Fourteen days passed with quiet discipline.
The Osborn Inn—once echoing with footsteps and the chatter of arriving disciples—had turned into a fortress of silence. Every room glowed faintly from cultivation lamps, their light pulsing with rhythmic qi. The courtyard smelled of dew and spiritual herbs, where early morning mist clung to the stones like silk.
No one left the residence. Not once.
The sound of breathing exercises permeated the atmosphere from sunrise to sunset: deep exhalations, measured inhales, and qi swirling in orderly harmony. Elder Zak's blade flashed in arcs of blue light as he led the younger disciples in sword formation drills in one corner. In another, Elder Alex stood under the old willow tree's shade, honing his spirit sense while his presence caused the air to tremble slightly.
