Old Liang did not begin with training.
That was the first mistake Ben made—assuming he would.
The old man sipped his tea in silence while Ben stood awkwardly in the stone chamber, Lin Yue lingering near the doorway. Minutes passed. Then more.
Finally, Ben cleared his throat. "So… do we start? Meditation? Punching rocks? Wise insults?"
Old Liang smiled faintly without looking up. "You misunderstand," he said. "Training begins when you realize you are already losing."
Ben frowned. "I'm standing."
Liang set his cup down gently. "You are alive," he corrected. "That is not the same thing."
He gestured toward the wall.
A section of stone slid aside, revealing a narrow corridor descending into darkness.
"Walk," Liang said.
Ben glanced at Lin Yue. She looked uneasy but nodded once.
They followed Liang down the corridor. The air grew colder, thicker. The walls here were scarred—not by age, but by impact. Claw marks. Blade grooves. Cracks spiderwebbing outward from points where something had struck with tremendous force.
Ben slowed.
"This isn't a training hall," he muttered.
"No," Liang agreed. "It is a lesson hall."
The corridor opened into a wide underground chamber. Chains hung from the ceiling. Old weapons lay scattered across the floor. In the center stood a raised stone platform, stained dark with ancient blood.
Three people were already there.
A man with one arm, his Qi unstable and flickering.A woman with eyes like knives and scars down her neck.And a boy—maybe sixteen—thin, pale, and shaking.
All of them looked at Ben.
Liang stepped aside. "These are people who relied on power," he said. "Each in their own way."
Ben's stomach tightened.
"They transformed too early," Liang continued calmly. "They cultivated too greedily. They trusted strength to solve problems that required judgment."
He looked at Ben. "Sound familiar?"
Ben didn't answer.
Liang turned to the one-armed man. "Tell him."
The man's jaw clenched. "I was a prodigy," he said bitterly. "Inner disciple by eighteen. I thought speed was everything."
His Qi flared—then sputtered.
"A rival poisoned me," he continued. "I tried to force a breakthrough to survive."
He laughed harshly. "My meridians collapsed instead."
Liang nodded and turned to the scarred woman.
"I killed too openly," she said flatly. "Too many witnesses. Too much fear."
Her lips curled. "The sects united. I ran for three years."
She tapped her temple. "They broke me before they ever touched my body."
Finally, the boy spoke, voice trembling. "I thought my artifact made me special."
Ben felt his chest tighten.
The boy looked at Ben's wrist. "They took it. Then they took my legs."
Silence filled the chamber.
Liang folded his hands behind his back. "Power attracts attention," he said. "Attention attracts predators. Murim does not forgive those who shine without control."
He turned to Ben.
"You do not train today," Liang said. "You observe."
Ben frowned. "Observe what?"
Liang smiled.
"How people break."
They left the chamber an hour later.
Ben said nothing.
The corridor felt longer on the way back up.
When they emerged into the torchlit halls of Blackstone Valley, Ben finally spoke.
"You didn't teach me anything," he said quietly.
Liang stopped walking.
"Yes," he agreed. "I did."
Ben clenched his fists. "I need to get stronger. I can't just—wait."
Liang turned slowly. "If you rely on that watch every time you feel threatened," he said, "you will die before you ever understand this world."
Ben looked down at the Omnitrix.
It was quiet.
For once, it agreed.
Lin Yue spoke up. "Then what should he do?"
Liang's eyes gleamed. "Learn how Murim kills without power."
The lesson began that night.
Not with sparring—but with watching.
From a high ledge overlooking Blackstone Valley, Ben crouched beside Liang as deals unfolded below. Trades. Threats. Silent agreements sealed with glances instead of words.
"There," Liang murmured, nodding toward a group near a fire. "Those three men are pretending to argue."
Ben squinted. "They look serious."
"They are," Liang said. "But not with each other."
A fourth man approached. Laughed. Sat.
Ten breaths later, a blade slid between his ribs.
The killers dispersed calmly.
"No transformations," Liang said. "No Qi techniques. Just certainty."
Ben swallowed.
Later, they watched a woman offer shelter to a traveler.
"She will poison his tea," Liang said flatly.
Ben stiffened. "Why?"
"Because he is desperate," Liang replied. "And desperation smells like profit."
By dawn, Ben's stomach churned.
"This place is sick," he muttered.
Liang chuckled softly. "This place is honest."
On the third day, Liang gave Ben his first task.
"Walk through the valley," he said. "Alone."
Lin Yue protested immediately. "That's suicide!"
Liang raised a finger. "He may not transform."
Ben blinked. "What?"
"No alien," Liang said calmly. "No partial manifestations. No power."
Ben stared at him. "You want me to die."
Liang shook his head. "I want you to learn how close death already is."
Ben hesitated.
Then he nodded.
"Okay," he said. "I'll do it."
Lin Yue grabbed his arm. "Ben—"
"I'll be fine," he said, forcing a smile. "Probably."
She didn't smile back.
Ben stepped into the valley alone.
Immediately, eyes turned toward him.
Whispers spread.
That's him.The artifact boy.The one with the watch.
A man stepped into his path.
Then another.
Ben kept walking.
Heart pounding.
Don't reach for it, he told himself. Don't.
The man smirked. "You look lost."
Ben met his gaze. "I'm looking for trouble," he said evenly. "You interested?"
The man hesitated.
Something in Ben's voice—calm, certain—made him pause.
Ben walked past.
Ten steps later, another figure blocked him.
This one didn't smile.
A blade flashed.
Ben moved on instinct—not power.
He twisted aside, grabbing the attacker's wrist, slamming his knee into the man's stomach, and wrenching the blade free.
He didn't kill him.
He dropped the weapon and kept walking.
The crowd murmured.
By the time Ben returned to Liang, his clothes were torn, his knuckles bruised, his body shaking with adrenaline.
But he was alive.
Liang nodded once. "Good."
Ben collapsed onto a crate, laughing weakly. "That was the dumbest thing I've ever done."
Liang smiled. "And yet, you learned."
"What?" Ben asked.
Liang leaned closer.
"Murim is watching you," he said softly. "But it does not yet know what you are."
He straightened.
"Once you transform openly here," Liang continued, "that will change."
Ben looked down at the Omnitrix.
It pulsed faintly.
Waiting.
Far away, sect elders received reports.
The anomaly was alive.
Worse—
It was learning.