Evening approached…
Al was walking with Rina. The two of them boarded a small city bus that passed through a quiet upscale district on the city's outskirts. After getting off, Al walked slowly, with Rina following behind.
"Don't tell me… you live here?" Rina asked, eyes wide as she stared at the grand gate bearing the name Virellano Estate.
Al simply nodded and kept walking, his face as blank as ever.
"Wait... this is really your house? That thing you said earlier… 'rich kid'..."
Only now did Rina realize—maybe Al wasn't joking after all.
Suddenly, a voice came from the front gate. A girl with a ponytail, dressed in athletic wear like she had just finished a workout, stood holding a towel and wiping sweat from her neck.
Vianna Virellano.
Al's third eldest sister.
And… Rina's longtime rival in the martial arts world.
"Oh wow. Rina, the weak girl from Palaka Dojo," Vianna said with a mocking tone.
"Vianna?! You?!"
"What are you doing at my house? Don't tell me you're here to spy on my training."
Vianna shot a sharp glance at Al, then smirked at Rina.
"Oh… you're walking with him? Careful. He's just the house servant's kid."
Al, who had been walking, suddenly stopped.
That line—something that should never come from a Virellano child, referring to Al's parents, who were technically the birth parents of all the Virellano children as well.
His expression didn't change. But inside, something shifted.
A strange, unfamiliar emotion surged through his chest.
Servant.
That word stabbed deep.
He didn't know why, but a powerful anger flared.
So… my parents are thought of like that?
By their own blood?
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed.
The air around them turned heavy.
Like the pressure in the air had dropped several degrees.
Killing intent.
Thick. Deep. Terrifying.
Vianna and Rina—both trained martial artists—immediately sensed the oppressive aura.
Their bodies instinctively tensed.
But neither of them knew where the aura was coming from.
All they knew was that it was overwhelming.
Rina's breath caught.
Vianna was momentarily speechless.
They both glanced around… not realizing the source of the pressure was Al.
Then, just as suddenly, the aura disappeared.
Al only now noticed his fist was clenched tight.
He took a deep breath… and returned to his usual lazy expression.
"I'm heading in."
"I-I'm going home too!" Rina said quickly, turning on her heel and rushing away from the luxurious estate.
Vianna remained frozen in place. Her body cold. Her eyes trembling.
That just now… what was that?
What could possibly emit an aura like that?
She stared at Al's back as he disappeared behind the door of the estate.
---
Inside a taxi…
Rina sat in the back seat, her face pale. Her breaths were shallow. Cold sweat dripped down her temples.
Her hand trembled as she held her phone.
But not out of fear—
Out of tension.
"That aura…" she whispered.
It had been two weeks since she first felt something like that—in a narrow alley that caused various martial arts groups in Makazhar to gather.
No one knew what it was back then.
But the aura she just felt—right in front of the Virellano estate—
Was exactly the same.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me… Al?"
She quickly shook her head.
"No way… He doesn't even have basic energy control. No aura. No background."
She turned her eyes back to the window. The sky was darkening. The last rays of the sun swallowed by thin clouds.
But that feeling in her chest…
Hadn't gone away.
---
Back at the small building behind the main house…
Al sat on the edge of his bed, his back against the wall. His body felt cold despite the lingering heat in the air.
He wasn't paying attention to the phone screen in front of him.
His mind kept replaying the scene earlier—Vianna's words calling their parents servants.
His hand clenched again.
Why did I react like that?
He tried to think logically.
I don't even feel that close to them yet…
So why did my emotions explode like that?
Was it… the effect of Blood Energy? A bond of blood?
The questions danced through his head. But he pushed them aside.
"Arrrggghh… too tired to think," he muttered, reaching for his phone.
Just as he opened his entertainment app, a soft knock came at the door.
Knock. Knock.
With reluctance, he got up and opened it.
Standing at the door… was Nayala.
Night had fully fallen.
But there she stood, calm and casual in a thin house dress, long hair down, and the strong but elegant scent of perfume lingering around her.
Her eyes studied Al with curiosity. Her lips curved into a flirtatious smile.
"So this is… the room of the man who was supposed to be my official fiancé?" she said, gazing into his modest room.
"What do you want?" Al asked.
"I'm just curious… about you. Aren't you even a little bit interested in me?"
Al said nothing, giving her a blank stare.
"Don't you want to at least try approaching me? Who knows—I might change my mind if you… impress me," she teased, deliberately leaning in, her tone and body language laced with sensual invitation.
Al continued staring at her.
Silent.
Then gave a short bow.
"Sorry. I'm not interested in scandals. I'm a good, rule-abiding rich boy."
Without changing his tone, Al slowly closed the door.
The sound of the click was crystal clear.
Like a clean, decisive end.
Nayala stood stunned by the rejection.
