The following days passed in a blur of relentless training, studying, and self-reflection. Hope’s body continued to grow stronger, his Qi refined with each breath, but there was something different now. The Path of Eternal Flesh had begun to make itself known.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. A subtle shift, a faint ache in his chest whenever he thought about the technique, but that was all.

He’d convinced himself that it was just his imagination, a product of his obsessive focus. But as the days wore on, the sensation deepened, turning into a gnawing hunger that couldn’t be satisfied.

Hope was in the training grounds again, standing in front of a large boulder, his fists clenched at his sides.

The morning air was still cool, but the sun had begun its slow climb into the sky. He could feel his pulse quickening, an energy stirring within him, not from the surrounding world, but from within his own body—unnatural, almost alien in its intensity.

This time he was standing in front of a rock wall, ready to punch it with all his strength and when his fist made contact with the wall his breath caught in his throat.

That strike had felt different.

More... powerful than it had any right to be. The sensation wasn’t just physical—it resonated with something deeper inside him, something that wasn’t quite him anymore.

"Hope, you’ve been training too much again," Jace's voice cut through his thoughts. His younger brother stood just beyond the training area, watching with a concerned expression. "You look... strange."

Hope blinked, his mind snapping back to the present. His hand trembled slightly as he lowered it. "I’m fine, Jace," he said, trying to hide the unease creeping into his voice. "Just trying to improve my control."

Jace stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "You don’t look fine. Something’s different about you. You’ve been like this for days—pushing yourself harder than ever. I don’t know if you should—"

"It’s nothing," Hope interrupted, a little too quickly. He could feel the hunger inside him stir again, demanding more. "I’m fine. You should focus on your own training."

But as Jace hesitated, Hope’s eyes flickered to the rock wall fragments littering the ground.

His brother had no idea how small that strike had felt compared to what was bubbling beneath his skin. He couldn’t afford distractions now—not when the path he was walking was so close to giving him the power he sought.

Still, Hope couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up on him.

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It was as if something was pulling at him, an invisible thread tied to something ancient and foreign.

The more he practiced, the more the sensation grew. And the more it grew, the harder it became to ignore the sense of detachment creeping into his thoughts.

Over the next few days, Hope found himself growing more distant from his family. At first, it was little things. He no longer spent as much time talking with Jace or his father, Castian. He avoided his sister, Ava, when she came to him with her usual questions about training. It wasn’t intentional—it just... happened.

Conversations seemed hollow, as if he couldn’t find the words to connect anymore. His focus was so consumed by the technique that everything else felt distant, as though it was happening in another world.

His body felt stronger than ever, his movements smoother, more fluid. His Qi flowed with a new power, a raw, untamed force that threatened to burst forth at any moment. Yet, despite the power surging within him, he felt strangely... empty.

The emptiness wasn’t a physical void—it was something deeper.

His emotions had become muted, distant. What used to make him smile, what used to make him laugh, now felt like distant memories, fading echoes of a time long past. Even his own family seemed like strangers at times.

He couldn’t explain it—he couldn’t put it into words—but it was as if a wall had slowly begun to build itself between him and the world.

Hope didn’t know what was happening, but he knew he couldn’t stop. Not now.

One night, after another grueling training session, he stood in front of the mirror in his room.

His reflection stared back at him, but it was strange—almost... unfamiliar.

His eyes were a little too sharp, his expression a little too cold. His skin was no longer the same, his muscles more defined, his features sharper. He looked stronger, yes, but he also looked... wrong.

As if the very essence of his being was shifting, transforming into something that no longer felt human.

He clenched his fist, feeling the pulse of power surging through his veins. But as he stared at his reflection, the hunger returned—darker now, deeper than before. It whispered to him, urging him forward, pushing him to embrace it fully.

To become something more.

Hope turned away from the mirror, swallowing hard.

He had to focus.

He had to finish his training.

But the hunger wouldn’t let go.

The next morning, Castian found Hope standing outside early, his body tense as he stared into the horizon.

Hope didn’t acknowledge his father at first, his eyes fixed on something far beyond the training grounds, beyond the estate. His mind felt foggy, his thoughts disjointed.

“Hope.” Castian’s voice was firm, his presence commanding. “You’ve been distant these past few days. You’re losing yourself in your training.”

Hope shook his head, trying to clear the haze clouding his mind. "I’m not losing myself. I’m just... focused." The words felt hollow as soon as they left his lips.

“Focus can be a dangerous thing if it isolates you from those around you,” Castian said, his gaze piercing through him.

“The cultivation path is not one you walk alone, son. You need to remember that.”

Hope looked at his father, but all he felt was emptiness—a void where there should have been connection. "I’ll be fine, Father. Don’t worry."

Castian didn’t press him further, but Hope could feel the weight of his gaze lingering, the unspoken concern. As his father turned to leave, Hope felt a strange sense of relief.

He didn’t want to be worried about. He didn’t want anyone asking questions.

And as his father’s footsteps faded into the distance, Hope’s gaze drifted back to the horizon. The technique was calling to him again, louder now, demanding his full attention.

He needed to push further.