《The Broken Paths》


 Prologue: The man who wants death

    The void stretched infinitely in every direction, a sea of nothingness where time did not move and space did not exist. In the heart of that void stood a figure¡ªno, something that had long since ceased to be human. She has no name.


    Names were things of the past, relics of mortality, of an existence bound by flesh, pain, and fleeting hope. She had been called many things throughout countless cycles. Queen. God. Evil. Goddess. Demon. Monster. A concept beyond understanding. She was boundless, untouchable by mortal constraints, beyond any force, even those who claimed dominion over all.


    But before all of that, she had been a woman.


    And before that, she had been a victim.


    She remembered the first life. The one before she became what she was now. The one before the cycle of suffering turned her into an entity beyond life and death.


    A girl born to a once-proud cultivation clan, her fate had been written the moment she took her first breath. She was the daughter of a declining sect, a child carrying the shattered legacy of her ancestors. She remembered the cold marble floors of the sect¡¯s great hall, the faces of elders filled with disdain, the murmurs that she was a burden¡ªborn too weak, too late, too useless to change their fate.


    When the enemies came, they did not meet resistance.


    Steel met flesh. Blood splattered across jade pillars. The once-lofty sect crumbled into nothing but embers and ruin. She was too young to fight, too powerless to protect. They took everything from her¡ªher home, her kin, her dignity.


    Enslavement was a kindness compared to what they truly intended.


    She learned the depth of cruelty that men could inflict upon a powerless girl. She learned the horror of betrayal, the taste of blood and bile, the feeling of fingers gripping her throat as she choked on her own suffering. In every life, she had learned, and in that first life, she had learned despair.


    But she did not break.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    She searched for strength¡ªnot from sects, not from masters, not from fleeting mortal power, but from something older. Forbidden knowledge, whispered between the cracks of reality.


    In the deepest abyss of despair, she found it.


    A ritual. A severance. A price paid in pain greater than any physical agony. She burned away her mortality, stripped herself of her name, her form, her past. She ceased to be human, ceased to be bound by life and death. The heavens screamed, the laws of the world fractured, but she was no longer theirs to command.


    She had become something else. Something unimaginable.


    She had become hatred incarnate.


    She became boundless.


    She had become the reason he could not die.


    Time had no meaning in her existence. She wandered between realms, between realities, a shadow watching civilizations rise and fall. She had no purpose. No goal. Until she met him.


    A simple man.


    A mortal, a mere businessman in a medieval world, insignificant in the grand scale of existence. Yet, even when his strength was non-existent, even when he was nothing more than a frail human, he resisted.


    She had broken kings, crushed armies, devoured worlds, Gods, universes and yet, this man, this pathetic lowly merchant, had found ways to fight her. When he had no power, he used his mind. When he had no tools, he built them. When he had no allies, he adapted.


    Even when he was just a human with insignificant power, even when his body was nothing more than fragile bones and skin, he found a way. Even if for a fraction of a second¡ªHe defied her.


    And one day, he hurt her. In his millions of lives, he managed to hurt her.


    It was a single moment. A mere flicker of time, but he had done what no one else had ever achieved. He had touched her.


    Grazed her hair.


    And in that moment, she felt it¡ªfear.


    And in that moment, she knew.


    He was hers. He would suffer. He would endure everything she had endured, and more.


    Even if it took eternity.


    999,999,999 lives had passed.


    He had grown stronger & wiser


    She had devised countless ways to break him.


    But he had also grown beyond what she had foreseen.


    They were both beyond comprehension now, their intellects unmatched, their strength exceeding that of even the most unfathomable beings. And still, he fought her.


    But now, the game had changed.


    This was his one-billionth reincarnation. And this time, he had returned to a world unlike any other.


    A world where the rules were different.


    A world where he and the entity would have a final dance


    But the entity¡ª


    She is absolute. A God.


    Her power was untouched. Unfathomable. Boundless.


    And she was waiting.


    A world called Earth.


    And the cycle was about to begin again.

 The Awakening of the Sovereign

    The void was silent.


    It always was.


    ''Look at the stars, Layla,'' Yasmina had once told her. ''Do you know what Ibn al-Haytham wrote? He said that the universe is written in light, and that those who read its language can decipher fate itself.''


    Layla had scoffed at the time. She had ruled through steel and cunning, not superstition.


    But now, as she drifted between death and whatever lay beyond, she wished she had listened more carefully.


    A negotiation room, dimly lit by lanterns, the scent of ink and spice thick in the air. Layla sat with the same poise she had always wielded, a blade hidden behind silk. She had not been born into power¡ªshe had seized it, carved it out with wit sharper than any steel. A queen, not by divine right, but by sheer force of will.


    She had been nothing at first. The forgotten daughter of a noble too unimportant to remember. A child born into a world that did not love her, cast aside by parents who had only wished for sons. She had been tolerated, ignored, treated as little more than an obligation¡ªa girl who should never have mattered.


    Her father had ruled a minor province, a bureaucrat clinging to power through false alliances and carefully played deceptions. Her mother, a woman obsessed with status, saw Layla only as a bargaining piece, a future bride to be traded away for political advantage. Her older brothers? They had seen her as nothing but a burden, an unnecessary competitor in their hunger for inheritance.


    She learned early that love was conditional. That kindness was currency. That the world would never hand her anything freely.


    So she took. Yet she had learned early that power was not given to the meek¡ªit was taken. When the throne had been left vacant, torn apart by warring factions, it was she who had maneuvered, whispered, and outplayed every rival. She had turned enemies against each other, made the strongest warlords dance in her palm, and when the dust settled, it was her name that was whispered in reverence and fear.


