Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 387: Insights of the Steele

The moment Niko’s voice rang out, signaling the start of the 24-hour comprehension trial, the atmosphere inside the coliseum shifted entirely.

Gone was the thunderous energy of the alchemy competition and its excitement still carrying over—now, a heavy silence descended over the stands, filled with curiosity and silent respect.

At the center of the arena, the 52 Personal Disciples had all already taken their various seated positions before the massive Lightning Steele. The ancient monolith towering over them, etched with countless inscriptions, runes, and depictions of martial movements in archaic script and Lightning runes.

Some competitors immediately closed their eyes, diving deep into meditation. Others carefully scanned the Steele, their gazes flicking between the thousands of carvings and lines of text inscribed in an ancient form of Lightning Runes, a script so old that most modern cultivators could only decipher fragments of its meaning. This was an artifact passed down since the very creation of the humble beginnings of the Lightning sect all those years ago.

The coliseum, though initially full, began to slowly empty as time passed. This was no spectacle of movement and combat—it was a battle of the mind, a test that would take patience, endurance, and deep comprehension.

The majority of disciples in attendance, many of whom were still at lower stages of cultivation, understood that staying to watch for 24 hours was simply impractical.

Thus, as the first two hours passed in near-total silence, thousands of lower-ranked disciples began quietly filtering out, heading back to their residences, planning to return for the conclusion when the competitors would begin showcasing their results.

Those who remained were the ones who could afford to. The higher your cultivation, the less you require things like sleep and food. Even Lassim had begun experiencing that benefit quite earlier on as he quickly rose through the spirit warrior stages of cultivation.

The Elders, their centuries of cultivation of experiences held many moments where they went extended periods without, so they stayed in their positions without concern.

Among the spectators, only the higher-tier cultivators, such as Spirit Transformation and above, chose to remain, a single 24 hours was like a blink of an eye. Some even took this time to meditate themselves, treating it as a valuable opportunity to temper their own focus while in the steele’s presence.

On the Sect Master’s platform, Volten, already seated comfortably, leaned into his chair, watching the competitors below with sharp, assessing eyes. With his experience as the Sect Master for countless numbers of these Elder Summits, overseeing this same competition every year, he could begin to make out the earliest signs of the progress being made by the Personal Disciples down below.

Lassim, noticed that the other elders had all manifested chairs of their own in unison, as if anticipating this situation ahead of time, and each taking a seat. Even Tessa and Aurelian had their own.

Volten, who noticed his disciple standing awkwardly, gently waved his hand to summon a chair for Lassim from his magic pouch. He couldn’t let his own personal disciple awkwardly stand while the rest sat down. Lassim took his seat, offering a smile to Holten, before observing the trial unfold down below.

Unlike before, where he had been fascinated by the alchemy competition due to its flare of different potion or pill mishaps turning into poofs of glittery or brightly colored clouds of smoke. The immediate results, with some pills turning to ash, was exciting. This event was… different. It lacked the tangible, flashy moments of victory and failure… for now at least.

Here, victory would be taken step-by-step, measured in small, barely noticeable shifts, until the very end when they accumulated into some technique.

Instead, only very minute things were taking place if you looked hard enough.

The way someone’s fingers curled as they mentally practiced a movement. The way someone’s spirit energy subtly pulsed, aligning with a particular flow in the Steele’s engravings. It was a different kind of competition—one that required patience to appreciate.

As Lassim sat comfortably, arms resting along the sides of his chair and watching the competitors below. Most of the audience had left for the night now, leaving only the dedicated few, roughly a thousand or so, who had the patience to stay for the full twenty-four-hour competition.

"Will anything exciting happen?" He finally whispered, his gaze locked on the massive Steele at the center of the arena.

Volten leaned back in his chair, turned his head to look at his disciple? "Mn? Is this boring you?"

Lassim didn’t look away from the competitors. "Well, the alchemy competition had a clear pace. Steps, visible progress, failures you could see and measure. But this… this is just waiting."

Elder Gwen chuckled. "To you, maybe. But to those on that stage, the battle is intense."

Tessa, sitting beside her master, nodded. "The stress and pressure from the Secr Master’s gaze is intense enough, but add everyone else and it’s incredibly stressful down there. Plus, Just like in potion refinement, where two brewers can use the same ingredients but create entirely different elixirs, comprehension isn’t about rote memorization. This is more about interpretation. For alchemy, how we interpret the ingredients and turn them into a recipe is what allows us to succeed. These individuals have a plethora of ’ingredients’ in the Steele—from the drawings, the archaic runes and even the flow of intent from past Lightning spirit warriors that influenced it radiating from the Steele. The question is, what recipe will they create?"

