16 Chapter 13: The Fiend

As the last echoes of training faded into the cool evening, I found myself alone with Lei Kung in the tranquil heart of K'unlun. The weight of the scrolls in my hand felt heavier than ever, especially the one titled "The Sanguine Fiend." The air was crisp, and the silence between us was filled with an unspoken gravity.

Lei Kung's eyes, usually as calm as still water, held a turbulent depth as he began to speak. "Daniel, the path you are considering with 'The Sanguine Fiend' is more than a mere meditation technique. It is a mantle of responsibility, a role steeped in the blood-soaked history of K'unlun."

He paused, as if weighing each word before it passed his lips. "You are familiar with the Iron Fist, the immortal shield of K'unlun, a protector against external threats. But there exists another, lesser-known aspect of our legacy – The Fiend."

My heart quickened. The Fiend – a term shrouded in whispers and wary glances among the monks.

"The Fiend is the spear of K'unlun," Lei Kung continued, his voice steady but laced with a seriousness I had rarely heard from him. "While the Iron Fist is the guardian, The Fiend is the warhawk, the hellish crucible we call upon in times of war."

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the gravity of his words. "To become The Fiend is to embrace a path of extermination. It's not about protection or defense. It's about being the harbinger of war, the one who relishes in blood, glory, and war."

The idea unsettled me, conflicting with everything I had learned about balance and harmony.

Lei Kung's gaze bore into me. "Daniel Rand-Kai, to walk this path is to transform. You must be willing to embrace the pain, the darkness, and the fury. It is a lonely journey, one that will test the very limits of your spirit and morality."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. The serene image of K'unlun's peaceful valleys clashed violently with the concept of a role devoted to war and bloodshed.

"Do I have to stick with it?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

Lei Kung's face, always so impassive, now bore a hint of something I hadn't seen before. It wasn't fear, but something akin to urgent concern. His hands, steady even in the fiercest of battles, had a slight tremor as he gestured towards the scroll in my hand.

"You don't have to, Daniel," he said, his voice firmer than before, yet laced with an underlying plea. "Put it back. There is no obligation for you to walk this path. The choice is yours, and yours alone."

His eyes met mine, and in them, I saw a depth of sincerity and earnestness that was rare in the usually stoic master. "This path... it is not one I would wish upon anyone, least of all you. It demands a price too steep, a sacrifice too great."

I could sense the weight of centuries behind his words, a lifetime of experiences that had taught him the true cost of such power.

"I will assist you in selecting another path," Lei Kung continued, his tone gentle yet insistent. "There are other ways, other arts that can harness your strength and spirit without leading you down a road so fraught with darkness. I can offer recommendations, guide you towards something more... aligned with your nature."

It was unusual to see Lei Kung like this, almost desperate in his attempt to steer me away from "The Sanguine Fiend." The master who had always embodied strength and control now seemed almost vulnerable in his concern for my well-being.

"You have a bright future, Daniel," he said softly, "a future that need not be overshadowed by the burden of being The Fiend. Consider this, please. There are many ways to serve K'unlun and to fulfill your destiny without succumbing to such a harsh and unforgiving role."

The intensity of his gaze held me in place, and I felt the weight of his words pressing upon me. This was not a mere suggestion; it was a heartfelt plea from a master who had seen too much, who understood the cost of such power more than anyone.

As Shifu's words hung in the air, a storm of conflict raged within me. The scroll of "The Sanguine Fiend" in my hand felt like a ticking bomb, its potential for destruction matched only by its promise of immense power.

The Incursion loomed large in my thoughts, the final end of the multiverse, a cataclysmic event that required immense power to avert. Time was not a luxury I possessed. The role of The Fiend, with its untold power and dark potential, beckoned as a means to an end, a way to bypass the long journey of becoming the Iron Fist.

Yet, the cost of this power was not lost on me. To embrace The Fiend was to step into a role that would forever alter how the world, how K'unlun, saw Daniel Rand. No longer would I be the immortal protector, a beacon of hope and resilience. Instead, my name would become synonymous with war, blood, power, and gore. 

Names carry weight, their power drawn from the deeds and legacy they represent. Being called the Iron Fist was cool.

Being called The Fiend on the other hand? That name evokes fear, respect, perhaps even revulsion.

