The silence in the training yard was absolute, a vacuum left by Anya Volkov's departure. Joric stared at Ren, his face pale, his mind struggling to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the secret he had just stumbled into. "She… she knows," he stammered. "What are you going to do?"
Ren's face was a mask of cold stone, but inside, his mind was a raging storm. Anya hadn't just seen through his deception. She had captured it. She had recorded the unique frequency of his soul's power. It was a key, a signature, a piece of his very essence, and it was now in the hands of his most brilliant and unpredictable rival.
He dismissed Joric with a curt nod and retreated to the sanctuary of his room. The moment the door was sealed, Zephyrion's spectral form exploded into existence, crackling with an uncontrolled fury that made the very air in the room feel thin and charged.
"Catastrophe! You have been an utter, complete fool!" the Sky-Lord roared, his voice a thunderclap in Ren's mind. "You practiced this sacred art on a common lout, over and over, like a child showing off a new toy! You practically gift-wrapped the signature of our bloodline and handed it to a girl whose every instinct is to dissect and catalog! Her 'research' will not end in a dusty library. It will end in a Pagoda laboratory, where they will build a weapon tuned to the precise frequency of your soul!"
Zephyrion's fury was not just arrogance this time. It was laced with a genuine, ancient fear.
"This changes everything," the spirit continued, his form pacing frantically. "The old fool's plan to hide you in plain sight is now a death sentence. He thinks he is playing a game of chess, but the girl has just handed his opponent a diagram of how to kill his king. We can no longer afford his pathetic, incremental training. We can no longer afford to be a 'tamed spark'. Your only chance of survival now is to become a wildfire so vast and so hot that their weapons melt before they can even be aimed."
He stopped, his lightning eyes locking onto Ren's. "The time for tempering is over. It is time for a true reforging."
The ghost pointed a shimmering finger at the Storm-Worn Bracer on Ren's wrist. "You think this is merely my prison? You are wrong. This is a Raijin Cultivation Anchor. An artifact designed for one purpose: to allow a young, unready vessel to withstand the full, unrestrained torrent of their own soul. It is a key that unlocks the floodgate. We have not used it because the process is agonizing, brutal, and has a high chance of turning you into dust. But the girl's cleverness has left us with no other choice. We must force your breakthrough. We must do it now."
Ren listened, his mind cold and clear. The fear was there, but so was the undeniable logic. Anya's discovery had accelerated every timeline. His only defense was to leap so far ahead in power that he could overcome whatever they built. It was a desperate, reckless gamble. It was his only move.
"This process will shatter the bottleneck of your current cultivation," Zephyrion explained, his voice grim. "It will force your Aetheric Capacity to expand beyond the pitiful limits of an Initiate. You will either rise into a new realm of power, or you will be erased by your own soul. There is no middle ground."
Ren walked to the center of his room and sat on the floor, crossing his legs. He looked at the bracer on his wrist. He had won it in a duel of wits, and now, because of another duel of wits, he was forced to use its most dangerous function.
He took a deep breath, steeling his will. He had faced down monsters, saboteurs, and geniuses. Now, he would face the most dangerous thing of all: the full, untamed power of himself.
"Tell me what I must do," Ren said, his voice steady.
A grim smile touched the spectral face of the Sky-Lord. "Grasp the bracer. And when I give the word, do not just open the dam, boy. Obliterate it."