Lian woke up in silence.

No groan escaped his lips.

No sharp inhale.

No muttered words.

He simply opened his eyes.

The small side room was the same—stone walls etched with precursor runes, faint orange glow seeping under the heavy door, the distant crackle of the forge fire somewhere beyond. Chains still circled his wrists and ankles, but they felt lighter now, almost irrelevant.

He sat up slowly, back against the cold wall.

His body was still injured—ribs cracked, leg fractured, deep bruises blooming across his torso—but the pain had dulled to a distant throb. He could feel the Star Forge Core humming steadily inside his dantian, no longer fractured or leaking, but stable and deep.

He closed his eyes again.

No sound.

No movement.

Just breathing—slow, even, controlled.

Three days.

That was how long he had been unconscious inside his own inner domain.

Three days of brutal beating, of the double’s mocking laughter, of the ancient watcher’s silent observation.

Only three days.

Outside, in the real world, time had barely moved.

He remained perfectly still.

Legs crossed.

Hands resting on his knees.

The chains clinked softly once, then fell silent.

He began to meditate.

Not the gentle circulation he had practiced before.

This was deeper.

He turned inward.

First, he assessed the cost of reconstruction.

The new hand had regrown perfectly, but the energy required had been immense. A missing limb wasn’t just flesh and bone—it was meridians, Qi pathways, neural connections. He had burned through a staggering amount of Qi to rebuild it from nothing. If he lost another limb, or suffered worse damage, he would need far more energy than he currently possessed.

He accepted the truth without emotion.

Power had a price.

He would pay it.

Then he recalled the fight.

Every movement.

Every exchange.

He replayed it frame by frame in his mind—slow, deliberate, analytical.

The double’s speed.

Its mocking footwork.

The way it used telekinesis—not crude pushes or pulls, but precise, invisible strikes that felt like physical kicks and blows. The force had been immense, far beyond any telekinetic user he had seen in the academy or the tournament. It manipulated the air itself like a weapon, turning momentum and gravity into extensions of its will.

Lian studied it.

He broke down the angles.

The timing.

The way the double layered telekinesis with physical strikes to create unavoidable combinations. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

He practiced the movements mentally.

First slowly.

Then faster.

He felt how the double had compressed Qi into invisible points, then released them with surgical intent.

He absorbed the technique.

Made it his own.

Six hours passed in complete silence.

Lian did not move.

Did not speak.

Did not open his eyes.

The only sound in the room was the faint drip of water somewhere far above and the steady rhythm of his own breathing.

Inside, the Star Forge Core spun faster.

The reconstructed pathways widened.

The stolen vision Qi from the Reaper scout sharpened further, allowing him to see the flow of energy even within his own body.

The telekinetic insights settled into his muscle memory.

And then—

The breakthrough came.

Not with a roar.

Not with a flash of light or dramatic explosion.

It came as a quiet, profound shift.

The inner core—already at Stellar Circuit Middle—suddenly expanded.

Meridians opened wider.

Qi surged like a river breaking its banks.

Stellar Circuit Late.

The aura that radiated from him was new.

Profound.

Deep blue, almost indigo, with threads of silver running through it like starlight.

It wasn’t flashy.

It didn’t shake the walls or crack the runes.

It simply filled the small room—calm, heavy, unstoppable.

Even through the reinforced door and the Qi-suppress field, the others felt it.

Elara, sitting outside with her back against the stone, straightened suddenly. Her blue cyber eyes widened slightly. She placed a hand on the door.

The old blacksmith paused mid-swing, hammer frozen above the anvil. His gray eyes narrowed, then softened with quiet pride.

The healer woman looked up from her tools, green-aug arms glowing as she scanned toward the room.

The aura washed over them all—steady, controlled, deeper than anything Lian had emitted before.

Inside the room, Lian opened his eyes.

No dramatic flare.

No shout of triumph.

He simply unfolded his legs.

The chains around his wrists and ankles clicked once... then fell away, runes dimming as the suppress field could no longer contain him.

He stood up slowly.

His body was still injured, but the new realm had already begun accelerating the healing process. Bones knit faster. Bruises faded. The deep internal damage stabilized.

He walked to the door.

No rush.

No sound.

He placed his palm against the heavy metal.

The runes flared once in protest... then surrendered.

The door blew open with a powerful but controlled burst of Qi.

Wood and stone fragments scattered into the corridor.

Lian stepped out.

Calm.

Silent.

His new profound aura surrounded him like a second skin—deep blue with silver threads, steady and unyielding.

Elara rose to her feet immediately, blade still in hand, but she did not raise it.

The old blacksmith lowered his hammer.

The healer watched with quiet amazement.

Lian looked at them one by one.

His void eyes were the same—dark, deep—but something new burned behind them.

Stronger.

Clearer.

Ready.

He had crossed another threshold.

And the path ahead had just become much wider.