I grappled with these thoughts, the scroll's presence in my hand a constant reminder of the choice I had to make. Could I bear the burden of becoming a symbol of war and violence? Was I ready to sacrifice my identity, to have my name etched in history not as a guardian but as a harbinger of destruction?

Yet, the urgency of the Incursion pressed upon me. The fate of the multiverse, the lives of countless beings, hung in the balance. Could I afford the luxury of choosing a path less dark, less immediate in its power, when such stakes were at play?

Shifu's words echoed in my head, a plea to choose a different path, a lighter burden. But the weight of responsibility, the looming threat of the Incursion, made his words feel like distant echoes, overshadowed by the immediate need for power, for a solution.

"Do I really want that?" I asked myself, feeling the weight of history and the burden of future expectations bearing down on me. The path of The Fiend was not just a change in title; it was a complete transformation of identity, a departure from everything I knew about the future.

Turning to Lei Kung, I saw his eyes still fixed on me, filled with a mix of concern and resolve. He knew the stakes, perhaps better than anyone.

In that moment, I realized the true challenge was not just the external threat of the Incursion, but the internal battle raging within me. The first step wasn't waiting for the blinking lights of the bracelet on my hand, it was to resolve myself into doing whatever it takes and not looking back.

"Shifu," I began, my voice steady despite the chaos in my mind, "I need time. This decision... it's not just about who I am now, but who I will become. The implications are far-reaching, beyond just me and K'unlun."

Lei Kung nodded, understanding the gravity of my internal struggle. "Take the time you need, Daniel. This decision is yours alone to make. Remember, the path of The Fiend is not the only way to face the challenges ahead. There are other ways, other strengths within you."

I nodded, grateful for his wisdom and guidance. "I will consider everything you've said, Shifu. I understand the urgency, but this... this is a choice that will define me forever. I owe it to myself and to K'unlun, and to the multiverse, to make the right decision." 

The multiverse part being said silently in my head.

With those words, I left Lei Kung, the scrolls still in my possession. The night air felt heavy around me as I walked, lost in thought. The future, once a path I felt I could shape, now felt like a labyrinth of uncertainty and daunting possibilities.

As I walked, the stars in the sunny sky above seemed to watch in silent anticipation, the fate of a hero, and perhaps the fate of the multiverse, hanging in the balance.

Unbeknownst to me, Shifu had blurred away the moment I turned my back to him to leave.

In the heart of K'unlun, Lei Kung moved with a purpose that was as unwavering as it was urgent. His destination was his own palace, the center of power and wisdom within this mystical city. The palace, an architectural marvel, stood proudly at the highest point of K'unlun, a testament to the ancient and mystical heritage of this place.

Lei Kung moved with an intensity that was rare even for him. His steps were swift and sure as he traversed the landscape of K'unlun, bypassing the usual paths and stairways. Instead, he chose a more direct route – vertical ascension. His powerful legs carried him upwards, jumping from one point to another, scaling the palace walls with the agility and grace of a being who had transcended the limits of the ordinary.

Reaching the pinnacle of the palace, Lei Kung stood tall and solitary, his figure a solitary silhouette against the vast sky. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the clouds above, as if piercing through them to see something unseen by others. The air around him grew tense, charged with energy.

Suddenly, with a deep bend of his knees, Lei Kung unleashed the power within him. Turquoise chi flared around his legs, a brilliant display of his mastery and strength. In an instant, he leaped upwards with such force that it sent battering winds swirling around the peak of the palace, a testament to his formidable power.

He shot through the clouds like a meteor ascending, easily reaching miles into the air with a speed and grace that defied belief. As he soared upwards, his outstretched hand grasped something invisible in the thin air. With an effortless pull, he hoisted himself higher, performing a flawless somersault to land on a jade surface that appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Lei Kung stood on a hidden plateau, high above the highest peaks of K'unlun. Before him lay a jade palace, magnificent and ethereal, its existence known to only a few. This was a place of ancient power, a sanctum of the highest order within K'unlun.

His eyes, stormy and determined, surveyed his surroundings. The palace was guarded by high-level monks, warriors of great skill, and beings who had dedicated their lives to the mysteries of K'unlun. Yet, as Lei Kung advanced, his presence commanded a respect that parted the crowd like a ship cutting through calm waters. No one dared to impede his path.