    The nobles who had scorned her? Gone. The siblings who had mocked her weakness? Eliminated. The father who had once declared she was ''unsuitable'' to lead? He had bowed before her in his final days, too broken to resist the storm she had become.


    ''You always had sharp eyes, Layla,'' he had wheezed from his sickbed, ''but I never thought you would turn them on your own blood.''


    She had looked down at him, expression unreadable. ''Neither did I.''


    Regret? No. She had done what needed to be done. The world had given her nothing, so she had taken everything.


    She had ruled the greatest empire in the known world, not by birthright, but by making herself indispensable.


    Her reign had not merely been one of survival, but of revolution. The laws that once silenced women had been rewritten under her decree. Child marriages, once a common practice, were abolished. Women were given the right to own businesses, to be educated, to hold power¡ªtrue power, not borrowed from fathers and husbands. She had fought for these changes, and she had won.


    But it had come at a cost. The noble houses had resisted her, calling her unnatural, a deviation from tradition. They had whispered of her arrogance, of her refusal to submit. They had called her dangerous.


    Jinhai had once told her, during a late-night negotiation, ''You forced history to turn its gaze upon you, Layla. Most rulers let the tide of tradition guide them. You rewrote the course of the river itself.''


    She had smiled, sipping her tea. ''And you disapprove?''


    ''I admire it,'' he had admitted, though his voice was laced with the weight of his own constraints. ''But my empire is not ready for such things.''


    And yet, despite his reluctance, he had always listened to her. Always watched, fascinated, as she tore down the walls that bound her people.


    She had done more than rule. She had built. She had introduced public sanitation, the first large-scale bathhouses, and the earliest forms of city planning. It had been her idea to refine scented oils into what would later be known as perfume, turning the art of fragrance into a booming industry. And in secret, she had begun drafting blueprints for a new invention¡ªan engine. The first of its kind, incomplete, but the beginning of something greater.


    She sat across from Emperor Shen Jinhai of the Eastern Celestial Dynasty, a man as cold as the mountain winds. Between them, a parchment bearing terms of peace¡ªa treaty that could unite two powerful empires. Yet, in the flickering candlelight, their gazes lingered just a little too long, the silence between words heavier than mere diplomacy. It was not the first time they had shared such moments. Over the years, their paths had crossed time and again¡ªformal visits, feasts veiled as political maneuvers, quiet moments stolen in grand halls where they discussed not war, but poetry, philosophy, and the burdens of sovereignty.


    ''You always hesitate before signing, Layla,'' Jinhai murmured, fingers tapping against the parchment. ''Why is that?''


    She exhaled, a soft, nearly imperceptible smile touching her lips. ''Because treaties are easy to sign. Harder to uphold.''


    Jinhai chuckled, low and knowing. ''You don¡¯t trust me?''


    She studied him in the dim light, recalling the long years of their interactions. The stolen conversations between court feasts. The nights spent in quiet negotiations, where they spoke less like rulers and more like weary souls who understood one another.


    ''I trust you more than I trust most,'' she admitted finally. ''But trust is not the same as certainty.''


    ''I trust you,'' she admitted. ''I do not trust history.''


    For a moment, there was only the sound of the crackling lanterns. The unspoken truth hung between them¡ªthey were both rulers bound by duty, both aware that what existed in these fleeting interactions could never be. Not truly. It was unspoken, a forbidden understanding¡ªadmiration, respect¡­ perhaps something more.


    There had been moments¡ªsmall, fleeting, but impossible to ignore. The way he had once reached to adjust the heavy golden clasp of her ceremonial robe before thinking better of it. The night they had walked the palace gardens, discussing the weight of leadership, when she had allowed herself the rare indulgence of imagining a world where things had been different.


    ''Perhaps in another life,'' he had once murmured.


    ''Perhaps,'' she had replied. But there had never been another life. Only duty. Only war. Only fate pulling them apart before they had ever truly come together.


    ''You speak of prosperity,'' Jinhai had said, his sharp eyes searching her own, ''but can your people accept foreign rulers?''


    Layla had smiled then, weary but resolute. ''We do not need conquerors, nor do we need division. We need unity. Trade, knowledge, strength¡ªour worlds are more alike than you admit, Your Majesty.''


    But neither of them would ever see the future they envisioned.


    The first sign of betrayal had been the bitter taste in her tea. The second had been the way Jinhai clutched his throat, his eyes widening in shock.


    A single, deadly poison¡ªadministered to them both. A cruel, poetic fate for two rulers who had, against the tide of history, dared to find kinship in one another.


    Layla, even as her vision blurred, calculated. The dosage, the delivery, the precise moment¡ªnone of this was random. Yasmina had always spoken of poisons as tools, their timing as vital as the blade that followed. But something was wrong¡ªJinhai was collapsing too fast.


    Her mind raced, assessing, calculating. If the poison took full effect before Jinhai hit the floor, his head could strike the stone with enough force to rob him of what little dignity he had left in death. She had seconds¡ªseconds.


    Summoning her last reserves of strength, she reached across the table, knocking over a small silk pillow just in time to break his fall. A meaningless act? Perhaps. But dignity in death mattered. Even if she could not save him, she could offer him that final mercy.


    Yet, even through her pain, her mind latched onto one final puzzle: who?


    The tea had been inspected. Every precaution taken. And yet¡­ it had still reached them.


    Her mind sifted through the last moments, recalling three figures who could have orchestrated this.


    First, Minister Halim¡ªher most trusted adviser, a man with a reputation beyond reproach. But had his loyalty waned? Had he grown tired of serving a ruler who refused to be a puppet?


