The sheer destructive power of his Spirit Arrows took A'Dunce by surprise. A grim satisfaction warred with awe as he watched the colossal serpent thrash in agony, azure blood fountaining from its shattered tail section. Above, Holy Evil swooped, unleashing gouts of corrosive, grey Dragonfire onto the exposed flesh. The serpent's obsidian scales resisted the decay, but where its hide had been blasted open by A'Dunce's arrow, the corrosive fire did its gruesome work. A bone-chilling shriek ripped from the serpent's maw as flesh and bone visibly dissolved.
Just as A'Dunce nocked a second arrow, aiming to end it with a shot to the skull, a calm, resonant voice cut through the chaos. "Hold your strike."
A'Dunce startled, recognizing the voice of **Grandmaster Tianan Gang Jian Sheng**. He forced his grip to relax, the Vital Aura arrow dissolving back into his own energies.
A sickly green glow erupted from the serpent's gaping jaws. Not an attack beam, but a dense, pulsating sphere of dark viridian light, radiating immense power. It floated lazily, almost deceptively, towards the circling Holy Evil. The dragon recoiled, wings beating frantically to evade the thing it clearly feared.
Suddenly, white light flashed. Master stood suspended in mid-air, defying gravity itself. His eyes blazed. "Foul beast!" His right hand snapped out in a grasping motion.
The viridian sphere shuddered violently, freezing in place. The serpent convulsed, its entire mountainous body straining in a desperate, telekinetic tug-of-war with the sphere. Master snorted contemptuously. A silver edge manifested in the air, swift as thought, severing the connection between sphere and serpent.
The giant serpent gave one final, mighty leap, crashing back to earth with a tremor that shook the surrounding peaks. It writhed weakly then fell still. The sphere pulsed faintly, its light dimming. A'Dunce's enhanced vision resolved it into a smooth, crystalline fruit-like object, now resting in the Grandmaster's palm. Holy Evil fluttered closer, fixated on the prize, whining with undisguised greed, thick drool dripping from its maw.
Master chuckled, tapping the dragon's snout. "Ah, you recognize a treasure when you see it, don't you?"
Holy Evil nodded emphatically.
With impossible grace, the Grandmaster landed beside A'Dunce on a rocky outcrop. A'Dunce stared at the strange object. "Grandmaster, what is that?"
"When I first settled in these Skycleaver Mountains," the Grandmaster began, his gaze distant, "I encountered this Soul Serpent Armor. A slippery foe, managed to escape me then. A predator, feeding unchecked on the creatures of this range… until you two stumbled upon it. This creature has weathered millennia, drawing sustenance from the mountain's vital energies. That," he gestured to the sphere, "is its Soul Core. Extremely potent. Consume it, and it grants immense strength, tempers the spirit. Would serve you well, almost on par with the fabled Soulfruit of myth." He glanced back at the drooling dragon. "Of course, *someone* clearly agrees."
Holy Evil's eyes were practically glowing with desire.
Master tossed the core into the air. Holy Evil snapped it up in a flash, swallowing it whole with a triumphant screech that echoed through the valley canyons.
"Back to the Nest!" the Grandmaster commanded, giving the dragon's head another light tap. "That power won't wait for you to nap here!"
Holy Evil needed no further urging. With powerful wingbeats, it streaked back towards the mountain peak sanctuary, clearly eager to digest its unexpected prize.
Master led A'Dunce down to the serpent's carcass. Bereft of its core, the great beast lay limp and broken, a massive puddle of blue blood soaking the ground near its ruined tail.
"Drained," the Grandmaster stated flatly. "Stopping you earlier wasn't mercy. This serpent's body holds other treasures. A shot to the head would have destroyed much of its value." A blade of pure, condensed silver energy, sharp as a starmetal razor, appeared in his hand. "Your end comes swiftly, creature." The blade plunged down. The serpent twitched once and was still.
A'Dunce looked away, discomfort twisting his stomach as he stowed his reforged Ironwood Bow into his dimensional pouch.
"Go on back," the Grandmaster said, noticing his unease. "Leave the rest to me."
