The Path To Strength Is Lonely [ISEKAI/CULTIVATION PROGRESSION]

The forest is silent.

The rogue cultivator leader stands alone now, his allies defeated, sprawled across the dirt, struggling to regain their breath.

Yet he does not waver.

If anything, he looks… intrigued.

His fingers flex, a faint glow of qi gathering in his palm, and De recognizes it—this man is stronger than the rest. Far stronger.

This isn't just a wandering cultivator preying on the weak.

This is a warrior.

And warriors do not back down from battle.

A deep inhale.

Then, the rogue cultivator moves.

Not rushing. Not exploding forward.

But shifting, his stance low, his body coiled—like a beast waiting for the right moment to strike.

De moves first.

Shadow Phantom Steps.

He flickers forward, closing the distance in an instant, his fist launching toward the man's ribs—

A feint.

Because Kalia is already moving.

A flash of steel, her saber cutting toward the leader's exposed flank.

A perfect attack.

But the rogue cultivator… reacts faster.

A single palm flicks outward—not blocking, but redirecting.

A pulse of qi bursts outward, forcing Kalia's attack off-course.

She twists mid-air, correcting her stance, but it's enough for him to retaliate.

A palm strike aimed straight at her chest.

Too fast to dodge.

But De is already there.

He meets the attack with his own—Domineering Demon Fist.

The air shakes from the collision, a shockwave rippling between them as both are forced back.

The leader lands smoothly, rolling his shoulders. "Better."

Kalia, breathing heavier than before, grins. "We're not done yet."

The fight continues, each movement sharper, each exchange more refined.

De and Kalia do not fight wildly.

They adapt.

They adjust.

The rogue cultivator is faster than expected, stronger than any of the previous enemies.

But he is also one man.

And two warriors, working in perfect rhythm, are not so easily stopped.

Kalia moves in, striking low—forcing the leader to guard his lower body.

De exploits the opening, his palm crashing toward the man's shoulder.

The leader twists, evading, but this time—not without cost.

A sharp cut opens on his arm—Kalia's blade finally finding purchase.

A small wound.

But a wound nonetheless.

And it changes everything.

The rogue cultivator exhales, rolling his injured shoulder.

His eyes flicker between De and Kalia.

And he realizes.

He will not win.

Not against both of them.

So he does not try.

Instead, he gambles everything on one last attack.

A blur of movement—he surges forward, qi gathering in his fist, every ounce of strength concentrated into a single, decisive blow.

Not at Kalia.

At De.

Because even now, even knowing he is outmatched—he still recognizes the greater threat.

De sees it coming.

He does not move away.

He steps forward.

Domineering Demon Palm.

Their attacks collide—a final eruption of force, cracking the ground beneath them.

For a brief moment, nothing moves.

Then—the leader stumbles.

His breath ragged, his stance broken.

He tries to lift his arm.

Fails.

De doesn't give him a second chance.

A sharp strike to the chest—controlled, precise, final.

The leader collapses to one knee.

Defeated.

The rogue cultivator stays there for a long moment, breath steadying, his body refusing to move further.

Then—he exhales a laugh.

Not bitter.

Not resentful.

But accepting.

"You're stronger than I thought."

He looks up at De, then at Kalia, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"The two of you—be careful in the selection."

Then—he rises to his feet.

Not in hostility.

Not in surrender.

But in respect.

He turns and walks away.

De and Kalia watch him go, the weight of the battle settling around them.

Kalia lets out a slow breath, shaking the tension from her limbs.

"So that's what it feels like to fight someone actually strong."

De doesn't reply immediately.

Because he knows.

This was just the beginning.

The real battles are still ahead.

The landscape shifts as De and Kalia move deeper into the wilds.

Ironhold is far behind them now—only open terrain, dense forests, and winding trails stand between them and the Sect Selection.

For days, they walk in measured silence, taking in the world around them, refining their understanding of the path they've chosen.

The battle against the rogue cultivators still lingers in their minds—not as a victory, but as a lesson.

Because it was not their peak.

It was only the beginning.

They make camp beneath the stars, the fire crackling softly between them.

Kalia leans back against a boulder, her saber resting beside her, its steel gleaming in the firelight.

She exhales, rolling her shoulders, eyes distant.

"That fight… it should have been easier."

De, seated across from her, says nothing at first.

Because she isn't wrong.

Even though they won, the battle had not been perfect.

The rogue leader had been strong, but not an impossible challenge.

And yet—they had been pushed.

Kalia had overexerted.

De had taken a risk allowing himself to trade blows.

They were strong.

But strength was never enough.

Finally, De speaks. "It won't be the last time we fight someone stronger than expected."

Kalia scoffs. "Obviously."

But there's something else in her tone—not frustration.

Understanding.

She tilts her head slightly, watching him. "You plan on pushing yourself further before we get there, don't you?"

De meets her gaze. "Of course."

Kalia grins. "Then let's not waste time."

The next few days are spent in relentless training.

Kalia refines her saber techniques, adjusting to her newfound speed and qi output.

She learns to control the excess energy that had once caused her to burn out too quickly.

She sharpens her footwork, working with De to perfect her movements in combat.

And De—he focuses on refining his Domineering Demon Palm, ensuring that every strike is as efficient as possible.

He pushes his Shadow Phantom Steps further, testing its limits, integrating it seamlessly with his offensive techniques.

Each sparring session edges them closer to their peak.

But they are not alone in these lands.

Something else watches.

Something hunts.

The attack comes at night.

A sudden pulse of qi, thick and oppressive, crashing over them like a storm.

Solar growls low in her throat, her golden-violet eyes snapping toward the treeline.

De rises in an instant, Kalia already unsheathing her saber.

Then—it appears.

A colossal wolf-like creature, its fur streaked with black and silver, its eyes glowing with raw spiritual energy.

Not a common beast.

A spirit beast of general rank.

The air crackles around it, its very presence disturbing the flow of qi in the area.

De narrows his eyes. This is not a beast they can ignore.

It is a beast they must face.

A battle that could push them beyond their limits.

Kalia grins, flipping her blade into a reverse grip. "Well. This is convenient."

De steps forward, his own aura rising.

"Then let's make the most of it."