Hao covered his mouth, pretending he wasn’t grinning.
’This guy’s a menace.’
Truth to be told.
He kind of liked him.
There was something comforting about a technique that didn’t care about bloodline, realm, or social status.
It didn’t need overwhelming strength or high-level comprehension.
Just quick reflexes.
And the guts to blind everyone in the room, including yourself, if it meant walking out alive.
Hao, of course, didn’t practice the technique with Tian Lu. Unlike with the Sunflare Needle Strike, this one was strictly solo.
Yeah, no.
Tian Lu only had one working eye.
Just one.
Hao wasn’t about to blind the last one.
So he trained in secret.
He picked a corner of the storage area that no one ever bothered with, made sure both kittens were napping, peeked out to confirm Mo Xixi wasn’t around to spy, and finally took a deep breath.
Activating it was simple because it was already integrated into his brain. All he had to do was gather a decent chunk of solar qi in his dantian and focus.
Release.
The first attempt?
Rough.
He flared the qi too early and ended up stunning himself into a squat, blinking rapidly with tears streaming down his face like he’d just watched a tragic drama.
Fortunately, he’d only used a quarter of his qi. If he’d gone all out, he might’ve really blinded himself, and that was the last thing he needed.
Not ideal, but not the worst either. He still had his vision, his dignity ’barely,’ and the ability to walk without stumbling into walls.
’Okay.’ Hao wheezed, shaking his head to clear the dizziness.
’Note to self – don’t look directly into the flash.’
After a minute to gather himself, Hao tried again. This time, he was ready.
He locked in, taking care not to release the Sunblind Burst too early. He could feel the heat building, but he kept his eyes tightly shut.
No way was he getting caught with his own flash again.
He activated the technique, his body releasing a burst of golden light. The flash shot out, fast and sharp.
There was no blinding pain, no tears in his eyes. The flash had done its job.
Hao exhaled in relief and opened his eyes.
’Alright, that went way better than the first one.’
But as Hao turned his head to scan the room, his smile disappeared.
In the corner, Kurome was standing, her black fur slightly ruffled – barely noticeable.
However, her pupils?
It had shrunk into razor-thin slits, so small they looked like someone had drawn them on with a single brushstroke!
She wasn’t even looking at him. She was staring blankly at the spot where Hao had been standing during the blast, eyes wide open.
Slowly… Kurome blinked.
Once.
Kurome turned to Hao and gave him that “never in my nine lives ahh” look.
Her tail swished.
Hao didn’t even get to open his mouth before Kurome’s calm, composed voice echoed in his head.
’Do not worry, Master. I am unharmed.’
Kurome wasn’t truly harmed by the Sunblind Burst. It had just startled her a little.
The light had been intense, but she had encountered much fiercer flashes in her time.
The real discomfort had come from the suddenness of it all, especially in such a confined space.
It was nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Still, my bad, Kurome. I should’ve warned you guys.”
’It merely gave me a surprise, Master.’
’It was not painful in the slightest.’
Hao’s shoulders slumped in relief, but then the worry crept back.
“Yeah… but what if it was Yoru or Tsuki? I can’t exactly explain something like that to them.”
“I just… I’m not sure they could handle it as well.”
’It is no matter, Master. It would have been unwise to let my children grow soft in the face of sudden challenges.’
’Even though they are still learning, they should be strong enough by now to handle circumstances such as this one.’
Hao had expected Kurome to be more protective of her kittens. Maybe even a little upset.
But in the end, she really was a spirit beast.
Not just any spirit beast – an old one. 222 years of survival didn’t come from pampering or coddling the next generation.
To Hao, Yoru and Tsuki were adorable, round-bellied fluffballs that chased shadows and rolled off shelves.
To Kurome, they were young predators-in-training.
Spirit beasts were born into a world that didn’t wait for them to grow up.
The wilderness beyond Sovereign City was unforgiving.
Danger didn’t come with warnings.
It lunged out from the underbrush or swooped down from the skies.
Sometimes it wore fur, claws, and fangs.
Sometimes it wore robes and held swords.
Demonic beasts, rival clans, and even passing cultivators could be a threat. Spirit beasts weren’t just hunted for territory – they were hunted for parts.
Bones, blood, cores. Even fur.
In that kind of world, softness was death. And a single moment of unpreparedness could cost everything.
Kurome’s response wasn’t cold. It was simply the truth of her world.
She didn’t expect her children to be fearless.
But she did expect them to learn.
’Master, may I watch you train?’
Hao blinked. “…What?”
’The technique you used earlier,’ Kurome clarified.
’If it is acceptable to you, I would like to observe.’
“You want to watch me practice that?”
’Yes, Master.’
Hao squinted at her, unsure if he’d heard correctly.
Wasn’t that basically saying she wanted to be thrown a flashbang grenade every couple of minutes?
This gotta be a boss-level side quest or somethin’.
“…Alright.” Hao hesitantly nodded.
“If that’s what you want, I allow it.”
Hao’s bright training session resumed.
This time, he had one audience.
Kurome had settled into the perfect 10/10 loaf-cat position in the side, paws tucked under, tail wrapped neatly.
Hao was uncomfortable.
Even though Kurome asked to watch, there was a strange sense that it wasn’t quite right.
He had to be violating at least one rule of workplace safety. And maybe a few moral ones.
Still, Kurome didn’t blink.
Literally. Her eyes were open and unshaken, seriously observing every motion he made.