The next few days passed with a different feeling.
Mo Chen did not reduce his training. Ifi anything, he became even more focused. But something inside him was changing.
He no longer trained only to improve.
He trained to prepare for pressure.
That was the real difference.
Every morning he compressed his soul power until the sensation inside his body became thick and heavy. Every afternoon he practiced sword
movement until his arms trembled. Every evening he went to the forest edge to sharpen his awareness.
The Special Eyes were still not fully mastered.
He knew that clearly.
He was not deluding himself.He could not see everything. He could not predict every motion. He could not read an enemy's entire body like a book.
But sometimes—
Only sometimes—
he could feel a moment.
A fraction ofi hesitation.
A shift before movement.
A tiny change in air pressure.
A body preparing to strike before the strike actually came.
It was not perfect.
Not stable.
Not something he could control at will.
But it existed.
That was enough to make him serious.
One afternoon, he stood between two narrow trees at the forest edge, wooden sword in hand, and waited without moving.
The wind passed quietly through the leaves.
A bird called somewhere in the distance.
Then a rustle came from the brush.
Mo Chen's eyes shifted slightly.
Not fully with sight.
With feeling.
He sensed the moment before the movement.
Something small.
Something alive.
A hare burst out from the bushes and darted across the ground.
Mo Chen reacted almost at once, stepping to the side and striking downward with the wooden sword The hare was too fast to be hit cleanly, but the blade touched the air just beside its path.
He stopped and frowned.
Still not enough.
But that instant had been real.
He had felt it.
That moment between stillness and motion.
The same kind oi thing he believed he would need in a real fight.
He lowered the sword and took a long breath.
It was becoming clear now.
Special Eyes would not fully awaken in a calm training yard.
He would not master it simply by thinking about it.
It needed pressure.
Danger.A place where fear and focus collided.
And soon, he would get that chance.
Because the first spirit ring hunt was approaching
Mo Chen did not intend to rush in recklessly.
He wanted to enter prepared.
So he checked everything again.
His sword.
His darts.
His diary notes.
His breathing method.
His body condition.
His soul power control.
He even reviewed his short notes on spirit beasts, carefully rereading the parts about movement habits and first-response behavior.
At night, he sat at his desk and wrote:
Special Eyes is not stable.
I can feel brief moments before movement.
This is not mastery.
This is only the first sign.He paused, then continued.
That is enough fior now.
The real test will come when I face a spirit beast while preparing for my ring.
He set the pen down.
For a long time, he remained still.
Then he closed the diary and looked at his reflection in the dark window. A child's face.
A calm expression.
Eyes that were more serious than they had been months ago.
He was not strong yet.
Not even close.
But the path was forming
The first spirit ring hunt would not simply be about getting stronger.
It would be about proving that his body, sword, breath, and perception could survive under real pressure.
He stood up, took the wooden sword in hand once more, and made one last practice strike in the dim light.
Straight.
Clean.
Controlled.
Then he lowered the blade.
"Soon," he whispered.
Not as a promise.
As a fact.
The hunt was coming.
And Mo Chen was preparing to step into it.