Weh's footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor of the Rising Stone Sect. His expression was unreadable, but the way his fingers twitched by his side betrayed his irritation. When he entered Elder Faiz's quarters, his sharp gaze locked onto the injured man sitting on a cushion, nursing his bruised ribs.
Weh's frown deepened. "You look like you lost a fight against a street thug."
Elder Faiz grimaced but bowed his head slightly. "I… encountered Kazel."
Weh's eyes narrowed. "And?"
Faiz took a deep breath before recounting the events—how Kazel had confronted Salma in the market, how he had reacted with near-instantaneous precision to Faiz's surprise attack, and most importantly, how he had publicly exposed the fact that two disciples from the Rising Stone Sect were missing.
Weh remained silent, his face unreadable, but his fingers drummed against his arm. "And how did he know that?"
"I don't know." Faiz clenched his fists. "Maybe he's bluffing, maybe he just got lucky, but the way he spoke… it was as if he knew everything."
Weh scoffed. "So, you're telling me that in one meeting, you lost the fight, made a scene, and let him stir rumors in the market?"
Faiz gritted his teeth but did not respond.
Weh exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. "Your loss was due to bad luck and lack of control. That's the only reason I'm not punishing you." His eyes darkened. "Kazel is nothing but a brat clinging to the remnants of a ruined sect. He's not worth our immediate attention."
Faiz hesitated. "But Patriarch, if he—"
Weh raised a hand, silencing him. "We'll deal with him after Scale Dalgona. It's only a few days away, and that event is more important than crushing a worm."
Faiz lowered his head. "Understood."
Weh turned to leave but paused at the door. "Rest up, Faiz. You'll need to be proper in Scale Dalgona."
With that, he strode out, leaving the elder in the dim chamber, his fists clenched in frustration.
( Fu is still missing, but the time for the competition draws near, perhaps the answer will visit me after then ) thought Weh as he walked through the corridors.
---
Noel stood in the courtyard, arms crossed, watching his son condition his body through rigorous training. The rhythmic sound of Kazel's fists meeting the wooden training post echoed through the air. The young man was shirtless, sweat glistening over his toned body as he pushed himself further.
Noel let out a smirk before speaking. "I've heard rumors."
Kazel didn't stop his movements but smirked back. "It's true."
Noel raised a brow. "So you did, then."
"I did." Kazel delivered a final strike before stepping back and shaking out his wrists.
Noel studied him for a moment before his smirk faded slightly. "And what about the two disciples from the Rising Stone Sect?"
Kazel picked up a cloth and wiped the sweat off his face. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to his words. "They're gone."
Noel's eyes flickered. "You killed them?"
Kazel met his gaze head-on. "They threatened me… with you and mother on the scale." He tossed the cloth over his shoulder. "They got what was coming to them."
Noel exhaled through his nose before shrugging. "Alright, then. Just making sure."
There was no judgment in his voice, only understanding. In their world, threats weren't mere words—they were promises. And promises had consequences.
Noel remained silent for a moment, watching Kazel closely. His son's expression was unreadable, but his posture spoke volumes—calm, unwavering, and completely at peace with his actions.
Noel let out a hum. "And yet, they still think they can shoulder our retribution."
Kazel picked up a wooden training sword from the rack, spinning it lazily in his hand. "They don't think, Father. They hope. They pray that their status will protect them, that their numbers will be enough. But hope is for the weak, and I don't deal in prayers."
Noel chuckled at his son's words before narrowing his eyes, "You know, the Scale Dalgona is only a few days away."
Kazel smirked. "I know."
Noel uncrossed his arms, stepping forward. "And when you stand before the crowd, when the Rising Stone Sect watches you in that arena… what do you plan to do?"
Kazel flipped the wooden sword once before gripping it tightly. His eyes gleamed with an almost predatory confidence. "I'll make them regret everything."
Lana stepped into the courtyard, her presence as graceful as ever. "Kazel, your garment is ready."
Kazel turned to her, his eyes lighting up with interest. "Really? That's great." He strode toward his mother, eager to see it.
Lana held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Go take a bath first, then try it on. You're not putting on something this important while smelling like sweat and hard work."
Kazel chuckled. "Fair enough." Without argument, he headed off to cleanse himself.
By the time he returned, the robe awaited him, neatly folded atop a wooden stand. He reached out, running his fingers across the fine fabric. It was the traditional robe of the Immortal Sect, once worn by its head disciple—a symbol of honor, legacy, and strength.
Slipping into it, he moved toward the mirror. His reflection greeted him, draped in deep midnight fabric lined with silver embroidery, the insignia of the Immortal Sect displayed proudly on his chest. The robe fit perfectly, hugging his frame without restricting movement. It was regal, commanding... but something was missing.
Lana stepped behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder as she admired his reflection. "Dashing and handsome." She grinned, eyes filled with pride.
Kazel smirked but didn't look away from the mirror. "Yes, but… I think I need something more."
Lana furrowed her brows. "Something more?" She tilted her head, intrigued.
Kazel's smirk deepened as he turned slightly to meet her gaze. "Something that feels more… me."
Lana watched him for a moment before sighing with amusement. "You really do take after your father."
Kazel chuckled. "That's a compliment, right?"
Lana rolled her eyes, smiling. "I'll see what I can do."