The surroundings became a blur as he moved with a speed that was both graceful and awe-inspiring. He passed guards, monks, and attendants, each bowing their heads in reverence as he passed.

Finally, Lei Kung slowed his pace as he approached the giant jade doors of the palace. The doors were masterpieces in their own right, adorned with intricate engravings of dragons and phoenixes, symbols of power and rebirth. They stood as both a gateway and a testament to the ancient wisdom housed within.

As Lei Kung stood before these doors, his expression remained one of solemn determination. 

As Lei Kung pushed open the heavy jade doors, his movements were imbued with a combination of vigor and strength. The doors swung open with such force that a gust of wind swept through the throne room, causing the papers scattered on a distant desk to take flight, fluttering chaotically in the air.

The throne room itself was a grand chamber, adorned with ancient symbols and artifacts that spoke of K'unlun's deep and mystical history. At the far end, upon a majestic throne, sat a man whose presence seemed as integral to the room as the throne itself.

This man, with his face a mask of impassiveness, exuded an aura of quiet authority and wisdom. The papers, caught in the maelstrom caused by Lei Kung's entrance, fluttered around him like leaves in a storm. But then, with a sudden shift, they were enveloped in a golden sheen. The chaos halted abruptly as the papers, now obedient as trained pets, rushed back into place, restoring order with an almost supernatural precision.

Without lifting his gaze from the documents before him, the man spoke. His voice was deep, resonating with a timbre that seemed to echo throughout the vast expanse of the room. "Such vigor, brother," he remarked, a slight undertone of amusement in his otherwise steady voice. "I haven't seen such excitement and urgency in your approach since the announcement of Divya's pregnancy."

His words, though spoken lightly, carried a gravitas that filled the room. The man on the throne, evidently Lei Kung's brother, possessed a demeanor that was both enigmatic and commanding.

Lei Kung, standing before his brother in the grandeur of the throne room, wasted no time on pleasantries.

"Daniel has chosen 'The Sanguine Fiend' for his meditation classic," he announced, his voice devoid of any embellishments, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

The man on the throne, upon hearing these words, finally lifted his gaze from the papers. His expression, previously unreadable, now took on a shade of concern, mingled with a deep contemplation. The mention of "The Sanguine Fiend" seemed to carry a significant weight, resonating within the walls of the throne room with a profound gravity.

"The Sanguine Fiend..." he echoed softly, letting the name linger in the air as if testing its taste. There was a moment of silence as he absorbed the implications of Lei Kung's statement. The stillness in the room was palpable, charged with an unspoken understanding of the gravity of this revelation.

Lei Kung remained standing, his posture respectful yet firm, awaiting his brother's response. The choice of "The Sanguine Fiend" was not a matter to be taken lightly. It was a path fraught with danger and steeped in a power that could easily consume even the most disciplined of minds.

The man on the throne leaned back slightly, his closed eyes narrowing as he contemplated the situation. "Daniel Rand... choosing such a path," he murmured, more to himself than to Lei Kung. 

The man in the intricate golden-robed kimono that signified his high status, regal and composed, paused at these words. His concern was palpable as his face tilted up, his body language reflecting a depth of understanding about the gravity of Lei Kung's statement. 

Yet, his response was measured, "And what of it?", his voice steady but tinged with an undercurrent of nonchalance. The question, simple as it was, seemed to hang in the air

Lei Kung looked incredulously at the man he considered a brother in all but blood. "What do you mean?" he echoed, a tinge of frustration coloring his tone. "Brother, we are speaking of The Fiend. You, of all people, understand the weight of its responsibility. How can we allow Wendall's son, your surrogate grandson, to embrace such a fate?"

The golden-robed man, his expression a blend of stoicism and subtle empathy, shrugged lightly. "Just because he is my surrogate grandson does not grant me the authority to alter his fate as I wish. If that is the path he was drawn to, then perhaps it is his destiny."

At these words, Lei Kung's fingers twitched, a rare display of emotion from the usually composed warrior. Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with his brother. "Where was this indifference at Wendall's death?" he pressed, his voice gaining an edge. "Brother, this is not a matter of mere favoritism. This is about the boy's future, his very essence. All of K'unlun, every monk, every warrior, they are all aware of our partiality towards the boy, and none have raised voices in dissent."

