Thirty days passed in the Blood Court fortress like a blur.
Every morning, even before the dark clouds dissipated enough to let a thread of pale light through, Kyrian was already in the Blood Core courtyard. The five arrived right after, without delays, without complaints. The training did not lessen.
Kyrian kept the same rule from the beginning. No Qi. Only flesh, bone, technique, and instinct. Without energy to mask weaknesses, every mistake was laid bare, exposed, and painful. A poorly calculated punch meant bruised ribs. A slow dodge meant a slap to the face or a knee to the stomach. And Kyrian never missed the exact force. Enough to hurt, never enough to break permanently.
On the first day of that new one-on-one cycle, Bai Zhu lasted four minutes before dropping to his knees, vomiting. On the tenth day, he lasted eleven minutes.
Kai evolved differently. He stopped trying to be the fastest and began to be the most precise. His strikes stopped being flashy and became surgical.
