The training field was shrouded in cold mist as dawn broke.
No more sparring circles, no more wooden dummies. What stood before the twelve Celestial Stars now… was war in illusion. A shadow-crafted battlefield that pulsed with the Celestial Lord's will.
They had grown stronger since the starstones had fused with their bodies. But strength alone wasn't enough.
The Celestial Lord's voice echoed like thunder from the high platform.
"You wish to master your power? Then you must learn control. Strength without restraint is destruction."
He swept his gaze across the twelve. His robe, white as moonlight, remained unstained even as the wind swirled with dust.
"From today onward, you fight. Not to win. Not to kill. But to understand."
A flick of his sleeve—twelve dark shadows emerged from thin air. Each one bore the aura of a deadly warrior, yet none had a heartbeat.
Illusions? No.
These were echoes, fragments of combat spirits crafted from the Celestial Lord's divine will—each perfectly molded to counter their wielder's flaws.
And so began the true training.
Miexing, the Third Star, stood facing a shadowy warrior that mirrored her old self: swift, precise, utterly cold. She lunged forward, blade dancing through the air like silver frost. But her opponent was faster still, responding to her every strike with terrifying clarity.
A perfect counter.
At first, she fought as she always had—quick, emotionless, efficient.
But after the tenth clash, her speed faltered.
Not because of exhaustion, but because of hesitation.
"Why do you hold back?" the Celestial Lord's voice echoed again.
"I don't," she replied.
"You do. Not with your blade, but with your heart."
She clenched her fists, starstone pulsing beneath her collarbone. She pushed forward again—faster, colder. And with each blow, she felt it: the numbness creeping deeper into her soul.
Victory came at a price.
And she paid it willingly.
Xuanhu, the Seventh Star, was a beast in human skin. His opponent—a towering brute carved from smoke—matched his fury blow for blow.
But the longer he fought, the more pain he felt.
The starstone magnified every sensation, and yet he refused to retreat. Blood poured from his split knuckles as he wrestled the phantom to the ground.
"I will not yield!" he roared.
He won that round. But afterward, he couldn't lift his arms. He collapsed at the edge of the field, smiling through bloodied teeth.
Chiluan, the Fifth Star, danced through her fight like a flame. Her opponent took the form of a weeping child. Each time she swung her blade, the illusion whispered her brother's name.
She flinched. Stumbled. Her starstone pulsed erratically.
"Stop playing tricks on me!" she shouted, but the shadow only laughed.
Her hallucinations worsened. Friends became foes in her eyes. She hesitated again, and this time, she lost.
In another corner of the field, Jinglan, the Second Star, was caught in a nightmare of her own making.
Her opponent was herself.
But distorted—eyes empty, skin cracked like porcelain, lips whispering curses in a voice that matched her own.
She tried to weave illusions, to vanish, but the shadow always found her. Every spell frayed her thoughts further, leaving her gasping for breath, muttering names from a life she no longer remembered.
"I'm still here," she kept whispering. "I'm still Jinglan."
But even she wasn't sure anymore.
The days blurred.
Battle after battle. Shadow after shadow. Each time, the Celestial Lord watched in silence from above.
He never offered praise. Only silence—and the next test.
Miexing began to win more often. At first with effort, then with speed. The shadow warriors that had once wounded her now fell within seconds.
But something else changed, too.
She stopped reacting when others fell. Her eyes no longer lingered when Hanyou collapsed again from magic overload. When Lingyin began coughing blood mid-incantation, she didn't even turn.
She had learned control.
She had learned focus.
And she had forgotten how to care.
Then came a new phase.
The Celestial Lord raised a hand, and the battlefield shifted.
Pairs. Trios. Entire squads.
"You will now fight together," he said, "or not at all."
And so the Stars began learning teamwork—not through speeches or formation drills, but through survival.
Miexing found herself teamed with Jinglan and Xuanhu.
The first match was chaos. Jinglan's illusions misled allies as often as enemies. Xuanhu charged too far ahead, ignoring signals.
But Miexing adapted. Quickly.
She timed her movements with Jinglan's phantoms—positioning herself where the enemy's real body stood.
She used Xuanhu's fury as bait—cutting down those who tried to flank him.
And when Xuanhu collapsed from pain again, she didn't help him up.
She simply ended the fight, then pulled him to his feet when it was done.
"You're not dead," she said flatly. "Get moving."
He grinned at her through blood.
"I'm starting to like you."
She didn't smile.
But she didn't walk away, either.
Other Stars began to change as well.
Chiluan tied bells to her wrist, so her team would know when she turned on them.
Lingyin developed silent casting—magic without words, saving her voice at the cost of greater mental strain.
Hanyou trained himself to hold just one powerful spell per match, before blacking out.
Even Cangyan, the First Star, who rarely joined the training, occasionally stepped in. His duels with the Celestial Lord's shadows left scars that glowed faintly on his arms.
He spoke little.
But one evening, as Miexing stood watching the stars overhead, he joined her.
"You fight without flinching now," he said.
"Is that a compliment?" she asked.
"It's a warning," he replied.
She didn't answer.
The Third Star now gleamed brighter than ever in the sky.
Training Log — Week Four
Miexing: Near-complete mastery of enhanced speed. Emotional detachment critical. Group coordination improving.
Xuanhu: Physical endurance waning. Rapid recovery needed. Synchronization with allies inconsistent.
Jinglan: Mental fragmentation deepening. Illusion mastery effective but risky. Partnered well with Miexing.
Chiluan: High hallucination risk. Tactics adjusted. Depends on fixed auditory cues to prevent errors.
Lingyin: Silent casting stable. Health deterioration ongoing.
Hanyou: Magical control reached critical threshold. Usable for one decisive strike per match.
Cangyan: Combat data minimal. Spectator status maintained. Psychological evaluation pending.
The simulations were only illusions.
But the pain they felt was real.
The instincts they honed—real.
And the losses they imagined… might one day become truth.
Because beyond the horizon, the enemy stirred once more.
And the next time they faced battle, it would not be a shadow.
It would be the return of the monster they once failed to kill.
The true war was coming.
And the stars had no choice but to shine.