Utilizing her qinggong, Ling Li soared towards the training grounds, her heart racing with electric anticipation.

The air shimmered around her, charged with qi that crackled like static electricity before a storm. The training grounds buzzed with frenetic energy. The Seven Shah, each a master of their element, moved with purpose, their disciples scattered across the terrain like pieces upon a celestial chessboard.

The Shah of Wind, perched atop a rugged stone pillar, commanded with an elegance that mirrored the billowing chaos of his cloak. His pupils leaped and twisted midair, their bodies dancing like autumn leaves caught in a tempest.

Nearby, the Shah of Flame raged at the heart of a scorched arena, barking commands that cut through the thick heat. His students were drenched in sweat, their faces set with determination as they endured relentless waves of fiery resistance training.

The Shah of Earth stood like an immovable mountain, his powerful aura anchoring the ground beneath him. Trainees struggled to maintain their balance on the ever-shifting terrain, legs shaking as the earth itself tested their resolve.

As Ling Li approached the training field, the very atmosphere shifted like a tide drawn by lunar pull.

Silence enveloped the space.

One by one, the Shah turned their attention to her.

They didn't bow.

There was no need.

Their subtle nods — those brief moments of acknowledgment — spoke volumes.

Ling Li reciprocated with a composed nod, her face an inscrutable mask of authority.

As she walked among the trainees, her gaze was sharp, penetrating like a blade concealed within soft silk. Some students instinctively straightened, buoyed by her presence, while others faltered, weighed down by her scrutiny. A few, emboldened, redoubled their efforts, driven by the challenge she represented.

She paused beside the Shah of Light, who was skillfully overseeing a group practicing intricate illusion-breaking techniques.

"How are they progressing?" she inquired, her voice steady yet laced with curiosity.

The Shah of Light returned her questioning gaze with a faint, encouraging smile. "They are raw, but their determination is fierce. The 'Eye' will test them."

Ling Li nodded, her expression one of fierce approval. "Good. Push them harder. The 'Eye' shows no mercy for hesitation."

She continued her observant sweep across the field.

This was her legacy, forged not only through Shi Min but also within the hearts of them all.

And she would ensure they were ready.

Cannonball's Dilemma

Ling Li's gaze swept across the expanse of the training grounds, her sharp eyes honing in on Four Eyes, who stood entranced under the watchful presence of the Shah of Dusk — Master Veyron. The air around Veyron shimmered with a dark aura that pulsed like a living entity, enveloping Four Eyes in a swirling, enigmatic mist. Each of his movements was a deliberate choreography of restraint and precision, a lesson in the discipline required to master the shadow arts.

Ling Li observed intently, her expression a carefully crafted mask. She noted the formidable strength Four Eyes had forged through years of relentless practice, yet beneath that surface lay subtle cracks — the slight hesitations in his transitions, a momentary falter in his modulation of his aura. He was tantalizingly close to mastery, but the final pieces still eluded him.

With a quiet resolve, she turned her attention across the field. There, Chatty was entrenched in a vigorous training session with the Shah of Steel, Master Kael, a titanic figure whose swordsmanship was a mesmerizing blend of brutality and grace. Chatty's Enfield, Cannonball, rested on his shoulder like a loyal guardian, each flick of its tail in sync with the powerful arcs of Kael's blade.

Ling Li approached stealthily, her presence blending into the charged atmosphere. Suddenly, the training session paused as Master Kael's gravelly voice cut through the silence. "Your stance is solid," he pronounced, the words resonating like distant thunder. "But your blade lacks conviction. You lean too heavily on your companion's channeling. Embrace the weight. Make it your own."

Chatty nodded, sweat glistening on his brow as he absorbed the wisdom. "Understood, Master Kael," he replied, determination igniting in his eyes as he prepared to dive deeper into his training.

Ling Li stepped forward, her voice slicing through the warm afternoon air like finely woven silk over tempered steel. "Murphy, I'm granting you three days off. Take this time to be with your wife; she departs for Beijing in just three days. Leave the Cannonball in Rockie's care."

Chatty's face erupted with excitement at the words' time off' — but that joy quickly turned to bewilderment as the latter part of her announcement struck him like a sudden gust of wind.

"Wait — what?" he stammered, his voice rising in pitch, tinged with panic. "Why? Why is Pharsa going to Beijing?"

His outburst rippled through the training field, drawing startled glances from onlookers.

Rockie, who had been engaged in an intense stretch nearby, groaned with exasperation. "And why am I stuck taking care of his Enfield?" he shot back, indignation lacing his tone. "He and I are nemeses!"

Ling Li raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smile gracing her lips at the delightful chaos unfolding before her. "Well, you can seek Pharsa later. She has good news to share with you," she said cryptically.

She chose not to mention the impending pregnancy; that was a secret Pharsa needed to reveal.

Chatty let out a dramatic groan, arms crossing over his chest in resignation. "No matter how good the good news is, it's still bad news that my wife is leaving me behind."

Fatty, his shirt damp from sparring, leaned in with a mischievous grin. "Oh, now you'll get a taste of what it's like to be separated from your wife," he teased.

Chatty huffed in displeasure, his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation.

Ling Li turned her attention back to Rockie. "Aren't you the one responsible for the Enfield whenever Murphy's unavailable?"

"No! I lost a bet!" Rockie protested, his voice rising, flaring with indignation. "That beast wrecked my room just because he couldn't grasp what I was saying!"

"Madam," Rockie added, his voice reaching near desperation, "why not send Cannonball back to Bear? He should train and break through. Murphy's due for a breakthrough too — he needs to catch up with his master!"

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