Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 847: Trained by the Fire Sovereign [Bonus]

From Feng’s point of view, the training field looked like a war zone waiting to happen.

The moment Serika cracked her knuckles, grinning like a pyromaniac seconds away from ignition, Feng knew the forest was doomed.

Quinlan stood across from her, exhaling slowly. His bare chest rose and fell as he adjusted his stance, becoming calm and focused, completely ignoring how ridiculous it was to spar with a woman known across nations as the Flame Incarnate. Or, rather than ignoring it, he was glad that it happened.

Feng sat on a boulder with her arms folded in front of her chest. "Yep. Two battle junkies. What have I done to deserve this?"

"Begin!" Serika shouted, already lunging forward like a cannonball fired by the heavens.

Quinlan reacted instantly. A burst of wind propelled him sideways, making the ground crack beneath his feet. Fire bloomed in his palms mid-dodge, and he twisted while in the air, launching twin jets of flame toward her center mass.

Serika didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even step back.

She simply caught the fire in her bare palm like it was an overenthusiastic puppy, grinning madly as the heat surged around her hand without leaving so much as a scorch mark.

"Cute," she said.

Feng sighed.

Quinlan landed hard, instantly switching tactics. He reached deep, calling on the fire in his gut, wind in his legs, and now earth hardening along his forearm as he vaulted in close. A punch wrapped in molten stone arced for Serika’s ribs.

*Smack!*

Her palm met his wrist, and the impact sent a shockwave through the clearing.

"You’re mixing them like soup, not forging them like steel!" Serika declared as she stepped forward, overwhelming him with her sheer physical strength. "Your body’s resisting the transitions. Feel that burn in your lungs? That’s because your qi lines are choking every time you force an element that’s not ready!"

Quinlan staggered back, coughing once, but the wild grin on his face didn’t fade.

"Oh, I feel it. The problem is that I’m so used to enduring pain that it kinda feels great."

"Masochist..." Feng muttered while Serika ignored his remark entirely.

Another clash.

This time, Quinlan swept low with a wind-enhanced dash, baiting her to counter. She obliged with a high kick that could’ve decapitated a lesser man. Quinlan ducked with flame erupting along his shoulders as he twisted and sent a geyser of fire straight at her side.

Again, her hand moved in the form of a blur, and slap, the flame vanished, smothered by sheer force.

"You’re rushing the mixing of elements. Fire first, then wind. You’re doing wind-then-fire. Why? Because you think it’ll be faster. But that’s not what your core wants. You’re forcing it. Sloppy!"

"Not sloppy," Quinlan grunted, sliding backward to avoid her next casual palm strike. "Experimental."

"Hah! Experimental? You wish!" she shot back, not willing to entertain his words. "You’ve got the Avatar’s core, I have no doubt about that now. But so what? That just means your body can theoretically handle the strain of using four elements. That doesn’t mean it knows how to do so as well."

She then lunged forward and delivered a punch to his chest, making him stumble backwards while wincing strongly. "You’ve got potential, Quinlan. But so does raw ore. Doesn’t mean you can wield it like a proper blade."

Feng yawned. "I give them five more minutes before Stupid Uncle gets himself knocked out."

Quinlan coughed violently in his attempt to collect himself before charging again, this time integrating water into his stance with fluid motions and serpentine patterns. It almost worked. His strike curved in a beautiful arc, wind wrapping around water, turning his momentum into a slicing gale.

Serika leaned slightly to one side and tapped his elbow mid-motion, sending the entire form crashing down like a drunk crane.

"Flow’s already much better. You’re a quick learner..." Serika allowed herself a proud smile aimed at her awesome student, rapidly getting adjusted to her new teacher role instead of the almighty Sovereign of Vulkaris. But just as quickly, her gaze hardened again.

"Your transitions are still lacking. You’re treating the elements like ingredients. They’re not spices—they’re limbs. You’ve got to move like they’re part of you. Not like you summoned them from a menu."

"I know that already!" Quinlan grunted, forcing himself up despite the tremor in his arms. His chest heaved, every breath a reward he had to fight for. Unlike what Serika seemed to assume, he wasn’t new to elemental control—far from it.

He had long since mastered their principles, their balance, and their theory. He had commanded them with a mage’s precision, weaving them into spells as naturally as breathing. That was what it meant to be the Avatar of the Elements.

But this wasn’t the same.

This was different.

This was no longer about incantations or energy flows.

This was about making the elements move with his body, not beside it, not after it, but as it. This was warrior work. Fists, feet, reflexes, instinct. No time to call upon an element like a tool—he had to be it.

And his body and mind simply weren’t there yet.

His lungs screamed under the weight of it—three, maybe four elements now, all fighting for dominance in his core. Fire answered first, always. The others came slower, less certain. Wind flickered, Earth dragged. Water slipped through him in fits and starts.

It was like trying to fight while conducting a symphony with no conductor; just a room full of unruly musicians all trying to play louder than the others.

Even now, they clashed inside him, a chorus of power that still hadn’t found harmony.

Feng tilted her head from the sidelines. "Uncle’s getting better. That last strike had more flow than before. Fire was still dominant, but wind and water were starting to answer... slowly, clumsily, but they were answering."

Then again, Serika still hadn’t even used qi.

No flames. No techniques. Just raw, overwhelming physicality.

When she moved, it wasn’t out of anger or aggression. It was precise, deliberate, like a blacksmith hammering imperfections out of red-hot steel. Every blow carried a lesson. Every block corrected a mistake. She wasn’t mocking him.

She was forging him.

And Quinlan—absolute lunatic that he was—kept grinning like this was the best day of his life.

"I’ll give you this," Serika said, barely winded while he was drenched in sweat. "You’ve got incredible guts. You’ve got your Avatar core, too. And you’ve had to use it under pressure already. Real, lethal pressure. If my reports are correct, at least..." A mischievous grin adorned her lips while she sent a glance toward Feng, sensing that the cheeky teenage girl had a hand in that little heist of theirs.

Serika then refocused and lifted a hand, catching Quinlan’s next punch between two fingers.

He froze.

"But you’ve still got a long way to go."

"Fair..." Quinlan wheezed before collapsing like a puppet with cut strings. He flopped onto his back, chest heaving.

Feng slid off her boulder perch and approached, peering down at him like he was a strange bug.

"Are you still alive, Maso Uncle?"

He gave her a thumbs-up without lifting his head.