dodging, striking in bursts.
Uncle Hei kept laughing. "Come! Come! Show me more!"
Their exchange turned brutal. Bone slammed against bone. Palm clashed with fist. Chen Chao's knuckles cracked open from the impact, but he didn't stop. His breath came out ragged, sweat poured down his back, but his gaze never faltered.
Finally, after a dozen more exchanges—
BANG!
Chen Chao was sent flying, rolling twice across the ground before stopping in a crouch. His lip was bleeding, his body shaking.
Uncle Hei exhaled and chuckled deeply. "Good. Very good."
He looked down at the two collapsed boys with a satisfied gleam in his eye. "You two are still just mortals, but I'd bet half my fortune that even late Vital Awakening brats would lose to you both in a straight-up brawl."
Yumo groaned, lifting his head. "That's nice… but I think I lost a rib."
"Shut up and go rest," Uncle Hei snorted. "Tomorrow's the test. Get your beauty sleep, little heroes."
They both stumbled to their feet, wiping the blood and sweat from their faces.
As they walked down the steps of the training platform, Yumo turned to Chen Chao, panting.
"Hey… what do you think our results will be tomorrow?"
Chen Chao didn't answer at first. His face was unreadable as always.
Then he looked sideways at Yumo, voice dry.
"Who knows. Even if our talents are poor…" He gave a crooked grin. "We'll just work harder than everyone else."
Yumo blinked, then laughed. "If that doesn't work?"
Chen Chao's eyes glinted. "Then we make it work."
Yumo grinned wildly. "Damn right."
The two walked back to their abode—the small compound built into the mountainside. Since Yumo became Chen Chao's training partner, he'd practically moved in.
That night, the two boys sat outside under the stars, drinking wine from a stolen gourd—definitely not something a pair of twelve-year-olds should be doing, but neither cared.
Yumo talked endlessly about the female disciples he'd been spying on during their rare trips to the sect grounds.
"I swear, that girl from the pill hall? With the phoenix eyes? She looked at me once, I swear she did."
Chen Chao just lay on his back, sipping silently, eyes on the stars. "Mm."
Yumo clicked his tongue and shook his head dramatically. "Tsk, that's exactly why you're single, bro. No girl wants a guy who stares at stars all day and talks like a cold sword."
Chen Chao slowly turned his head, violet eyes glowing faintly in the dark, sharp and unreadable. There was a dangerous glint in his gaze that made Yumo's words catch in his throat.
A chill ran down Yumo's spine as he felt an instinctive urge to step back.
He forced a crooked smile, hands raised in surrender. "I-I was kidding, hehe… just kissing—uh—I mean, kidding! Definitely kidding!"
Eventually, they finished the wine, and the air grew quiet. The moon was high, the stars bright, the wind cool and calm.
Tomorrow was the day.
But for now, just for tonight… they rested.