Having won his first battle against the Black Tied, Jonathan followed his master back to the mountain to continue his training. The clash had been intense, but it was only the beginning. He knew they would be hunting for him now, waiting for an opportunity to strike back. His only option was to keep growing stronger, to stay one step ahead. After proving his potential, it was only a matter of time before the Black Tied sent their most dangerous experts after him.
As he moved deeper into his training, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. The recent battle had sharpened him—his skills, his instincts, his understanding of his own body and energy—everything had clicked into place. His movements had become more fluid, more controlled, almost as if he'd been cultivating the spirit wind movements for years.
His master, a woman of few words but immense power, watched from atop a rock, her piercing eyes never leaving him. She was evaluating him as he practiced a new, advanced move from the spirit wind set—a technique that required nothing but pure internal energy and focused concentration. Unlike previous techniques where he relied on his staff, this one called upon his very essence.
"Focus, Jonathan," she instructed, her voice calm yet firm. "Concentrate your internal energy into the strike. Let it build, and then release it all at once."
Jonathan nodded, sweat trickling down his forehead as he prepared himself. He took a deep breath, grounding himself in the present moment. His body felt lighter, almost weightless, as he let his mind clear. The spirit wind movements were about more than technique—they were about balance, control, and understanding the flow of energy within himself and the world around him.
He exhaled slowly, gathering the internal energy within his body, coiling it like a spring ready to snap. With a burst of will, he extended his right hand forward.
"Spirit Wind Palm Strike!" Jonathan shouted, his voice cutting through the air.
A concentrated wave of energy shot through his palm, crackling like lightning. It sped toward a nearby tree at blinding speed. The tree shuddered, then exploded into splinters, the force of the strike leaving a deep crater in the earth.
Jonathan stared at the wreckage in awe. He had done it. The technique was a success.
His master smiled, a rare expression of approval, but her eyes remained sharp, calculating.
"Soon," she murmured to herself, almost too quietly for Jonathan to hear. "He will be ready."
Jonathan, his heart racing with excitement, turned to her. "Master, I did it! I finally got it right!"
The woman's smile was fleeting. "That's very good, Jonathan, but I need to warn you," she said, her tone turning serious.
"What is it, Master?" Jonathan asked, his voice filled with curiosity.
The woman raised an eyebrow, her gaze appraising him as though weighing his very soul. "Do you realize how low your energy is right now?"
Jonathan blinked, momentarily taken aback. He had felt a drain after executing the strike, but he hadn't fully realized the extent. His energy reserves were nearly depleted, and the force of the palm strike had left him feeling lightheaded.
"Even though the Spirit Wind Palm Strike is powerful," she continued, her voice level, "it consumes an enormous amount of energy. You must learn to use it wisely. Only when you're backed into a corner or when you're certain it will take out your opponent. If you miss, or if you overexert yourself, you will find yourself in a dangerous position."
Jonathan nodded, the reality of her words sinking in. He could feel the truth in her warning.
"Now," she said, turning to walk toward the cave entrance, "follow me. I'll prepare something to help you recover quickly."
Jonathan followed her, his mind racing. He had already learned a great deal, but there was still so much more to understand—both about his abilities and the danger that loomed on the horizon. The Black Tied would not rest until they had dealt with him, and he had to be ready.
---
At the Black Tied Sect Compound
Meanwhile, deep within the Black Tied Sect's compound, the sect's leader, Master Shimmer, sat in a dimly lit chamber. His expression was grim as he listened to the elders of the sect.
"Jonathan's victory against the disciple he challenged is not to be underestimated," Elder Karron said, his voice cold and dispassionate.
"He's more than we expected—a prodigy, perhaps. If he continues to grow at this rate, he will become a formidable enemy."
Master Shimmer nodded, his eyes narrowing. "We must take action before he becomes too powerful. It is clear that he is not an ordinary martial artist. But if he believes his strength is enough to deal with us, he is gravely mistaken."
"But how?" Elder Lira asked, her voice tinged with doubt. "He is still young, and while his abilities are impressive, he's inexperienced in true combat. We could send more assassins, but I think he's got someone aiding him.". She continued.
Shimmer's face turned cold when he remembered the woman who attacked his man at the market. He felt as if he could skin her alive.
"That lady must die."