The golden-robed man exhaled, a seemingly simple act that resonated with an almost otherworldly depth. The sigh was not just an expression of weariness or contemplation; it was as if the very air of the throne room vibrated with the weight of his breath. This simple exhalation echoed throughout the room, carrying with it an unspoken power, a subtle yet unmistakable reminder of who he was.

Lei Kung, ever attuned to the shifts in energy around him, reacted instinctively. His turquoise chi flared in response, swirling around him like a protective mantle. It was as if his chi sensed a hidden element, an unseen force in the room that demanded vigilance.

At the same time, the golden-robed man spoke, his voice deep and tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Lei Kung, my dearest brother, I appreciate deeply your concern for my grandson and Wendall's progeny." There was a pause, a moment of stillness as he methodically began to stack the papers before him.

As he did so, Lei Kung's chi grew more intense, flaring like a wild bonfire, a manifestation of his growing unease and the latent energies at play in the room. The air seemed to thicken with the power that emanated from him, a visual testament to his deep connection to the mystical forces of K'unlun.

Simultaneously, a yellowish-golden chi began to manifest in the room. Unlike Lei Kung's chi, which clearly originated from him, this golden chi seemed to materialize out of thin air. It didn't start from the golden-robed man; rather, it appeared as if being drawn into existence by the very atmosphere of the room, a response to the moment's gravity.

This golden chi, ethereal and yet palpable, filled the room with a sense of ancient power. 

The golden-robed man continued to gather the papers, each movement deliberate and controlled, yet there was a sense of something brewing beneath the surface. His calm demeanor belied the undercurrent of energy that was building in the room, a testament to his own mastery and control.

As the tension in the room escalated, the golden energy, initially a subtle presence, began to manifest more prominently. It started as a faint glow, a mere hint of gold that delicately tinted the jade walls and the ornate decorations of the throne room. This ethereal golden sheen seemed almost like the first light of dawn, gentle and unobtrusive, yet impossible to ignore.

Gradually, the golden energy grew denser, expanding like a slow-moving mist at first, then gaining momentum. It was as if the very essence of the room, its history, and its power, were responding to the presence and emotions of the golden robed man in it. The golden hue intensified, deepening from a soft glow to a richer, more vibrant gold. It swirled and danced around the room, enveloping everything in its path.

Soon, the entire throne room was awash in a sea of gold. The dense energy filled every corner, turning the jade walls and intricate decorations into mere silhouettes beneath its luminous embrace. The room's original grandeur was now obscured, replaced by a mesmerizing display of golden power.

Amidst this sea of gold, Lei Kung stood resolute, his turquoise chi still flaring around him in defiance. However, the increasing density of the golden energy was having an effect. It was as if the very air had become thick and heavy, pressing down with an almost physical force.

Lei Kung's figure, once upright and unyielding, appeared to grow shorter, not due to any change in his stature, but because he was being inexorably pushed towards the floor by the sheer weight of the chi around him. His feet sank into the floor, creating depressions in the solid jade as he steadfastly refused to bend his back. The sight was a testament to his strength and determination, even as it became clear that he was steadily being overpowered by the overwhelming force.

The golden-robed man, in contrast, remained seated, seemingly unaffected by the immense energy he had conjured. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the turbulent display of power filling the room. He appeared as a still point in the midst of a storm, an anchor in the ever-growing sea of gold that threatened to consume everything.

The golden-robed man, having finished organizing his stack of papers, looked up at Lei Kung. His movements were almost languid, betraying no hint of the intense display of power that had just filled the room. His eyes remained closed, his face a portrait of serene composure amidst the tumultuous sea of golden chi.

Then, in a moment that seemed to fracture the very air, his eyes snapped open, revealing irises of a deep, scarlet blood color. The effect was startling, a stark contrast to the golden aura that enveloped everything else. His gaze, intense and piercing, was fixed on Lei Kung, who remained steadfast despite the overwhelming pressure.

With a fluid motion of his hand, the golden-robed man beckoned to the sea of chi that swirled around them. The golden energy, thick and almost tangible, responded immediately to his call. It moved with purpose, converging towards his outstretched hand, drawn by an unseen force.

As the energy gathered, it began to compress, the immense sea of golden chi condensing into a sphere the size of a tennis ball. The orb, radiant and pulsating with power, shone like liquid gold. Ripples cascaded across its surface, a visual representation of the immense energy contained within. The sphere seemed to strain against the confines of the man's grasp, yet he held it effortlessly, his expression unchanging.

"Relax yourself, brother," the golden-robed man said, his voice calm yet commanding. "K'unlun has already felt our wrath barely a year ago. Lower your chi."

Lei Kung, standing resolute, met the golden man's gaze with a look of unwavering stubbornness. His eyes, reminiscent of a defiant child, held a silent but unmistakable challenge. It was a rare display of obstinacy from Lei Kung, known for his discipline and control.

The golden man, observing this display, showed a flicker of annoyance. "Brother, when I appointed you as the greatest soldier under the heavens, that did not mean you were to adopt the dull stubbornness of one," he remarked, his voice tinged with frustration.

Yet, Lei Kung remained unmoved, his chi still blazing around him like a fierce bonfire. His black eyes locked onto the golden man's blood-red ones, a silent standoff between two formidable forces.

The tension in the room escalated, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of history between them. Then, without a word, the golden man made a decisive move. He lifted his palm and pushed the unstable orb of golden chi towards Lei Kung.

For a moment that seemed to stretch out, the golden orb moved slowly across the distance between them, a mesmerizing and ominous spectacle. Then, suddenly, the orb unraveled. It transformed into a massive wave of golden chi, surging towards Lei Kung with unstoppable force.

Lei Kung, with his chest broad and posture unyielding, walked into the wave head-on. His own turquoise chi surged to meet the onslaught, a clash of energies that filled the room with a blinding brilliance. For a few seconds, Lei Kung's chi resisted, holding against the golden wave like a bastion against a storm.

But the power of the golden chi was overwhelming. Like a relentless wave crashing against a rock, it eventually broke through Lei Kung's defenses. His chi shattered, dissipating into the air like smoke. Lei Kung, despite the visible strain and the bulging veins on neck and head that marked the toll of the clash, did not flinch or falter. He stood his ground, enduring the pain and the aftermath of his shattered energy with a stoic resolve.

The golden man watched this display, his expression unreadable. The clash was more than a mere test of strength; it was a demonstration of wills.

In the charged atmosphere of the throne room, the golden-robed man's patience finally snapped. With a commanding tone, he ordered Lei Kung, "Get out."

Lei Kung, however, stood his ground, his stance unyielding, a testament to his resolve and the seriousness of the matter at hand. His refusal to leave was not just defiance; it was an expression of his deep concern for Daniel's fate and the implications of his choice.

The golden-robed man's frustration boiled over. Rising from his chair in a swift, fluid motion that belied his earlier calm, he bellowed, "I AM THE AUGUST PERSONAGE, I COMMAND YOU TO GET OUT." The title signifying his supreme authority in K'unlun, was invoked to reinforce his command, a clear indication that the argument had reached its peak.

As he shouted, a powerful wave of chi erupted from him. The golden chi, previously controlled and contained, now burst forth in a raw and unforgiving torrent. This time, the energy was not just a display; it was a force of expulsion, a clear and undeniable statement of authority.

Despite Lei Kung's formidable strength, the sheer power of the August Personage chi was overwhelming. Lei Kung's feet, already sunk nearly a foot deep into the jade floor in his effort to withstand the previous onslaught, now left two deep grooves as he was inexorably pushed back. The jade uprooted and cracked under the strain, marking his forced retreat. He refused to lift his feet, maintaining his stance even in the face of the golden robed man's unleashed power.

Finally, Lei Kung's back slammed against the heavy jade doors with such force that it caused them to reverberate with a loud, gong-like sound. The resonance echoed throughout the throne room and likely through the corridors and halls of the entire palace.

The tension in the throne room reached an almost palpable intensity as the golden-robed man's chi blazed with the brilliance of a second sun, casting a radiant light that filled the entire space. In the midst of this overwhelming display, Lei Kung got up and spit out the blood filling his mouth, his gaze unwavering as he faced the golden robed man.

