Two months had passed since Jalen declared Alina the capital of the Ron State. Now, the time had come to leave.
The city had grown. The empire had stabilized. And the emperor—Ameer Ron—had risen to the Gold Realm.
His growth was staggering. Even the six Peak Sage Realm sages who served as his personal guards could only marvel. They had seen many prodigies in their time, but none who advanced so quickly, so cleanly. They all knew the truth, of course. This was Elder Jalen's doing.
None dared to ask how.
Will, ever curious, would occasionally drop subtle questions—half jokes, half hopes. "Elder, if I meditate upside down, will I ascend in a week?" But Jalen would only smile, say nothing, and continue walking.
The mystery deepened. The reverence grew.
When the day of departure arrived, Jalen met Ameer in the throne hall. The young emperor stood tall, his silver-white hair catching the morning light, his aura calm and composed.
"I suppose this is goodbye," Ameer said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"For now," Jalen replied.
"I'll miss your guidance."
"You've grown into your own. My presence is no longer needed."
Ameer bowed. "Still… thank you. For everything."
Jalen didn't correct him this time. He simply placed a hand on the young emperor's shoulder, then turned and walked away.
What no one knew—not even Will—was that Jalen had left behind a clone. It resided in his private residence, a place he had sealed and forbidden anyone from entering. The clone would watch over Alina in silence, ready to act if needed.
Jalen's true body, however, had other plans.
—
He departed with Calen and Jael, setting out to visit the three allied states—Lithia, Tulsa, and Rican—in search of a realm where time flowed differently.
Their journey was quiet but not unnoticed.
In each state, they were greeted by the reigning emperor—each one a Sky Limit Realm expert. Somehow, they always knew Jalen was coming. Somehow, they always found him.
And when they did, they treated him not as a guest, but as a sovereign.
They showed him respect and offered gifts.
Jalen, ever respectful, greeted them as elders. But the power dynamic was unmistakable. These emperors—rulers of ancient bloodlines—treated Jalen as if he were the emperor of the world.
Their retainers, most of them Peak Sage Realm experts, were equally fascinated—not just by Jalen, but by the two youths who traveled with him.
Jael, the silent one, whose aura pulsed like a sleeping storm. And Calen, the prodigy—now fourteen, yet already at the Peak Diamond Realm.
It was unheard of.
What they didn't know was that Calen was only the second to reach that level at such an age.
Jalen had been the first.
—
Beyond the three states, the trio ventured into uncharted lands—regions ruled by various sects and clans. It was in one such place that Calen's path shifted.
They had entered a secluded valley, where the qi was thick and the air shimmered with latent resonance. Jalen had sensed something strange—an echo in the ley lines, a pulse beneath the soil. But before he could investigate, Calen collapsed.
His body convulsed. His spirit core flared. His qi surged and twisted.
He had entered the threshold of the Enlightened Realm.
It was a dangerous milestone—one that could either shatter a cultivator or elevate them beyond their limits. Enlightenment wasn't just power. It was clarity. It was a confrontation.
For two days, Calen lay in a trance, locked in a battle not of fists, but of memory.
He faced his past—his shame, his fear, his rage.
He relived what he had buried: the loneliness of being different, the weight of a body that couldn't cultivate—marked as useless, discarded by a world that worshipped strength. The loss of his father. The quiet suffering his mother endured because of him.
And the hatred he had carried for so long—for himself and for the world that had treated him so unfairly.
He screamed. He wept. He burned.
And then, he rose.
When the transformation ended, Calen stood taller. His yellow hair and eyes glowed with supernatural light. His muscles were more defined, his stance more grounded. His qi was no longer wild—it was refined, balanced, and radiant.
"You did it," Jalen said, watching him emerge from the mist.
Calen dropped to one knee. "It's all thanks to Master's guidance."
Jalen handed him a robe. The one Calen had worn had been destroyed during the breakthrough.
They remained in the valley for a few days, allowing Calen to consolidate his breakthrough.
During that time, Jael often wandered off alone, vanishing into the night without a word. It wasn't new. He had been doing so for months—ever since their journey began. Always quiet. Always discreet. He believed no one noticed.
But Jalen did.
He simply chose not to intervene.
To the world, Jael was a boy—Jalen's eldest son, composed and silent. But in truth, he was a dragon over five hundred years old, wearing the shape of a teenager. And like any teenager—especially one with a body forged by qi and bloodline—his urges were strong.
Jalen understood this quite well. He only hoped the boy was careful.
—
Eventually, they moved on.
They passed through mountain ranges, crossed spirit lakes, and entered a small, unassuming state called Wren. It was quiet, peaceful—barely known beyond its borders.
But Jalen—or rather, his second spirit core—felt it.
A pulse beneath the river.
A distortion in time.
It led him upstream, tracing the qi flow through winding currents until they reached a narrow gorge. There, beneath the surface of a crystal-clear river, Jalen found what he had been searching for:
A hidden realm where time moved faster than reality.
"Master, where are we?" Calen asked.
"Where time forgets itself," Jalen said, then dove into the river.
Jael and Calen followed after.