Now that Jalen had reached the First Stage of the Enlightened Realm, he could finally turn toward the other purpose apart from becoming stronger that had driven every silent step of his journey: healing his father.
He knew it might cost him the secrecy he'd guarded so fiercely. But at this point, it didn't matter. Not only was he the strongest on the continent, but also his father mattered more. And besides, Jalen had no intention of staying bound to this clan, or even this continent, forever.
Now that he'd crossed into Enlightenment, he realized something sharp and unsettling—this land wasn't enough anymore. The spiritual density here was too thin, the opportunities too shallow. His future lay beyond the seas, beyond the maps.
But he couldn't leave until his father stood whole.
He remembered the method from a book he'd read years ago, long before reaching this stage—buried among the scribbled translations of wandering herbalists and forgotten qi specialists.
"Enlightened Qi can nourish and repair fractured dantian with the right catalyst blend: spirit root, silver shine blossom, and red cordyceps. If administered carefully across seven sessions, the treatment has a chance at full regeneration. Failure may result in further dantian collapse… or death."
It was a risk.
One he would take without hesitation.
He gathered the herbs. Brewed each mixture with exact heat and quiet hands. And every night for the past seven days, Jalen slipped a sliver of slumber root into his father's tea—not to harm, just enough to usher him into a sleep deep enough to hold. Once Jaquan was still, Jalen moved through the warded room like breath through silk, shielding their quarters just in case there was a spiritual probe. It's highly unlikely, but one can never be too cautious.
Then, with unwavering patience, he pressed Enlightened qi into his father's broken meridians—threading it like silver wire, slowly closing ruptures that had ached for over a decade. He worked in silence. Without praise. Without thanks.
Just purpose.
Each morning, Jaquan woke as he always did—aching, cautious, never suspecting a thing.
Until the eighth day.
That morning, he didn't wake to the familiar grind of pain.
He woke to breathe—clean, effortless. His chest rose without resistance. His spine aligned without thought. For the first time in fifteen years, his body felt like his own.
His dantian pulsed with qi—steady, strong. Not fractured. Not fragile. Whole.
The crystallized core he had once formed during the Amethyst Realm was gone, but the cultivation hadn't restarted from scratch. His body remembered the path. The dantian was restored, capable of channeling qi properly again. The journey to refine that energy into a Spirit Core would take time, effort, and patience—but the foundation was there.
And the breakthrough was undeniable.
He was no longer Ruby, as he had been since the collapse. Somehow—miraculously—he had skipped two sub-realms and entered the early stage of the Emerald Realm.
In cultivation theory, realm progression isn't just a measure of power—it's a transformation. Each breakthrough tempers the meridians, expands the dantian, and aligns the soul with the flow of qi. Skipping stages is considered reckless, even fatal.
Meridians not properly tempered can rupture under the pressure of higher-tier qi. A dantian forced to hold more than it's ready for may collapse entirely. And without soul synchronization, the cultivator risks spiritual dissonance—madness, deviation, or worse.
But Jaquan's case was different.
He had once reached—and even surpassed—the Emerald Realm. Though his dantian had shattered, the memory of cultivation remained: a spiritual imprint etched deep into his body and soul. Jalen's enlightened qi—refined, stable—didn't overwhelm. It nourished. It was repaired. It reawakened.
The seven-day healing process gave Jaquan's body time to adjust, each session gently mimicking the natural progression through the realms. And when the dantian was finally restored, it didn't start from the beginning—it resumed from where it had once stood.
That's why the leap was possible.
Not a miracle.
A resurrection.
The joy came fast. Overwhelming. Wordless.
He wept.
He didn't know how. Didn't ask. Only knew that for the first time in fifteen years, the silence in his spirit had been replaced with thunder.
He reported the awakening. Of course no one believed it since it is something believed to be impossible, but after being probed by warriors of the family, then some elders, and a qi tester stone. It was confirmed.
And that's when the summons came.
Jaquan stood beneath the vaulted ceiling of the ancestral inquiry chamber, its skylights casting angled light across etched stone. His robe was clean. His posture steady. His spirit was quieter than it had been in years.
At the chamber's apex sat Patriarch Ronald Hewitt, his great-granduncle and the most powerful cultivator of the family. Beside him sat the clan's silent blade, Silver Hewitt, eyes unreadable beneath the weight of Peak Diamond cultivation.
Six elders flanked the dais in a crescent arc, all with a diamond realm cultivation base between the first and mid tiers.
Ronald's voice broke the silence, deep and measured.
"Jaquan Hewitt. It has come to this council's attention that your core—once confirmed fractured beyond healing—has now returned to full integrity. And that your cultivation has advanced into the Emerald tier."
"Is this true?"
"It is, Patriarch," Jaquan replied, bowing.
"Have you consumed any rare high-tier pills? Spiritual elixirs? Underwent treatment by an Ascended practitioner?"
"No, Patriarch."
"Have you been approached by an outsider? A wandering master? Perhaps… a figure cloaked in shadow, spoken of in whispers?"
This question was asked because he suspected that this infamous shade might have come in contact with Jaquan. Though he and the other families fear that this shade might disrupt their power dynamics, getting him on side would be beneficial to his family. Strengthened their iron grip on the continent.
"I have not."
He looked at Jaquan, and as far as he could see, the man was answering truthfully. "Did you perform any meditations, rituals, or summoning prior to the restoration?"
Jaquan shook his head. "None. I did not attempt to cultivate. I simply slept. And I woke up whole."
The elders exchanged glances. Pages were turned. Notes recorded. Cultivation tracers scanned him again. The findings were consistent.
No external interference. No rogue energy. No residual signatures.
Just a repaired dantian.
"Very well," Ronald said after a moment. "Let it be recorded."
He rose slowly, robes barely rustling.
"This matter is not closed. A restoration of this nature suggests techniques or influences beyond our current reach. Should anything further emerge… you will bring it to this chamber."
"I will," Jaquan said quietly.
He bowed once more. Then he turned and left—his steps steadier, stronger, echoing with a quiet triumph fifteen years in the making.