I found myself standing in the Training Hall, the air thick with anticipation. Before me stood a figure that I both revered and feared—my father. His presence was imposing, and when I looked into his eyes, it felt as though he could see right through me. The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming; it was as if he were preparing to devour me whole. Those predator-like eyes seemed to be filled with questions, as if he desperately wanted to understand what had fueled my newfound confidence. What was the source of this courage I displayed? Did he really want to know it all?
Despite the gravity of the situation, I met his gaze with unwavering confidence. My heart raced as I braced myself for what was to come. Breaking the tension, my father spoke: "Son, this is going to be easy. You just have to withstand 30 seconds in battle, and I will accept your apology. But if you fail, I will take the title of heir from you, and Shen will become the new heir."
At that moment, I felt Old Man Lee, shift uncomfortably at the intensity of the exchange. He looked surprised and seemed on the verge of interrupting, yet he hesitated, pondering the right moment to speak. Sensing the weight of this decision, I turned to my father and said, "I understand, Father, but I think a reward might motivate me. If I can withstand against you for one minute..."
My comment hung in the air, and to my surprise, he let out a hearty laugh. "Son, you are making it tougher for yourself. Don't be overconfident," he warned, shaking his head slightly.
With that, he pulled out his sword—a striking weapon that gleamed under the hall's light. Its polish spoke of countless battles and rich history. He held it up, letting the light reflect off its surface, and then turned his intense gaze back to me. "This is the ancestral sword of our Ryu family. As a lineage of swordsmen, this sword symbolizes our pride and honor. If you manage to win, I will bestow this sword upon you as a reward."
My heart raced. The sword was legendary; it was known throughout the entire world of the novel as one of the most powerful weapons ever forged. Passed down through generations, it was a symbol of strength, family legacy, and honor, reserved only for the heir of the Ryu family.
The prospect of wielding such power filled me with determination. I nodded to my father, steeling myself for the impending battle, fully aware that the moment of truth was about to unfold. My journey had led to this very instance—a test not just of strength but of will and legacy. I knew I had to rise to the challenge. The fight was about to begin.
My father's gaze pierced through the darkness, but in an instant, he vanished before me. A sense of dread washed over me as I scanned the area, my heart racing. I strained to hear any sound, and then—crack! A sudden noise erupted from behind me. I barely had time to react before a forceful kick propelled me forward, sending me sprawling at least ten to fifteen meters away.
As I staggered to my feet, confusion gripped me—my father was gone again. Panic surged as I felt a sharp sting rip through my arm, a sword cut appearing out of nowhere. I looked in vain for my father, but he remained elusive. It only took a few more seconds for another laceration to slice across my skin. Time was slipping through my fingers—how could I last even a minute like this?
Desperation gripped me as I closed my eyes, trying to tap into the power within. I was supposed to be the most formidable character in this narrative; there had to be something I could summon. With fierce determination, I drew my sword, positioning it defensively. The world around me darkened, and I could feel an energy swirling—my aura igniting into a vibrant green, enveloping my body like an impenetrable shield. My sword mirrored this transformation, channeling the energy that flowed through me.
Then came the first attack; I sensed it before I saw it, instinctively dodging to the side just in time. I swung my sword fiercely at the air, hoping to strike something—anything—but it was only empty space. A sudden voice broke through the silence, sending chills down my spine. "So, you've learned something from Lee," my father taunted, materializing before me. A faint smile danced on his lips. "I thought you were just boasting."
I bit back a retort, knowing he wouldn't believe that I hadn't trained under anyone but myself. I had earned this power through sheer determination. Just as fifteen seconds ticked away, my father assessed me with a new intensity. "Perhaps it's time I warmed up a bit," he mused, manifesting a sword aglow with a terrifying purple aura.
My heart plummeted. I had seen this aura before, and the memory sent a chill weaving through my very core. A large, menacing blade formed from that purple energy and hurtled toward me. My instinct kicked in, but I barely evaded its sharp edge, the wind from its passage chilling my skin. A smirk stretched across my father's face. "Let's really begin, son," he declared, the playful banter evaporating into an air of seriousness.
The tension in the atmosphere thickened as seconds ticked by—twenty-three in total. I gripped my sword tighter, grounding myself as we prepared to clash. With a swift, fluid motion, I lunged forward, unleashing a torrent of strikes aimed at my father. Each swing came with raw determination, yet he parried effortlessly, his movements a dance of grace and skill. I could hardly catch my breath as we exchanged blows, each impact resounding like thunder.
With every strike, I felt his power evolve; he was no longer just my father but a true adversary. I pushed my limits, summoning every bit of strength, channeling my aura into my sword with each failed attempt to overpower him. His attacks were relentless—each time he engaged, it felt as if he were testing my resolve, forcing me to tap deeper into the well of my potential.
"Is that all you've got?" he challenged, his voice echoing amidst the crack of steel. The air hummed with energy as we danced around, each of us recognizing the other's abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. I felt the adrenaline surge, propelling me forward as I aimed a powerful overhead strike. He countered. I shifted to the side and launched a swift jab to his thigh, but he blocked it effortlessly, countering with an aggressive thrust that narrowly missed my shoulder.
The space around us buzzed with energy and determination. I could feel my aura flickering, strength waning, but I refused to succumb to fatigue. "I can't let him win!" I thought, digging deep to harness the power within. I steadied my breath and steadied my resolve; I had to embody everything I had learned, every ounce of skill I possessed.
The battle raged on—each moment a desperate struggle not merely for survival but for a chance to prove myself. The clash of our swords echoed like a symphony of war, each note a testament to our fierce resolve. My father was a force of nature, and I was determined to rise to the challenge, no matter the cost.