The training grounds gradually returned to life after General Kaelen dismissed the recruits. Groups of veterans dispersed across the courtyard, some heading toward the sparring arena while others carried over wooden boards and small carved pieces to resume their leisure.
One of them stretched lazily, shaking his head. "They'll be sitting there for hours."
Another laughed, setting a carved piece onto the board. "I give that feather kid until sunset before he starts talking to himself."
"What about the horned one?"
"He already is."
The veterans chuckled before settling around the game. "You still owe me a rematch."
"You've been saying that for three months."
"Because you keep dodging."
"I keep winning."
Their conversation drifted into friendly bickering while another pair walked toward the training field with wooden practice spears. Life simply continued. No one hovered over the recruits because there was nothing left to teach today; the rest depended entirely on them.
Leon watched the veterans for a moment before recalling Kaelen's warning to relax and do nothing for the rest of the day to protect his soul. He let out a quiet sigh. "I suppose that's an order."
While he usually didn't care about what people said, he recognized that the general was truly competent. Listening to him would be wise, especially because his current situation was completely different compared to his grueling past on Earth; he could actually afford to rest. Realizing that trying to cultivate after receiving such a stark warning would be foolish, Leon slipped both hands into his pockets and began strolling through the village.
Without cultivation occupying his thoughts, the frontier settlement suddenly became far more interesting. A blacksmith hammered glowing metal beneath an open workshop, each strike landing with a remarkable consistency that resembled a breathing pattern of its own. Further down the road, several children chased one another through the streets carrying crude wooden swords, while two elderly women argued over vegetable prices with enough passion to rival a battlefield. Near one of the houses, a veteran carefully repaired leather armor while quietly humming to himself.
It felt normal and oddly comforting. After everything that had happened over the past few days, the simple routine of ordinary life was almost surreal. His gaze drifted toward the distant forest, noting that even here, with monsters roaming just beyond the walls, people still laughed, worked, and complained about mundane things. Life refused to stop simply because danger existed.
"...Makes sense," Leon murmured to himself. "If people waited for peace before living, nobody would ever live."
As he rounded another corner, he spotted Ethan sitting beneath a tree, deeply frustrated.
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"...In..." Ethan muttered, his eyes closed. "...Out... No... Wait... Maybe that was right?"
Leon stood silently behind him for nearly a minute until Ethan finally opened one eye. "...How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
"...Was I close?"
Leon tilted his head slightly. "Actually... I think you're making this harder than it is."
Ethan frowned, crossing his arms. "That's encouraging."
Leon sat across from him on the grass. "Our Spirit Bloods—what about them?"
"They've reacted almost identically since we arrived," Ethan noted. "The same compatibility, the same beasts, and the same resonance."
Ethan slowly nodded. "...True. So?"
Leon shrugged. "You probably don't need to discover your own rhythm. You can borrow mine."
Ethan blinked in utter disbelief. "...Can we do that?"
"I don't see why not."
"...That feels illegal."
Leon smiled faintly at the corporate hesitation. "It probably is. Forget everything you've been doing."
Ethan closed his eyes again, and Leon spoke calmly to guide him. "In."
Ethan inhaled.
"Hold," Leon commanded during the brief pause. "Out."
The breath escaped slowly. Leon maintained exactly the same rhythm every single cycle, moving no faster and no slower as the loop repeated. "In. Hold. Out."
Ethan simply copied him. Occasionally, Leon corrected a tiny detail in his posture. "A little slower... Good. Don't force it." Another few breaths passed before he added, "The pause was too long... Better."
Time quietly slipped away. After several minutes of synchronized breathing, the surrounding Qi stirred, and a transparent film slowly formed over Ethan's skin. It wavered briefly before stabilizing completely into a perfect veil.
Leon stopped counting, and Ethan remained motionless for several breaths before opening one eye. "...That's it?"
Leon nodded. "That's it."
Silence lingered between them until Ethan suddenly grinned. "...And they say cheating won't get you far."
Leon looked at him, completely unbothered. "You're lucky evolution got lazy."
Ethan burst into laughter. "I'll take it."
Several nearby veterans had stopped what they were doing to watch the anomaly unfold.
"...Five minutes," one whispered. "...He skipped the hardest part."
Another scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Their Spirit Bloods really are that similar?"
Lyra smiled from the edge of the yard. "Apparently."
Miller walked over, looking between the two humans in sheer exasperation. "...I spent all morning failing."
Ethan proudly pointed at Leon. "I outsourced the difficult part."
Leon shook his head. "You copied it."
"Exactly. I copied the smart guy."
Maya laughed, shaking her head. "I hate how reasonable that actually sounds."
Even Davis smiled faintly at the dynamic. It wasn't unfair; it was simply a natural byproduct of their compatibility.
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. While the other recruits continued searching for the natural rhythm of their Spirit Blood, Ethan devoted himself to a different challenge entirely: walking. His first attempt at maintaining the breath while moving lasted only three steps, but the fourth lasted almost twenty. By evening, he could circle half the courtyard before the rhythm collapsed, with each failure immediately followed by another stubborn attempt. Watching him repeat the process over and over, Leon couldn't help but approve; where Leon analyzed, Ethan repeated, showcasing different methods but an identical determination.
With nothing left to accomplish, Leon finally allowed himself to do something he hadn't done since arriving in this world: nothing. He shared dinner with the others, listened more than he spoke, and watched the sunset stain the crimson clouds a deeper shade of red. There wasn't an immediate crisis demanding his attention, and when night arrived, he returned to his room without resistance.
The moment his head touched the pillow, absolute exhaustion claimed him. Leon dreamed of nothing, his breathing remaining perfectly steady throughout the night as his subconscious took over. Somewhere beneath conscious thought, Sage Breathing continued on its own with no interruptions and no effort. By morning, it had become as natural as his own heartbeat.
Outside, the first rays of dawn crept across the frontier village, signaling that another day of training had officially begun.