Tomorrow morning.

"Uh..."

"..."

There was a confused look on Yeong-jeon's face, no different from Dong-rae's.

"What is... this?"

In-su, when the morning came, led the two of them to the training grounds. And to their surprise, the disciple woke up earlier than them.

Dong-rae kept his mouth shut and waited for In-su to answer Yeong-jeon's question. Both of them knew what was happening. But both of them denied that fact and needed clarification.

Perhaps it is because he was a beggar and watched many duels on the streets. Maybe he was setting his bar a little too high. Needless to say, he can't help but ask.

"How long has it been since they've last descended these mountains?..."

"Ah, we have everything we need in these mountains. We don't descend too much."

"..."

Yeong-jeon observed the disciples training 'diligently'. On the podium, Soo-yeon, holding a wooden sword, was performing what seemed to be a dog wagging its tail.

'Strange... Why is a fellow lower-class disciple teaching its peers?'

Yeong-jeon grabbed his chin and glanced at In-su.

"Why is a lower-class disciple leading the training?" Yeong-jeon asked, his voice filled with skepticism as he gestured toward Soo-yeon, who was struggling to perform basic movements.

In-situ smiled at the question and placed his hands on either side of his hip proudly.

"Ah, Soo-yeon. She's a promising disciple. She holds the greatest talent here."

There was a disgusted look on Yeong-jeon's face as In-su's words reached his ear. But when In-su turned back to him, he smiled and gave a nod.

'Talent, my ass...'

But the name Soo-yeon rang a bell inside him. A familiar name.

'Soo-yeon? That's her name? Sounds familiar.'

After a few moments, In-su urged the two children to join their fellow disciples. As Yeong-jeon approached, the disciples all shot a glare toward him. They couldn't forget what this madman did to them especially the beautiful lady on the podium.

Soo-yeon kept her gaze on Yeong-jeon for a while. In-su had already left the area, so, as the instructor, she ought to use her power.

"What are you two numbskulls doing?! Grab your swords tight and follow my movements!"

"..."

Yeong-jeon's eyes narrowed as Soo-yeon barked out her order, her tone filled with authority that didn't match her lackluster skill. He could feel the resentment from the other disciples directed toward him and Dong-rae, but he paid it no mind. They were weak, undisciplined—insults from them were like the wind, something to brush aside.

Dong-rae reluctantly picked up a wooden sword, following the motions halfheartedly, though his expression was anything but impressed. Yeong-jeon, however, stood still, wooden sword hanging loosely in his hand, watching Soo-yeon's clumsy movements with thinly veiled disdain.

***

"Father, how long are we going to keep isolated in here?"

"Yeong-jeon, you have to memorize 8 more volumes! Quit complaining, we'll get out of this cave once you do."

After that, his father started to recite a textbook worth of martial arts. It was strange, although his father was never holding a textbook, he was reciting it perfectly without stuttering.

Yeong-jeon was getting thrown with this information without a break; well, it was no problem for the most part; he possessed great talent, and with that, he also needed to adjust his training accordingly.

"Father, why can't you just write all of it and hand it to me?"

"That will not happen."

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"Why?"

"It's our tradition, passed through generations. Our ancestors will not risk our martial arts leaking out and being known by everyone."

"..."

***

Yeong-jeon sighed as he remembered that moment in the cave. His father, ever stern and traditional, had forced him to memorize countless martial techniques. His reasoning was clear: the art should live only within the minds of those worthy, passed down orally to prevent it from being stolen or diluted.

Here, there was no strict discipline, no relentless memorization of techniques, no sacred arts. Instead, he found himself surrounded by a sect that seemed... sloppy.

He glanced at another disciple beside him and asked.

"What happened to the Seven Lightning Stances...?"

"The what...?"

Yeong-jeon's brows furrowed at the disciple's confused response. The Seven Lightning Stances… How could they not know it? It was one of the most fundamental techniques in the Thunderous Sky Sect—one that defined their lightning-fast strikes. Yet, here, it seemed like it had been forgotten, lost to time or incompetence.

This sect, which had once stood as a pillar of martial prowess, was now reduced to this—disciples who didn't even know their own legacy.

His mind raced. What has happened to the Thunderous Sky Sect? Has it truly fallen so far that even its core techniques have vanished?

Something inside him wanted to blame himself... No, he was already blaming himself from the day he was reborn. If at least one disciple survived from the past, would they have been able to pass the core techniques?

No, it is his fault...

But the past is still shrouded in mystery. The Shaolin defeating the Heavenly Demon? Impossible. Even the bald bastards of the past would not even dream of doing such a thing. He wanted to know. But something had to come first.

The day started moving like a fleeting bird. And the sun sunk into the west. It was quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the cicadas and a certain someone on the tree that was swaying gently in the evening breeze, lost in thought.

"Ah... Look at the stars."

Yeong-jeon, who was lying atop a tree branch, observed the twinkling stars above. The other disciples had gone to sleep, including Dong-rae.

'Look at that...'

This would've been a great sight to stare at if he had his father at his side. This thought only made his smile waver for a moment.

And he stood up, jumping off the branch. He glanced around, looking if someone saw him. If it was the past, there would be someone that would've seen him. The sect was lively at that time, and everybody was training day and night, only recovering through pills.

'Pills?'

The Thunderous Sky Sect was home to the greatest physician to ever walk on Earth. And every disciple would at least carry 10 pills on their sleeves at the time of emergency.

Yeong-jeon glanced at an empty spot on the mountain. There was once a medicine hall that stood there. He sighed.

'Can't believe that we don't even have a local doctor here. What if the disciples get injured, huh?!'

