The puppet's glowing azul eyes shifted between the three of them, its smooth, featureless face betraying no emotion as it spoke. "Now, if you will follow me."
Its tone was calm but carried an unspoken command, leaving little room for argument. The puppet turned without waiting for a response, its movements fluid and deliberate as it began to glide toward a doorway that materialized on the far side of the chamber.
As they stepped into the glowing hallway, the air seemed to shift, charged with a faint hum of energy. Silas kept his focus forward, gripping his staff as he tried to steady his thoughts, but the quiet footsteps behind him made his unease grow. Amelia's voice cut through the silence, sharp and direct.
"What exactly is a technique?" she asked, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity.
The puppet stopped abruptly, turning its smooth, featureless head toward her. Its glowing azul eyes flickered faintly as it replied, "A technique is a means of channeling the Dao and spiritual energy with precision, focus, and intent."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Instead of...?"
"Instead of fumbling with it as you have been," the puppet said, its tone flat and unyielding.
Silas blinked, glancing at Amelia, then back at the puppet. The words hung in the air for a moment, and he felt his grip tighten on the staff almost reflexively. It was hard to argue with the puppet's blunt assessment—his approach to cultivation had been anything but polished. But hearing it laid out so flatly? That stung just a little.
"Fumbling," he muttered under his breath, his tone dry. "Nice."
The red-haired man let out a short laugh, though it was less boisterous than before. "Fumbling, huh? Speak for yourself, lady," he said, shooting Amelia a grin. "Still, gotta hand it to you, Puppet Man. You've got a way with words."
The puppet tilted its head slightly, its glowing eyes fixing on the red-haired man. "You, too, are fumbling."
The man's grin wavered, and he raised his hands in mock surrender, a faint smirk lingering on his face. "Alright, alright. Point taken. Guess there's room for improvement." He tapped the hilt of the saber at his side, the blade slightly curved and designed for broad, sweeping strikes. "But hey, I've been carving my way through. Pretty sure the results speak for themselves, yeah?"
The puppet didn't respond, its attention already shifting back to the path ahead.
Amelia didn't react to his words, her sharp eyes narrowing as she turned her focus back to the puppet. "So this technique… it's specific to the Dao we're cultivating?"
"Yes," the puppet replied, continuing its measured pace down the hall. "The technique provided will align with the Dao you resonate with most. It is tailored to enhance your connection and control, allowing you to wield your strength with greater efficiency."
Silas let the explanation settle in silence. Something tailored to the Dao? The idea was intriguing.
The hallway stretched on, its walls shimmering faintly, and the faint hum of energy grew louder with each step. The red-haired man rubbed his arms absently, glancing at the puppet now and then as though expecting another surprise. Amelia walked silently, her eyes darting between the puppet and the faint lights ahead, her posture balanced but ready.
"You coming, kid?" the red-haired man called over his shoulder, his grin still present but more tempered now. "Or do you need another nap first? Not judging—just asking."
Silas ignored him, his focus shifting back to the puppet as he took a steadying breath and followed. Amelia, her knives still at her sides but a hand resting on one hilt, fell into step behind him.
The hallway finally widened, opening into a grand, cavernous library. Shelves stretched high above, stacked with scrolls that glowed faintly under the soft, ambient light. Silas blinked, trying to process the sheer volume of information surrounding them. They looked like books, but not quite—scrolls bound in strange ways, their material unfamiliar. His grip on his staff tightened as his gaze roamed the room.
The puppet stepped forward, its azul eyes flickering. "I suggest each of you purchase the Universal Translation perk from the cultivation system shop. It will enable you to read the language of the scrolls you choose. These scrolls comprise the creator's small collection of techniques—some developed personally, others acquired through… various means."
The red-haired man let out a low chuckle, his grin widening. "Acquired, huh?" He scratched his chin, his voice laced with amusement. "Does acquiring include corpses? 'Cause that's how I've been doing all my acquiring."
The puppet turned its glowing eyes toward him. "Naturally. Others were purchased or discovered."
The red-haired man's grin turned wild, his laughter bubbling out like it was the funniest thing he'd heard in weeks. He glanced at Amelia, then Silas, shaking his head. "I like this place already," he muttered, clearly entertained by the puppet's dry response.
Silas met the red-haired man's gaze head-on, his expression calm but unyielding. The red-haired man raised an eyebrow, his grin turning sharp as he leaned slightly forward, not breaking eye contact. It was a silent challenge, and neither of them flinched.
Amelia noticed the tension immediately and sighed internally. Great. Two battle-hungry fools. Her knives stayed at her sides, untouched, as she turned her focus back to the library shelves. She had no intention of indulging in their antics. Straight-up fights weren't her style—she relied on tactics, strategy, and precision. Besides, her priority wasn't a sparring match; it was claiming a technique and getting out before the warlord arrived back at her compound.
The puppet's smooth voice cut through the silence. "It is within the creator's protocols to permit a spar. The victor's reward will be upgraded."
Silas didn't move, his gaze still locked on the red-haired man, his expression unchanged.
The red-haired man tilted his head slightly, a wild glint in his eye. "A spar, huh?" He stretched his shoulders, his grin never faltering. "I'm game," he said, his tone light but carrying a dangerous edge as he continued to stare Silas down.
Amelia didn't say anything, her gaze shifting briefly between them before turning back to the scrolls. Whatever this was, she wasn't about to get involved. Let the fools have their fight if they wanted. She had better things to do.