The sun was already lazily rising in the sky when Rafael opened his eyes. He was lying on the improvised mattress in Vinícius's living room, his body still sore from the blows of the previous night.
But his spirit... his spirit felt like it was on fire.
Harry was already up, sitting cross-legged in the backyard, eyes closed. His breathing was rhythmic, controlled. Around him, the air seemed to vibrate slightly, as if something invisible was circling his skin.
Vinícius appeared with two bottles of water and tossed one to Rafael.
"Welcome to the life of madness. It starts today."
"And never ends?" Rafael asked, half laughing, half suffering.
"Only when you die. Or become a god," Harry replied, opening his eyes and standing up. "And dying is easier."
Rafael chuckled weakly, then turned serious.
"What do I have to do?"
Harry approached.
"First, you need to feel the Qi. It's inside you, but it's dormant. It's like trying to hear music in the middle of a packed stadium. You need silence, focus."
He gestured, and Rafael sat cross-legged, mimicking his posture.
"Breathing. Concentration. Empty your mind. Listen to your own body."
Harry placed his hand on Rafael's back.
"Your meridians are closed. We'll open them one by one."
And so it began.
Harry guided him patiently. Rafael, amid sweat, pain, and failed attempts, sought something he couldn't see—but could feel.
Harry used his own Qi to help Rafael feel Qi more easily, since both he and Vinícius had to take the hard path. Harry devised this method to advance faster.
Vinícius watched from a distance, remembering his own awakening, and how that invisible world had changed his life forever.
Rafael's first step on the path of cultivation had begun.
And there was no turning back.
A few days had passed since Rafael began his training.
While he sweated, grumbled, and dedicated himself under Harry's ruthless supervision, the world around them went on... or perhaps, began to drift toward chaos.
Somewhere remote, in a place not even updated maps dared to detail, an old mansion remained immersed in shadows. Huge walls hid its secrets. Silent guards, like living statues, watched without blinking.
Razor walked through a corridor of dark marble, the sound of his own footsteps echoing through the hall. Beside him, like an unwanted shadow, Alexander followed—his face pale, eyes restless.
Razor's nose still bore a faint bruise, a reminder of recent humiliation. His expression was hard, jaw clenched.
When they reached a door adorned with strange golden symbols, Razor stopped and cast a cold glare at Alexander.
"In here you don't speak. You don't listen. You only obey. Or you die."
Alexander swallowed hard. Sweat was already running down his back. He only nodded, feeling the air around him grow as heavy as lead.
Farther into the mansion, muffled sounds of screams echoed. Human laments, distant, but enough to chill the blood. Alexander tried not to tremble—and failed.
They arrived in a room decorated with black columns. A man in a dark suit, tall, with shoulders wide like a wall, greeted them with a slight raise of his eyebrow.
"Razor, you brat... what brings you here?" he said in a deep, mocking voice.
Razor bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect that seemed to weigh on his pride.
"Older brother... I come to report to the master. It's urgent."
Before the man could respond, the large double doors behind him opened... on their own.
A dry hiss filled the air, and an ancient voice, almost a whisper but full of authority, cut through the silence:
"...Enter."
Alexander trembled all over.
Razor took a deep breath, trying to suppress the involuntary tremor in his hands. He took the first step. Alexander, pale, sweating cold, followed in silence, like an animal led to slaughter.
The door closed behind them with a muted thud.
On the other side of the city, in a simple backyard under the morning sun, Rafael breathed with difficulty, trying to feel the Qi flow through his newly opened meridians. Vinícius watched, alert. And Harry, with the steady gaze of a master, guided his friend through the first step of the long stairway toward the impossible.
Two forces were growing on Earth.
And sooner or later, they would collide.