A'Dunce didn't argue. He became a blur of gray cloth and focused energy, scaling the steep face of Skycleaver's primary peak with preternatural speed. Behind him, the Grandmaster's silver energy blades became a blur, expertly harvesting the fallen titan.
* * *
Back in the high-altitude sanctuary carved into the peak – known as the Nest – A'Dunce found Holy Evil already deeply asleep, its body radiating heat as it processed the Soul Core's overwhelming energy. The recent violence left a bitter tang in A'Dunce's mouth. Seeking inner balance, he settled onto a stone platform, slipping into deep meditation to cycle his Vital Aura.
Meanwhile, the Grandmaster mentally called out to Xiwen, informing him of the serpent's location below. A creature like this offered rare materials – the hide, the sinews, even the meat held potent vitality. It would nourish the entire Skycleaver Order.
Master returned hours later bearing his harvest: thirty meters of unbreakable Soul-Slender sinew; the serpent's potent brain marrow; a roll of incredibly light, scale-studded hide; and two perfectly spherical, crystalline serpent-eye stones, glowing faintly.
Later, he quietly placed a steaming bowl beside the meditating A'Dunce. "Consume this," he murmured. "Supplements your constitution."
A'Dunce blinked awake, accepting the bowl. The paste inside pulsed faintly with contained vitality, emitting a delicate, clean fragrance that eased his lingering disquiet. "Grandmaster, what is it?"
"A restorative blend. Part of refining your progress. Eat it, then resume your Vital Aura circulation cycles. Eighty-one orbits."
"Yes, Grandmaster." Trusting implicitly, A'Dunce swallowed the thick paste. It tasted strangely… *pure*. Warmth bloomed in his core, radiating outward. He immediately settled back into meditation.
As A'Dunce cycled his energies, the Grandmaster began the painstaking work of crafting armor segments from the unique serpent hide. He had kept the finest sections near the beast's chest.
Deep within his meditation, A'Dunce sensed an anomaly. His normally fluid Vital Aura, a river of liquid silver energy within him, felt… thicker. Heavier. Like molten metal cooling towards solidity. Alarmed but committed, he pushed on. Stopping mid-orbit risked destabilization.
Slowly, inexorably, the vast reservoir of his Vital Aura began to pull inward, drawn towards a central point in his lower belly – his Dantian core. It coalesced, compacted under immense pressure. A'Dunce struggled to maintain control as the flow became a torrent, all converging, solidifying. A halo of shimmering silver light bathed his unconscious form, pulsing with contained power.
Master, sensing the abrupt shift, nearly dropped his tools. *Breakthrough? To the Eighth Stage already?* He saw the tell-tale silver nimbus – the sign of the Body-Forging Realm! Instantly, he was beside his disciple, one hand firm on A'Dunce's spine between the shoulder blades, the other pressed firmly to the crown of his head. Amplifying his own immense will, the Grandmaster guided the runaway energies, stabilizing the chaotic flow. He simultaneously sent a gentle but irrevocable command into A'Dunce's mind, plunging the young man into unconsciousness to prevent panic or distraction. Now, the Grandmaster took complete command of the transformation unfolding within A'Dunce's core. This was the crucial leap, expedited by the ingested Soul Serpent Armor's essence and built upon the foundation of A'Dunce's relentless training and the Grandmaster's own gift of power months before.
Time lost meaning in the silent cave sanctuary. When awareness finally crept back, A'Dunce gasped. His inner sea was… calm. Empty? Panic flickered until he focused inward.
In the space where his churning silver rivers used to flow, nestled within his Dantian, sat a perfect figurine, barely an inch tall, sculpted from pure, condensed light. It wasn't just a statue – it looked… it looked like *him*. A miniature, radiant avatar of solidified energy. Stunned, he opened his physical eyes.
The world had shifted. The dim light inside the Nest exploded with impossible detail and vibrant hues he'd never perceived before. Every grain of stone seemed etched in crystal clarity. He raised his hand, thinking of his yellow Spirit Arrow. Instantly, an intensely bright blade of solid Vital Aura sprung forth, the energy forming faster and denser than ever before. Simultaneously, he felt the tiny silver avatar within him dim ever so slightly, like a battery discharging.
"You've surfaced." Master's voice was weary but held profound pride. He sat nearby, his weathered face drawn, eyes shadowed. He looked as though he'd fought and won a hidden battle. "Boy," he continued, a faint smile touching his lips. "You've ascended to the Eighth Stage – the Body-Forging Realm. What you feel missing? It's all here." He tapped his own sternum. "Forged into that Avatar Core within your Dantian. Your Vital Aura crystallized. Your foundation solidified. Continue your techniques as before; this Avatar *is* your power now."
Eighth Stage? A'Dunce reeled. Six months ago, he'd been struggling to master the Fifth! This was… impossible.
Master read the confusion and awe. "Fortune favors the prepared, boy. You *earned* this speed with sweat and grit. But understand this: Achieving the Eighth Stage does *not* mean you can now best your Uncles Xi, Feng, or Lu in a contest of blade and spirit. They have decades of refining *their* Eighth Stage power. You have reached the summit many seek, but few understand the sheer expanse of the plateau they stand upon." His voice grew serious. "Yours was a rapid ascension, aided by… unconventional blessings. It needs tempering. Stabilization. That is the true work now. True mastery is a journey measured not in leaps, but in tireless steps upon this plateau. My own path from Eighth to Ninth? Thirty years." He paused, a thoughtful melancholy settling over him. "Go now. Summon Xiwen and your other Uncles to me. Wait for them to return to the Order before you come back here." He sighed, the sound filled with the weight of inevitability. "Your Vital Aura now burns brightly enough to navigate the wider world. It's time you walked that path."
Time to leave? The thought slammed into A'Dunce like a physical blow. Finding the Elves was his mission, the burning purpose behind every punishing training session. Yet now, standing at the threshold of departure, the realization struck: these six months under the stern, impossible attention of the Grandmaster had forged something unbreakable within him – profound respect, undeniable loyalty, and a bone-deep sense of gratitude. The old Master, demanding and relentless, had poured his essence – quite literally – into A'Dunce. He hadn't just trained him; he had *remade* him. Leaving felt… like severing a lifeline.
Master's eyes had closed, his breathing deep. "Paths diverge, young blade. Destiny awaits. Sentimentality clouds the edge. Go."
A'Dunce bowed deeply, the gesture filled with unspoken emotion. He cast a final glance at Holy Evil, still deeply unconscious on the cavern floor. The dragon radiated heat, scales shimmering as it processed its own potent bounty. Then A'Dunce turned and slipped silently out into the crisp, biting air of the Skycleaver Peak.
The cold invigorated him. Power thrummed just beneath his skin. With a focused thought, his body became a whisper on the wind, leaping down sheer rock faces with impossible grace. He was heading for the sprawling complex built into the lower flanks of the mountain – home of the Skycleaver Order itself.
Passing through the main gates etched with ancient symbols, A'Dunce collided with a familiar figure. **Liaoyi**.
"Whoa! Little Uncle! It's you!" Liaoyi beamed, wiping sweat from his brow. "Haven't seen you in moons! How goes the high-altitude hermit life?" He took a closer look, his smile fading into awe. The change in A'Dunce was palpable, even if hard to define. There was a stillness, a density to his presence; his skin seemed to hold an inner light.
"Liaoyi," A'Dunce began awkwardly. "Just call me A'Dunce, please. Little Watanasounds…"
"Protocol!" Liaoyi insisted, snapping to an almost formal posture, though his eyes still held friendly warmth. "Grandmaster's disciple? Definite rank. So, what brings you down the mountain? Getting stir crazy?"
A'Dunce shook his head. "Grandmaster summons Xiwen and the others."
Liaoyi sobered instantly. "Ah. Then don't let me delay you! Go! Off to the training fields!" He sketched a quick bow and vanished around a corner towards the courtyards.
A'Dunce sighed inwardly, walking briskly through stone corridors towards the inner chambers. Rounding a corner, chaos erupted.
"Get back here, Ling!" a male voice shouted, frustration evident.
"Catch me first!" came a bright, mocking reply.
A whirlwind of flying braids and practical training robes barreled around the corner directly into A'Dunce. He instinctively caught her as she stumbled.
**Ling Yi**, granddaughter of WatanaCultur, looked up, her eyes wide with surprise and indignation at being caught by a stranger. "Hey! Hands off! Who are you?" She shoved herself free, cheeks flaming red. Her features, while not classically stunning like Luna's, held a fierce, vibrant charm. Her spirit – the defiant tilt of her chin, the flash of annoyance mixed with curiosity – sent a visceral jolt through A'Dunce. It was like looking into a distorted mirror image of the girl whose memory he carried like a secret wound. He stood frozen, lost for a moment in that unsettling echo.
Her eyes narrowed at his fixed stare. "Seriously? Have you never seen a girl before? What's your name, strange boy?"
He blinked, forcing words out. "A'Dunce. Uh… sorry. Just passing through."
Before she could respond, a group of six panting young men skidded into view. The leader, a sturdy youth named **Lee One**, scowled at A'Dunce. "Who are you? Release her!"
Ling Yi rubbed her shoulder, shooting A'Dunce an irritated glare. "He practically tackled me! I think he popped something!"
Lee One stepped forward protectively. "You hurt Ling?!" He threw a clumsy but powerful punch towards A'Dunce's jaw.
Instinct and newfound power moved faster than conscious thought. A'Dunce blurred backward three feet, avoiding the blow entirely. "Her leg! I think it might be broken!"
"You'll pay for this, outsider!" Lee One snapped, ordering one of his group to fetch Cultur. The others fanned out, surrounding A'Dunce with tense anticipation.
Recognizing the raw shock and pain clouding Ling Yi's face now, A'Dunce ignored the surrounding threats. He focused, a warm, pale white light emanating from his hands as he guided wisps of his own Vital Aura towards her injured leg. It was the simplest healing technique, coaxing her minimal internal Vital Aura towards the injury, numbing the pain and stabilizing the fracture. Ling Yi gasped as the agony receded, replaced by an unfamiliar, penetrating warmth.
Footsteps echoed rapidly. **Cultur**, looking stern but calm, arrived. He took in the scene instantly, his gaze settling on the injured Ling Yi in A'Dunce's makeshift care. "Broken?"
"Y-yes, WatanaLu," A'Dunce stammered, withdrawing his energy. "Accident. My defenses triggered."
Cultur grunted, carefully transferring Ling Yi into his own arms. She whimpered. Cultur cast a sharp glance at Lee One. "Lee One. Why is my granddaughter limping? And why are you pointing fingers at your WatanaA'Dunce?"
Lee One paled. "Uncle? He… he…"
"He was defending himself after Ling tried to use him as a shield," Cultur finished, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Wood splints. Now."
Before Lee One could move, A'Dunce acted. He moved with breathtaking speed, a blur of motion exiting the corridor and returning seconds later with two perfectly smooth, hardened strips of wood salvaged from the ancient ironwood tree in the central courtyard. Cultur raised an eyebrow, impressed despite the circumstances, then got to work, setting the fracture with practiced efficiency, binding the splints tightly with strips torn from his own robes.
Ling Yi, her fear subsiding but pain replaced by discomfort and deep embarrassment, sniffled against her grandfather's shoulder. "Grandpa… he really did knock me flying. Just because I gave him a little… tap."
Cultur secured the final knot. "That 'little tap'," he said, his voice firm but lacking true anger, "met with the reflexive defense of a cultivator who has spent the last six months being taught how to survive deadly blows from a titan serpent and a living legend. Consider it a lesson in respect." He stood, lifting Ling Yi gently. He looked at A'Dunce. "Master summons us?"
"Yes, Uncle. All Uncles," A'Dunce confirmed.
Cultur nodded curtly. His eyes lingered on A'Dunce for an extra second, noting the impossible calm, the subtle luminosity that hadn't been there months before. The breakthrough whispers… they might just be true. "Very well. Lead the way to the others. We'll gather at the Nest." He turned and walked briskly, carrying his chastened granddaughter, leaving behind a corridor filled with stunned silence and the lingering echo of immense, unforeseen power. The Skycleaver Order was about to meet its newest and perhaps most unlikely force: **A'Dunce**, the unassuming boy who had touched the Body-Forging Realm.