Next-generation super-talent level martial artists were practicing together at the center of the vast training grounds under the looming compound walls of the heavy imposing Chen family. Each one of them was mastering their skills, with the air vibrating with energy as prodigies from renowned families strained themselves up to the limits.
---
**The Chen Family - Chen Han's Shadow Strike**
Under the soft rays of the sun rising, Han took a stance in the middle of the secluded training ground of the Chen family. His feet were secured on the ground, and though his body was poised to burst, it still held an alert condition from his narrowed eyes and eased breathing as he moved his pupils to focus fully on the target set before him—a huge wooden dummy erected a few meters away.
"Shade Strike," he murmured to himself, softly.
As the first moves forward, it seems that airwaves around the hand. The skin of his knuckles was covered with a faint, dark aura so that it gave the impression of having caused a chill in the air. After the connection of his fist with the dummy, a shockwave of energy of shadow radiates out, making the wood creak from the force. But it did not shatter or disintegrate; the surface seemed instead to decelerate for an instant as if darkness itself had entered the wood.
His attacks are soft, technically. The shadow energy was constraining the cold, freezing his target for just a split second, and he could hit again.
He reminded himself that the issue was not about crushing power but about opening creation. Each blow, every shadow must, in principle, offer a possibility for his opponent to err.
Taking a step back, Han wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed the dummy. The chill in his strikes had begun to bear fruit; the movements of the dummy were slow, the surface where he struck a little more fragile than before. A small grin spread out on Han's face.
A voice cut in. "I see you are practicing, Han."
Han turned to find his father standing directly behind him, his face unreadable. "Master," Chen Han said, bending his head in a token gesture of obeisance.
"Your Shade Strike is better," he stated, his voice a noncommittal tone that still held approval.
"And you know what I'm going to say next-refine it more. It must become instinctive, like breathing."
"I shall, Father," Han replied.
"I shall make it instinctive."
---
**My Family - Wei's Stone Fist**
In the training grounds, within the Ma family's arena, Wei prepared himself for an entirely other kind of obstacle. The ground was strewn with giant boulders, plates of stone, and large wooden poles positioned in calculated patterns. Neal stood near the center as he took a deep breath and called out the energy that lay quietly inside his body.
"Stone Fist."
A deep thudding echoed through the earth as Wei's body began to glow gently with orange energy of a very deep hue. His fists clenched tight, and the air around him appeared to harden.
He felt power building in his arms like the skin had turned into rock, as he clenched his fists. Anytime he began to move, speed fused with savagery.
Wei struck one of the gigantic boulders with his fist; a terrible quiver ran through the earth. His punch issued forth in a deafening crash through the air as a shattering crack tore straight through the stone fragments hurled themselves about the arena. Wei's breathing remained steady, and his body stood firm like the rock itself.
"Good," said a voice behind him.
Wei turned, his eyes meeting the stern gaze of his uncle, watching from the sidelines. "Uncle," he acknowledged with a nod.
"Good, Your Stone Fist technique is improving, Wei, his uncle said. "But remember that's not just brute strength, more power, you must learn to control the flow of energy.".
Wei clenched his fists. "I will do it, Uncle,"
---
Zhang Family - Ren's Flame Guard
Ren stood well out onto the very edge of the Zhang family estate, back by a giant open field, with his arms up towards heaven as he focused in on sealing that energy with an impassive expression on his face. Heat began shooting out of his body as fire moved to surround him, encasing him in some sort of otherworldly flame that flickered and danced.
"Flame Guard."
It was no wild blaze that seized Ren. Instead, it was some thin film of heat that shimmered right above his skin. Every motion made waves with the flames as he walked through, and the air around him rippled to shimmer wherever the heat distorted his outline, so making him seem circled by a soft yet intense barrier.
As Ren spun and leaped, honing his style, he saw coming toward him a sparring partner. His face was masked, and Ren had no question of what was coming at him.
That masked opponent came at him so sharply, first in speed and second in accuracy, but before reaching Ren, the flames that surrounded him erupted very sharply; therefore, that opponent had to step back and frantically wave their arms to avoid the intense heat.
"Impressive," Ren thought to himself silently, focusing his attention on his opponent.
"However, I have more to draw from."
---
Qing Ye - Petal Dance
Standing at the heart of this small clearing of the secret retreat of the Zhang, Qing Ye raised her hand; her face is serene; meanwhile, her energy cascades down like a water overflow.
The air is full of the fragrance of the blooming flowers. The wind whispers through the leaves.
"Petal Dance."
Subtle, delicate energy left her hands a beehive of smaller, translucent petals whirled about her. They gleamed with a strange luminosity, like delicate fragments of stardust caught on the soothing breeze, to be borne outward and carried off in a gentle manner to circle about her, a very tranquil tempest.
As they gained experience, they did not only build up a radiant presentation; they represented much more than what met the eye.
Anyone trapped by their atmosphere would feel a subtle, draining effect—an almost imperceptible diminishment of one's will.
The petals danced all about her in a swirl of color, beautiful and deadly at the same time. Subtly ordering the petals to move in one syncopated motion created an unbreakable wall about her. Behind closed doors, it would have looked like something one would imagine in a fairy tale, but under that Qing knew this dance represented something more than just the simple defense.
It was strategically played.
"Even servants and commoners like this method," Qing Ye said softly. "But they do not know the real impact.
The petals obscure the enemy's vision and hinder their movements as well, so I gain the advantage."
---
A Dark, Whispering Room
In a secret room, quite away from the families' training grounds, whispers echoed in the darkness. The candles lit up dimly the flickering of shadows inside the small, dimly lit room.
At a table, hooded figures convened while cloaked faces hid in darkness.
"It's started," one of them whispered, low and tense.
Another figure spoke up, his voice a low whisper. "Yes. But we need to act fast. If the others get wind of it, it'll be over." "We are ready for this," said the third one, their voice confident, yet laced with tension.
"The families are tied up with their preparations, their own strategies. They won't be prepared for us."
The first figure leaned forward, the breath was shallow. "Do you have the thing?" A heavy silence fell in the room, full of anticipation.
Then one of the figures nodded slowly. "It is in place. Everything is ready."
The veiled ones did glance at each other; thoughts did weave through the maze of mystery and intrigue.
"The storm is coming," a soft whispering was said by the first figure, which heralded darkness, that of the impending storm. "Tomorrow, we go further."
Then again, the room was filled with silence save for the soft crackle of candle flames whose flame flickered against the darkening walls. --- The stage was set, and the winds of fate started to shift.