Chương 479: Chapter 478: The Boy Who Wanted Strength

Master Hong held his calm peaceful expression until the last student filed out of the training hall. The heavy wooden doors creaked shut, and only then did his shoulders slump forward. He reached up to rub his bald head, feeling the familiar smoothness beneath his palm.

"A Descent. Now, of all times." The words escaped as barely more than a whisper. He walked to the window overlooking the temple grounds. Students hurried between buildings, some still shaken from the morning's events, others chattering excitedly about their first experience with otherworldly invaders. They had no idea how precarious their situation truly was. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Master Hong had found Grandmaster Wu in the Heaven's Peak meditation chamber.

The old monk had been sitting in perfect lotus position, eyes closed, looking for all the world like he was simply deep in contemplation. But there had been no breath, no heartbeat, no spiritual fluctuation. The current leader of their Iron Body Temple, their only Heaven-Breaking Realm cultivator, had passed away during his morning meditation. Master Hong had sealed the chamber immediately.

He'd told the other elders that Grandmaster Wu had entered deep seclusion, attempting to break through to an even higher realm. It wasn't entirely a lie. The grandmaster had been exploring the boundaries beyond Heaven-Breaking when his life force simply... stopped. If word got out, the consequences would be catastrophic. The Crimson Fist Clan would descend like wolves, eager to claim the temple's territories and ancient manuals. The Serpent Flow Pavilion had been eyeing their southern training grounds for decades.

Even the normally neutral Hidden Scroll Library might be tempted by their collection of martial texts. Without a Heaven-Breaking cultivator to deter them, the Iron Body Temple would be carved up and devoured within days. Master Hong had managed to maintain the illusion so far. He'd forged messages from the grandmaster, arranged for "meals" to be delivered to the sealed chamber, even staged brief glimpses of a figure in Grandmaster Wu's robes walking the highest balconies at dawn. The other elders suspected nothing.

The students certainly didn't. But a Descent changed everything. Otherworldly beings had ways of sensing power levels that mortal cultivators couldn't hide. If even one of them realized the temple's strongest protector was gone... He sighed again, turning away from the window. His students trusted him to keep them safe. They were more than disciples to him. Over the decades, he'd watched them grow from fumbling children into capable martial artists.

He'd bandaged their training injuries, celebrated their breakthroughs, comforted them through failures. They were his children in every way that mattered. His thoughts drifted to Jinghui, and his expression grew even more troubled. The memory surfaced unbidden, as clear as if it had happened yesterday rather than nine years ago. A cold winter morning, frost coating the temple steps. Master Hong had been supervising the dawn training when he'd noticed the small figure huddled by the main gate.

The child couldn't have been more than eight years old. His clothes were torn and filthy, hanging loose on a frame that spoke of too many missed meals. Dark circles shadowed eyes that held far too much pain for someone so young. He'd been clutching a small bundle to his chest, shivering in the bitter wind. Master Hong had approached slowly, not wanting to startle the boy.

"Hello there, young one. Are you lost?" The child had looked up at him with those hollow eyes.

"My parents are dead." The words came out flat, emotionless.

"My brother killed them." Even now, Master Hong remembered the chill that had run through him at that pronouncement. Not from the words themselves, but from the complete absence of feeling behind them. This wasn't a child processing grief. This was a child who had shut down entirely to survive.

"What's your name?" Master Hong had asked gently.

"Cao Jinghui."

"Well, Cao Jinghui, you must be cold. Would you like to come inside? We have warm food and a fire." The boy had studied him for a long moment, as if trying to determine whether this was some kind of trap. Finally, he'd nodded once, a sharp jerk of his head. Master Hong had led him to the kitchen, where the breakfast preparations were underway. The cooks had fussed over the small, bedraggled figure, pressing bowl after bowl of rice porridge and steamed buns into his hands.

Jinghui had eaten mechanically, without pleasure or gratitude, simply filling an empty stomach. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Master Hong had asked once the boy had eaten his fill.

"No."

"Any other family?"

"No."

"Would you like to stay here for a while? The Iron Body Temple accepts students of all backgrounds. You could learn martial arts, have a place to sleep, regular meals." For the first time, something had flickered in those dead eyes. Not hope exactly, but... interest.

"Martial arts? You could teach me to be strong?"

"We could teach you many things. Strength is just one of them."

"I want to be strong enough that no one can hurt me again." The boy's small hands had clenched into fists.

