Chapter 511: Changes (5)

The first group of young members of Wen family entered a quiet training chamber.

They sat according to the instructions preserved in the old manuscripts and began following the breathing pattern that had been passed down through generations.

At first, nothing happened.

Then one young man suddenly stiffened.

His brow furrowed.

"I feel something."

An elder immediately stepped forward.

"What do you feel?"

The young man placed a hand over the lower part of his abdomen.

"Warmth."

The word caused several elders to exchange glances.

Before they could ask another question, a young woman sitting nearby suddenly pressed a hand against her chest.

"I feel pressure here."

Her breathing became slightly uneven.

Another participant began experiencing dizziness and had to stop the exercise entirely. Several others reported strange sensations throughout their bodies, while a number of participants felt absolutely nothing.

The results were inconsistent.

Wildly inconsistent.

There was no obvious pattern connecting age, gender, physical condition, or previous experience with the breathing techniques.

Some reacted.

Some did not.

Some experienced warmth.

Others experienced pressure.

One person described a tingling sensation traveling through his limbs.

Another reported hearing a faint ringing sound.

Several felt nothing at all.

The elders watched in silence.

One of them finally whispered, "This is worse."

Another elder slowly nodded.

"Much worse."

The younger members looked at them in confusion.

They did not understand.

If some people could finally respond to the ancient breathing techniques, shouldn’t that have been good news?

The elders knew otherwise.

If everyone had failed, they could have dismissed the ancient records as myths.

But that was no longer possible.

Something had responded.

The old methods were producing results.

And nobody yet understood why some people could feel it while others could not.

That uncertainty frightened the elders more than failure ever could.

And while the Wens began testing their ancient techniques, another family on the other side of the world responded in a completely different manner.

The Volkovs had never been particularly interested in mythology.

They were practical people.

They trusted preparation more than prophecy and preferred tangible evidence to stories passed down through generations. Their family had survived wars, political upheavals, economic collapses, and countless other crises by preparing for possibilities rather than relying on luck.

When the first reports of the strange phenomena began spreading, the Volkov elders did not gather in a meditation hall.

They went underground.

Beneath the Volkov compound was an old armory that had remained sealed for more than a century. Its existence was known only to senior members of the family, and even among them, few had ever been permitted to enter.

The room smelled faintly of metal, oil, and dust.

Rows of locked cabinets lined the walls.

Several of them had not been opened in generations.

An elderly Volkov man stood before one of those cabinets.

He inserted an old key into the lock.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the mechanism clicked.

The cabinet door opened with a low creak.

Inside were weapons that had not been touched for more than a century.

Some were firearms from eras long past. Others were blades and unusual pieces of equipment whose exact purposes had been forgotten by most living members of the family.

The old man stared at them for a long time.

Then he reached inside and removed one of the weapons.

He placed it on the table and began cleaning it.

Another family member watched him with disbelief.

"You really think we’ll need those?"

The old man did not immediately answer.

He continued carefully removing the accumulated dust and residue.

"I don’t know."

He examined the weapon before continuing to clean it.

"That’s the problem."

The younger man frowned.

"You believe the old records?"

The elderly Volkov paused.

For decades, he had dismissed the stories about Qi and the ancient age as exaggerated family mythology. He had read the records, of course. Every important member of the family eventually did.

But reading something in an old book was not the same as believing it.

He had spent most of his life assuming the world was exactly what modern science had demonstrated it to be.

Then he had watched the news.

He had seen athletes suddenly surpass physical limits that should have required years of training.

He had seen the reports of unusual animal behavior.

He had listened to the old monk speaking about the return of the breath of heaven.

And he had remembered something written in the Volkov records generations ago.

The old man looked down at the weapon in his hands.

"I didn’t." He slowly raised his eyes.

"Until today."

Nobody in the armory spoke after that.

The old weapons remained spread across the table.

For the first time in generations, the Volkov family was preparing for something they could not define.

The Stein Family

Far from the other families, in a secluded location that did not appear on any ordinary map, another ancient legacy was beginning to awaken.

The Stein family had always been different.

They possessed one of the largest collections of ancient knowledge among the Strange Families, although even they understood only a fraction of what their ancestors had preserved.

Deep within their territory stood an enormous library.

It had remained sealed for generations.

The entrance was composed of two massive iron-bound doors covered in faded inscriptions. Dust had accumulated across the surface, and the stone surrounding the doorway showed signs of considerable age.

Elder King Stein stood before the entrance.

He was an old man with silver hair and a body that appeared frail at first glance. Age had narrowed his frame and slowed his movements, but his eyes remained sharp.

He studied the sealed doors for a long time.

Then he raised one hand and placed his palm against the ancient surface.

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then a deep mechanical sound echoed through the corridor.

Something inside the old structure had moved.

Dust shook loose from the ceiling.

The massive doors slowly began opening.

The sound was loud enough to reverberate through the surrounding halls.

Several young members of the Stein family stood behind their elder, watching with expressions ranging from curiosity to disbelief.

The doors finally opened completely.

Beyond them was darkness.

King Stein stepped inside.

The young members followed.

As the lights were gradually activated, rows upon rows of shelves emerged from the darkness.

The library was enormous.

Ancient records filled its shelves.

There were manuscripts describing breathing techniques, fragmented cultivation manuals, diagrams whose meanings had been lost, records of strange phenomena, maps of locations that no longer existed, and texts describing creatures that modern science would have considered impossible.

Generation after generation had preserved the knowledge.

But preservation was not the same as understanding.

Much of what was written inside the library had become little more than historical curiosity.

King Stein walked deeper into the library until he reached an empty section of the floor.

He turned toward the younger members.

"Sit."

The young people exchanged confused glances.

One of them looked around.

"Here?"

"Sit."

The elder’s voice contained enough authority that nobody questioned him again.

They sat.

King Stein lowered himself to the floor in front of them.

His expression became serious.

"Close your eyes."

The young members obeyed.

"Do not force your breathing."

They adjusted their positions.

"Do not imagine power."

The room became completely silent.

"Simply breathe."