Rana stood outside Jalen's room, fist raised, hesitating.
She'd paced the corridor twice already. Told herself she didn't care. Told herself she wasn't going to ask. That she didn't need his help. That she didn't need him.
And yet… here she was.
The hallway was quiet, lit by the soft flicker of flame lanterns embedded in the walls. The air smelled faintly of cedar and smoke—comforting, familiar. But her heart wasn't calm. It beat like a war drum in her chest.
Finally, she knocked.
From within, Jalen's voice drifted out—calm, amused, and maddeningly smug.
"Enter at your own risk. I won't be responsible for what you might see, though."
Rana's face flushed crimson. "Just put yourself together—I'm coming in."
"You can't say I didn't warn you."
She growled. "Will you stop messing with me?"
"Come in," he said, voice smooth as silk.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, jaw tight, eyes narrowed.
Jalen sat cross-legged on a cushion, robe loose but thankfully intact. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp—watching her, reading her.
"What can I do for you?"
Rana crossed her arms. "About what you said. My cultivation technique."
Jalen tilted his head. "Did your parents send you here to seek my guidance?"
She didn't hide it. "Yes."
That still surprised her. She'd told them what he said—that he looked down on the Flare family's signature technique. She expected outrage. Fury. Maybe even punishment.
Instead, they told her to ask him for help.
As if he were some kind of master.
Sure, he was skilled. But… at that level?
Did that mean they'd figured out his mystery?
"What's in it for me?" Jalen asked.
Rana blinked. "What do you want?"
He smiled. "If I said 'you,' would you be willing?"
Her flaming aura flared. "Shameless."
"I'm a young man," he said with a shrug. "I have needs."
She turned sharply. "Then I guess I don't need your teaching."
She was halfway to the door when he appeared in front of her—silent, sudden, like a ghost.
Rana froze.
"What is it?" she asked, trying to sound calm. But her heart was pounding. She hadn't seen him move.
Jalen studied her for a moment, then said quietly, "So you're not the kind of girl who'd compromise herself just to get ahead. That's rare."
Rana blinked, caught off guard. Her aura dimmed slightly. She wasn't sure if it was a compliment or another one of his tests—but it landed somewhere deeper than she expected.
Her eyes narrowed. "You were testing me?"
He nodded. "I have no issue instructing you. But you'll have to abandon your family's cultivation method."
Rana stared. "What?"
"I know you hoped I'd complete it. Make it better."
"Can't you?"
"I can," he said. "But I have a technique better suited for you. One that will help you progress faster—if you're focused and determined, that is."
"A different technique?"
"If you practice this one, I'll still complete your family's cultivation method. You can give it to your parents when it's done."
Rana hesitated. Her pride warred with her curiosity. Her loyalty with her ambition.
She thought of her father's expectations. Her mother's careful gaze. The weight of the Flare name on her shoulders. And then she thought of the pain—the backlash, the pills, the sleepless nights after every breakthrough.
"I guess I have no choice."
"You always have a choice," Jalen said. "Yes or no."
She exhaled. "Okay."
Jalen reached into his sleeve and handed her a scroll.
"These are the items you'll need to begin."
Rana scanned the list. Ten fire-affinity herbs—some rare, some expensive. A few she recognized from her clan's vaults. Others she'd only seen in ancient texts.
"What are you using these for?"
"To purify and heal your body," he said. "Your current technique has corroded your meridians. I'll cleanse them—eliminate your embryotic core and reduce your cultivation to the beginning of the Ruby Realm."
"What?" Her voice cracked. "You want to cripple me?"
"Not crippled. Reset. With this new technique, you'll surpass your current realm in a month. And your Flaming Spirit Seed will sprout into a Flaming physique in no time."
Rana's hands trembled slightly. The idea of losing years of hard-earned cultivation—of becoming weak—terrified her.
"I…"
"If you don't want to," Jalen said, "forget it."
She looked at the list again. Then at him.
He wasn't mocking her. He wasn't pressuring her. He was offering her a path—and letting her decide whether to walk it.
"No. I'll do it."
She turned and left, scroll in hand, determination burning behind her eyes.
Jalen watched her go, then closed his eyes.
"Let's see what you become," he murmured, "when the fire is finally yours."