The next morning, Leo stepped outside.
The cultivation chamber was powerful, no doubt—but it was tight. Stifling. Every movement felt like it echoed back at him. So he'd carried the spear and the manual into the open air, where the wind was crisp and the sun filtered gently through the layered mist of Verdant Rise.
He found a quiet, stone-paved terrace near a ridge, where mossy steps descended toward a cliff overlooking the cloud sea. There, with nothing but wind and silence, he began his drills.
Thread Steps.Veiled Thrust.Threefold Flow.
The movements flowed more naturally today. His body remembered, even when his thoughts strayed. He focused on the sensations—breath syncing with balance, spear drawing arcs that almost hummed in the air. Twice, during a sequence, the flicker of a path teased his awareness—but always vanished before he could seize it.
He reset again.
And again.
From a nearby path, two figures paused to watch.
Mira folded her arms, one brow raised. "Well, well…"
Aric chuckled under his breath. "Rare spear forms, detailed intent sequences, and he's doing them from memory. How long are we pretending he's not from some hidden sect?"
"Honestly? I thought he might crack by now and admit it," Mira said with a grin. "But watching him like this? He probably doesn't even know."
They exchanged a look. A quiet, knowing smile.
They waited until he finished his final form—ending in a precise, low stance, the spear's tip just brushing the stone.
"You done playing elite mystery disciple?" Mira called out, smirking.
Leo straightened, a bit flushed. "You were watching that whole time?"
Aric nodded. "Couldn't help it. Hard to miss someone doing top-grade spear forms most cultivators would kill for. So which force trained you? Northern Pillar? Ghost Fang?"
Leo blinked. "None. I told you—I'm not part of any group."
Mira whistled again. "Still sticking to that story, huh? You do know manuals on spear intent aren't something you just pull off a shelf, right?"
Leo grinned sheepishly. "I… found one in my room."
That got a pair of stunned blinks.
Mira shook her head, laughing. "Sure and I found one in the...you know what never mine. Come on. Enough training. We're heading out to explore the area. You should see what else this place has to offer."
The three wandered deeper into Verdant Rise, passing a sequence of open-air training zones: platforms designed for elemental resonance, meditation waterfalls that pulsed with natural qi, strength testing rings where cultivators slammed weighted pillars into stone slabs, and halls humming with passive barrier formations.
But what caught their attention was further in—nestled behind a half-circle of jagged rocks.
A domed building of smooth black stone. Subtle runes etched across the exterior glowed faintly, and the front doors were open. Inside, they could make out a single figure standing motionless—a tall humanoid puppet of dull metal and dark wood, its joints covered in black plating, its stance eerily relaxed.
"Sparring construct," Aric said with interest. "Looks like an advanced one. Might be using qi-reactive pressure to simulate live opponents."
Mira nodded. "Probably programmed to adapt to each attacker's style. High-tier test tool."
Leo's eyes lit up. "I want to try."
"Careful," Mira warned. "These aren't basic dummies. They're calibrated to press your limits."
Leo stepped into the ring, heart pounding with anticipation. The air inside the dome was heavy, still, yet thrumming with potential.
The sparring construct stood silent and poised—its polished frame almost humanoid, though clearly not. Its eyes, twin points of dull blue light, flared as the activation circle ignited beneath Leo's feet.
He dropped into his stance, spear at the ready.
The puppet moved.
A sharp, testing jab. Then a sweeping feint. It was fast—unnervingly so—but Leo kept his focus. He weaved aside, kept his footing steady. Then—he saw it.
A path.
A thread beneath the puppet's raised arm. He adjusted, spear tightening in his grip.
But the moment he committed, the puppet shifted again—perfectly—shutting the path down before he could strike.
Leo stumbled back, blinking.
Another path flickered into view—lower this time, behind the left knee. He moved to adjust again—
Blocked.
A sharp flick of the puppet's leg cut it off. The thread vanished like smoke.
Leo's mind raced. He saw flicker after flicker—but each one was severed, redirected, shut before he could reach it. He kept trying to force a strike, twisting, shifting, always a half-step behind the puppet's next move.
And then—
WHAM.
The puppet's palm struck his side with brutal precision. Leo's world spun as he crashed hard into the floor, his spear skidding across the polished stone.
He groaned, coughing, pain lancing through his ribs.
Mira and Aric were at his side a moment later.
"I told you," Mira said, crouching beside him. "These constructs aren't like wild monsters. They're designed to counter you. You can't just stand there chasing paths."
Leo sat up slowly, jaw clenched. "I thought I was supposed to look for them."
"You are," Aric said, offering a hand. "But only when the opening presents itself. You can't force a path to stay open. If you stop moving—stop reacting—you create those dead ends."
"Defense first," Mira added. "Keep pressure, keep rhythm. Block, evade, parry. Let the opening reveal itself naturally. Then act."
Leo exhaled hard, sweat mixing with the dirt on his brow. "Well I doubt anything would have helped with that damn robot. The minotaur was a child compared to it.
Leo looked back at the puppet, now dormant once again. Grabbing his spear from the ground and turning around.
"I think I'll take a few days before stepping in there again."