The sun had not yet broken the edge of the sea. Darkness lingered over the coral-clad Sea Ancestral Temple.
But within one of the isolated stone chambers, Kent was wide awake.
He stood bare-chested in the courtyard, his body drenched in sweat under the pale-blue moonlight. His breath was steady, but his arms were shaking slightly—not out of fear, but exhaustion. In front of him, planted upright like a defiant tower, stood the mighty black mace Neela had given him. The iron cylinder at its end was still quaking from the last swing.
“Again,” Kent muttered under his breath.
With a grunt, he grasped the long handle, circulated his inner mana, and spun.
The mace howled as it cut through the salty air. Despite its massive weight, it danced like a feather in Kent’s hands—a feather carved from thunder.
Boom!
A deep crater split the stone floor.
The momentum of the strike reverberated through his bones. Kent gasped and then smiled.
“This beast… requires brute strength, yes, but also rhythm. If I rush it like a sword, it’ll crush me before it crushes enemies.”
He raised it again, sweat sliding down his spine. For the past two nights, Kent had done nothing but push his body beyond its mortal limit. While he was no longer at his peak after the Immortal Arena battle, the Storm God Tyrant Physique was slowly adapting. The bones in his arms had begun hardening with golden luster, veins glowing faintly with electric current.
After hundreds of swings, Kent finally rested the mace against the training pillar.
He sat down on a beast hide mat and opened his spatial ring. Within it were hundreds of herbs, essence jades, crushed beast cores, and more than a dozen pill furnaces stacked neatly like spiritual books.
“Next phase… support.”
From his memories, Kent recalled the ingredients needed for the Breath-Lock Pellet—a rare pill that could help conceal his life aura for one incense stick of time, perfect for escaping sea beasts that hunted by mana trail. He also prepared Bone-Nourishing Marrow Drops, vital for rapid bone recovery in case of shattering injuries.
With delicate hand seals, he summoned a triple-layer alchemy array and began dual-concocting—something only madmen or geniuses dared attempt.
Golden flames sparked under both pill furnaces.
As Kent’s fingers danced, two separate medicinal scents wafted through the room. One fiery and metallic. The other cold and wet, like morning dew on blades of grass.
By the time dawn’s first light painted the sea horizon in orange hues, Kent had produced:
3 Breath-Lock Pellets, 1 Bone-Nourishing Marrow Drop, 2 High-grade Healing Pills, 1 Spirit-Reversal Pill (made from precious herbs gifted by Neela)
Kent collapsed back, his hair soaked with sweat.
“Enough to keep me alive through three deaths,” he muttered.
He stared at the roof of the stone chamber.
“But will that be enough?”
His eyes drifted toward the mace again.
Kent had named it “Skull Crusher”.
It wasn’t a delicate weapon. It couldn’t slice, parry, or jab. But it could shatter.
And shatter it would.
The Sea Beast Lair was not a place of honor or combat—it was a tomb. A burial ground for the Naga Clan’s cursed warriors and fallen sea monsters. According to Nyara, even the Naga’s ancestor spirits had been twisted by time and soul corrosion.
He took a deep breath and activated a small illusion orb, projecting a map given by Nyara.
It displayed the Sea Beast Lair like an ancient whirlpool spiral—layers of submerged tunnels, broken statues, collapsed temples. At the center: The Whale Grave Shrine, where the soul fragments lay hidden.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“No way around it. Only through.”
A knock echoed on the door. It was light, cautious.
Kent stood, wrapped a robe around his torso, and opened it halfway.
Outside stood Bao, a young servant boy assigned by Nyara. He looked nervous, holding a jade tray.
“Sir Kent,” Bao said with a bow, “Princess Nyara left this for you. She said it was the last piece of your preparation.”
Kent took the tray.
It held a single scroll—tied in Naga silk—and a small bottle of Blue-Eyed Tortoise Ink. It was the rare spiritual ink used to bind soul contracts or draw beast illusions.
Actually, Kent is the one who asked for it. Unrolling the scroll, Kent set it up against the furnace board and picked the ink brush. He began drawing strange signs.
–
Midnight…
The moon hung low over the Sea Ancestral Temple, veiled in misty clouds that diffused its silver glow across the coral rooftops. Inside a quiet chamber of jade and black stone, Kent sat cross-legged, finishing his meditation. His breath was calm, his body surrounded by the faint shimmer of aura threads—evidence of a long night of cultivation.
A soft knock echoed against the door, barely audible.
Kent opened his eyes and calmly spoke, “Enter.”
The door creaked open, and Sana Long stepped inside, her presence subdued. She wore a long sea-green robe, a delicate veil masking half her face, but even with that cloth, her elegance was unmistakable.
“I came for the pills,” she said softly, trying not to look too eager.
Kent nodded and retrieved a small jade box from his storage ring. “These will stabilize your constitution. Two per day, taken with warm spiritual tea.”
Sana took it with both hands and held it to her chest. Then, with an odd hesitation, she reached into her sleeve and drew a narrow, obsidian-hued dagger, curved slightly like a snake’s fang. Intricate engravings shimmered faintly across its blade.
She stepped forward and pressed the weapon into Kent’s palm.
“I heard from the palace maids. You’re going to the Sea Beast Lair tomorrow,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion. “This… is for you. It holds a surprise.”
Kent examined the weapon. It hummed faintly, as if sensing the pressure of the deep sea already.
“A surprise?” Kent raised an eyebrow.
Sana nodded, smiling beneath the veil. “You’ll understand when the time comes.”
She turned to leave, but Kent’s voice stopped her at the door.
“Sana.”
She froze.
Kent raised the dagger slightly in a warrior’s salute.
“Thank you.”
The veil fluttered slightly as her lips curved upward. That one word of genuine acknowledgment was more than she had hoped for.
Without another word, she slipped into the darkness, her silhouette swallowed by the sea’s silence.
–
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