As Qin Feng's consciousness withdrew from the cold data torrent of the Imperial Arena and returned to his quiet dormitory, the fierce, dragon-like aura from his spearplay slowly receded, eventually settling into a profound serenity.
Six months of frenzied training and tens of thousands of life-or-death battles had kept his mind stretched taut as a bowstring.
Now, the bowstring had slackened. A long-absent, bone-deep exhaustion washed over him like a warm tide.
He didn't immediately dive into another training session. Instead, he just sat quietly on the sofa and emptied his mind.
His gaze drifted unconsciously to his comms terminal, landing on the contact he had kept pinned for forty years: an avatar labeled "Father."
The most recent message was from several months ago.
A warmth spread through his chest, tinged with a hint of guilt.