    Second, Lady Zafira¡ªa concubine turned diplomat, once loyal but increasingly frustrated with Layla''s rejection of certain ''traditions.'' She had reason, she had access.


    And lastly¡­ the unassuming servant, Jinhai''s own cupbearer, a boy who had been with him since childhood. The least likely suspect. But was that not the mark of a true assassin?


    Her breath slowed as she accepted the bitter truth¡ªtrust had been her greatest weakness.


    As the world blurred, Layla had reached out¡ªnot to the treaty, not to her crown, but to Jinhai himself. ''They will rewrite history,'' she had whispered, even as her vision darkened. ''They will make it seem as if we never tried.''


    The last thing she heard was the sound of a goblet shattering against the floor.


    Jinhai''s face twisted with a mixture of emotions¡ªgratitude, regret, and something deeper, something heavier. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. His eyes, dark and unwavering, locked onto hers, silently conveying the apology he could not voice.


    Layla understood. He had been a ruler first, a man second. Bound by duty, by expectations, by the weight of a thousand unspoken rules. And yet, in this moment, he was neither.


    His fingers trembled, lifting slightly from the table, as though reaching for her¡ªtoo late. Always too late.


    She exhaled a bitter breath, her strength fading. ''Don''t apologize, Jinhai,'' she whispered. ''We both knew this was how it would end.''


    A tear traced down his cheek. Whether for himself or for her, she would never know.


    And then¡ªa whisper, barely a breath against the darkness.


    ''I''m sorry, Layla¡­ This is all I could do for you¡­''


    Faint, distant, yet unmistakable. A voice she had not heard in years. But there was something else¡ªanother presence.


    A second voice, layered beneath Yasmina''s, barely above a whisper. Foreign, unknowable, yet strangely familiar.


    ''It is not yet your time, you are more than this''


    Her heart clenched. Who was that? The words held a weight she could not place, a significance that chilled her bones. A name she had never heard, yet it coiled in her mind like a long-forgotten memory.


    Then, like an ember igniting within the abyss, consciousness returned.


    She awoke.


    The first sensation was that of breath¡ªnot the shallow, rattling breath of death, nor the tormented wheeze of one gasping for air, but true breath. Deep. Steady. A sign of life.


    And for the first time in an eternity, she felt warmth.


    ¡®Where¡­ am I?¡¯


    Memories flooded her mind¡ªnot of endless torment or cycles of suffering, but of warmth, of kindness, of a time when she had believed in goodness. Something pure. Something¡­ human.


    She remembered being Sovereign Layla al-Zahira, Queen of the Eternal Crescent, ruler of a vast Middle Eastern empire that had commanded both fear and reverence. A woman of untouchable grace, cunning intellect, and yet¡­ she had never truly held power. Her reign had been one of intrigue, of navigating treacherous courts filled with vipers in silk robes.


    She had fought for her people, striving to protect them from the ever-looming forces of greed and war. She had built roads, strengthened alliances, educated women in sciences and arts¡ªall in pursuit of a future where power was wielded wisely, not selfishly.


    But even wisdom was no shield against betrayal.


    And then¡­


    She had died.


    Not by war. Not by revolution. Not by a rival monarch¡¯s blade.


    It had been poison.


    A slow, creeping agony disguised as a gentle sleep. No blade to fight, no enemy to face¡ªjust the quiet betrayal of something unseen, something ingested, something meant to make her fade without a sound.


    Her people never knew the truth. The court wept for their queen while the guilty raised their goblets in silent triumph.


    Yet now, she was here.


    And this body¡ª


    Her eyes snapped open. A new world greeted her.


    The Celestial Continent.


    A land of boundless qi, where the heavens dictated one¡¯s fate and only those who reached for the divine could escape mediocrity. This world was not ruled by kings and emperors but by sects, grand pillars of cultivation that dictated the very balance of existence.


    Mountains stretched into the heavens, their peaks wreathed in clouds, standing like sentinels of eternity. Ancient rivers shimmered with ethereal energy, their waters carrying the whispers of the past. The land itself pulsed with qi, an omnipresent force woven into the very fabric of reality.


    And above all, there were the Immortals.


    Those who defied the heavens, who carved their names into eternity. They were not simply warriors, but scholars of power, philosophers of divinity, architects of fate.


    She knew this world.


    She had learned of it long ago, from a woman named Yasmina, a wandering scholar who had once graced her court. Yasmina had spoken of a land beyond the deserts and the seas, a place where warriors did not merely wield steel but bent the very fabric of reality to their will.


    ''Your world is bound by kings and borders,'' Yasmina had once told her as they stood beneath the arched ceilings of the grand library. ''But in the Celestial Continent, the heavens themselves decree one''s fate. There, a beggar may rise to the throne, and an emperor may be reduced to dust if they lack the strength to hold their power.''


    Layla had listened intently, fascinated by tales of sects that ruled not with armies but with sheer might, of mountains that reached into eternity, and of rivers imbued with wisdom. ''And what of justice?'' she had asked.


    ''Justice is but the will of the strong,'' Yasmina had replied, her amber eyes filled with both reverence and sorrow. ''To seek fairness is to seek power first.''


    Now, standing in a world she had once thought only myth, Layla realized the truth of those words.


    A lump formed in her throat. ''Yasmina¡­'' she whispered to the silence. ''I was a fool to doubt you.''


    She had dismissed Yasmina¡¯s tales as romanticized exaggerations, the fantasies of a wandering scholar desperate to make foreign lands sound grander than they were. But Yasmina had spoken the truth, and Layla had never taken the time to tell her how much she valued her.


