The days bled into one another until the final month of seclusion drew to a close.
Jumanji stood tall before the Spiritual Lake, which now seethed with a thick white nebula, overflowing with an immense energy that seemed almost on the verge of spiraling out of control.
He gazed at the reflection of the energy clouds dancing upon the lake's surface and murmured with a mixture of ambition and slight regret:
"There is still time before this lake erupts to herald my next advancement... I had hoped to step across the threshold of the Fourth Stage before leaving these walls."
He turned his gaze away from the lake, accepting reality with stoic grace, and adjusted his robes.
"But the time of seclusion has reached its end. It is time to step out and face this world."
***
Outside, the atmosphere around the Guest House was charged with a tension that was impossible to miss.
The Elders stood waiting for Jumanji's exit with bated breath, their eyes fixed on the sealed door.
The Elders were not alone. Hidden behind trees and within the shadows of surrounding buildings, dozens of the tribe's elite cultivators watched the area like birds of prey ready to strike.
The orders were clear, and the intentions were transparent: Jumanji would not be given an inch to escape. Not a single second of freedom would be granted if his promises turned out to be nothing more than a mirage.
After a moment of heart-stopping anticipation, the heavy door began to creak open slowly, releasing a sharp screech that pierced the silence of the area.
the "Flower Elder" stood at the front, his features glowing with a spark of undeniable hope. He was the one who had bet on Jumanji from the start, knowing that success in healing the Leader would redefine his own future and the tribe's entire destiny.
Jumanji stepped onto the threshold, instinctively raising his hand to shield his eyes from the daylight that assaulted him after his long, dark isolation.
He inhaled deeply, as if his lungs were tasting freedom for the first time.
"Nothing beats this feeling... this breeze, these rays. It truly felt like being kept in a desolate prison," he whispered as he felt the warmth of the sun on his skin.
Suddenly, Jumanji froze in place, confusion flashing across his face.
"Prison? What is a prison?" he wondered silently, stunned. Vague images and blurred memories that didn't seem to belong to him flickered in his mind. He fell silent, drowning in a sea of questions that continued to haunt his lost identity.
The Flower Elder broke the silence, approaching Jumanji with cautious steps while the others chose to remain in their positions, watching closely.
In a tone he tried to make friendly, he said, "Welcome back, Spiritual Fellow... how are you after this long seclusion?"
Jumanji nodded in a silent greeting, but he quickly felt a sting in his nose, as if a pungent odor had suddenly filled the air.
With a serious expression, he asked, "Can I have a warm bath first?"
The Flower Elder didn't need an answer. A foul, overwhelming stench hit him, making him instinctively pinch his nose.
"Indeed... it seems you need more than just a bath, Fellow! The scent is almost suffocating."
He wasn't the only one. The "aromatic" wave quickly spread to the other Elders, who recoiled several steps, covering their faces with their sleeves.
"By the heavens!" one of them muttered in frustration. "What has he been doing for these past two months? Was he living in a stable?"
The others could only offer bewildered looks that oscillated between disgust and astonishment.
In that moment, Jumanji thought coldly to himself, realizing the truth:
"This scent is nothing but the result of my body purging the impurities of that low-quality farm. With two full months passing without water, the toxins exiting my pores have doubled in intensity."
This smell, despite its ugliness, was the first physical evidence that his body had been completely reforged to match the Medium Quality farm.
***
"This way, Spiritual Fellow..." the Flower Elder said, still holding his nose, gesturing toward the private bathing wing.
The tribe wasted no time. A steaming hot bath was prepared, and Jumanji submerged himself for a considerable time, letting the water dissolve the layers of impurities that had clung to his skin for two months.
When he emerged, his appearance had been completely transformed.
He wore new robes of deep crimson, which cast a mysterious glow on his features—features that had grown sharper and more handsome.
However, he quickly adjusted his forty-year-old face and posture to match the oversized garments.
Jumanji raised his hand, contemplating his palm before clenching his fist with a strength that surprised even himself.
"My body feels light... as if I've shed weights I didn't even know existed," he whispered, feeling the surge of energy in his veins.
"Stage Three: The Lake... I am moving toward the summit with steady steps. This is satisfying. But before I take the next step, I must first temper this power."
He paused for a moment, his eyes seeming to pierce through the walls to see a distant place.
