Raviel laughed, the sound clear and unapologetic.
"What's the matter, Patriarch Vargan?" he said, shaking his head.
"Did your pride get crushed after seeing what Aveline can do?"
Vargan stood there in silence, fists slowly tightening at his sides.
His chest rose and fell heavily, sweat still clinging to his skin.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Raviel stepped closer and continued calmly, "Let me tell you something."
He tapped his own chest once. "I wasn't even serious when I lifted earlier."
Vargan's eyes snapped up.
Raviel met his gaze without backing down. "You said you're a body cultivator."
He paused. "But from what I can see, you're still cultivating the mana path."
Vargan's jaw tightened.
"You trained your body," Raviel went on. "You lifted. You fought. You hardened yourself."
He shook his head. "That made your body better."
"But that," Raviel said firmly, "is not true body cultivation."
The words hit harder than the weights.
