Chapter 562: Lessons On The Cliffside

A man stood at the edge of a cliff, framed by a sea of peach trees swaying in the mountain wind. Their blossoms rained down in gentle flurries, petals scattering across white stone and drifting into the endless blue sky beyond.

His long silver hair shimmered faintly in the sunlight, tied loosely behind his shoulders. Golden eyes watched the clearing below with calm intensity, and though his face bore only a mild seriousness, the weight in his gaze was undeniable. Curved black horns, streaked with veins of glowing gold, rose proudly from his head. A white dragon’s tail swayed behind him, brushing the fallen petals as though impatient for movement.

His white and black robes fluttered softly in the breeze, trimmed with golden accents that caught the light like threads of sunlight woven into fabric.

Then, for a moment, his composure softened. He eased into a smile.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying the warmth of both challenge and expectation.

Across from him, on the opposite side of the clearing, stood a small boy.

The child’s silver hair matched his own, falling around his shoulders in soft waves. But his eyes—deep, sharp purple—burned with youthful resolve. His hands gripped the shaft of a silver-etched spear, its tip gleaming faintly as he leveled it forward. A silver dragon’s tail curled and uncurled behind him, betraying his nerves even as he forced his stance to remain strong.

"I’m ready," the boy said firmly. His tone was serious, but there was still a trace of youth clinging to his voice.

The man’s golden eyes gleamed, and his smile widened faintly.

"Good," he said, raising one hand and gesturing forward in a single, fluid motion. "Alright, come now. Let’s see how much you’ve learned."

The petals swirled in the wind between them, as master and disciple—father and son—poised to clash beneath the falling blossoms.

The boy inhaled deeply, steadying his grip on the spear. His silver tail flicked once, sharp and tense, before going still. He lowered his body into a practiced stance, knees bent, the spear angled toward the man’s chest. His purple eyes narrowed with focus.

The man’s smile lingered as his golden eyes studied him. He did not draw a weapon. His hands remained loose at his sides, his horns gleaming faintly in the sunlight, his robe fluttering in the mountain breeze.

"Good posture," the man said softly. "But you’re holding your breath. Relax. Control comes with flow, not tension."

The boy gritted his teeth but didn’t loosen his stance. Instead, he lunged forward, petals scattering beneath his boots. The spear cut through the air with surprising speed, its silver tip gleaming as it shot toward the man’s chest.

With a movement as fluid as falling water, the man stepped aside. His dragon tail swayed lazily as though amused. His hand snapped out, two fingers catching the shaft of the spear just before it could pass.

The boy gasped, tugging hard, but the spear didn’t budge an inch.

"You’ve improved," the man said with a mild smile. "Last month, you would have overextended and fallen flat."

The boy growled under his breath, his purple eyes flaring with determination. He released his grip on the spear, spun to the side, and grabbed the weapon again further down the shaft, twisting sharply. The sudden torque forced the man to release his hold—or rather, he allowed it.

The spear slipped free, and the boy thrust again, this time low, aiming at the man’s legs.

Better.

The man’s golden eyes glimmered faintly as his tail swept outward, striking the spear shaft and deflecting it harmlessly aside. The blow sent a ripple of force up the weapon and into the boy’s arms, making him stumble back two steps.

He bit down on his frustration and steadied his stance again, panting softly.

The man chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Clever. You remembered my warning about relying too heavily on reach. But..." His gaze sharpened. "You’re still fighting me as though I’m human."

Before the boy could respond, the man moved.

One moment he was standing still, the next his figure blurred, petals scattering violently in his wake. He appeared directly before the boy, golden eyes glowing faintly as he raised a hand.

"Too slow," he said, tapping the boy’s chest with a single finger.

The impact was gentle, but the force behind it sent the boy sliding across the stone clearing, his boots grinding against the floor until he stumbled to one knee, breath stolen by the shock.

He looked up, purple eyes blazing, but instead of anger there was determination.

Again.

"Get up," the man said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of command. "Show me the strength of a dragon’s blood."

...

Hours later, the peach grove lay littered with petals, many crushed beneath countless steps. The boy collapsed onto his back at the edge of the cliff clearing, his silver hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the spear lying discarded at his side.

His purple eyes were glazed with exhaustion, but the faint spark of pride burned within them.

The man, unruffled despite the long duel, dusted off his robes with a calm flick of his hands. His golden eyes softened as they turned toward the boy.

"You did very well," he said. His voice was smooth, carrying both approval and expectation. "Your strikes are sharper, your footwork steadier. Soon, Ho’Rus... you’ll be able to wield that spear as more than just a weapon. You’ll wield it as an extension of yourself."

The boy, Ho’Rus, turned his head with a weak smile. His silver tail twitched faintly against the stone, too tired to lift.

Just then, soft footsteps approached from the grove. The air filled with the gentle sound of rustling vines as a woman emerged between the peach trees. Her hair was a deep, earthy brown, flowing down her back in loose waves. Her eyes gleamed a bright, lively green, full of cheer that seemed to brighten the grove itself.

Curved brown horns crowned her head, entwined with delicate green vines that shimmered faintly with a natural glow. A long green dragon tail trailed behind her, brushing against the petals as she walked. Like the others, she wore white and black robes trimmed in gold, though hers were tied with a sash of green, marking her distinction.

"Amazing!" she said brightly as she hurried over, her smile radiant. She knelt beside Ho’Rus and pulled a folded napkin from her sleeve. With gentle hands, she dabbed at his sweat-damp face, brushing aside his silver hair. "Truly amazing, Ho’Rus! You lasted longer than I thought, and that spin with your spear—oh, that nearly had him!"

Ho’Rus flushed faintly, both from her praise and his exhaustion. His purple eyes softened, and he gave her a tired but proud grin.

"Thank you, Aunty Lila," he said, his voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

Lila laughed softly, her green eyes sparkling. "You’ve inherited your father’s stubbornness, that’s for sure."