Chapter 3: AN ATTEMPT TO BLUNT THE FANGS OF A LION

Even before dawn brushed the snow-covered hills of Aerundal, Logan sat beneath a frost-kissed window, legs crossed, back straight, breath calm. Mist coiled faintly around his small frame, a quiet aura of warmth drifting from within—not mana, but Qi.

He drew in a long breath, slow and silent. Qi flowed through his meridians like a quiet river, pulsing with steady strength. Each exhale carried a faint mist, rising from both his mouth and nose. He was six years old now—six years since Aiden Ferith died and was reborn as Logan Smith.

And already, his body was stronger than most adult warriors.

His fists could crack stone. His senses rivaled a hawk’s. His muscles, though childlike in size, were packed with power. Yet none of this came from mana.

He had already formed a mana core once. But he hadn’t trained it since.

Not after what happened a year ago.

It had begun innocently.

One evening, during meditation, he reached toward the ambient energy in the air. It responded—familiar, like an old friend. In a few moments, he condensed it into a rudimentary mana core within his lower dantian. The process was instinctive, smooth.

But it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The court mage, Abraham, sensed something odd during a routine check. Within the day, Rudeous and Mirena were informed.

Logan was summoned before the elders of House Smith.

“You’ve violated Arcane Law,” a silver-bearded elder declared. His voice rang through the great hall like judgment itself. “Forming a mana core without undergoing the Enlightenment Ceremony is forbidden.”

Logan stood quietly, hands at his sides. “I didn’t know it was forbidden.”

“You’re six. Of course you didn’t,” Mirena said sharply, her voice like polished ice. “But ignorance doesn’t make you harmless.”

Darius stood nearby, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Unstable mana can do terrible things to a young mind,” he added, not even looking at Logan. “Dreams become delusions. Control becomes chaos. It’s dangerous… especially in the wrong hands.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but every word landed like a quiet threat.

The room murmured in agreement.

Logan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But inwardly, he memorized every face that turned away.

That was the moment he saw the truth—it wasn’t about law. It was about fear.

Most noble children couldn’t form mana cores before the Enlightenment Ceremony at age fourteen. It wasn’t just forbidden. It was impossible. And yet, he had done it effortlessly.

Mirena and Darius weren’t afraid of instability.

They were afraid of him.

Afraid that if he kept progressing, Darius wouldn’t stand a chance of inheriting the title of heir.

And the rest of the council? They didn’t want to cross the Stevens family—Mirena’s bloodline. Even if they admired Logan’s talent, they kept silent.

Then Rudeous finally spoke.

“Logan,” he said, voice unreadable. “The law exists to protect. Mana training at your age can be dangerous. For yourself. And others.” A long pause followed. “I will overlook it this once. But from this moment forward, you are forbidden to train mana or use magic until your Enlightenment Ceremony. Disobey… and there will be consequences.”

Alice gasped. “You’re punishing him for being gifted? How can you do this, Rudy?”

Rudeous gave her a look—firm, final. One that silenced any further protest.

Logan didn’t flinch. He only nodded.

But Mirena leaned forward, voice cold and exact. “And if he practices in secret?”

Rudeous’s jaw tensed. The question hung like a blade in the air.

Abraham cleared his throat. “His mana core should be sealed. Only then can we be sure there will be no further incidents.”

Several elders nodded in agreement.

Rudeous didn’t speak. His silence was an answer.

Alice’s hand found Logan’s. It trembled slightly.

The sealing ritual was brief—a glowing rune pressed to his abdomen, its light seeping into his skin. It didn’t hurt.

But something inside him… shifted.

He didn’t wince. He didn’t cry. But something in his chest coiled in on itself, like a blade being slowly turned. Like watching a door shut on a piece of his soul.

Still, he said nothing.

Because Logan had already made a decision.

You think you’ve stopped me. But you’ve only closed the door you know exists.

I will walk a path you’ve never seen.

⸻

The months that followed were quiet on the surface.

He obeyed the order. No mana. No magic.

But behind the silence, he trained in Qi every night—circulating it through his meridians using the Void Soul Sutra, an advanced technique from his past life that refined body, mind, and soul in harmony.

By day, he trained physically: lifting bricks, sprinting across the courtyard, doing push-ups until his arms trembled. Sweat drenched his clothes. His bones groaned under pressure—but instead of breaking, they grew denser. Stronger.

Even servants began to whisper.

“Why is he lifting bricks again?”

“Trying to impress the Lord?”

“Isn’t he banned from magic?”

Their gossip didn’t bother him.

Rudeous occasionally watched from afar, arms folded, expression unreadable.

But sometimes—just for a moment—a flicker of a smile crossed his face.

That kid… He’s still trying. Even when the world is against him.

⸻

One morning, Alice found him in the garden, doing push-ups in the frost-kissed grass.

“Logan,” she said, concerned. “You’re getting stronger without mana. How?”

He paused, then smiled faintly. “I’m training a different way.”

She knelt beside him, brushing a hand over his hair. “They’re already watching you, Logan. Please don’t give them another reason.”

“I won’t,” he said. And he meant it.

He hadn’t touched mana since the sealing.

Qi was enough.

⸻

At breakfast days later, Mirena’s voice cut across the long table like a blade.

“I hear the child has taken to physical labor,” she said with an air of mock concern. “Are you raising a farmer, Alice?”

Alice’s hand tightened slightly over her spoon. “He’s just energetic. Growing boys need to be strong.”

Mirena sipped her tea, eyes never leaving Logan. “Let’s hope that strength doesn’t lead him into more… unsanctioned activity.”

Logan looked up and met her gaze calmly.

“I’ve stopped all mana training, Lady Mirena,” he said evenly. “As Father instructed.”

Darius leaned back, resting his chin on one hand, his voice smooth.

“Well… by the time your Enlightenment comes around, you’ll be so far behind, it won’t matter. Don’t worry though,” he added with a smile, “I’ll still let you watch me from the crowd.”

Logan didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

Because by the time Darius awakened his mana at fourteen, Logan’s body would already be stronger than most adult knights.

He didn’t need to compete.

He didn’t need to prove himself.

He only needed time.

⸻

That winter, while the estate prepared for the seasonal festivals, Logan slipped into the woods beyond the estate walls.

Snow bit into his skin. Wind howled like a beast. But he welcomed the cold.

Each movement was slow, precise—a dance of death from another life.

He struck trees until bark split. He meditated until frost clung to his lashes. Qi surged through him, igniting his blood and sharpening his focus.

Rumors began to swirl.

“He’s still training, I swear.”

“Maybe he’s using forbidden magic.”

Some nobles began to take notice.

But Logan didn’t care.

Let them whisper. Let them fear.

He didn’t need recognition.

He didn’t need approval.

All he needed… was time.

Time to grow. Time to rise.

Because when the world finally realized what he was capable of—

They would already be too late to stop him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep