The creak of an old wooden chair scraping against stone echoed through the family council hall. Dim spiritual lamps cast flickering shadows of the elders dancing on walls adorned with ancestral paintings.
"DAMN IT!!!"
A thunderous voice shattered the silence—deep, furious, erupting from the far end of the long table.
"Who dares... who dares betray our family and sell the ancestral land map?! Has the blood we've protected for generations dried up, that we no longer recognize honor?!"
The elders lowered their heads—some exchanged wary glances, while others clenched their jaws to suppress their rage. A heavy tension blanketed the entire room.
Sitting on the right, calm-faced with piercing eyes fixed forward, Elder Pradipa finally spoke.
"Calm yourself… We must not lose control. If we act rashly and let this leak, suspicion will spread faster than light, and the family may fracture before external enemies even make their move."
He slowly rose, his voice firm yet composed.
"We investigate in silence. If the map truly has fallen into the wrong hands, then we consider our next step. Whether we proceed into the ancestral land without guidance… or delay once again."
Silence followed his words, until one elder nodded slowly.
"Your proposal makes sense, Pradipa. Better we bear this wound quietly, than let it fester and poison us from within."
Others nodded in agreement.
To the east of the forest ruled by the Baskara clan lies the Ancestral Land—a sacred site revered across generations. There, the ancestors of the family are buried, their bodies merging with the earth, and their spirits believed to protect the bloodline.
But the land is far from empty. Amid the ancient graves, grand temples rise—some swallowed by moss and time. The architecture is etched with ancient carvings, holding lost wisdom and ancestral teachings. The spiritual aura is so dense, the air itself seems to whisper.
This place is guarded by Resi Loka-class spiritual beings—high-tier entities in the supernatural hierarchy. They are not evil, but they fiercely protect the land from unworthy intruders. Every few seasons, however, these beings enter a sacred hibernation—a deep spiritual slumber during which the land lies unguarded.
According to family informants and infiltrators, that hibernation will begin in a few days.
It is the perfect opportunity—an opening long awaited, when they can infiltrate the grounds and claim the fabled treasure believed to be hidden in the courtyard of the oldest temple. A treasure marked on an ancient map passed down through generations.
But a crisis looms: the map has gone missing.
No one knows who last held it. Whispers of betrayal from within ripple through the halls.
In the family council chamber, the elders gathered with Elder Pradipa—the patriarch. With his spiritual strength at the final level of Resi Loka, Pradipa was appointed head of the family. Yet the other seven elders were no less significant—each selected by the ancestors themselves for their wisdom and leadership, not merely raw power.
Elder Wira Dharma, known for his wisdom, is at mid-level Soul Perfection.
Elder Aswina, master of spiritual medicine, is at the early stage of Soul Perfection.
Elders Cakra Dara and Phasta, twin warriors, both at early Resi Loka.
Elder Subhaga, guardian of the family's defense arts, also at early Resi Loka.
Elder Kirandi, the tactician, is at mid Resi Loka.
The meeting was tense, but orderly. After heated debate over the lost map, Elder Pradipa calmed the others and proposed that they investigate discreetly—without arousing suspicion among their own ranks.
After the council dispersed, Elder Pradipa remained still, eyes closed, activating his telepathy.
"Roni, investigate this. Check all CCTV footage from the last two weeks," he said silently.
"Yes, Elder," a voice responded from afar—Roni had received the command.
Pradipa then made his way out to have dinner with his grandson.
In the main house's living room, Elder Pradipa and Baskara sat together, enjoying a quiet meal. Afterward, Pradipa placed several martial arts manuals on the table before his grandson.
"This is the Flame Palm Manual," he said, setting it down. "A powerful and dangerous technique. If you can master it, you'll possess great strength."
Baskara picked up the manual, his eyes lighting up with curiosity and excitement.
"The Flame Palm has five stages," his grandfather continued. "In the first, you heat your palm. A strike will leave a painful burn, requiring cold-natured spiritual medicine to relieve."
"In the second, flames begin to manifest on your palm. The touch will scorch like living fire."
"The third… is even more formidable." Elder Pradipa gave a small smile.
"You'll be able to create a virtual hand from your spiritual energy. And from that stage onward, its size and power will only grow."
"By the fifth stage, the virtual hand will be engulfed in flame and explode on contact—devastating everything within dozens of meters."
Baskara swallowed hard, caught between awe and eagerness.
"May I start training tonight, Grandpa?" he asked, fired up.
Elder Pradipa nodded. "Of course. But remember, passion alone is not enough. Master it with a calm mind. Control your anger and desires at every stage."
"Yes, Grandpa," Baskara replied, clutching the manual tightly—ready to begin a new chapter in his path.