Being a Mentor Wasn't Easy

The next day, the sun had just peeked over the horizon, and the air still carried the coolness of morning dew.

Chu Hang called Carol to the open space behind the house. Maria and Monica did not come out, watching from afar through the kitchen window.

"Your problem isn't a lack of strength." Chu Hang got straight to the point, without a trace of unnecessary warmth in his voice. "Your mind is too chaotic. Your emotions are all connected to the switch controlling your energy. When you're happy, it spills out. When you're angry, you lose control. That isn't controlling power. That's letting power treat you like a puppet."

Carol furrowed her brows and pressed her lips into a line without saying a word. She knew Chu Hang was right. Over the past few days, whenever she got even slightly worked up, the lightbulbs in the house would flicker and the television would turn to static, as if her body had become an oversized electromagnetic jammer.

"Watch closely."

Chu Hang extended his right index finger. A tiny point of golden light emerged at its tip.

The light was tiny, smaller than a firefly, yet terrifyingly stable. It quietly floated half an inch before his fingertip, neither flickering nor wavering, like a miniature sun embedded in transparent amber.

Carol held her breath.

Then, that tiny point of light began to move.

It first stretched into a cube less than a centimeter wide, every corner sharp as if measured with a ruler. Then the cube's edges began to melt, smoothly transitioning into a perfect sphere with a mirror-smooth surface. Finally, the sphere's upper and lower ends extended outward and flattened, becoming a miniature butterfly with its wings spread as though about to fly.

The golden patterns on its wings were clearly visible