The firelight crackled in the outer courtyard.
Disciples huddled together, eating warm rice, sharing tales of their matches. Some boasted about victories, others grumbled about unfair pairings. Laughter echoed beneath the open sky.
But Zeravon sat alone beneath the same twisted tree. His back against the trunk, knees pulled up, gaze lost in the moonlight.
His shoulder still ached faintly from Li Ziqiang's strike.
But it wasn't pain that disturbed him.
> *"Why didn't I fight back?"*
> *"Why did it feel… wrong?"*
He clenched his fist.
He didn't lack strength — not entirely. His body responded to techniques, his instincts were sharp. But whenever he tried to strike, something within him **hesitated**, as if another part of him whispered:
> *"Not yet. This isn't the time."*
---
**Next Morning — Training Fields**
Outer disciples resumed their basic formations. Some trained sword techniques. Others practiced breathing exercises to stabilize their Qi.
Zeravon stood alone at the far edge, slowly repeating a basic palm technique.
His movements were smooth — unnaturally so — but without **force**. Without **intent**.
> "Still moving like a shadow," someone scoffed.
It was **Ren Kuo**, a fellow outer disciple known for being loud and reckless. Two others flanked him — Tan Fei and Jia Sun, both stronger than average.
> "You think dodging one punch makes you a cultivator?" Ren laughed.
Zeravon ignored him.
> *"No anger. No fear. But also… no power."*
---
**Midday – Instructor Wei Observes from Afar**
Instructor Wei sipped his tea as he watched the disciples train. His sharp eyes narrowed when they landed on Zeravon.
> *"That boy's movements… they're too fluid for someone untaught."*
> *"But no cultivation pressure. No aura. Nothing."*
He frowned.
> *"He's either completely talentless... or something is binding him."*
---
**Late Afternoon – Friendly Spars Begin**
Some disciples voluntarily challenged each other before the next round of the tournament.
**Lin Feng**, a calm, serious disciple from the mountain edge district, stepped toward Zeravon.
> "Want to spar?" he asked, voice light but respectful.
Zeravon blinked, then nodded.
Lin Feng was already at **Third Layer Qi Vein Opening**, slightly above average. But he didn't attack arrogantly.
They stood facing each other on the dusty stone field.
A few gathered to watch.
> *Begin.*
Feng moved first — low stance, precise movement. He didn't go for the kill. Just a testing palm.
Zeravon parried it gently. Too gently.
Another strike. A low sweep. Feng spun and followed with a backward elbow.
Zeravon dodged again — perfect positioning, but **no counter**.
> "You're good," Feng said, panting a little. "But you never strike back."
Zeravon stood still. His hands lowered.
> "I don't know how," he said honestly.
Feng raised an eyebrow. "No one taught you?"
Zeravon shook his head.
> "My body remembers… but my mind doesn't."
---
**Elsewhere – A Hill Overlooking the Courtyard**
Elder Lin stood with arms crossed.
Beside him, a middle-aged woman in silver robes — **Elder Mei**, a spirit array specialist.
> "That boy's presence is strange," she said softly. "But he's not dangerous."
Lin disagreed silently.
> *He's not dangerous… yet.*
---
**Evening — Outer Quarters**
Zeravon sat again under the tree.
This time, **someone approached**.
"Hey," said a voice. Calm, friendly. It was **Yu Zhen**, a mild-tempered boy known for helping others.
> "You fought Lin Feng today, right?"
Zeravon nodded.
Yu Zhen sat beside him, offering a small wooden box.
Inside were three low-grade spirit stones and a ginseng bun.
> "Eat. You're too quiet to beg, and too strange to starve."
Zeravon smiled faintly. "Thank you."
For the first time… a **friend** had appeared.
---
**Far Beyond — The Golden Scroll**
The crack grew **just slightly wider**.
A voice whispered through the timeless dark:
> *"Let him make bonds…*
> *Let him learn weakness…*
> *Only then will his return mean something."*
---
**Back in the Courtyard**
Zeravon looked at Yu Zhen beside him.
> *"He's stronger than me."*
And he was.
Even **Ren Kuo**, loud and arrogant, was stronger.
Zeravon had no techniques.
No aura.
No roots awakened.
But within his calm gaze, a quiet truth waited:
> *"I will start from the bottom. I will walk this path."*
> *"I don't know who I was."*
> *"But I'll find who I want to be."*
---