Lassim absorbed that, his gaze flickering between the competitors.

"So you’re saying even if they study the same inscriptions… their results will be different?"

Volten smirked. "Exactly." He gestured toward the Steele. "One disciple might see a lightning sword battle art. Another, a defensive technique. Someone else might view it as a movement skill. There’s no single answer, no perfect way to understand it. What they take away depends entirely on how they process what they see."

Aurelian, who had remained quiet until now, shifted slightly and shyly asked, "So… what happens if two disciples comprehend the same technique?"

Elder Varis scoffed, arms crossed. "Then it means they lack innovation. Our sect’s library doesn’t thrive on stagnation—it thrives on evolution. The goal isn’t to copy the past. It’s to build upon it."

Elder Gwen smirked at her rival’s blunt words but nodded in agreement. "That’s why those who simply copy won’t have as high a chance to be rewarded. Only those who apply wisdom and expand upon what’s already there will earn recognition. We’ve had years in the past where every personal disciple comprehended techniques already in our records, but the one who used every aspect of the steele’s ’ingredients’ to improve it were awarded the first place prize."

Volten tapped his fingers against the armrest. "And then there are the rare ones," he added. "The ones who don’t just reinterpret an old technique—but create something entirely new."

Lassim hesitated, absorbing the metaphor before asking, "…How often does that happen?"

Volten’s expression turned contemplative. "In the last thousand years of Elder Summits? I could probably count them all on a single hand. We’ve had this Steele since the creation of the sect. Most disciples—even those at the top of their generation—can only refine or modify existing techniques as it’s been studied so thoroughly. But to forge something new?" He exhaled lightly. "That requires a generational talent and a high level of insight. A mind that sees beyond what’s already there."

Tessa, tilted her head and whispered, "How do you even verify if something’s new?"

Elder Gwen grinned towards her disciple, "That’s what the Sect Archivists are for. If a disciple presents something never before recorded, they act as the judges to quickly confirm—including the Sect Master himself as he’s learned every technique or is aware of every technique within both the public sections and restricted sections of the library—evaluate whether it’s truly unique. If it is, it’s officially added to our sect’s Lightning Archives and they receive the bonus first place prize in addition to the highest comprehended technique among the rest of the disciples. Innovation must be rewarded."

Lassim watched the Steele, considering the winning conditions.

The Lightning Sect’s vast library of techniques—the foundation of everything its disciples practiced—had been built through events like this. The Steele itself was the accumulation of each generation adding to the knowledge of those who came before, and the library the record place for all of Lightning based elemental techniques and battle arts.

Volten glanced at Lassim, noting his silence. "You seem deep in thought."

Lassim finally looked away from the Steele, his gaze meeting his master’s.

"This… is worth staying up for."

Volten chuckled. "Good. Because we still have twenty-three hours left."

The group returned to silence and began their focused watching.

By the ten-hour mark, the first subtle changes began appearing among the competitors.

While most remained in complete stillness, a handful had started showing early signs of genuine insight.

One disciple, pointed out by Elder Gwen to be Elias Vael, had adjusted his seated posture slightly, his breathing completely in sync with the faint pulses of lightning energy radiating from the Steele. His fingers twitched almost imperceptibly, mimicking a martial movement etched into the monolith’s carvings. He was known for his unique Grimoire elemental spirit weapon that he used as a battle tactics generator. He’d generate interesting arrows of lightning that shot out like massive armies moving along a map’s battle plan, and was one of the highest comprehension tier disciples she’d known in recent years.

Another, Varen Istal, who was known for his full focus on finger techniques, had his eyes narrowed in full focus, his hands resting lightly on his knees. However, his spiritual pressure and mana subtly crackled around his fingertips—an indication that he was subconsciously aligning his lightning with one of the recorded techniques.

They weren’t the only ones.

One by one, small signs of understanding emerged across the competitors.

A disciple’s hands flexed, mimicking the curve of a stance. Another exhaled sharply, their body aligning unconsciously with the flow of a carved figure’s movement. A third let their lightning shift across their legs in careful, deliberate pulses.

The Steele did not change. The inscriptions did not glow. But something was happening. Understanding was forming.

The quiet battlefield of minds pressed forward, each competitor locked in their own silent struggle.

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The first movements of comprehension had begun.

But the true test—would come at the end of the 24 hours.