Breaking the standoff, Lei Kung suddenly raised his arm and began to remove his robe, revealing his immensely muscular physique. His body was a tapestry of scars, each one a testament to the countless battles and trials he had endured. Yet it was his chest that drew the eye – adorned with a string of black symbols, a sentence in a language reminiscent of traditional Chinese. The symbols were more than mere marks; they were a profound statement, a part of his very identity.

The golden-robed man's expression shifted noticeably at the sight. Even in his faux anger, he had not shown such a depth of emotion. His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again, opting instead to simply stare at Lei Kung. The room was heavy with the weight of unspoken words, the history and significance of the symbols on Lei Kung's chest hanging in the air between them.

After a moment that stretched on, filled with the tension of unspoken thoughts and emotions, the golden-robed man finally spoke. "Why go to such lengths? Do you hate my former title so much, Brother?" His voice, though steady, carried an undercurrent of emotion that had not been present before.

Lei Kung's gaze held a myriad of emotions as he addressed the golden-robed man, his voice resonating with a mix of frustration, pain, and a deep sense of responsibility. "It isn't the title that is the issue. It's that blasted book," he said, his voice tinged with a bitterness that spoke of a past haunted by tragedy.

As he spoke, Lei Kung's hand clenched into a fist, a physical manifestation of the anger and turmoil swirling within him. "I was right there with you, brother, as our Laoshi penned it for you. The cover was black, brother. It was black when it was made. It was black when you learned. It was still black when you slaughtered those millions."

The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of his words.

Lei Kung's voice rose, his emotions spilling over. "Yet it chose to be dyed with the blood of my pupils. MY STUDENTS." The pain in his voice was palpable, revealing a deep wound that had never fully healed.

Lei Kung's voice, raw with emotion, filled the room, his words pouring out in a torrent. "You know the weight of that book, the burden it carries. How can we, in good conscience, set Daniel on a path paved with such sorrow and destruction? How can I stand by and watch another young soul be consumed by its darkness?"

His eyes, usually a well of calm and discipline, now burned with a fervor born of deep-seated pain and responsibility. "Those students looked up to us, to me," he continued, his voice breaking slightly. "I taught them, guided them. They trusted me, and I... I led them to that cursed book. And for what? Power? Glory? It was supposed to be a tool for protection, for strength. But all it brought was death and despair."

Lei Kung's fists tightened, the scars on his body seeming to stand out more prominently as he spoke. "I still hear their screams, brother. I still see their faces, twisted in agony. They were not just students; they were my children, in all but blood. And that book... it took them from me."

The golden-robed man, usually a figure of impenetrable stoicism, showed a flicker of pain in his eyes. Lei Kung's words were cutting deep, reaching a part of him long shielded from the world.

"We have seen too much blood, too much loss," Lei Kung said, his voice softening but still laden with a mix of sorrow and anger. "I cannot – I will not – let Daniel tread that same path. He deserves better. We owe him – owe them – a chance at a life not overshadowed by the specter of that book."

Lei Kung's impassioned words were suddenly interrupted by the golden-robed man, his voice firm yet carrying an undertone of defensiveness. "I was helping people."

The assertion seemed to trigger something in Lei Kung, and he started laughing. It wasn't a laugh of amusement or joy, but a chilling, hollow sound that filled the room with its dark resonance. The golden-robed man watched Lei Kung with unease, clearly unsettled by this unexpected reaction.

Lei Kung, still laughing, began to advance towards the golden-robed man. "Do you listen to yourself sometimes, Yu-Ti? God be damned." His words were sharp, laced with sarcasm and disbelief.

After a brief pause, Lei Kung continued, his tone now more pointed and accusatory. "What about Chodak? What about him?" He didn't wait for an answer; it was a rhetorical question, a lead into his argument. "Hm?"

The golden-robed man now known as Yu-Ti looked down at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. "He was an... unfortunate casualty."

Lei Kung's laugh turned colder at this response. "A casualty? Oh, okay." His tone was laced with scorn and disbelief. He looked directly at the golden-robed man, his gaze piercing. "What about Dorje? What about Choden? What about Ceba? Or Akar? Were they all casualties too?"

With each name Lei Kung uttered, the golden-robed man's presence seemed to diminish, to grow weaker. 