    ''If only I could see you again, just once,'' she murmured, her voice thick with regret. ''If only I had one more chance¡­'' But Yasmina was long gone, lost to time and the cruel hand of fate. Or was she?


    A chilling thought slithered into her mind. What if this was not a different world, but the same one in another form? What if the empire she had ruled still stood, but history had merely shifted its course? Could it be possible? Could her own past be written somewhere in this world''s history?


    Her heart pounded. She had to know.


    Here, strength was truth.


    Power was the only absolute.


    Yet despite all its grandeur, all its vast, unfathomable wonders, she smiled.


    A soft, wistful smile. Not of amusement, nor excitement, but of understanding.


    Because she had once believed in a better world.


    And now? Now, she had a new life¡ªone that she would dedicate to something greater than herself, to creating rather than ruling, to guiding rather than conquering.


    She rose from the bed, her new body foreign yet familiar.


    The sensation of qi thrummed beneath her skin, potent but untamed. And it terrified her.


    Her breath caught in her throat. Power¡ªreal, tangible power¡ªcoursed through her veins, something she had never experienced in her previous life. She clenched her hands into fists, but the sensation did not dissipate. It coiled within her, an unfamiliar force pressing against her very being.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    She staggered back, her heart pounding. This was beyond her understanding. In her world, power had been influence, words, and diplomacy. Here, it was something intrinsic, something woven into existence itself.


    ''What... what is this?'' she murmured, panic creeping into her voice.


    The knowledge surfaced¡ªnot from her own experiences, but from the lingering memories of the body''s previous owner. A girl named Meilin. A disciple of the Silver Lotus Sect. A sect that, in its prime, had been a beacon of enlightenment, but now stood on the precipice of oblivion. It was weaker than what she had once wielded as a sovereign, yet it was hers. A foundation to build upon, a canvas upon which she would reshape destiny.


    She walked to the mirror, and for the first time, she truly saw herself.


    The reflection that gazed back was that of a young woman, perhaps sixteen at most. Her hair, long and ink-black, cascaded past her waist like a river of midnight. Her eyes¡ªonce filled with the golden fire of imperial decree¡ªwere now a deep crimson, as though the blood of an empire had been sealed within them. Her skin, pale as porcelain, bore no blemish, no imperfection.


    She was flawless.


    A beauty that could topple cities, that could reduce even the most steadfast warriors to kneeling worship.


    Yet, behind that beauty, behind the delicate features and ethereal grace, there was something more.


    Something resilient.


    Something determined.


    She stretched out a hand, feeling the flow of qi, testing the limits of her new form.


    A rush of energy surged within her veins, untamed but potent.


    This body¡­ It was weak for now.


    But that would change.


    Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. A world governed by power, ruled by cultivation?


    She had once been the ruler of an empire, the unchallenged sovereign of a world without equals.


    And now?


    Now, she would make the most of this life.


    But first, she needed to understand the world she had been reborn into. She needed knowledge.


    Because knowledge, as always, was the foundation of all power.


    And then she noticed it¡ªthe emblem on the sleeve of her robes.


    A withered lotus, embroidered in silver thread.


    The dying symbol of a sect on the verge of collapse.


    The Silver Lotus Sect.


    Once a respected name, now a crumbling relic of the past. A remnant of a golden age long since faded, its members dwindling, its resources strained, its enemies encroaching.


    In this world, sects lived and died like shifting tides. Those without power were swallowed whole, their legacies erased, their lands devoured by the strong.


    And she¡­


    She had been reborn into ruin.


    Her body was not alone.


    A distant voice trembled through the air. ''Meilin¡­!''


    A sob. A desperate gasp. Then arms¡ªwarm, trembling arms¡ªwrapped around her, a sensation so foreign it sent a shock through her core.


    She stiffened.


    Another pair of hands grasped her shoulders, another tear-streaked face pressing close. ''Our child, our Meilin! She''s awake!''


    Layla didn¡¯t know how to react. Never, in her past life, had anyone touched her like this¡ªnot out of love, not out of relief. She had been a queen, a ruler adored by her people, but never held as if she mattered beyond her title.


    ''Why¡­ are they crying for me?'' The thought was foreign. In her world, power was survival, affection was a tool, and sincerity was a liability.


    But here, in this dying sect, these people¡ªher parents¡ªwere holding her as if she were their entire world.


    Something deep inside her stirred, unfamiliar and terrifying.


    But ruin was just another word for opportunity.


    She would not seek domination, nor conquest, nor revenge.


    She would rebuild.


    The first step?


    Reviving the Silver Lotus Sect.


    And from there¡­


    She would begin her ascension.


    The murmurs around her were hesitant, laced with uncertainty. Her parents¡ªtheir warmth was overwhelming, but the unfamiliarity gnawed at her. Could she afford to trust? No. But she could adapt.


    As she lay there, eyes fluttering open, she began assessing. The room, the people, the emotions on their faces. Her mind, honed through years of ruling, dissected every detail as though preparing for war.


    Her father¡ªgrief-stricken, but not weak. His hands trembled as he held hers, yet his grip was firm. A man who had seen too much loss.


    Her mother¡ªtears streaming, relief and exhaustion written in every line of her face. But there was nothing deceitful in her expression¡ªonly pure, overwhelming love.


    Layla¡¯s breath hitched. This was different. Unconditional.


    In her past life, affection had always been transactional. But now? Her mother¡¯s sobs were not for a lost heir or a failed alliance. They were for her, Meilin, the daughter they had thought lost.


    Love, real love, was foreign to her.


    Had they known something? Had they hidden something from her? No, not yet. Not enough information.


    Her voice, measured and steady, broke through the air. ''How did I¡­ survive?'' she asked, tilting her head as if still disoriented. ''And the sect¡­ how is the Silver Lotus Sect faring?''


