His left shoulder hung by a strand of flesh, the wound grotesque and raw. His left leg was marginally better, but still badly mangled. The rest of his body was injured but not as badly. Every movement sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through his body, his breath ragged and labored.

  Despite the agony, Hope’s mind remained sharp. ‘I can’t keep fighting this guy... I’ll die if I stay. I have to run’ he thought, the bitter realization sinking in like a knife to his pride. The idea of retreating left a foul taste in his mouth, but the alternative—a fool’s death—was far worse. He vowed silently to return one day and settle this debt, his resolve unshaken even in his battered state.

  Julian, meanwhile, was gasping for breath, his chest heaving as exhaustion began to set in. The Earth-ranked technique he had unleashed had drained him considerably, and his body—untempered and vulnerable despite his high cultivation—was beginning to show signs of strain. His essence was tempered, granting him immense strength in battle, but his physical body was still only slightly stronger than that of a Body Transformation cultivator. Using Earth-ranked techniques for prolonged periods took a heavy toll, and his muscles ached with the effort.

  The anger that had fueled him at the beginning of the fight had all but evaporated, replaced by an unsettling fear. ‘This boy...’ Julian thought, his mind racing as he looked at Hope, still standing despite his grievous injuries. ‘He’s in the early stage of Soul Resonance, and yet he’s fought me, a peak Will Refinement cultivator, for nearly ten minutes. And the only reason I injured him was because I caught him by surprise. This... this is unbelievable.’

  Julian’s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white. He had never encountered a prodigy of this caliber before, and it sent chills down his spine. All he wanted now was for this battle to end—for the day to finally, mercifully, come to a close.

  Hope felt his body instinctively trying to heal, but the wounds inflicted by intents burned deeper, resisting the natural regenerative process. He gritted his teeth, feeling every agonizing throb of his injuries as blood continued to seep from the punctures. He already knew—injuries caused by intents were far more stubborn, lingering far longer than ordinary wounds. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling with effort as he tried to steady himself.

  He glanced at Julian, who was still panting heavily, his once-furious water intent now subdued. Seeing the man’s exhaustion, Hope began stepping back cautiously, every movement slow and deliberate, his battered body screaming in protest.

  Julian’s sharp eyes caught the retreat, but he didn’t move. His sword remained lowered at his side, droplets of water still dripping from its edge. He studied the boy carefully, his thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty. ‘Should I keep fighting? Or should I let him go? I don’t even know if I can kill him at this point…’ Julian’s gaze flickered to the trail of blood Hope was leaving behind. ‘Even if I summoned every guard in the city, they’d probably all die before this boy finally falls. No, it’s not worth it…’

  His fingers tightened briefly around his sword hilt before he let out a slow breath, his grip relaxing. His water intent faded away, the droplets dissipating into the air.

  Hope noticed Julian’s hesitation, his instincts screaming at him to take the opportunity. Sheathing his sword and summoning the last remnants of his willpower, he activated Phantom Steps, his body moving faster than his injured state should have allowed. His left leg almost gave out beneath him, the pain radiating through his body like wildfire, but he forced himself onward. He appeared before the little one, picked it up in a hurry and in a blur, he vanished from Julian’s sight.

  When he finally stopped, the towering gates of the city loomed before him. Hope leaned against the massive structure, his vision swimming and his breaths ragged. He had made it—barely.

  Julian stood motionless in the distance, his eyes fixed on the empty space where Hope had been moments before. The air around him was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint sound of water droplets falling to the ground. ‘This boy… he’s more than just a prodigy’ Julian thought, his heart heavy with unease. ‘I just hope… I never have to see him again.’

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  While Julian was lost in his thoughts, Hope was running for his life, summoning every ounce of willpower to keep moving. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest as his body screamed for rest. Hope was running north, driven by nothing more than a faint hope to find a forest or cavern where he could finally collapse and heal. But each step felt heavier, his body betraying him with every inch.

  His left arm hung uselessly by his side, the pain from it unbearable, while his left leg was barely holding him together. It was only through sheer determination that he was still moving. His body was a mess—riddled with wounds from his desperate flight. The holes in his flesh had missed the vital areas, but the bleeding was relentless, draining him faster than he could have imagined. His vision swayed, the world around him spinning, and his head felt light, as though his mind might slip away at any moment.

  The little one, still clinging desperately to his chest, could feel its companion’s pain. Its little claws gripped the fabric of Hope’s uniform, its eyes wide with worry. It seemed helpless, unable to do anything but watch as Hope’s condition worsened.

  But Hope wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

  Through the blur of his fading consciousness, Hope finally saw it—a forest up ahead, dark and welcoming, its shadowed canopy offering the hope of shelter. He pushed forward, despite the overwhelming fatigue, the overwhelming pain, and the overwhelming blood loss.

  He sprinted into the forest, not daring to look back, his only focus on finding cover. The trees loomed thick and dark around him as he stumbled through the underbrush, desperate to find a safe spot. After a few moments, he found a secluded patch of dense foliage, a temporary hiding place. Collapsing onto the forest floor, Hope's body refused to cooperate, his legs trembling with exhaustion. He couldn't even sit up properly as he tried to circulate his Qi, the effort almost too much for him.

  The little one, though small and fragile, stood guard. Its sharp eyes scanned the area with an alertness beyond its size, prepared to defend its injured companion against any threat. Being a rank 2 beast, it wasn’t completely helpless in the forest, but even it couldn't guarantee safety from everything.

  Hope lay on the cold ground, his body too battered to move. As time passed, the initial shock began to fade, and his body slowly started healing itself.

  By the end of the first day, the lightest injuries began to close, and his Qi flowed more easily. Over the next few days, the healing process sped up, as his body didn't need to divide its energy between so many wounds. By the end of the week, most of his injuries had healed, and his strength was returning, though still far from full.

  His left leg, though still aching, was functional again. It throbbed with a dull, persistent pain, but it could carry his weight without faltering. His left arm, however, was in a far worse state. The wound was halfway through the healing process, he could feel the bones reconnecting, the skin knitting itself back together. Every movement, every breath, sent waves of agony coursing through his body, yet he didn't flinch.

  The pain was almost unbearable, yet he was too focused to stop.

  It was as if his very body was working against him, and yet for him. He could feel the fibers of his muscles pulling together, the tendons stretching, the nerves regrowing. His senses were hyper-aware, each movement, each connection, felt with such clarity that it was almost overwhelming. He could feel the process of healing happening within him, but it was like an intricate puzzle—something just beyond his grasp.

  ‘Is this how the body works?’ Hope’s mind kept returning to that question, over and over again, like a mantra. He could sense that there was something deeper, something fundamental about the way his body healed, but it remained just out of reach. It was as though the act of mending itself was tied to an underlying principle, one that he could almost understand—if only he could grasp it. His mind reached toward the elusive knowledge, but each time he got close, it slipped away.

  The pain was a constant reminder of the fragility of his body, yet with each passing moment, he also felt its resilience. His body, so battered and torn just days ago, was regaining its form, becoming whole again. And somehow, within that process, there was something profound. Something he couldn’t yet understand, but that he could sense was tied to the very essence of life itself.

  As the pain continued, he let his mind focus on that elusive feeling, that tugging on the edge of his awareness. It was like a whisper on the wind—faint, distant, but undeniably real. His connection to the healing was growing stronger, but the full comprehension of it felt like an unreachable horizon. He knew it was there, that understanding was within him, but the answer was still just beyond his fingertips.

  His understanding of his body kept deepening, but each new insight only left him craving more, as though the answers were just out of reach.

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