The training ground was quiet.
Too quiet.
Chu Feng stood alone beneath a pale sky, wooden practice sword clenched in his hands. His arms trembled—not from exhaustion alone, but from the lingering echoes of laughter that had followed him here.
"Still swinging that thing?"
A sneer drifted from behind.
Three disciples leaned against a stone pillar, robes clean, expressions bored. One of them flicked a pebble toward Chu Feng's feet.
"You really think effort matters when talent decides everything?"
Chu Feng didn't turn.
He raised his sword again.
Slash.
The air split weakly. The movement was clumsy, imperfect.
Laughter erupted.
"Look at that form."
"Trash really does imitate trash."
The words hit—but they didn't stop him.
Chu Feng's grip tightened until his knuckles whitened.
If I stop… then they're right.
His arms burned. His legs shook. The sword felt heavier with every swing.
Lightning stirred faintly beneath his skin—restless, unstable, refusing to take shape.
"Again," he whispered.
Slash.
A sharper sound this time.
Not strong.
But cleaner.
The mocking voices faded as the disciples lost interest and walked away.
Silence returned.
Chu Feng lowered his sword, chest heaving. Sweat ran down his face, blurring his vision. His hands hurt. His body hurt.
His heart hurt more.
For a moment—just a moment—he thought of Astra.
Of calm eyes.
Of a hand on his shoulder.
Of someone who never laughed at him.
Chu Feng clenched his teeth.
I can't rely on that.
If I want to stand beside him again…
Lightning flickered—brief, uncontrolled—cracking along his arm and scorching the ground at his feet.
Chu Feng froze.
His breath caught.
"…That's it," he murmured.
The lightning faded almost instantly, but his heart was pounding now—not with fear.
With hope.
He raised his sword again.
No one was watching.
No one was guiding him.
No one was protecting him.
Good.
Then every step I take is mine.
Under the empty sky, a lonely bolt of lightning struck the ground—
Small.
Weak.
But real.
Spirit Queen POV Interlude
"The Sealed Queen Watches"
Darkness.
Not absence—
Containment.
The world beyond the seal was vast, noisy, inefficient.
The Spirit Queen rested within her prison of runes and laws, awareness folded inward like a sleeping storm. She could not act freely. Could not manifest.
But she could observe.
And what she observed… annoyed her.
"…He walks into chaos again," she murmured.
Through the faintest resonance, she sensed Astra's surroundings—the density of spirit energy, the weight of ambition, the clashing wills of countless young cultivators.
Too many eyes.
Too much greed.
"…Foolish mortal," she muttered. "…this place devours the weak."
Her awareness brushed against his foundation.
Stable.
Refined.
Unnaturally calm.
Not because of strength—
But because he did not fear being alone.
That irritated her most.
"…You should rely on me," she thought sharply.
The seal did not loosen.
She huffed.
"…No. Bad idea. Too early."
Her attention drifted—pulled by something faint, distant, irritatingly familiar.
Lightning.
Raw. Untrained. Stubborn.
The lightning child.
"…Him again," she scoffed. "…Still struggling."
Through resonance alone, she sensed Chu Feng—bleeding knuckles, shallow breathing, will stretched thin but unbroken.
The Spirit Queen was silent for a long time.
"…Idiot," she finally said.
Not with disdain.
With something closer to reluctant approval.
"He suffers without breaking. That is rare."
She felt Astra's path diverging—accelerating.
She felt Chu Feng's path lagging—grinding forward inch by inch.
"…Hmph. Fate is cruel," she muttered. "…pairing thunder with silence."
Her awareness returned inward, brushing against the seal.
Still intact.
Still firm.
"…Grow faster," she whispered—not to Astra alone, but to both boys.
"…This queen dislikes waiting."
The seal pulsed once.
The darkness settled.
And the Spirit Queen returned to watching—
Patient.
Proud.
And very much awake.