    The room fell silent for a moment before her father spoke, voice thick with worry. ''You¡¯ve been in an unwakeable slumber for weeks, Meilin. We feared¡­'' He swallowed hard. ''We feared we had lost you.''


    A calculated pause. Then Layla¡ªMeilin¡ªnodded slowly, as if letting the realization sink in.


    Processing. Analyzing. Every word, every hesitation.


    ''But I am here now,'' she murmured, offering a small, reassuring smile. ''And I will not let our sect fall into ruin.''


    Even as she comforted them, her mind was already working. This will take years to piece together. But I will learn everything.


    When she next spoke, her voice was careful, calculated. ''The great empires beyond these lands¡­ the ones far to the west. Who rules them now?''


    Her father hesitated, exchanging glances with the others. ''The western lands are foreign to us, daughter,'' he admitted. ''But we have heard of a great empire beyond the deserts, one that fell to turmoil some generations ago. Its name, however, is lost to time.''


    Layla''s breath hitched. Her empire? Lost to time? The weight of it settled over her like a heavy cloak, suffocating and final.


    But she had one more question. A final test.


    She inhaled deeply, voice even. ''Who rules the Celestial Dynasty now?''


    The moment the words left her lips, the air in the room changed. The warmth fled. Her parents tensed, their hands trembling. Even the attending disciples went pale, their gazes darting to the door as if fearing eavesdroppers.


    Her mother gasped, covering her mouth. Her father, usually composed, visibly shook.


    ''Never¡­'' he whispered, gripping her hand so tightly it almost hurt. ''Never speak that name carelessly, Meilin.''


    The silence stretched, suffocating.


    And Layla knew.


    The name she had uttered was not just known¡ªit was feared.


    Years had passed.


    Far away, beyond the reach of the western empire and the sects of the east, a ruler sat upon a throne of cold jade, his face hidden in the flickering candlelight. The air was thick with the scent of incense, though it did little to mask the underlying stench of blood.


    The ruler had survived.


    Not by his own strength, nor by the will of fate, but by her.


    In those final moments, he had felt himself slipping into the abyss, the poison working its way through his veins, his limbs numbing. He had braced for the sharp, inevitable impact against the marble floor¡ªbut it had never come. The softness beneath his head, the way his breath still lingered in his lungs long enough for his physicians to arrive, all of it was her doing.


    ''Layla...'' he had thought in that moment, the weight of realization pressing down on him heavier than death itself. She saved me.


    But why?


    The thought haunted him still, years later. Every night he traced the fine silk of the pillow she had moved beneath him, the same one that had softened his fall in those final moments before the poison could steal his life entirely. It had been her last act, her final mercy, and he hated how much it haunted him. The air was thick with the scent of incense, though it did little to mask the underlying stench of blood.


    Emperor Shen Jinhai had survived.


    Or at least, that was what the world believed. But was this truly the same man who had once spoken of unity in the candlelight, who had admired Layla''s defiance even as he refused to follow in her footsteps? Or had time, paranoia, and grief twisted him into something else? A shadow of the ruler he had once been?


    His fingers traced the fine silk of the pillow he had once rested upon, the same one that had softened his fall in those final moments before the poison could steal his life entirely. It had been her last act, her final mercy, and he hated how much it haunted him.


    ''Her name¡­'' he murmured, his voice almost reverent.


    The courtiers around him dared not meet his gaze. The great hall was lined with kneeling figures¡ªnobles, servants, officials¡ªall who had been present that night. One by one, their heads bowed lower, waiting for their fates to be decided.


    ''Who among you,'' he said softly, dangerously, ''knew of the poison before it touched my lips?''


    No one spoke. The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.


    Then, with a flick of his wrist, justice¡ªor paranoia¡ªtook its course.


    He had become ruthless. Every shadow was a threat. Every whisper was treason. And yet, in the privacy of his chambers, he traced the embroidered pattern of that silk pillow, his fingers lingering as though it held a warmth long since lost.


    He had loved her. Or perhaps, he had merely admired what he could never have. It no longer mattered. What mattered now was finding the truth.


    And so, the bloodshed continued.


    Yet, in the darkest hours of the night, as he sat alone, staring at the silk pillow she had placed beneath him, a flicker of doubt gnawed at his mind. Would she have looked at him now with disgust? Pity? Would she have called him a fool for chasing ghosts through rivers of blood?


    Yet as the years passed, whispers of an unfinished creation from the lands of the west reached his ears.


    Deep beneath the surface of a land untouched by war, hidden within labyrinthine tunnels of carved stone and metal, workers toiled under the dim glow of enchanted lanterns. Machinery, archaic yet ahead of its time, lay half-built, gears rusting from abandonment yet still waiting for completion.


    This was the vision of a queen long buried by history.


    ''Our world moves on the backs of beasts and the will of men,'' Yasmina had once said. ''But what if we could break free from such constraints? What if movement did not require suffering?''


    The first engine, its blueprints painstakingly drawn by Layla¡¯s own hand, rested here. Unfinished. Forgotten. But not abandoned.


    Standing before it was a tall muscular woman cloaked in dark silk, her expression hard, her eyes filled with unyielding determination and besides her was a scrawny young man who is barely her height named.


    Zafira had not met Emery through war or revolution¡ªno, she had stumbled upon him in the most mundane of circumstances, yet it had changed everything.


    She had needed spices¡ªyes, spices¡ªnot for herself, but for the men under her command who wouldn''t stop whining about the bland food. And so, she had gone to the market, expecting a simple trade.


    Instead, she had found him.


