The immediate shock of his uncontrolled explosion gave way to a profound revelation. This palace wasn't just a discovery; it was his sanctuary, his training ground, his destiny. The realization that his Ryu was not only awakened but intrinsically linked to this ancient technique filled him with a potent blend of awe and purpose.
He began to explore the palace with newfound urgency, not just for wonder, but for sustenance. In a surprisingly plain chamber, tucked away behind a series of intricate, unadorned archways, Kaito found it: a vast, unblemished stash of provisions. Tall, crystalline containers held what appeared to be preserved water, clear and cool. Nearby, sealed compartments yielded compact, nutrient-dense food bars, their texture surprisingly fresh despite the millennia that must have passed. There were enough supplies to last a small village for years, let alone a single person. The former master of this palace had truly left behind a self-sustaining haven.
With his basic needs secured, Kaito immersed himself in the Whispering Gale Ascension technique. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, as he dedicated himself wholly to cultivation. The palace became his world, its vast chambers his training arenas.
He started with the fundamentals, meticulously refining his Ryu circulation through the newly revealed minor meridians. He learned to draw in the subtle currents of the palace's preserved air, which, imbued with residual Ryu from the ancient structure, seemed to accelerate his progress. His initial bursts of uncontrolled power gave way to precision and control. He spent hours simply focusing on moving a single motes of dust with a gentle breath of Ryu, then forming delicate eddies that danced in the air.
As his mastery grew, so did his understanding of the associated jutsu. He practiced the silent movement techniques, learning to glide across the polished floors with barely a whisper, his footsteps absorbed by the ambient air currents. He honed his cutting gusts, at first only strong enough to ruffle his clothes, then capable of slicing through projections of rock he would chip from the crater's ceiling. He conjured defensive air barriers, learning to deflect imaginary projectiles with invisible shields.
The palace's unique properties further aided him. The dense, durable material of its construction allowed him to unleash powerful techniques without fear of damage, providing an ideal environment for pushing his limits. The vast, echoing chambers were perfect for testing the reach and intensity of his wind manipulation. He learned to feel the subtle shifts in air pressure, the vibrations of distant movement, extending his senses far beyond his physical touch.
He lost all track of time. There were no sunrises or sunsets in this subterranean world, only the soft, ethereal glow of the palace itself. His only companions were the echoes of his own efforts and the pervasive hum of ancient Ryu. The shame and resentment from his departure from Searing Sand faded, replaced by an intense focus and a burning ambition. He ate, slept, and breathed cultivation.
Before he knew it, three years had passed.
Kaito stood in the grand hall, the colossal crystal monolith now a silent witness to his transformation. He was no longer the scrawny, unsure boy who had stumbled into the sinkhole. His frame was lean and powerful, honed by relentless training. His eyes, once clouded with doubt, now held a sharp, clear intensity, reflecting the wisdom gleaned from countless hours of silent cultivation.
He closed his eyes, extending his consciousness outward. The Wind Ryu within him was no longer a tempest; it was a vast, silent ocean, responsive to his every command. He could feel the pressure of the air, the flow of unseen currents, not just within the palace, but far beyond its confines. He could manipulate the wind as an extension of his body, as easily as moving a limb.
With a thought, a swirling vortex of air erupted from the ground at his feet, rising to the ceiling in a controlled, majestic column. He could make it dance, expand, or compress with a mere twitch of his finger. He could feel the faintest tremor on the surface, the whisper of sand grains shifting two miles above him. He could generate gusts strong enough to tear apart a small dwelling or create a gentle breeze to caress a single leaf.
He had reached the Soul Formation stage of the Whispering Gale Ascension. His spirit, refined through the rigorous cultivation, felt unbound, an ethereal presence that could stretch and interact with the world around him through the medium of wind. He was no longer just manipulating Ryu; he was the wind.
The desire to return to the surface, to test his newfound power against the world, burned fiercely within him. He had sought knowledge, and he had found power beyond his wildest dreams. The Searing Sand had cast him out, but the desert had given him a purpose. Now, it was time to leave this sanctuary and truly become the master of the whispering gale.