Chapter 372: Chapter 372

Shi Min flinched, the memory twisting and warping like a distorted reflection. Now he was twenty, trapped in the relentless downpour, blood mixing with rainwater, surrounded by elders whose whispers were daggers. "He’s talented, but unstable. Too emotional. Too soft." Their disdain dripped from their words like venom.

The shadows deepened, and he could hear them louder now, taunting him.

"You’ll never be enough."

"You’re only here because of your mother."

"You’re not worthy of the Azure Bone."

Frustration flared within Shi Min as he clenched his fists. "This isn’t real." But the demon thrived on his denial.

It coalesced into a grotesque likeness of himself, twisted in doubt, its hollow eyes gleaming with malice. "You think you’re ready?" it sneered, the words dripping with scorn. "You think you’ve earned this? You’re just a child clinging to your mother’s shadow."

Shi Min’s aura erupted, a vibrant surge of defiance. "I’m not her shadow!" he roared.

The demon’s laughter rippled through the air, cruel and mocking.

With every step you take and every trial you face, they whisper her name — not yours."

With another blink, the scene morphed again, transforming into a nightmarish version of Peonies Castle. The once-majestic walls were cracked and crumbling, and the sky above burned a deep, ominous red. The air was thick with the stench of failure, and before him loomed a figure cloaked in swirling black smoke — his own face, distorted and sinister.

"You really thought you were ready?" the demon taunted, its voice a venomous hiss. "You fused with the Azure bone, and now you think you’re worthy?"

Shi Min’s fists tightened, a storm brewing within. "You’re not real."

"Oh, I’m very much real," the demon spat, each word a knife. "I am every moment of your self-doubt, every memory of your failures. I am the ghost of your mother’s burdens you could never lift."

Images flashed around Shi Min — Ling Li, shielding him from the spiritual backlash, standing with unwavering solitude before the Elders, her hands trembling yet determined as she crafted the Nirvana Elixir.

"You’re weak," the demon hissed, barbing his words with malice.

"You’re your mother’s burden."

Shi Min’s breath caught in his throat, despair coiling around him like a serpent. The cocoon surrounding him flickered uncertainly, his soul flame dimming as though the very essence of his being were at stake.

The demon advanced, towering over him like a dark omen.

"Give up. Let me take over. I’ll be stronger. I’ll be ruthless. I’ll be everything you’re too afraid to be."

Shi Min’s vision blurred as despair threatened to consume him. Yet amid the shadows, there were flickers of light — Ling Li’s face, weary yet proud; Mushu training by his side, fierce and unwavering; Ren, his fingers intertwined with Shi Min’s beneath the plum tree, radiating silent encouragement.

Then, he saw himself — not perfect, not invincible, but resolute. Fighting. Growing.

"I’m not perfect," Shi Min uttered, his voice barely a whisper.

The demon hesitated, its mocking grin faltering.

"I’m not the strongest," Shi Min said, rising slowly, determination igniting within him. "But I am mine. And I won’t let you define me!"

With a feral roar, the demon lunged forward. Shi Min didn’t retreat or dodge; instead, he embraced the darkness.

In that instant, the illusion shattered with a brilliant burst of light. The cocoon erupted, radiant and unyielding, fortified not just by the power of the Azure Dragon but by the unbreakable spirit of his reclaimed will.

Outside, the monitor flickered into stability, casting a steady glow across the chamber. Li Tianyuan released a measured breath, the tension in his shoulders easing. "He broke through his inner demon," he announced, his voice a mixture of relief and admiration.

The assistant’s eyes widened in disbelief. "He... embraced it?"

Li Tianyuan offered a solemn nod. "That’s the only way to defeat a true inner demon. Not through denial, but by acceptance," he explained, each word weighed with the gravity of hard-earned wisdom.

Inside the chamber, Shi Min awoke, his eyes snapping open. They shone with a piercing azure, the color edged in gold like a radiant sunrise breaking through a stormy horizon. Phase Two was complete, the air thick with anticipation — the storm was brewing.

The Master’s Gaze: Otako Walks the Line

The morning sun stretched its golden rays across the training ground, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the earth. Yet, the air felt unnaturally still, as though the world itself was holding its breath in anticipation. Today was different; Otako had arrived.

Ling Li, cloaked in her formidable persona, Otako in her Samurai Mask, stepped onto the field with an otherworldly intensity that crackled in the air, like the prelude to a tempest. Otako’s samurai cloak billowed softly with each deliberate step, although no wind stirred. Otako glided forward, each movement imbued with a grace that seemed to defy the very laws of physics.

Adorned in a striking Samurai mask and a flowing cloak that ripples like shadows in the night, Otako moves through the world like a phantom. The intricate designs of the mask obscure features and expressions, leaving onlookers captivated by the enigma it conceals. The cloak, rich with deep hues and whispered tales, adds an air of mystique, swirling around them as they navigate through the crowd. No one can discern whether Otako is a man or a woman; the mystery deepens with every step, leaving a trail of curiosity and intrigue in their wake.

The moment Otako made his entrance, every trainee froze in place as if turned to stone. Spines straightened, breaths froze in throats, and even the breeze dared not disturb the electric atmosphere.

Chatty swallowed hard, his sword trembling in his clammy grip. The Enfield, Cannonball — his trusted ally — was absent, left behind in the forge for training. Without it, he felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he were standing before a tempest without shelter. Panic clawed at him. ’What if Otako decides to punish me?’ The mere thought made him want to sink into the ground.

Before anyone could muster a reaction, the Seven Shah instinctively dropped to one knee in flawless synchrony. "Good morning, Master," they intoned, their voices harmonizing like a well-tuned instrument.