In what felt like the blink of an eye, ten years had passed. The sands of time had flowed swiftly, and Varla had grown into a strong young boy, brimming with vigor and energy. Fortunately for him, his body possessed exceptionally strong meridians—the spiritual pathways through which Qi flowed. These meridians acted like spiritual blood vessels, transporting Qi from the Sea of Qi—located in the belly—to every part of the body. The stronger one's meridians, the greater the intensity and amount of Qi they could produce, absorb, and expel.
"It has really been ten years since I arrived in this foreign realm… how quickly time has passed," Varla mused to himself. "Although… it's not as I initially assumed. I once thought humans were selfish and cruel. I wasn't entirely wrong, but I failed to notice that there were also kind souls among them."
At this moment, Varla was on his way to the training grounds for an intense session. Earlier that day, while meditating in his room, he had broken through to the first of ten levels of Body Tempering, a remarkable feat for someone his age. This was all thanks to his exceptionally strong meridians, which allowed his body to absorb Qi at an unusually high rate—far beyond that of any ordinary human. Eager to test his newfound abilities, he quickened his pace toward the training grounds.
However, on his way there, he had an unwanted encounter.
Quin.
His half-brother—five years older than him—was known for his arrogance and cruelty. Quin frequently picked fights with Varla, dragging him to the training grounds under the guise of "friendly sparring" only to use him as a human target for practice.
Varla clenched his fists but forced himself to remain calm. I've ignored him all these years because I didn't want to expose my celestial powers. But now… now that I've achieved the first level of Body Tempering, I can use my mortal Qi instead. But… would it be wise?
After a brief moment of contemplation, Varla made his decision.
"This time… I fight back."
Quin, the son of a noble house, was incredibly prideful. He believed that everyone—except for his parents and the Patriarch of Kratos—was beneath him. He only respected strength, and because Varla had never displayed his, Quin had never once treated him with an ounce of respect.
As usual, Quin smirked upon seeing Varla. He didn't bother hiding his animosity. In an arrogant tone, he sneered,
"Well, I suppose even worms must train."
Then, he continued mockingly,
"Would you like your benevolent older brother to be your sparring partner?"
Varla smiled—his expression calm, betraying none of his true intentions.
"I would love that, Quin."
Quin raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. Usually, he had to force Varla into these matches, but today, Varla had agreed willingly.
"Maybe he's finally learned his place," Quin mused foolishly, unaware of the fact that Varla had leveled up.
With that, the two made their way to the training grounds.
---
A Battle Begins
The sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the expansive training ground. The air was thick with the distant sounds of cultivators practicing their techniques. However, at the center of the arena, all eyes were fixed on Varla and Quin.
The two stood opposite each other.
The afternoon sun highlighted the determination in Varla's stance, his focus unwavering. Across from him, Quin wore a confident smirk, twirling his blade lazily in one hand.
"Oh? I hope you're not scared of the blade, Varla," Quin mocked.
Varla's eyes gleamed. "Let's see if you can back up your arrogance."
Quin's smirk widened. "I'll show you." Raising his blade into a ready stance, he added, "Don't hold back, little brother."
With a sudden burst of speed, Varla attacked.
His movements were fluid and precise, his Qi surging through his body as he aimed a powerful punch at Quin's midsection.
Quin reacted swiftly, parrying with his blade before sidestepping to avoid the impact. He countered with a swift slash, but Varla was already anticipating the move. He dodged gracefully, then lashed out with a kick, aiming for Quin's legs.
Quin leapt into the air, barely avoiding the kick. He landed a few feet away and scoffed.
"Not bad," he admitted, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "But you'll have to do better."
Varla's determination sharpened.
He raised his hands, channeling his Qi. A swirling vortex of energy crackled around him. Then, with a fierce cry, he unleashed the attack, sending a torrent of energy hurtling toward Quin.
Quin stood his ground, channeling his own Qi to form a protective barrier. The two forces collided, creating a dazzling shower of sparks.
For a moment, they seemed evenly matched.
But Varla did not relent.
He poured more power into his attack, his body trembling with exertion. Quin's barrier began to crack.
Quin's confidence wavered. Alarm flickered across his face.
With one final push, Varla's energy broke through the barrier, slamming into Quin with full force.
Quin was launched backward, skidding across the training ground.
Varla stood tall, panting. He watched as Quin struggled to his feet, battered and bruised.
"Yield, Quin," Varla said firmly. "This fight is over."
Quin's fists clenched. Rage and frustration burned in his eyes. But after a moment, he gritted his teeth and nodded.
"You win, Varla," he admitted, his voice tinged with resentment.
Varla turned away, satisfied.
But suddenly—
A surge of Qi erupted behind him.
Varla's instincts screamed. Time seemed to slow as Quin, consumed by anger, gathered all the Qi he could muster and hurled a blast of energy toward Varla's unprotected back.
Varla's body reacted on its own.
The hairs on his skin stood on end. A red glow enveloped him.
At the last moment—he moved.
Using his left foot as a pivot, Varla rotated his body and slapped the Qi blast with his bare hand.
The air cracked as the blast veered off course—but with greater speed and force.
Straight toward Quin.
Quin's eyes widened in horror.
The blast connected—striking him just below the ribs.
BOOM!
The thunderous explosion echoed across the arena. A cloud of dust engulfed Quin's position.
When it settled…
Quin lay motionless, his body sprawled across the ground—his face pressed against the pavement.
Defeated.