"That location... it will be the perfect arena to test my limits. Currently, I do not know the true extent of my abilities. A few real battles there will reveal exactly what I can do."
A voice from behind the door interrupted his chain of thought, calling out urgently:
"Spiritual Fellow... the Elders are waiting for you. Please hurry, time is passing."
Jumanji smiled with hidden irony. He knew that behind this urgency lay a deep-seated fear that his promises were a mirage.
"No wonder they are cautious," he thought. "Gambling with the future of a tribe is no small matter."
He then raised his voice with dignity: "I am coming."
***
Jumanji walked out with a majestic stride to find the ten Elders lined up waiting for him, their eyes gleaming with a scrutinizing light, trying to pierce his spiritual aura to gauge his true intentions.
He met their gazes with a calm, confident smile, fully aware of what was going on in their hearts.
Nearby, a group of the tribe's youths had gathered, watching the scene with a curiosity mixed with resentment. Among them was the fat boy—Bluton—who had often grumbled at the restaurant, along with his previous companions.
"Is it possible that this old man is the reason for all this mobilization?" Bluton whispered sarcastically.
The girl beside him replied with annoyance, "Yes, it's him... and because of him, our cultivation was disrupted and our ambitions delayed. I wonder who this person is to receive an official welcome from the High Elders?"
One of the twins speculated, "Maybe he's a secret envoy from one of the Great Clans of the Fourth or Fifth Rank!"
But Bluton shouted recklessly, unconcerned with the consequences, "So what! Even if he is a descendant of Emperors, he has no right to plunder our resources and deprive us of our spiritual wealth... Damn him!"
In a moment of folly, Bluton tried to turn around, but a hand was about to descend upon his head in rebuke, though he managed to skillfully block it.
It was the girl who had tried to hit him. She cried out in frustration, "You naughty fat boy! One day you will lead us to ruin with your sharp tongue. Stop the nonsense as long as you are with us, or your end will be at my hands!"
"Bluton... indeed, your childish behavior deserves more than just a strike!"
The mocking voice came from behind. A youth approached, surrounded by a group of followers, looking at the others with an unmistakable air of superiority and pride.
Bluton turned toward the newcomer. Upon seeing the yellow robes the youth wore, a look of disdain crossed his face.
"Oh... what do we have here? It's the 'Village Genius' gracing us with his presence!"
The response was immediate. The youth in yellow looked at him with a cold gaze of inferiority.
"And you, fat boy... your natural place is not in the squares of cultivators, but in the village kitchens. Eating is your only talent. Go work there instead of wasting the tribe's resources that we deserve more than you."
Bluton didn't get angry or mock him back, but he was about to respond with biting words. At that exact moment, his eyes met Jumanji's.
Jumanji's gaze was calm, tinged with a mysterious smile, but it carried a terrifying weight that made the fat boy's spine shudder violently.
Bluton swallowed hard with difficulty, the words freezing in his throat. In that second, he felt that something momentous was about to happen—a hidden power he couldn't explain, making his heart contract as if a predatory animal was lurking in the dark.
"What is this? What's wrong with him?" he wondered in shock.
***
The "High Elder," an elderly man in dark gray robes exuding the majesty of years and experience, stepped forward.
He stopped in front of Jumanji, scrutinizing him with a piercing gaze before asking in a raspy voice, "You are ready now, Spiritual Fellow... aren't you?"
Jumanji etched a calm smile on his lips, cracking his knuckles with cold confidence as he replied, "In full readiness."
The Elder let out a long sigh that carried tons of anxiety lifting from his chest. He raised his hand, pointing toward the path.
"Very well then, let us go. The Leader is waiting, and time is not on our side."
Jumanji replied as he took his first steps firmly, "Lead the way."
The walk was short but charged with a heavy silence, until they reached a massive, majestic door of a two-story house—the heart of power in the tribe.
The High Elder turned to the rest of the Elders who had followed them and spoke in a stern, indisputable tone:
"Prevent anyone from entering today, regardless of their name or the party they belong to. We do not want any distraction or interference that might hinder the healing process. The fate of the tribe hangs on what will happen behind this door."
Everyone nodded in absolute silence. They realized the situation had reached its peak of danger.
The massive door opened with majestic slowness. No one dared to cross its threshold except
for Jumanji and the High Elder, as they disappeared behind the walls that would decide the fate of Neron and the entire Carp Fish Tribe.
**End of Chapter**