CHAPTER 49: TRAINING SKILLS

Mu Renxue placed her teacup down with a soft clink, the lingering aroma of spirit herbs curling gently through the breeze.

"But of course," she said lightly, "since you’re my disciple, Spirit Stones won’t be something you lack."

Tian Lei blinked.

She offered a serene smile. "Have you already forgotten? Just last week, I gave you over ten thousand high-grade Spirit Stones as a welcoming gift."

Tian Lei coughed lightly, slightly embarrassed. "Right... I didn’t forget. I just... forgot to remember."

She arched a brow at his answer, amused but unimpressed.

"Then why bring up the reward pool at all?" he asked curiously. "Surely a hundred Spirit Stones mean nothing to us?"

"That’s true," Mu Renxue acknowledged, her tone crisp. Then she leaned in ever so slightly, her gaze sharpening like a blade beneath silk. "But you’re still participating."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because," she replied, firm and unshaken, "regardless of background, all disciples—inner, core, or personal—must pass through the rites of challenge. This competition isn’t just about the reward. It’s about recognition. It’s about tradition."

Tian Lei let out a quiet breath, the weight of that legacy settling into his thoughts. "I see."

"And besides," she added, her lips curving into a faint smirk, "you’ll be participating. So there’s no reason to slack. I don’t care if you’re my direct disciple—I won’t let you embarrass me."

Tian Lei looked at her, expression blank.

Then, slowly, his mouth curved into a different kind of smile. Not polite. Not civil.

But cold.

Hungry.

A smile born from the ancient Dragon Soul now quietly coiled deep inside his core.

A smile that whispered: Let them come.

"I understand, Master," he said, voice smooth and sharp like polished obsidian. "I won’t lose."

Mu Renxue’s smile faltered—just for a fraction of a second—as she studied his face. That wasn’t the usual quiet resolve she had grown used to in him.

This was something new.

This was arrogance.

This was pride.

"I knew it," she murmured softly. "It seems the Dragon Soul is beginning to affect you."

Tian Lei tilted his head slightly, thoughtful.

"Before you consumed the soul," she continued, "if I had said the same thing, you would’ve responded with quiet confidence. But just now... that wasn’t confidence. That was pride. Arrogance. The kind all dragons and phoenixes carry in their very blood."

He didn’t respond, but he felt it too.

That subtle shift. That sense of overwhelming superiority—an instinctive belief in his own invincibility. Not born of his own ego, but from the ancient pride buried within the soul now resting inside his body.

"But," Mu Renxue went on, her tone more contemplative, "it seems the influence isn’t overwhelming yet. It only flares up in certain moments. Like just now—when I challenged you."

Tian Lei nodded slowly, the fire in his gaze dimming to embers. "I’ll keep it in check."

"You’d better," she replied calmly, her smile returning with faint warmth. "Because pride might give you wings—but it can also make you forget just how far you can fall."

She took another sip of her tea, and turned her gaze toward the drifting peach blossoms behind her.

"Since that’s settled," she said with practiced serenity, "go back and focus on your martial techniques. Cultivation alone won’t carry you through the tournament."

Tian Lei nodded respectfully. "Yes, Master."

He turned to leave, his footsteps soft and disciplined—but her voice called after him once more.

"Oh, and one more thing."

He paused at the doorway.

"If you manage to display absolute dominance in the competition," she said without turning around, "I’ll give you the gift I originally prepared for your breakthrough into the Spirit Awakening Realm."

Tian Lei blinked, surprise flickering in his usually calm eyes. Curiosity stirred in his chest like a breeze over still water.

"What is it, Master?" he asked.

Mu Renxue didn’t answer immediately. Her smile deepened slightly, becoming faintly mischievous—like a teacher humoring a child’s curiosity.

"Something... that even most peak-stage powerhouses have never touched."

His brow twitched. Dozens of possibilities flashed through his mind—treasures, legacy arts, cultivation pills older than empires.

But he didn’t press her. He recognized that expression. She wasn’t going to reveal it, not yet.

So, without another word, Tian Lei bowed, fist to palm. "Then I’ll win it."

"I’ll be watching," she said softly, eyes now closed as the wind stirred the petals in her courtyard.

Tian Lei departed, his footsteps vanishing into the mist.

Back at his immortal cave, he stepped into his personal training ground—a vast circular arena carved from obsidian-black stone, etched with shimmering formation lines that pulsed faintly with silver light. The spatial mist outside parted on its own, showing deference to the one within.

He rolled his shoulders slowly, breathing deep. The martial techniques were already etched in his memory. There was no need for manuals or scrolls—he had absorbed them the moment she passed them to him.

Now, his eyes were already closing, letting instinct take over.

A single thought whispered in his mind like a command from the void:

Dominate the competition... and claim the unknown.

"I should just use the techniques Master gave me," he muttered, letting his breath align with the Qi that filled the chamber. "I can’t always rely on her being there to protect me. I need my own blades—my own shields."

He chose, for now, to keep his true trump card—the terrifying Grand Void Art—sealed and hidden. It would remain a secret, a blade beneath the sleeve.

Instead, he would cultivate the Peak Heaven Grade techniques Mu Renxue had entrusted to him.

With my comprehension... mastering them in a single day isn’t impossible.

He sat down, legs folded, spine straight, and let the world fade.

One by one, the spiritual techniques unfolded within his mind’s eye—each like a blooming lotus etched in pure light.

First: Falling Petal Severing Art.

A sword technique of elegance and death. Passed down from the sect’s Sword Hall, it mirrored the descent of a flower petal—graceful, deliberate, silent.

But within each movement, there lay a blade hidden in beauty.

A razor-thin margin between serenity and slaughter.

Second: Heavenly Veil Steps.

Movement and defense intertwined. One of the sect’s founding legacies, this technique allowed its wielder to move like mist across water—impossible to grasp, intangible as air.

Each step formed a veil that reacted instinctively, deflecting lighter strikes and dampening heavier ones.

Not even conscious effort was needed—only harmony.