A few hundred meters away from Riley, an old man knelt at the edge of a cliff — though anyone looking at him wouldn't think of him as "old."
His youthful features were misleading, a side effect of years spent refining his body beyond what was humanly possible.
Still, the weight of his presence made it clear: this was no ordinary man.
His arms were folded, posture calm, but his sharp eyes were locked on the young man training below.
As they narrowed, their dark hue shifted ever so slightly, tinged with purple — and faint streaks of lightning began dancing around his body in response, flickering like restless sparks.
Down in the forest, Riley moved like a blur.
Trees, snow, terrain — he dashed past all of it with sharp precision and speed, but to Beon Gyeoul… it was all in slow motion.
Just like any other of his many descendants practicing his technique.
And yet… this time felt different.
He didn't usually give this much attention.
