"Up, up, up! We don't have time for rest now, Stella," Shaka said, pacing around her. "You're about to complete the basic level of Body Cultivation, and it only gets harder from here."
With a shimmer of light, Shaka vanished. Stella didn't panic—she had seen this trick enough times. He must really like this one. Just wait until I learn it.
The sound of air breaking reached her ear, and she reacted instinctively, rolling to the right—straight into the spot he wanted her in. A punch came from nowhere, still invisible. Feeling the movement in the air, Stella dodged and countered toward where she thought he was.
Shaka caught her punch and reappeared in a shimmer.
"Good. But this battle isn't over."
He twisted her arm and shoved her across the room. Stella ignored the pain, landing on her feet and waiting for the itching sensation of healing bones and muscle to subside before charging again. She slipped past his first strike and launched her own.
They went at it for ten rounds. Stella never landed a hit, and Shaka never missed the chance to correct her form or punish her mistakes.
Then, without warning, he conjured a staff made of pure light and drove it into her gut. The air rushed from her lungs, and she crumpled to the floor.
"Better," he said, "but not enough."
"You cheated! You know I can't make constructs yet, and you did it anyway."
"I slowed it down enough for you to feel and see the mana gathering. Why didn't you anticipate the attack?"
"How am I supposed to feel mana when I haven't even completed Body Cultivation yet?"
"You have a mana core in your heart, and you're telling me you don't know what mana feels like? Seems like you need more training." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That's enough combat for today. Time for your cultivation. Sit, and relax."
Relax? Knowing you're about to torture me?
A crushing waterfall of mana slammed down on her, pressing from every side. Stella gritted her teeth, sweat pouring from every pore, enduring in silence. Each time her body adjusted, Shaka increased the pressure.
After thirty minutes, her skin was as red as a tomato, and a pool of sweat had formed beneath her. Finally, the pressure lifted. This time, though, she drew the mana in with every breath. It flowed through her like blood, purging impurities from her body.
She stood, exhilarated. "I did it! I completed Body Cultivation!"
Shaka rapped her on the head with his staff. "Don't get ahead of yourself. You've only completed the normal level. After that comes Genius, Monster, and Ultimate. Only then will you have 'completed' Body Cultivation. When I said it only gets harder from here, I wasn't trying to scare you—it's just the truth. Now that your body can circulate some mana, it'll protect you from regular beatings. You'll need something more to advance."
Stella's smile faded. Regular beatings? What's irregular supposed to mean?
"Don't worry too much," Shaka added. "The next training won't be with me. Your mother's better at what's coming." He patted her shoulder as if wishing her luck in the trials ahead, then headed upstairs.
Left alone, Stella chose not to dwell on the threat of future pain. Instead, she went to the library to study Body Cultivation. She had read the section more than a dozen times in the past month, but each reread brought new understanding. Now, having reached the normal level, hidden notes revealed themselves—bold warnings against advancing too quickly.
In another book, she found the story of a nameless cultivator who believed himself a genius. He blazed through the first three tiers, but the fourth was an insurmountable wall. For five centuries, he failed to break through, while slower peers surpassed him in rank and power. He died an old man in Tier 3, a prisoner of his own arrogance and lack of foundation.
"All in all," Stella muttered, "it sounds like a children's story to scare rookies. But… it puts things in perspective. Five hundred years, wasted. I can't end up like him. I won't settle for Normal Rank—I have to be the best."
Unseen, Nyasha smiled at her daughter's resolve before vanishing. She reappeared upstairs, where Shaka sat reading the news on a black circular stone.
"How's she doing down there?" he asked.
"Better than fine," Nyasha replied. "Good thing they included journals in the library. They add another dimension to the research papers and theory. Any good news?"
Shaka set the stone aside. "No. Only bad. Monster awakenings and disturbances are rising fast. We've had reports of spirit grass emerging—you know what that means. According to the Moons' calculations, the resurgence will have its first tide within three months. By then, Stella will need to reach Monster Rank at least."
Nyasha scoffed. "That's impossible. One, the ambient mana is too low to push through multiple refinings. Two, we lack the facilities to apply the necessary pressure for all those breakthroughs."
"I know," Shaka rumbled. "That's why we have to send her to the Crucible. The president's dispatching a new batch of recruits in two months. It's her only chance to reach Monster Rank before the resurgence—and maybe, if the link happens, push her to Ultimate."
"Risky," Nyasha said. "Compressing years into months would kill most cultivators. If she weren't blessed, I'd be more concerned her body couldn't handle it."
"It's our only option. And the Crucible is one of the last small worlds on Earth with time dilation—and one the Creator doesn't frown upon."