The evening light spilled across Mount Sanghua, the air growing heavier with each passing moment. The faint rustle of leaves stirred in the wind as the distant sounds of disciples' voices died down, leaving only the faint hum of energy as Qi swirled around the training grounds. Here, it was different—quiet, almost reverent.
Yan Lou stood at the edge of the arena, his chest still rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His sparring match with Han Mu, a Stage 4: Mortal Foundation (Beginning) disciple, had ended too quickly, a mere test of his strength, his speed. Han Mu had launched an attack, confident in his abilities, but Yan Lou had hardly broken a sweat, dispatching him with a few calculated strikes.
But it wasn't about victory for Yan Lou. No, he wasn't interested in simply winning; he had long since grown accustomed to his victories. Instead, there was a certain stillness in his mind as the battle ended. Han Mu had shown promise, but it was clear—he was a long way from being a true threat.
The Elder Bai, a Stage 5: True Foundation (Peak) cultivator, stood off to the side, watching with piercing eyes. The elder's expression was unreadable, his long robes flowing gently in the wind. He had been silent throughout the sparring match, but Yan Lou felt his gaze, the weight of it. Every movement, every breath Yan Lou took was measured under that gaze.
"You're not trying, are you?" Elder Bai's voice was low, almost contemplative, as if he was discussing something philosophical rather than a mere fight.
Yan Lou glanced at him, still catching his breath. "Trying? What's the point? Han Mu doesn't even have the basics down. His Qi control is wild, his technique unrefined." He gestured lazily to the fallen Han Mu, who was slowly getting back to his feet, rubbing his shoulder.
Elder Bai's eyes narrowed. "So, you're saying that this spar wasn't worth your effort? But what does that mean, Yan Lou? What does it mean to fight someone weaker than you? Is victory still meaningful?"
Yan Lou remained silent for a moment, considering the question. Victory... meaningful?
"Victory is just the next step, isn't it?" Yan Lou finally said, his voice quiet. "If you want to rise, you must surpass your opponents. Every time."
Elder Bai's lips twitched upward, but there was no smile. "But does rising always mean defeating others? Is that the true purpose of power?"
Yan Lou's brow furrowed at the elder's question, his mind whirring. Power for power's sake? It seemed so simple. The strongest defeated the weak. That was the rule of the world. Yet, now the elder was challenging even that simple truth.
He turned his gaze back to the arena. Li Wei, the Stage 4: Mortal Foundation (Peak) disciple, was in the middle of a match. His wooden sword sliced through the air with precision, his every move practiced, deliberate. He faced off against an opponent at the same stage but of much lower skill—a Stage 4: Mortal Foundation (Beginning) disciple. The difference was clear; Li Wei's strikes were swift and controlled, his Qi flowing through him in perfect harmony.
The fight ended almost as soon as it began. The weaker disciple was on the ground, out of breath, his sword dropped. Li Wei stood tall; his face expressionless as the crowd cheered.
Yan Lou's eyes never left the fight. Li Wei was strong, but Yan Lou could see the gaps. Even in his Peak state, Li Wei was still a long way from true mastery. His movements were efficient, yes—but mechanical. There was no art to it, no flow. To Yan Lou, the difference between Stage 3: Foundation (Peak) and Stage 4: Mortal Foundation (Peak) was clear. A Stage 4 Peak cultivator still lacked the deep refinement that a Stage 3 disciple would possess at the peak of their abilities.
Still, it was a sight to behold. To many, Li Wei was a prodigy—a shining star among the inner disciples. But to Yan Lou, it was all just a stepping stone.
Han Mu had limped off the field by now, but Yan Lou's gaze turned to the elder. "What does it mean to fight, then? If it's not about defeating others... is there something else we should be focused on?"
Elder Bai's gaze softened, and he stepped closer. His voice dropped, becoming a low murmur, as if sharing a secret. "Fighting isn't about defeating your opponent, Yan Lou. It's about knowing your own limits. It's about discovering what lies beyond those limits."
Yan Lou's expression didn't change, but the words stirred something in his mind. Knowing my own limits... The thought lingered in his chest. Was that what he had been doing all this time—simply pushing himself against others? What had he been truly fighting for?
Elder Bai continued. "There is power in knowing your weakness. It is only then that you can truly break through. Your opponents—every one of them—are just reflections of where you need to grow. The question you must ask yourself is not, 'How can I defeat them?' but 'How can I overcome myself?'"
Yan Lou turned his head to the elder. "But doesn't that mean I'll always be stuck, never moving forward if I'm too focused on myself?"
Elder Bai's eyes gleamed with wisdom; his expression unreadable. "True power is not in brute force. It is in understanding the self. Knowing when to strike and when to yield. It is in mastery of the mind as much as the body."
A deep silence fell between them as they both stared at Li Wei, who was now walking away from the arena, his back straight, his demeanor calm. A moment of peace lingered, but it was fleeting.
Yan Lou's voice was barely a whisper now. "Then what is the point of it all, Elder Bai? If it's not to defeat the strongest, then what is it we seek?"
Elder Bai paused, his gaze steady and calm. "You seek to change the world, Yan Lou. But before you can change the world, you must first change yourself. And that... is a much harder battle."