The golden-robed man's defensiveness slowly crumbled under the weight of Lei Kung's words, revealing a vulnerability seldom seen in one of his stature and power.

Lei Kung's voice rose with a fervor born of deep conviction. "I will not have Daniel slaughter my son just for an ounce more chi. I will not watch him be forced to dull his emotions as he tears off the sinew from the bones of his enemies. I WILL NOT ALLOW DANIEL TO KILL MILLIONS FOR FAUX PEACE."

The golden-robed man, now visibly drained, sank back into his chair. His usual aura of unyielding power had diminished, replaced by a weariness that seemed to envelop him. "What do you want me to do about it?" he asked in a weary whisper.

Lei Kung's eyes softened at the sight of his brother's vulnerability. "I want him to have Aurora's Pearl if he sticks with the book," he stated, his voice now more composed but still carrying an undercurrent of determination.

The mention of Aurora's Pearl caused the golden-robed man, Yu-Ti, to look up in alarm. "Are you crazy? Aurora's Pearl. The prized jewel of my treasury?" he exclaimed, disbelief coloring his tone.

Lei Kung responded calmly, having anticipated this reaction. "It is the only way I will allow him to pursue the path of the fiend."

Yu-Ti's annoyance was palpable as he questioned, "When did you figure it out?"

Lei Kung's response came with a hint of a smirk, the tension in the room beginning to dissipate. "When you yelled at me to get out. There was no reason for such callousness from you, Yu-Ti, and you never are. Unless... it's about a scheme being on the verge of ruin."

Yu-Ti shook his head, a mixture of resignation and respect in his gaze. "When can I expect him to be ready for my training?"

Lei Kung's smile broadened at the acceptance of his request, a sign of relief in the midst of their heavy conversation. "We just started on Chi. I will work with his fundamentals and send him over in a year's time."

Yu-Ti looked at Lei Kung, his alarm evident. "A year's time? Have you gone mad? Even your past prized students took nearly half a decade."

Lei Kung responded with a casual shrug, "He's talented, maybe even earlier if he likes it as much as I think he will."

Yu-Ti stared at his brother with a deadpan expression. "Why were you so against it at first then?"

Lei Kung shrugged again, a flash of anger crossing his face. "Because I believed you were going to leave it to your guards again. No matter how talented they were, you just pushed them to self-study because they didn't fit your standards."

Yu-Ti's gaze met Lei Kung's, unflinching. "They weren't right for it. If they couldn't handle a little dose of mental madness, how could I take them to the higher stages? It was better that I left them alone so they didn't progress further and fall even deeper into depravity."

Lei Kung snapped back, his voice tinged with frustration and accusation. "So they were just sacrificial lambs in the end? I could have done something."

Yu-Ti looked at his brother, his expression calm yet firm. "One can't reset themselves after starting the path. They were doomed the moment they couldn't even pass the initial onset of madness. At least in the end, most of them managed to control it, living out their natural lifespans."

Lei Kung's response was bitter. "Yes, they lived it out with all hopes of progress and future being cut from them, being forced to listen to tiny tendrils of madness clawing away at their psyche. It doesn't matter if they were able to handle it; they never felt peace of mind again. Their maddened blood only served to turn the color of that damn book a bit more crimson."

THE END.

This was slightly tough to write. Because Lei Kung has always been such a near infallible character in terms of power. Like at this point in time he's been considered peak by everyone since Day 1. 

I really wanted the cracks to show. The vulnerabilities that can only be brought out by someone equal or superior than you.

But of course, our boy stuck through it. He stood his ground for Daniel and we got a nice piece of action and tension from it.

Let me know how you all liked it. 

Also, I looked at the comments and I want to give a shoutout to all those people who literally spammed comments to make sure I updated. For some context I was just sick and was glued to my bed.

But, especially this one person with the user "O_Leitor", I came back with nearly 26 comments from him being very and I mean VERY interested about the next update.

Along with some other people who went to my other fanfics to ask about this one. I really appreciated that. I guess as authors that's where we get our motivation. 

Of course there is passion involved for us but when you write and people genuinely want to see you continue, it makes the writing a little bit easier because the praise just makes us smile.

Or it makes me smile at the very least. Thank you so much for the support and I love you all.

5,874 words not including the A.N.