He groaned he was getting exhausted by these problems that he had to fix.

'Why can't you come back here too, huh?!'

He shot a glare at the heavens.

'...'

'I mean... You always fix the sect's problems...'

If it had been his father who stood in his position right now, his father would have solved all these issues long before he could even ponder a solution.

-Sometimes, Yeong-jeon, you just need to rely on nothing but yourself.

Back then, his father had made everything seem so effortless, like the weight of the sect, and its responsibilities were no burden at all. But now, standing alone beneath the vast sky, Yeong-jeon felt the crushing weight of those same responsibilities pressing down on him.

"Rely on myself, huh?" He muttered, rubbing his neck. "Easier said than done, old man."

He took a deep breath and looked around again, the ruins of the once-great sect all too clear in the moonlight. It wasn't just the medicine hall that had disappeared—the spirit of the sect had faded as well. The fierce discipline, the drive to be the best, the unyielding sense of duty—all of it had withered away.

The more he thought about it, the more infuriated he became. He had come back to something far less than the glorious Thunderous Sky Sect he remembered, and the pitiful state of its current disciples only rubbed salt into the wound. They were soft, weak, and undisciplined—nothing like the warriors who once trained in these mountains.

A breeze passed, rustling the leaves of the tree he had jumped from. For a moment, Yeong-jeon felt a strange emptiness wash over him, a loneliness he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge before.

'I thought I'd feel alive again, coming back here.'

No one knew him and no one he knew was around him. This all felt cold within his heart, like being submerged in a pit of nothingness. There was no one he could cling to now.

'But all I feel is… hollow.'

He looked up at the stars again, feeling that familiar sting of regret.

"I should've listened more, huh?" he whispered. "Maybe then I'd know what to do."

The wind picked up again, cooler this time, and Yeong-jeon sighed. There was no point dwelling on it now. All he could do was push forward, even if the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty.

"I'll figure it out, old man," he muttered, clenching his jaw. "I don't need anyone to hold my hand."

He glanced at an empty forest and slowly walked toward its direction. If someone wished to rule, power would be a necessity. Right now, he had nothing and no foundation to build his tower on.

As he arrived in the middle of the forest, he sighed, looking around for a spot to lean on. Seeing a tree, he approached it. Along his way, he encountered a small sapling surrounded by the tall trees.

"Hm."

"Strange..."

Yeong-jeon knelt down beside the sapling, his fingers brushing the delicate leaves. In contrast to the towering, ancient trees around it, this small, fragile thing seemed out of place—vulnerable, yet resilient.

"How did you manage to grow here?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. The sapling, nestled in a patch of dirt, seemed to defy the odds, thriving in a place where everything else had either withered or stood stagnant.

Yeong-jeon closed his eyes and placed his hand on the ground beside the sapling, feeling the faint pulse of qi beneath the earth.

Yeong-jeon sat down next to the sapling, resting his back against one of the larger trees. He focused his breath, closing his eyes as he began to draw in the natural qi around him.

His body was as weak as a twig. And any harsh training put onto it would only worsen his condition. If he wished to recover faster from training, he had to build his internal qi first.

Nature, to be more specific, trees and plants, all had qi inside them like any other living being. But what separates them is that they don't fully embrace it. Meaning that everyone could borrow it from them.

As he sat, his legs crossed, leaning on the tree, the teaching of his father resounded in him once more. And subconsciously, he repeated his word.

"Energy could not be created nor destroyed. Everything is in flow. You can't take, only borrow. Once you borrow it, it'll find its way back to it."

Yeong-jeon closed his eyes, resting his back against the tree as he felt its presence. The cool night air carried the scent of pine and earth, calming his restless thoughts. He inhaled deeply, letting the quiet of the forest envelop him.

The idea seemed so simple, yet profound. In the past, when he had been the Reverend Thunder, he had never needed to think twice about such things. His power had been vast, his strength undeniable. But now, with this frail, unfamiliar body, everything felt foreign.

He took a deep breath and focused on the flow of qi around him. The tree's quiet life force pulsed gently, the energy subtle but persistent. He concentrated, feeling the natural qi seep into his body like a slow, steady current. The exhaustion in his limbs began to ease, the weight on his chest lightening.

As the moments passed, the qi from the tree mingled with his own, circulating through his meridians. The faint ache in his body began to fade, replaced with a growing sense of calm.

His hands relaxed on his knees, and his breathing steadied. The forest, the night, the stars above—they all seemed to hum in quiet unity as if the universe itself acknowledged his presence.

Yeong-jeon opened his eyes, gazing up at the canopy of trees. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He graced his navel, sensing the faint glow of his dantian.

"It may start off small and weak. But to learn how to walk, one must learn how to crawl."

This is his first step; the step for his sect to regain its former glory. He can't rush it all nor he can't take it slow. A medium pace, that'll suffice. After that, he made his way back to the boarding house.

Tak!

A young man set down a map of Chengdu on the table. A few steps ahead of it lay a stair that led to a stair where a man with a crest with nine wavy lines, resembling a river.

They were members of the Nine Rivers Sect.

The young man who had set down the map spoke, pointing at a specific spot on the mountains. It was where the Thunderous Sky Sect resided.

"Father, this sect has long been mingling in our territory for years. Isn't it time to kick them out?"

"Let them reside within their mountains for a little while longer. Their strength is nothing compared to ours, and they're practically at the brink of collapse."

"But, father! They're housing my sister. And although they're declining, they're still gathering some disciples. Let's utilize this weakness and expand our grab over Chengdu!"

"Don't worry, Soo-jin. We'll forcefully make them hand over their territory. Just wait."