    A scrawny foreigner, wearing spectacles and arguing¡ªno, lecturing¡ªa merchant over the principles of leverage. She had rolled her eyes, thinking him another fool who mistook words for power. But then she had listened.


    And she had realized she had never met a man who spoke like him.


    He had spoken of numbers and equations, of the way the stars moved instead of stood still. He claimed that water spiraled differently depending on which side of the world it flowed from. He had written books¡ªbooks!¡ªon something called gravity, on motion, on the very fabric of space.


    She had thought he was mad. She had thought he was brilliant. And she had thought, more than anything, that she needed him.


    ''You¡¯re saying the stars don¡¯t just hang there? They¡­ fall?'' she had asked, utterly bewildered. ''That¡¯s ridiculous. Everyone knows the heavens are eternal.''


    Emery had sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ''No, they don¡¯t just hang. They are in motion, pulled by an unseen force. Everything that rises must fall¡ªit¡¯s not magic, it¡¯s physics. You drop a stone, it falls. You shoot an arrow, it arcs. The stars follow the same rules, just on a much grander scale.''


    Zafira had crossed her arms, unconvinced. ''Sounds like nonsense. How do you know they move? Have you been up there? Have you fallen from the sky yourself?''


    Emery had given her a long, exhausted look before muttering, ''And yet, here you are, listening.''


    Now, standing beside her in the underground halls, he was no longer an eccentric scholar talking about the stars. He was her engineer, the one who would take Layla¡¯s vision and turn it into something real. He was praising how amazing this engine looked and looking it up to down while murmuring to himself.


    Even if he still insisted on saying the most ridiculous things.


    Zafira watched him, arms crossed. ''You speak of her like a disciple worshiping his master.''


    Emery didn¡¯t deny it. ''Because I am.''


    She scoffed, tilting her head. ''And what exactly did she do to earn your devotion?''


    Emery adjusted his spectacles, fingers tracing the rusted edges of the unfinished machine. ''I studied everything she left behind¡ªher writings, her diagrams, even her failed attempts to implement sanitation systems in the western capitals. She changed the world once, and had she lived longer, she would have done it again.''


    Zafira exhaled, her gaze darkening. ''Yasmina envisioned a world where suffering was no longer the cost of progress. Where men did not break their backs pulling carts, where travel was not dictated by the speed of a dying horse. She wanted to free people from the chains of labor, so they could pursue something greater.''


    She stepped forward, placing a hand on the machine¡¯s rusted frame. ''Layla was the one who made it possible. She turned dreams into reality. Yasmina dreamed of progress; Layla built the means to achieve it.''


    Emery chuckled, shaking his head. ''And now you want to turn it into a weapon.''


    Zafira¡¯s voice was cold. ''Now I want to finish what they started.''


    She turned to the gathered workers, her voice rising. ''This is not about war. This is about justice. What was stolen from them¡ªwhat was stolen from us¡ªwill be repaid in full.''


    She had inherited Yasmina¡¯s cause, but more than that, she has Layla''s her fury.


    ''We do not build to live in the shadows,'' Zafira al-Rahim¡¯s voice rang through the underground halls, her words sharp as tempered steel. ''We build so that our names are never erased. So that history does not forget what was stolen from us.''


    The workers before her¡ªengineers, scholars, rebels¡ªlistened with rapt attention. They had long since cast away their old allegiances, drawn to her by a cause greater than themselves.


    ''What they did to Layla¡­ what they did to Yasmina¡­'' Zafira''s fingers curled into fists. ''We will return their suffering tenfold. The east has a ruler who does not deserve his throne, and the west is ruled by ghosts. We will shape the future with our own hands.''


    She turned, facing the massive unfinished machine at the heart of their underground facility. The engine, decades ahead of its time, designed by Layla¡¯s own hand but left incomplete by her untimely death.


    ''We finish this, and the world will bow not to emperors, not to sects, but to us.''


    ''''They will answer for what was done to you,'' she whispered. Her name was Zafira al-Rahim,, and she would see the man responsible for their suffering burn.


    Even if it meant completing the engine herself¡ªand using it as the weapon to bring Jinhai to his knees.


    Emery adjusted his spectacles, his fingers brushing against the cold steel of the unfinished engine. His mind raced, piecing together the fragmented blueprints, the calculations, the principles far ahead of their time. This was not a machine built for war.


    Zafira¡¯s voice rang through the chamber, filled with fury and conviction, but he barely heard her. The more he studied Layla''s work, the more something gnawed at him. The sheer efficiency, the ingenuity of design¡ªLayla had not been crafting destruction.


    ''Zafira,'' he finally spoke, his voice even, but laced with doubt. ''You claim this is a weapon, but Layla did not design it as one. If she wanted destruction, there are a hundred simpler ways she could have done it.''


    Zafira¡¯s sharp gaze snapped to him. ''And what do you think she intended, Emery?''


    He inhaled, his mind racing. ''I don¡¯t know yet. But I do know that this¡ª'' he gestured to the machine before him, ''¡ªwas never meant to be a tool for vengeance. Layla wasn¡¯t building a future of war. She was building something else.''


    Zafira scoffed, her fists tightening. ''You think I care what she intended? I care about what I can do with it now.''


    Emery narrowed his eyes, realization dawning. ''So that¡¯s it? This isn¡¯t about Layla, or Yasmina¡¯s dream. This is about you. About revenge.''


    Zafira didn¡¯t flinch, but something flickered in her gaze.


    ''You weren¡¯t there, Emery,'' she whispered, voice dark with restrained fury. ''You didn¡¯t watch them erase her. You didn¡¯t hear how they rewrote history, how they called her a failure, how they made the world forget her name.''


