Chapter 167: Training with the Doll
The ancient training hall on the twenty-first floor thrummed with latent divine energy. Torchlight flickered across cracked stone walls etched with forgotten runes, casting long shadows that seemed to breathe. Shen stood at the center, boots planted firmly on the cold floor, his breath steady despite the weight of isolation pressing down on him.
Nephine's final instruction still echoed in his mind like a distant temple bell: Train alone. This is for your own growth.
No distractions.
Before him loomed the doll—a flawless wooden replica of one of the primordial gods' sword saints. Its joints were carved with glowing azure sigils, its blank face carved into an expression of serene indifference. A single practice blade rested in its grip, humming faintly with power.
Shen narrowed his eyes, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
So this is my opponent now? A puppet pretending to be a god? Fine. Let's see how long it lasts.
He raised his hand. Mana surged through his veins like liquid fire. "Let's dance."
A blazing fire orb erupted from his palm, roaring forward with the fury of a dragon's breath. The air ignited in its wake, heat warping the space between them
The doll didn't move—until the last instant. With mechanical grace that felt impossibly alive, it sidestepped. Its sword flashed upward in a perfect arc, slicing the orb clean in two. Twin flames exploded harmlessly against the far wall, leaving scorch marks that sizzled and faded.
Even as a god, I can't read its movements, Shen thought, heart hammering. Every twitch, every feint—it fights like a living legend. No hesitation. No waste. How is a doll this perfect?
But it was wood. Just wood and ancient magic.
Shen's blood ignited. "I will never lose to a doll!" he roared, voice booming through the hall.
He drew his sword in a single fluid motion, activating Pure Identity. Golden divine aura exploded outward, flooding the chamber with blinding radiance. The floor trembled beneath the pressure. His body felt lighter, sharper—every sense amplified to divine levels.
He lunged.
The doll met him instantly.
Clang—clang—clang!
Their blades collided in a storm of sparks. Shen slashed low, aiming to sweep the legs; the doll leaped, countering with a downward thrust that grazed his shoulder. Pain bloomed hot and sharp, but he ignored it, spinning into an overhead strike infused with pure god-force. The doll parried flawlessly, then riposted with a thrust so fast it left afterimages.
Ten minutes blurred into eternity.
Shen's lungs burned. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes. His once-roaring aura now flickered like a candle in a gale—leaking golden wisps that dissipated into the air. Every swing grew heavier. Frustration clawed at his chest
Why can't I break it? I'm a god! This thing shouldn't even—
"Shen!" Lare's tiny voice squeaked from the bottle at his belt, sharp with worry. "Your power's dropping fast! Two days without food—you're pushing too hard!"
Shen barely registered the words. Teeth gritted, he poured everything into one final, desperate overhead slash. The blade screamed through the air, trailing golden lightning.
CRACK!
The doll shattered into a thousand wooden fragments that rained across the floor like brittle leaves.
Silence crashed down.
Shen dropped to one knee, sword clattering beside him. His chest heaved, vision swimming at the edges. Victory tasted like ash.
Then a voice echoed through the hall—deep, ancient, laced with the chill of forgotten tombs. Nothing like Nephine's gentle tone. It resonated from the very stones.
"Tomorrow the training continues. Will you attend?"
Shen's head snapped up, eyes wide. That voice… it doesn't belong to her. Who the hell is watching me from the shadows? The cave itself? Or something worse
Before he could demand answers, a loud, humiliating growl tore from his stomach. It echoed louder than any spell he'd cast,
twisting like a knife. Two full days without a single bite. Hunger slammed into him like a physical blow—vision blurring, limbs trembling.
Lare floated free from the bottle, tiny face pale with alarm. "Shen… we need food. Those lower floors had storage rooms, dry gardens—something! We can't keep going like this!"
Shen forced himself upright, gripping his sword for support. The shattered doll pieces on the floor twitched once, faintly, then stilled. The cave felt heavier now, every shadow alive and watchful.
He whispered, voice low and unyielding, "We make our own way… or we don't survive at all."
Far below, on the hidden lower floors, a new faint glow pulsed in the darkness—answering the voice. As if the cave had just stirred from a long slumber, hungry for more than just Shen's power.