"Strong enough to kill him." Master Hong had felt his heart sink. Already, at eight years old, the poison of revenge had taken root. But he'd smiled gently and said, "One step at a time, young Jinghui. First, let's get you cleaned up and find you a place to sleep. The rest can come later." The memory faded, leaving Master Hong with the same helpless feeling he'd carried for nine years. He'd tried everything to guide Jinghui away from his dark path. Extra meditation sessions focusing on compassion and forgiveness.

Long discussions about the temple's philosophy of protection over destruction. Personal attention and care that he hoped might heal some of the boy's emotional wounds. None of it had worked. Oh, Jinghui went through the motions. He attended every lesson, performed every meditation, recited every sutra. But Master Hong could see the truth in his eyes. The boy was like a smith working at a forge, and everything the temple taught him was just another piece of metal to be hammered into a weapon.

A weapon aimed at one target: his brother. Master Hong looked down at his own hand, watching the golden Martial Qi flow across his palm. At Sect Mastery Realm, his techniques had transcended mere physical force. A single palm strike from him could shatter a mountain or stop a heart without harming the vessel. He'd taken lives before, when necessary to protect the innocent. But the thought of using that power against Jinghui...

"No." He shook his head sharply.

"It won't come to that. He's still young. There's still time to reach him." But even as he said it, he wondered if he was lying to himself. What would he do if Jinghui succeeded in his revenge and became the very monster he sought to destroy? Could Master Hong really strike down the boy he'd raised? The child he'd taught to read and write, who'd fallen asleep against his shoulder during long sutra readings, who'd clung to his robes during nightmares about blood and death? He didn't know.

And that uncertainty terrified him more than any otherworldly invader ever could. Master Hong forced himself to move, to continue his daily routine. The temple needed him to be strong, to maintain the illusion that everything was normal. He made his rounds, checking on the recovery of students who'd panicked during the descent alarm, reviewing supply lists with the quartermaster, discussing patrol schedules with the senior disciples. The sun had climbed past its zenith when it happened.

The aura erupted like a volcano, Sect Mastery Realm power flooding across the temple grounds with unrestrained force. Master Hong's teacup shattered in his grip as he shot to his feet.

"What in the ancestor's name?" He knew that feeling intimately, the overwhelming presence of someone who had just broken through to Sect Mastery. But which elder had achieved it? Master Han had been close for years but seemed content at peak Heartsteel. Master Liu talked about attempting the breakthrough but always found excuses to delay. Master Wang had the potential but lacked the crucial insights about legacy techniques.

Whoever it was clearly didn't know the first rule of achieving Sect Mastery: hide it immediately. The breakthrough to Sect Mastery couldn't be concealed without specific formations. Every cultivator within a hundred li would sense it. Every ambitious clan and sect would know that the Iron Body Temple had just gained another supreme expert. Or so they would think. If only they knew the truth about Grandmaster Wu... Master Hong's form blurred and vanished.

He reappeared an instant later at the hidden waterfall training ground, the place the aura was coming from. Water cascaded down the rocks, misting the small chamber with cool droplets. A figure stood in the center, and Master Hong's breath caught in his throat. Jinghui. But not Jinghui. The boy's body had transformed dramatically. Where once stood a lean, underfed seventeen-year-old, now stood someone who looked like they'd been carved from bronze and steel.

Muscles coiled with perfect density, height increased by several centimeters, skin carrying that subtle metallic sheen that marked a Heartsteel body cultivation. The transformation was so complete it was almost unrecognizable. Jinghui was testing his limbs with slow, careful movements. He clenched and unclenched his fists, rolled his shoulders, twisted his torso as if familiarizing himself with an entirely new form.

"I didn't expect to make such a commotion," the thing wearing Jinghui's face murmured. The voice was Jinghui's, but the tone, the cadence, the very way the words were shaped... all wrong. Master Hong took an involuntary step backward, his mind reeling. This morning, Jinghui had been a struggling Inner Pulse Realm student who could barely complete the Flowing Mountain kata. Now he radiated the power of a Sect Mastery expert, his very presence warping the air around him with condensed Martial Qi.

No advancement was that fast. No pill, no treasure, no secret technique could take someone from Inner Pulse to Sect Mastery in a matter of hours. It was impossible. Unless... The truth hit Master Hong deep in his core. Those eyes looking out from Jinghui's transformed face held none of the boy's familiar anger, none of his barely contained rage or desperate hunger for power. They were calm, analytical, almost curious as they examined the changes to the body. This wasn't Jinghui at all.

This was the otherworldly being.