white phantom

Chapter 3: Chapter 2 - Training Under the Raging Waterfall



The roar of the waterfall shook the ground, breaking the silence of the night. Beneath the cascading water, Bai Shen stood on a slippery rock, letting the relentless torrent crash against his body.

Cold. Heavy.

Every drop felt like a thousand tiny strikes battering his skin. But he did not move. He did not flinch. He needed this. His body was still weak. His skills were still lacking.

"If I can't endure this, I will never be able to defeat them."

He closed his eyes—not that it mattered. He had never relied on sight. His world was built on sound, on the tremors that told him what others could not see.

So he listened.

The water crashing down, the rocks shifting beneath the pressure, the distant whisper of branches swaying in the night wind. Slowly, he began to separate each sound, finding the rhythm hidden within the chaos.

Vibrations. That was the key.

He raised his sword and slashed through the air. But it wasn't smooth. The movement was still crude. It lacked precision.

Bai Shen gritted his teeth. Hearing wasn't enough—he needed to feel.

First Training: Detecting Vibrations in Water

He stepped forward, allowing the water to reach his waist. With his eyes closed, he stabbed his sword into the rushing current, trying to sense the difference in pressure as the blade moved.

One slash. Two slashes.

But the violent water disrupted his balance, throwing off his movements.

"Not enough."

Bai Shen crouched lower, allowing the water to flow over him. He let it pull at his clothes, swirl around his legs, and press against his chest. He had to become one with the current.

Hours passed. Then, he tried again. This time, his movements were smoother. His sword no longer fought against the flow but moved with it.

And then—he felt it.

A slight change in the water. A disturbance. Something was moving beneath the surface.

Bai Shen tensed. A Blackwater Serpent?

He took a step back, gripping his sword tighter. He couldn't see it, but he heard it—the faint vibration of scales brushing against stone.

A test had arrived.

His first real battle was about to begin.


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