Before leaving the Light Clan, Jalen met with Zakai and Light one final time.
"I need you to send two peak Sage Realm elders to Rouna, Flare State," he said. "As a precaution against the Solar Clan. I don't know if anything's happened since I left, but I'd rather be safe."
Zakai nodded. "Consider it done."
Jalen then had a drink with them. He still couldn't get used to Light—who had the appearance of a six-year-old—drinking liquor, but he didn't let it bother him.
When he was done, he met with Calista.
"Master," Calista lowered her head.
"You've come far," he said. "But your journey is just beginning. Stay here. Train. Master what I've taught you. You're only allowed to leave once you've achieved the Enlightenment Realm."
Calista nodded solemnly. "I understand."
"If you ever lose your way," Jalen added, "go to the Flare State. Wait for me there."
He reached out and placed two fingers on her forehead, imprinting the location into her memory with his spirit sense. He also branded her with his spirit sense—not to spy, but so he could sense if she ever encountered any trouble that she couldn't handle and rush to her aid.
Then, with farewells exchanged, Jalen left the Light Clan.
Jalen had decided to make a stop in Bellina first before leaving the continent to find out what happened to Jaya and Walford.
Now that he was an elder of the Light Clan, Jalen had no reason to avoid Bellina. His name carried weight now. Even the royal family would think twice before provoking him. With his status secured and the Light Clan's protection behind him, there was no longer any need for caution.
He could have used flash reversion to get to Bellina at a swifter pace. But he didn't.
Instead, he chose the long way.
He traveled by foot and flight, weaving through the highlands and river valleys of Rale. The journey took days, but he welcomed the stillness. The wind carried the scent of spirit herbs and pine. The sky was clear, the land quiet. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to breathe.
By dusk of the fifth day, he neared the border of Bellina's outer province, where the jade-paved roads gave way to the wild edges of the Tel Mistveil Forest.
Then he stopped.
His Lumina Heart pulsed—once, sharply. A signal. Not of danger, but of something rare. Something ancient.
Jalen turned his head slightly. The air trembled. A clash of flame, wind, and lightning qi's echoed through the forest. Normally, he wouldn't bother with skirmishes beneath his level. But the flame energy wasn't ordinary.
It bore the signature of an eternal-grade spirit tool.
Jalen moved toward the source, silent as moonlight.
The clearing was scorched, trees splintered, and the air thick with residual qi. This was the aftermath of a prolonged clash between two warriors.
One was a youth—no older than fifteen in appearance, though his life energy pulsed with something far younger. Silver hair whipped in the wind, eyes sharp and storm-lit. His robes were torn, his body marked with cuts and bruises, but his movements remained precise. His wind qi was honed to a razor's edge.
The other was an early Imperial Realm cultivator—broader, older, cloaked in crimson armor. Lightning qi surged around him, crackling with lethal intent. His strikes were calculated, brutal, and designed to overwhelm.
Jalen watched from the shadows, intrigued.
The boy's wind techniques bore traces of Hewitt clan technique Gallant Wind Blade—sharp pivots, layered bursts, and the kind of precision that came from legacy training. But it wasn't textbook. It was something else. Something adapted.
Still, the gap in power was undeniable.
The boy was at the early Moon Realm after all, and the cultivator was two sub-realms and a full realm higher. Each clash pushed the youth back. His breath grew heavier. His footwork slowed.
And yet the boy had endured. Not for a single exchange—but for long, grinding minutes. Each clash carved deeper into his reserves, but he adapted, survived, and kept moving.
He cast a movement technique that split his form into three silhouettes. The cultivator hesitated—just long enough for the boy to land a strike across his shoulder. Sparks flew. Blood followed.
The cultivator roared, forming a sigil midair. "Tempest Barrage!"
Lightning bolts rained down. The boy deflected most, but one tore into his side, searing flesh.
Jalen's eyes narrowed. The boy was brilliant. Brave. But he wouldn't last.
Then the boy's energy surged—rising to match the Imperial Realm. It wasn't a breakthrough, but a temporary elevation—his eternal-grade spirit tool, Flame Sparks, had awakened, flooding his body with borrowed power.
Blue flame flared from his dantian, coiling through his spirit sea. His aura expanded—not violently, but with terrifying clarity.
Wind qi sharpened. Flame pressure layered over it—not clashing, but coiling. The air shimmered. His stance shifted.
The cultivator faltered mid-step, eyes widening. "Impossible," he muttered. "He was Moon Realm—how did he…"
His qi flared instinctively, defensively. For the first time in the fight, he hesitated—not from injury, but from disbelief.
The boy activated a technique Jalen had never seen before.
Wind spiraled, drawing in flame and compressing it into a vortex—shaped like a blade, but forged from qi alone. But he didn't strike. He waited. Calculated. His eyes locked onto the cultivator's core.
The cultivator charged, lightning qi coating his fists.
The boy vanished.
He reappeared behind the man, casting a burst of wind at the knees—forcing a pivot. The cultivator turned, lightning flaring—
And the boy struck.
The vortex blade sliced across the lower back, where the armor was weakest. It drilled—not exploded—through the qi lattice, rupturing the man's core.
The cultivator collapsed.
The boy stood over the body, panting. His aura flickered. His meridians screamed. He dropped to one knee, clutching his side.
Then he looked up.
"Who's there?" he rasped.
He'd sensed Jalen despite his concealment. The only explanation was his eternal-grade spirit tool. If Luminal Heart could sense others, so could this one.
Jalen stepped into view.
The boy tried to rise. Flame qi surged again, despite the pain. Blood dripped from his fingers. He was ready to fight. Ready to die.
But his body gave out. He collapsed, paralyzed by the agony coursing through his meridians.
Jalen knelt beside him, checking his pulse, his meridians, and his dantian.
What he found was a strange phenomenon. The boy's spirit core held both wind and flame qi—not layered, but fused.
Normally, when a cultivator possesses two types of qi, they also possess two spirit cores—like Jalen's younger brother Jared and his three children. But apart from this boy, Jalen was the only one known to have a single spirit core containing three types of qi. And that was only possible because of the Origin Shard.
Which meant this fusion was possible for the boy because of the eternal-grade spirit tool embedded at the center of his spirit core—like molten stone. It hadn't just bonded. It had chosen him.
"You're lucky," Jalen murmured. Not just for surviving the chaos of synchronizing two opposing qi—but for encountering an eternal-grade spirit tool capable of stabilizing such a volatile fusion. Without it, the outcome would've been death.
"But reckless."
The boy had pushed beyond his limits in the fight and could have died in the process. He was fortunate to come away with only strained meridians, torn muscles, and scorched qi pathways. But he was in no danger now. It was damage he could recover from—with time.
The youth blinked, dazed. He tried to speak, but his voice failed. He passed out.
Jalen lifted him gently, cradling the boy's body like a fragile ember. He didn't know who this youth was.
But he was a prodigy—and was worth saving.
More than that, his techniques bore the unmistakable rhythm of the Hewitt family. Not exact. Not formal. But close enough to raise questions.
Which meant only two possibilities.
Either he was an outsider taught by someone from the family.
Or he was blood.