"Arrgghhh!"
---
Back at the main house...
Nayala stormed down the marble hallway, her steps fast and furious.
Her face was twisted with disappointment and frustration.
In the family lounge, David was seated casually with one of his personal bodyguards.
Nayala marched right up to him.
"He didn't even… show any interest in me! Not at all! He… closed the door on me!"
David gave a small smile.
"So irritating," Nayala grumbled.
David didn't look upset.
Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, then spoke to his guard.
"Continue to monitor Al's room perimeter."
"But sir, he didn't do anything to—"
"Exactly. The fact that he rejected Nayala is something I can flip. There were no other witnesses except our guards. We can say… Al forced her into his room."
The guard paused for a moment but nodded slowly.
"Understood, Young Master."
David gave a small, sly grin.
"Even if he doesn't play dirty...
I can make sure his name gets dirty anyway."
David then turned on his phone and dialed a number, reaching out to someone. A certain individual who, judging from his expression and tone, seemed to be the key figure capable of smoothing out every single one of his dirty schemes for the night.
---
Back in Al's room.
After Nayala's departure, Al once again reflected on everything that had occurred so far. He realized that his strength was not entirely stable; fluctuations kept appearing, and he suspected it might be the effect of constant disturbances from the people around him, people whose presence had been enough to stir his emotions up and down in ways he could not completely control.
He then assumed a cross-legged sitting position atop his bed. His eyes slowly closed, while both hands were pressed together, fingers interlacing with each other. His breathing grew steady and rhythmic, while his lips began to move faintly, whispering inaudible syllables that resembled an ancient mantra.
Cultivation Technique: Diarasil Breathing Art
At that very moment, Al was engaging in cultivation as well as contemplation. It was not merely a technique of energy absorption meant to heighten his magical power, but also a method designed to calm his mind, to open the gates of his awareness, and to regulate his soul. A practice that demanded precision, carried out in this very posture—sitting cross-legged with hands joined, maintaining a breathing pattern of seven seconds inhalation and seven seconds exhalation, with each cycle synchronized to a single line of mantra being recited. This method had always been a disciplined form of training, not only for him but also for his group.
And then—
SWOSHHH!
Faint streams of energy began to manifest in the air around him, swirling in various colors and forms. Some surged like rolling waves, others fragmented into scattered motes of light, and several even flickered with unstable brilliance.
Al's body soon became enveloped by a thin veil of energy, a radiant mixture of crimson-golden light interwoven with threads of pitch-black darkness. The contrasting hues shimmered and clashed, yet coexisted, as though his very body was striving to embody the duality of light and shadow within a single vessel.
Normally, not every type of energy would harmonize with a user's body. Cultivators would only absorb energies that resonated with the natural construction of their body and soul, syncing through colors or forms that matched their innate alignment.
But Al's body was different—remarkably different. For reasons unknown, the energy cloaking his form extended outward and made contact with the surrounding currents of power. The moment they touched, those foreign energies seemed irresistibly pulled, slowly converging and being drawn into Al's body.
A sharp, stinging sensation rippled through his entire being as that torrent of energy entered. His muscles tensed, his face winced with pain, yet he endured it. Bit by bit, the chaotic surge transformed into something gentler, warmer, and ultimately more harmonious with his system.
An hour passed—by cultivation standards, not a long session at all. Al finally opened his eyes. For most people, stabilizing such erratic energy might take days, yet that single hour was sufficient for him and his group who constantly struggled with unstable forces.
Dark, tar-like liquid seeped from his pores, releasing an unbearable stench. This phenomenon was none other than the manifestation of residual energy and impurities—filth of the body and the soul—that had been forced out after the essence was successfully absorbed into Al.
He carefully examined himself, stretching his limbs, testing the firmness of his muscles. The improvement felt palpable, almost reassuring.
"I still can't believe the magical density within this residence is this rich. It can even rival Ataris. I suppose that's the reason why these elite districts are capable of producing so many talented individuals, whether they possess innate magical abilities or not," he murmured casually, clearly pleased with the enhancement of his strength.
"And now, my stable energy has reached the early stage of Grandmaster level across all three energies. This is more than satisfactory for merely a month of cultivation here. I wonder just how far my stable energy could grow if I were to settle down in this place permanently."
Al felt genuine satisfaction at the advancement of his rank. His current level was Grandmaster. Within this world, magical power was classified based on the depth and quantity of one's energy. As had been explained earlier, the progression of stages began from Novice, followed by Adept, Practitioner, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, Sovereign, Archon, Origin, and finally reaching the highest pinnacle—Mythical.
He was just about to rest after that brief cultivation session, yet a sudden knock on the door shattered his plan. A sense of foreboding welled up in his chest, as if the night itself refused to grant him peace, no matter how much effort he had put into calming his spirit.
---