    The workers behind them listened in silence, the weight of her words settling over them. Some nodded in agreement, others shifted uneasily.


    Emery started to doubt her words. Was that truly what had happened? He had read so many accounts, studied so many conflicting reports, but the truth had always been elusive.


    History was written by the victors¡ªbut what if neither Layla nor Jinhai had truly fallen that night?


    His mind raced. He had assumed Layla had perished, that Yasmina had been lost, but if Layla had time to act¡ªto push a mere pillow beneath Jinhai¡¯s head¡ªthen she had time for more. What if she had prepared an antidote? What if she had accounted for treachery long before the poison had ever touched her lips?


    And then there was Jinhai. The emperor should have died that night, yet he had lived. Why? He had been poisoned, just like Layla. If one had the means to counteract it, wouldn¡¯t the other?


    His fingers curled slightly, his mind calculating probabilities. It made no sense for one to survive while the other perished unless¡­ unless one of them had planned for both to live.


    But which one? And why?


    Poison is efficient, but not absolute.


    Emery sighed, turning his gaze back to the engine. His fingers drummed against the cold steel, mind spinning through calculations, probabilities, and contingencies. Layla had seen further than any of them, her vision stretching beyond the limitations of war and vengeance. And now, that vision stood on the precipice of being repurposed for destruction.


    But for what? Would this truly be justice?


    Or would it be the next step in burying her true vision beneath the weight of history?


    And so his mind sharpened, visualizing the mechanics of what had to be done. Gunpowder¡ªa mix of potassium nitrate, sulfur, and charcoal. Ratio? 75:15:10, the optimal balance for combustion without catastrophic instability. He sketched out the process mentally, ensuring stability in every step. The barrels? Hardened steel, forged at precisely controlled temperatures to withstand the pressure of igniting powder. Rifling¡ªsubtle spiral grooves inside the barrel to stabilize projectiles. Ignition? Matchlock? Flintlock? No, too rudimentary. Something better, something reliable.


    His fingers twitched, instinctively mapping the weapon¡¯s design. The barrel¡ªlong and cylindrical. The firing mechanism¡ªspring-loaded, striking a percussion cap to ignite the charge. The projectile¡ªa lead ball encased in copper for stability. A semi-automatic function? Impossible without industrial-grade machining. A repeating mechanism? Achievable.


    His hand moved before he could stop himself. With practiced precision, he grabbed a piece of charcoal and began sketching on a worn wooden board. The room fell into silence as they watched, some in awe, others in sheer confusion. The foreigner, the scholar, the man who spoke of stars and gravity, was now drawing something none of them could quite comprehend.


    Zafira narrowed her eyes, arms crossed. She didn''t understand the intricacies of whatever he was doing, but the way his hands moved¡ªdeliberate, confident, like a child lost in his own world¡ªunnerved her.


    ''This man speaks of theories no one else grasps, and now he moves as though building something from nothing,'' she thought. ''Does he even see us anymore?''


    He sketched rapidly, almost feverishly. First, the barrel, its dimensions meticulously measured. He scribbled rapid calculations beside it, noting spin rates and bore diameters. Then, the firing mechanism, each spring, each hammer carefully designed for efficiency. His lips moved slightly as if running through equations, his fingers twitching with the need to refine, to perfect. Then, the ammunition¡ªconical, aerodynamic, ensuring range and lethality.


    By the time he stepped back, brushing dust from his coat, the entire schematic had been laid bare. The murmurs grew louder. Even the most hardened rebels among them found themselves drawn in, uncertain but fascinated.


    ''If war is what you want,'' Emery finally murmured, adjusting his glasses, ''then let¡¯s give you a war machine. But not one that will wipe out cities in a single blast. No. We need something efficient, practical, and reproducible. Something that will change the battlefield without turning the world to ash.''


    He turned to the gathered engineers, his voice sharp, deliberate. ''We shift our focus. Forget large-scale destruction. Instead, we make something that can be produced rapidly¡ªsomething that can be placed in the hands of every soldier, every fighter. A force multiplier.''


    Zafira¡¯s brow furrowed. ''What are you suggesting?''


    ''Firearms.''


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. Emery tapped the metal frame of the unfinished engine. ''This machine¡¯s greatest strength isn¡¯t destruction¡ªit¡¯s production. We use it to mass-produce something smaller, something that will tip the scales of war without erasing entire nations.''


    Zafira crossed her arms. ''And how exactly do you propose we make these¡­ firearms?'' she sounded confused but interested as she always has


    ''We need a stable propellant¡ªgunpowder. A mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal. Then we need steel, precisely forged for barrels, mechanisms that can handle repeated firing, a system of ignition¡ªperhaps a wheel lock or flintlock mechanism. It¡¯s complex, but achievable. The engine can streamline the process, cut down inefficiencies. If we do this right, we create an army that doesn¡¯t need to rely on brute strength or cultivation alone. We give them power in their hands.''


    The room was silent as Zafira considered his words. She was no fool¡ªshe knew that mass-producing weapons would fundamentally shift the balance of power. But Emery could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted something grander, something catastrophic.


    And that was exactly why he had to push this direction. He needed to control what they built.


    She exhaled sharply. ''You think this is what Layla intended?''


    Emery¡¯s fingers curled slightly against the engine. ''I think Layla wanted progress. I think she wanted change. And I think she understood that power doesn¡¯t always come from the loudest explosion¡ªbut from the quiet, relentless force of innovation.''


    Zafira narrowed her eyes, but after a long pause, she nodded. ''Fine. We begin the research.''


