The air in Ironclad Village, usually thick with the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, felt different to Eric now. Even with his aura suppressed, he could discern the subtle currents of spiritual energy woven through the mundane activities of daily life. He moved with a new confidence, though he tried to project his usual weary demeanor. The Stonehide Grizzly core, a tangible symbol of his transformation, weighed reassuringly in his pouch.
He reached his small, dilapidated hut, its thatched roof patched in several places. His mother, Elara, a woman whose face was etched with the lines of worry and hard labor, looked up from mending a worn tunic. His younger sister, Lena, was meticulously cleaning a handful of wild berries, her small hands nimble.
"Eric! You're back," Elara said, her voice soft with relief. Her eyes, though, still held that familiar flicker of concern. "Did you... did you find anything today?"
Eric hesitated, then pulled out the Stonehide Grizzly core. Its suppressed glow was still impressive. "I found this."
Elara's jaw dropped. Lena gasped, dropping a berry. "A Qi Core! And such a large one!" Lena exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.
"A Stonehide Grizzly core," Eric confirmed, trying to sound nonchalant.
Elara carefully took it, her fingers tracing its smooth surface. "But... how? They're so dangerous. You've never brought back anything like this before." Her brow furrowed with a mixture of awe and apprehension. "Are you alright, son? You look... different."
"Maintain your composure, young one," the Dragon Spirit whispered in his mind, its voice a gentle reminder. "Do not reveal all your cards at once."
"I got lucky, Mother," Eric said, offering a small, tired smile. "It was already wounded from a fight with another beast. I just finished it off." It wasn't entirely a lie, he rationalized. The troll had been there first, even if it had been fleeing from him. "It took a lot out of me, though. I barely made it back."
Elara still looked skeptical, but the sight of the valuable core clearly swayed her. "This... this is worth a fortune! We can buy proper cultivation pills for you, Eric! And food, good food, for months!" Her voice trembled with emotion. "This is truly a blessing." She hugged him fiercely, her lean frame surprisingly strong.
"I know, Mother," Eric replied, returning the embrace. The warmth of her hug, the genuine relief in her eyes, solidified his resolve. This power wasn't just for him; it was for them.
Later that evening, after a meal that, for once, included a small piece of actual meat, Eric and Lena were huddled by the flickering oil lamp. Elara had already taken the core to the village's small trading post, hoping to sell it for a fair price.
"Big brother," Lena whispered, her voice soft. "You were really brave, fighting a Stonehide Grizzly." Her admiration was evident.
"It wasn't bravery, Lena," Eric said, keeping his voice low. "It was desperation." He looked at her, his heart aching. She was so young, yet already understood the harsh realities of their world. "But I promise you, things will be different now."
"A noble sentiment," the Dragon Spirit commented within him. "Let that purpose fuel your cultivation."
The next morning, news of Eric's "lucky kill" had spread like wildfire through Ironclad Village. The price the trading post offered for a Stonehide Grizzly core was significant, and it raised more than a few eyebrows, especially among those who knew Eric's meager cultivation base.
As Eric walked towards the Cultivation Hall, a familiar sneer greeted him. Roric, flanked by his usual sycophants, blocked his path.
"Well, well, if it isn't Eric, the lucky worm," Roric drawled, his spiritual energy subtly flaring, a display of dominance. "Heard you bagged yourself a Stonehide Grizzly. Quite a feat for someone still stuck at Qi Condensation Stage 1."
Eric stopped, his gaze steady. He felt the Dragon Spirit stir, a faint urge to unleash his true power and crush this arrogant bully. But he resisted. "Patience, Eric," the Dragon Spirit advised. "Let their mockery be your motivation."
"What do you want, Roric?" Eric asked, keeping his voice even.
Roric chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "Just curious. You think you're hot stuff now, don't you? With your little lucky find. Don't forget, Eric, true strength comes from cultivation, not from scavenging." He gestured vaguely at Eric's still-simple attire. "You're still a peasant. You'll never amount to anything more than a glorified trash collector."
One of Roric's cronies snickered. "Yeah, heard your family's celebrating. Guess they're finally eating more than just dried roots, eh?"
A vein pulsed in Eric's temple. He clinched his fists, restraining the urge to lash out. He wanted to wipe the smug look off Roric's face, to show him just how wrong he was.
"What's it to you?" Eric countered, forcing himself to remain calm.
"It's to me that you're getting ideas above your station," Roric sneered, stepping closer, his face inches from Eric's. "Don't think one lucky break changes anything. You're still weak. And you'll always be weak. Understand?"
Eric met Roric's gaze, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "We'll see about that."
Roric laughed, a loud, derisive bark. "Oh, we will, won't we? Let's have a duel. Right now. You and me. Prove your 'luck' isn't just a fluke."
The challenge hung in the air, drawing the attention of other cultivators passing by. Duels were common, a way to settle disputes and test progress. But a challenge from Roric, a relatively strong cultivator, to Eric, the weakest, was unprecedented.
"This is an opportunity, Eric," the Dragon Spirit's voice resonated in his mind. "An opportunity to test your control, and to sow the seeds of doubt. Accept it."
Eric felt a thrill of anticipation. He knew he could defeat Roric easily with his full power. But that wasn't the plan. He needed to be subtle, to reveal just enough to surprise, but not enough to expose the full extent of his transformation.
"Alright, Roric," Eric said, his voice surprisingly calm. "I accept."
