Heads up for everyone who's followed along so far, once this chapter comes out it will be my birthday so won't have another chapter release until the next day but I'll be happy to say the next chapter will be a 2 chapter spicy scene so your gonna wanna wait for part two. Warning has been made hope yall enjoy this chapter. Power stones and golden tickets are appreciated and helps motivate me to continue writing!!!
The sound of metal clashing echoed through the courtyard as Bartlow relentlessly pushed Alex, the sparring session stretching into its third hour. Alex's body trembled under the strain, his muscles burning as he parried Bartlow's expert-level strikes. His breathing was labored, each inhale sharp and painful, but he refused to quit.
Bartlow fought with precision and speed, testing Alex's every limit. For the past few days, Alex had forced himself to endure, absorbing blows and taking hits, just to get in small counterattacks. Each time Bartlow's sword connected with his body, Alex retreated, casting heal to patch himself up, and diving back into the fight. His recovery abilities had improved, allowing him to last longer in battle, but it wasn't enough to land a decisive blow.
"You're learning to endure," Bartlow grunted, deflecting another one of Alex's attacks and delivering a swift strike that Alex barely managed to block. "But that won't be enough. You need more than just endurance."
Alex gritted his teeth, frustration gnawing at him. He tried everything—using his footwork, shifting his weight for quicker strikes, even tanking hits deliberately to create an opening—but Bartlow was relentless. No matter what he did, he couldn't gain the upper hand.
He could feel his body nearing its breaking point, his mind racing with strategies. Despite how hard he pushed himself, his system still registered him as a complete beginner in cultivation. It didn't make sense. With how far he'd come, how much stronger he felt, Alex knew he should be at least at the intermediate stage by now—maybe even beyond.
It's the system, Alex thought as he blocked another heavy blow from Bartlow. I think I know why I'm stuck.
He'd realized something strange: the only times he ever broke through to the next level in cultivation was when he killed something stronger than himself. The fight with the three-star bear had propelled him forward, but ever since then, his progress had plateaued. His system seemed to only recognize his weakest cultivation level—beginner—despite his strength and skills being far beyond that.
I'm already fighting at an expert level, Alex thought, frustration building. But I can't break through because the system won't let me until I kill something stronger.
And then there was the other issue—his spirit cultivation. From the moment he became a cultivator, his spirit had been at zero, and no matter how much training he did or how many beasts he killed, that hadn't changed. It gnawed at him, a constant reminder that there was a whole realm of his potential that he couldn't access.
Why couldn't he make any progress in spirit? Why was it always zero?
Before Alex could think further, Bartlow's sword came down hard, and Alex, exhausted, barely managed to block the strike. The force sent him staggering backward, his sword clattering to the ground. He collapsed, his chest heaving with exhaustion.
Bartlow stood over him, assessing his condition with a critical eye. "That's enough for today," he said, sheathing his sword. "You've pushed yourself hard, but collapsing like this won't help you win."
Alex groaned, trying to get his breathing under control. "I just… I need to be stronger…," he muttered. "If I can't beat you, how am I supposed to win at the ball?"
Bartlow extended a hand, helping Alex to his feet. "You're closer than you think," he said with a measured tone. "You're holding your own against someone fighting at the expert stage. That's no small feat, even if your cultivation level is still showing as a beginner."
Alex nodded, but the frustration was still there. He knew he was stronger than his system showed—he could feel it in his bones, in his strikes. But he couldn't break through, not without a real test.
"If you win at the New Year's ball," Bartlow continued, "you'll solidify your place among the nobles. They won't be able to deny your strength, even at a lower cultivation level. You'll have potential they can't ignore, and that'll keep Ruth safe from their power plays."
At the mention of Ruth, Alex's resolve hardened. He wasn't just doing this for himself—he was doing it for her. He couldn't afford to fail, not with so much at stake. He couldn't lose her like he had lost Melisa.
Bartlow gave Alex a sharp look. "But remember, the battles at the ball won't just be physical. There's politics at play too. You'll be fighting more than one kind of war. Ruth will be by your side, but it'll be up to you to make sure no one threatens her."
Alex clenched his fists. He knew Bartlow was right. No matter how much training he did, there were still unknowns he couldn't prepare for. But he was determined. No one would take Ruth from him. He would kill or die trying to protect her.
Just as the conversation was wrapping up, the door to the courtyard opened, and Ruth entered with a tray of food, her eyes immediately landing on Alex. Her gaze filled with concern as she saw the bruises and sweat covering him. She set the tray down and rushed to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him stand more comfortably.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," Ruth said gently, her voice filled with affection. "But I understand why you're doing it. You're going to be amazing, Alex. Let's get you fed."
Alex gave her a tired but grateful smile. "Thanks, Ruth. I'm just…trying to be ready. I don't want to let you down."
Ruth shook her head, her hand resting on his shoulder as she guided him to a chair. "You never let me down," she whispered. "You've done so much already."
Bartlow, observing the tender exchange, nodded approvingly. "Alex will be ready when the time comes. But tomorrow's a rest day," he said, looking at Alex. "No training. We leave for Duke Hamilton's the morning after."
Ruth helped Alex sit down at the table, placing a plate of food in front of him. She'd been doing this more and more lately—handling his chores, making sure he had everything he needed so he could focus entirely on training. It was her way of supporting him, knowing just how much was riding on his success at the ball.
Bartlow joined them at the table, quietly eating as Ruth and Alex exchanged small words of reassurance and affection.
"You've both come a long way," Bartlow remarked after a while. "Remember that this ball is about more than just the fight. It's about politics, alliances, and reputation. But with Ruth by your side, Alex, and your strength growing each day, I have no doubt you'll be ready."
Alex nodded, taking Bartlow's words to heart. He understood the stakes. He understood what it would mean if he failed. But he also understood that, with Ruth's unwavering support and Bartlow's guidance, he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.
After finishing their meal, Ruth helped Alex back to his room, guiding him with care as his body ached from the intense training. Once they reached his room, she helped him undress, assisting him into bed as they prepared for the night.
"I'll be here, like always," she whispered as she slid into bed beside him, cuddling close. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is for recovery."
Alex, exhausted but comforted by her presence, wrapped an arm around Ruth, holding her close. "Thank you, Ruth…for everything."
Ruth smiled, her body gently pressing into his as they drifted off to sleep together, their bond deepening with each passing day.