The world dissolved in a vortex of light and sensation. When solid ground formed again beneath their feet, the four of them stood not in the deep, primal caverns, but on the main training grounds of the Muay Thai Sect. The air was thin and crisp, the familiar scents of polished wood, sweat, and incense filling their nostrils. They were back.
The transition was jarring. The profound silence of the mountain's heart was replaced by the distant sounds of drills, shouted commands, and the rhythmic impact of fists on training posts.
For a moment, they simply stood there, a silent, formidable group amidst the familiar chaos. Their auras, now refined and carrying the echo of the Primal Forge, felt alien in this place. Disciples training nearby faltered in their forms, their attention snagged by the sudden, unexplained appearance of the four.
Wang Chen took a deep breath. The air of the sect, once thick with the weight of his humiliation, now felt... insignificant. He looked at the sphere resting in his palm, its surface shifting from a smooth, metallic sheen to a matte, stone-like texture. It was a constant, comforting reminder of what he had become.
Li twirled his newly formed fan-weapons, the compressed sound waves on their surface humming faintly. "Well, that was a trip. Back to the mundane world, I suppose."
Kael stood like an unshakable monolith, his new shield having shrunk to the size of a bracer on his arm, its tectonic patterns barely visible. Jian's sliver of sharpness was nowhere to be seen, likely sheathed within her spirit, an ever-ready, invisible blade.
Their return did not go unnoticed for long.
From across the training ground, a group of outer-door disciples, led by the tall, sneering figure of Liang Jin, stopped their practice and stared. Liang Jin's eyes, full of their usual contempt, scanned the group, lingering for a moment on Li, Kael, and Jian with a flicker of confusion and wariness, before finally landing on Wang Chen.
The familiar, mocking smirk returned to his face. "Well, well. Look what the mountain coughed back up. The elephant boy and his... strange new friends." He strode forward, his cronies, Zhao Min and another, following closely. "Where have you been, waste? Hiding in the latrines for a week?"
The old insults, which once felt like physical blows, now rang hollow. Wang Chen didn't flinch. He met Liang Jin's gaze, his own eyes calm and depthless.
Liang Jin's smirk wavered slightly under the intensity of that silent stare. He gestured dismissively at the sphere in Wang Chen's hand. "What's that? A toy you found while shoveling dung? Pathetic."
"Heard you got a new challenge for me, Liang Jin?" Wang Chen's voice was even, devoid of its old tension. "A trough to carry, perhaps?"
Liang Jin's face flushed with anger at the reminder of the incident he still couldn't explain. "You think you're different now? You're still the same useless—"
He didn't get to finish. He took an aggressive step forward, intending to shove Wang Chen as he had done countless times before.
He never made contact.
Wang Chen didn't move to block or dodge. He simply thought, and the sphere in his hand flattened in an instant, forming a small, shimmering barrier of energy between them. It wasn't a powerful blast, just a gentle, unyielding push.
Liang Jin recoiled as if burned, stumbling back into Zhao Min. His eyes widened in shock and confusion. He hadn't seen Wang Chen move. There was no surge of Qi he could detect. It was as if the air itself had solidified to stop him.
"What trickery is this?" he snarled, his voice losing its confident edge.
"No trickery," Wang Chen said softly, the sphere returning to its round form. "Just a difference in perspective."
The entire training ground had fallen silent. Dozens of eyes were fixed on them. The dynamic had shifted, irrevocably.
From the edge of the grounds, an elder who had been observing the drills narrowed his eyes, his perception far keener than the disciples'. He had felt the spatial distortion of their arrival and now witnessed the effortless, formless defense. His gaze swept over the four returned disciples, his expression a mixture of deep contemplation and dawning realization.
Something significant had happened in the depths of Silon Mountain. The balance of power within the Muay Thai Sect was about to change.
Wang Chen looked from Liang Jin's shocked face to the faces of his companions. Li wore a wide, amused grin. Kael nodded, a silent approval. Jian's gaze was sharp, already assessing the watching elder.
The boy with the Useless Spirit Root was gone. In his place stood a cultivator who had faced the heart of the mountain and returned, forged anew. His journey in the shadows was over. It was time to step into the light.
(To be continued...)