Days turned into weeks, and Jun Qinguang settled into his new life at Tianyongheng Sect. The residence on the other side of Hefenghu Peak, where Yao Huaijin had left him, was quiet and isolated. It was a modest abode, surrounded by towering pines and ancient rocks, with a narrow path that wound its way through the forest, leading to a small courtyard. The serenity of the place was a stark contrast to the life Jun Qinguang had once led as the Demon Lord, where every day was a battle, either against enemies or against the ever-present threat of betrayal.
Yao Huaijin was a rare presence. Jun Qinguang would see him from time to time, a distant figure in white robes, often by the lake, or sometimes walking the paths of Hefenghu Peak with the same measured steps that had brought him to Jun Qinguang's bedside the day he was saved. Despite being accepted as Yao Huaijin's disciple, Jun Qinguang found that his master had little interest in imparting wisdom or guidance. The rare moments when Yao Huaijin did speak to him were brief and to the point, leaving Jun Qinguang to his own devices.
To an outsider, it might have seemed as though Jun Qinguang was neglected, but he found himself content with this arrangement. The peace and quiet allowed him the space to contemplate his next moves. He knew that rushing his cultivation would only arouse suspicion, especially from someone as perceptive as Yao Huaijin.
Every morning, Jun Qinguang would rise before dawn, practising the sword techniques that Yao Huaijin had briefly demonstrated in their initial meetings. Though he was more than capable of mastering them on his own, he took care to pace himself, not wanting to reveal his true strength too soon. The techniques were different from what he had known, focusing more on precision and control rather than raw power, but they were no less effective.
In the afternoons, Jun Qinguang would retreat to his quarters, where he would meditate on the demonic cultivation manual that had been his secret weapon in his past life—Shadow Veil Cultivation Manual. This manual was known only to the most feared demonic cultivators and had allowed him to ascend to power rapidly. The techniques within it were brutal and demanding, drawing power from the dark corners of the soul and the deepest fears of the heart. But Jun Qinguang was no stranger to such practices. The Soul-Shackling Tome had once been the key to his dominance, and now, it was the key to his return.
He practised the techniques in secret, taking care to mask his spiritual energy so that it would not be detected. In this tranquil place, surrounded by the purity of the sect's spiritual energy, he found it almost too easy to advance. The dense spiritual energy of the Tianyongheng Sect, combined with the potent methods of the Shadow Veil Cultivation Manual, allowed him to recover much of his lost strength quickly. But he restrained himself, knowing that any sudden leaps in power would draw unwanted attention.
Jun Qinguang also kept a close eye on Yao Huaijin, trying to learn more about the enigmatic man who had taken him in. Yao Huaijin was an enigma—a man of few words who seemed more comfortable in the company of his sword than in the company of others. Despite his cold demeanour, there was something about him that intrigued Jun Qinguang, something that made him wonder what lay beneath that icy exterior.
The days passed, and Jun Qinguang's routine became a delicate balance between genuine cultivation and the concealment of his true nature. He would occasionally seek out Yao Huaijin, asking for guidance on some trivial matter or another, just enough to keep up appearances. Yao Huaijin's responses were always brief, almost dismissive, but never unkind. It was clear that Yao Huaijin had no interest in playing the role of a traditional master, yet there was an underlying sense of responsibility that Jun Qinguang could sense.
Despite the distance between them, Jun Qinguang knew that Yao Huaijin was watching him, perhaps not with suspicion but with a certain guardedness. It was as if Yao Huaijin was waiting for something, though what that was, Jun Qinguang could not yet discern.
The moonlight gently illuminated the lake, its surface still and reflective, mirroring the calmness of the night sky. Jun Qinguang stood by the water, lost in thought, the quiet of the surroundings allowing him to ponder his next steps with clarity.
In the distance, the silhouette of Yao Huaijin was faintly visible through the window of his residence, where he sat engrossed in a book. The residence, elevated above the lake, provided a panoramic view of the tranquil waters, though Yao Huaijin's focus was entirely on the ancient tome in his hands.
Yao Huaijin's study was filled with the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional flicker of candlelight. He was deeply absorbed in the text, his concentration was so complete that he remained unaware of Jun Qinguang's presence outside.
Jun Qinguang, standing by the lake, was immersed in his own thoughts. The calm of the night and the serene beauty of the lake offered him a moment of introspection. His face, illuminated by the moonlight, revealed a mixture of resolve and contemplation.
As he finally turned away from the lake and made his way back to his quarters, the faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. He was adapting to his new role as a dutiful disciple better than he had expected. The night had been quiet, but it had not been without purpose.