The morning dew still clung heavily to the wild grass in the rear courtyard when Mary stepped out of the back door, carrying a woven wooden basket filled with the previous day’s blood-stained linens. The air was crisp, almost biting, but the moment her boots touched the damp earth, she froze.

The rhythmic, whistling sound of tearing air echoed through the small enclosure.

In the center of the yard, bathed in the pale gold light of the rising sun, Ethan was moving. He had completely cast aside the image of the clumsy, exhausted refugee. He was barefoot, his white practitioner’s tunic open slightly at the collar, and in his right hand, he held the blackened, twine-wrapped length of iron.

He wasn’t performing a dance.

Mary slowly lowered the basket to the ground, her breath catching in her throat as Roy and Louisa silently drifted out onto the porch behind her. None of them dared to make a sound, completely transfixed by the terrifying spectacle unfolding before their eyes.

Yesterday, they had watched the outer disciple guard of the Heavenly Sword Pavilion butcher the giant boar with a display of breathtaking, artistic elegance. That guard’s blade had been beautiful, fluid, and precise—like a soaring butterfly.

But what Ethan was doing right now was the polar opposite. There was absolutely zero elegance in his movements. There were no flashy spins, no beautiful arcs, and no graceful poses. His footwork was brutal, direct, and explosive, each step leaving a deep, compressed footprint in the hard dirt.

SWISH!

Ethan executed a simple, vertical downward cleave. The movement was so incredibly fast that the blackened iron rod visibly blurred out of existence, producing a sharp, violent crack that sounded like a leather whip snapping against stone. The sheer kinetic force of the swing generated a sudden gust of wind that rippled across the courtyard, sending a wave of loose gravel scattering against the wooden fence.

It was violent. It was heavy. But above all, it was dripping with an undeniable, suffocating intent to kill.

Even without drawing a single drop of spiritual energy due to his restricted cultivation, the raw, primal aura radiating from Ethan’s form was so thick that Mary felt an involuntary shiver run straight down her spine. Every single stab, every single parry, and every single horizontal slash was designed with a singular, terrifying purpose: to terminate a life in the shortest, most efficient path possible. There was no room for beauty when the only goal was slaughter.

Roy watched from the porch, his knuckles turning entirely white as he gripped the wooden railing. His mouth was slightly open, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. Yesterday, he had thought the Pavilion guard was the pinnacle of martial strength. But looking at Ethan now, his primitive hunter instincts screamed a dangerous truth: if that elegant guard went face-to-face against this violent, unyielding style, the guard would be dead before his beautiful dance could even begin.

Ethan pivoted on his heel, his amethyst eyes completely cold and hyper-focused as he drove the tip of the iron rod forward in a blindingly fast thrust. The air pressure exploded at the tip, creating a localized vacuum that hissed sharply.

He maintained the grueling cadence for three more breaths before suddenly snapping the weapon backward, locking it securely against his forearm as he let out a slow, controlled breath. The suffocating pressure in the courtyard vanished instantly, returning the morning to its quiet, peaceful state.

Ethan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, turning his head toward the porch with a gentle, slightly embarrassed smile that completely melted the terrifying aura from a second ago. "Ah... good morning, Sister Mary. I hope my morning exercises didn’t wake you all up."

The mother and her children stood entirely paralyzed, staring at the handsome, smiling youth as if trying to reconcile the polite boy before them with the demon of slaughter they had just witnessed.

"Wow..." Mary finally breathed, her hand pressing against her chest as she forced her racing heart to calm down. "That was... it was terrifyingly beautiful, Ethan. You looked so incredibly strong. How can you possibly say you aren’t skilled with the blade after a display like that?"

Ethan lowered the blackened iron rod, letting out a soft, self-deprecating laugh as he shook his head. "The peak of the sword path is entirely too high, Sister Mary. My execution is still incredibly crude. If you had ever seen the true grandmasters of my clan, you would realize just how lamentable and superficial my current movements truly are."

His gaze shifted over to Roy, who was still standing on the porch. The boy was subconsciously gripping his iron-tipped hunting spear, his knuckles white, his entire body practically vibrating with an eager, desperate desire to learn. It was clearly around the time the boy usually started his own morning drills.

Ethan smiled faintly, gesturing toward the open yard. "Are you about to practice, Roy? Do you want to learn a few foundational forms? The only issue is... I’ve only ever studied the blade. I don’t know the first thing about handling a spear."

"Of course he wants to!" Mary interrupted quickly, a sudden spark of excitement in her eyes. "Wait right here, Ethan. Please, just give me one moment!"

She turned and ran back inside the house, her boots clattering urgently against the wooden floorboards. A minute later, she hurried back out into the sunlight, carrying a long, slender object wrapped in a protective silk cloth. As she uncovered it, a beautiful, polished weapon was revealed.

It wasn’t a standard, double-edged Western straight sword like the one Ethan’s clan was known for. It was a masterfully crafted single-edged blade—a traditional katana. The scabbard was a deep, lacquered midnight black, and the guard was shaped into an elegant floral pattern.

Mary stepped down into the dirt yard, holding the weapon out with both hands. "This... this belonged to Roy’s father," she said, her voice dropping into a formal, highly respectful tone. "He was never able to unlock its true potential, but he kept it as his ultimate treasure. I humbly beg you to guide my son using his father’s blade."

With deep reverence, Mary lowered her head and executed a profound, traditional bow. As her upper body bent forward at a sharp angle, the loose collar of her linen tunic fell entirely away from her skin.

-------------------

From this moment forward, to avoid confusion regarding cultivation ranks, I will include this footer with the current established levels.

Note: These are only the ranks mentioned so far to avoid spoilers.

Body Refinement Realm

Skin Refinement / Bone Refinement / Organ Refinement

Spiritual Gathering Realm

Spiritual Perception / Spiritual Mist / Spiritual Condensation

Spiritual Core Realm

Core Solidification / Core Awakening / Spiritual Collapse (Half-step Spiritual Core)

Spiritual Soul Realm

Spiritual Soul Awakening / Soul Nourishing / Soul-Core Fusion

Golden Core Realm

Prime Fusion / Core Perfection / Core Destruction

Spiritual Sea Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Dao Manifestation Realm

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??

Spiritual Transcendence

Stage 1 ?? / Stage 2 ?? / Stage 3 ??