A ripple of murmurs went through the small crowd gathering. Roric's smirk widened. "Fool. You'll regret this."
They moved to the designated dueling area, a cleared patch of ground at the edge of the Cultivation Hall's yard. An elder, overseeing the morning training, noticed the commotion and approached.
"What's going on here?" Elder Jian, a stern but fair cultivator at the Foundation Establishment Stage, asked, his gaze sweeping over the two youths.
"A duel, Elder," Roric announced, puffing out his chest. "Eric challenged me."
Eric remained silent. It was a small lie, but it made Roric look better in front of the elder.
Elder Jian raised an eyebrow. "Is that true, Eric?"
"Yes, Elder," Eric confirmed. "I felt I needed to test my progress."
Elder Jian sighed. He knew Eric's cultivation struggles better than anyone. "Very well. Rules are simple: no lethal blows, no intentional crippling injuries. First to yield or be rendered unconscious loses. Begin when I say so." He stepped back, a flicker of pity in his eyes as he looked at Eric.
Roric wasted no time. As soon as Elder Jian gave the signal, he lunged, his spiritual energy flaring brightly around his fists. He executed a Blazing Palm Strike, a common but effective Qi Condensation technique, aiming directly for Eric's chest.
Eric felt the heat, the raw power of Roric's attack. But where before he would have crumbled, now he saw the pathways of Roric's spiritual energy, the subtle weaknesses in his technique.
"Dodge, then counter with a focused strike to his wrist," the Dragon Spirit instructed, its voice calm and clear.
Eric sidestepped Roric's attack with surprising agility, his movements fluid and precise. Roric's fist whistled past his ear. Before Roric could recover, Eric brought his Ironwood staff up, not in a wild swing, but in a precise, controlled jab, aiming for Roric's exposed wrist, just as the Dragon Spirit advised.
The contact was swift, imbued with just a fraction of Eric's refined draconic Qi. Roric cried out, a sharp yelp of pain, his Blazing Palm technique dissolving. He stumbled back, clutching his wrist.
The small crowd gasped. Roric, the stronger cultivator, had been caught off guard by the 'weakling'.
Roric's face twisted with fury. "You little sneak! That was a cheap shot!" He growled, channeling more spiritual energy, his aura intensifying. "I'll make you pay for that!" He unleashed a flurry of rapid punches, each one imbued with significant Qi.
Eric moved like water, dodging, weaving, his body reacting instinctively. He blocked a punch with his staff, the impact rattling his bones, but he didn't yield. He countered with another precise jab, this time targeting Roric's knee.
Roric staggered, his leg buckling. His cultivation, though higher, was unrefined, relying on brute force rather than technique. Eric, guided by the Dragon Spirit, was subtly applying the principles of the Scales of Purity, making his physical body more resilient and his movements more efficient.
"Impossible!" Roric roared, frustration building. "How are you doing this?!"
"You underestimate me, Roric," Eric said, his voice steady, a subtle power resonating within it that made Roric falter for a moment. He didn't use any flashy techniques, no visible Qi blasts. He was simply faster, stronger, and more precise than Roric could comprehend.
Roric, losing his temper, abandoned all semblance of technique and charged like a wild bull, aiming a desperate, all-out tackle.
"Now, Eric. A precise blow to his solar plexus. Just enough to knock the wind out of him, but not cause lasting harm," the Dragon Spirit commanded. "Channel a small amount of concentrated Qi into your staff."
As Roric lunged, Eric rotated, bringing his staff around in a short, powerful arc. The tip connected with Roric's solar plexus with a dull thud. A barely visible ripple of blue Qi momentarily enveloped the tip of Eric's staff.
Roric gasped, his eyes widening. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, his face pale. He tried to speak, but only a wheezing cough escaped his lips. He stumbled backward a few more steps, then collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
Silence fell over the dueling ground. The onlookers, even Elder Jian, stared in disbelief. Eric hadn't used any spectacular techniques, no grand displays of power. He had simply... outmaneuvered and overwhelmed Roric with what appeared to be superior basic combat prowess.
Elder Jian stepped forward, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Eric. There was something different, something subtle, about his spiritual energy. It wasn't stronger in volume, but its quality felt... purer, denser. He couldn't quite place it.
"Roric, do you yield?" Elder Jian asked.
Roric, still struggling to breathe, finally managed a choked, "I... yield."
"Eric wins," Elder Jian announced, his gaze still fixed on Eric. "A surprising display, young one. Your basic combat skills have improved dramatically."
Eric bowed respectfully to the Elder. "Thank you, Elder. I've been training tirelessly." He subtly suppressed the last remnants of the faint draconic aura he'd allowed to escape during the fight.
Roric, finally catching his breath, glared at Eric, his face a mask of humiliation and confusion. "This isn't over, Eric! You just got lucky! Again!"
"Perhaps," Eric replied calmly, meeting Roric's furious gaze with a serene smile. "Or perhaps, my luck is finally changing."
He turned and walked away from the dueling ground, leaving Roric sputtering in his wake. The murmurs of the crowd followed him, a mix of disbelief and growing curiosity. He had done it. He had subtly asserted himself, without revealing the true extent of his power. He had won not with overwhelming force, but with precision and controlled application of his new abilities.
"Well done, Eric," the Dragon Spirit praised. "You handled that confrontation with wisdom. Their underestimation will be a formidable weapon in your arsenal."
Eric felt a surge of quiet triumph. The path was long, and dangerous. But for the first time, he felt truly capable of walking it.