    Emery inclined his head. He had won this battle¡ªbut the war was far from over. He would need to find a way to shift their efforts even further, to ensure that Layla¡¯s legacy wasn¡¯t twisted beyond recognition.


    But he needed to be smarter than Zafira. Than all of them. Layla saw further than any of them. And now, her creation stood on the edge of being repurposed for war.


    Emery tapped his fingers against the cold steel of the engine, his mind spinning through every possible move. Zafira was blinded by fury, her resolve unshakable, but she wasn''t stupid. She could be reasoned with¡ªif she believed she was getting what she wanted.


    He needed to buy time. Needed to shift the direction of this project without her realizing it.


    ''Fine,'' he said finally, adjusting his spectacles. ''If you want a weapon, we will make a weapon. But we do it properly¡ªtesting, refinement, full control over its capabilities. If we rush this, we risk sabotaging ourselves before we ever strike. We take our time.''


    Zafira eyed him, wary. ''And you, the scholar from the west, will oversee this?''


    ''Who else here understands Layla¡¯s blueprints like I do?'' Emery countered. ''You want this to work, don¡¯t you? Then let me ensure it does.''


    He watched as her jaw tensed, weighing his words. Then, finally, she nodded.


    Emery exhaled silently. The first step was complete. Now, he just had to make sure the weapon they built would never be used the way Zafira intended.


    As the workers dispersed, he remained behind, tracing his fingers over the edges of the unfinished engine. His mind drifted to Layla¡ªwhat had she truly envisioned? What had she hidden beneath these layers of innovation?


    Then, something caught his eye.


    Beneath a set of rusted schematics, buried among old parchment, a single page stood out¡ªdelicate, aged, written in ink that had faded over time. A note, signed in Yasmina¡¯s handwriting.


    Emery¡¯s breath hitched as he read the words silently to himself:


    ''The foundation of all things is movement, but the greatest power is not speed¡ªit is time itself. If we succeed, we will not only change the world¡­ but the very fabric of fate.''


    His grip on the paper tightened.


    Layla hadn¡¯t been designing a machine for war.


    And as he tucked Yasmina¡¯s note away into his coat, he knew one thing for certain¡ªthis machine was never meant for war.


    And neither was he.


    She had been designing something far greater.

 Art of Power

    The name she had uttered was not just known¡ªit was feared.


    Her father¡¯s reaction had been instinctive, visceral. The very mention of the Emperor¡¯s name sent a ripple of fear through the room. Layla saw the way the disciples stiffened, the way her mother turned away, as if shielding herself from an unseen threat. Even her father, a man who carried the weight of a dying sect upon his shoulders, had trembled.


    This was not the man she had known in her past life. Something had changed.


    She lowered her gaze, schooling her expression into one of innocence. ¡°Forgive me,¡± she murmured, forcing hesitation into her tone. ¡°I did not know his name carried such weight.¡±


    Her father hesitated, then let out a heavy sigh. ¡°It is not your fault,¡± he said at last. ¡°You have been asleep for so long... There are many things that have changed since you last walked among us.¡±


    Layla tilted her head. ¡°Then,¡± she asked carefully, ¡°what has not changed?¡±


    A shadow crossed his face, but he did not avoid her question. ¡°The world still belongs to the strong,¡± he said. ¡°And those without strength are destined to be swept aside.¡±


    Layla let the words settle, then, after a pause, asked, "And what of my siblings?"


    Her mother flinched. Her father¡¯s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as if weighing whether to speak the truth or conceal it. "They..." He hesitated. "They have carved their own paths."


    Layla¡¯s fingers curled slightly. "And what paths are those?"


    Her father let out a long sigh, standing from his seat and walking to the window. The lantern light flickered, casting elongated shadows along the wooden walls. Outside, the sect¡¯s courtyard stretched before them, a relic of better days. The training grounds, once filled with eager disciples, now lay barren, save for a few determined students practicing stances beneath the cold moonlight. Cracked stone pillars, moss creeping along their bases, whispered of a time when this place had been respected.


    Finally, he spoke. "Your elder brother, Jian, serves within the Imperial Court. He has pledged himself to the Emperor."


    Layla kept her expression neutral, but inside, her mind churned. "A court official?"


    Her mother¡¯s voice was quiet, almost pleading. "It was the only way for him to survive. After the war, after... everything, he had no choice."


    Her father¡¯s lips thinned. "Perhaps he saw it as a way to preserve what little we had left. Or perhaps he simply saw no other road but to kneel."


    Layla remained silent. Her elder brother, Jian, had once spoken of honor and dignity. To think that he now stood in service of the man whose name struck fear into even the elders of the sect¡ªit was almost laughable.


    "And my younger sister?" she asked at last.


    This time, the answer did not come immediately. Her mother glanced away, while her father¡¯s grip tightened around the wooden frame of the window. "No one knows where she is," he admitted. "She left years ago, refusing to accept our decline. Some say she sought refuge in another sect. Others whisper that she turned to the Demonic Cults."


    Layla narrowed her eyes. "And you? What do you believe?"


    Her father¡¯s shoulders slumped, as though the weight of his years had doubled. "I believe she is alive. But whether she is the same girl you once knew... that, I cannot say."


    The room felt colder. Layla let the silence stretch, absorbing the revelations. Her siblings¡ªone in servitude to a tyrant, the other vanished into the unknown. Once, they had been family. Now, they were nothing but pieces in a grander game.


    She exhaled softly and looked up at her father. "Then it seems I have much to learn. If I am to reclaim what was lost, I must understand the power that rules this world."¡± he said. ¡°And those without strength are destined to be swept aside.¡±


    1. Qi Cultivation


    ¡°Qi is the foundation of all power,¡± he said. ¡°It flows through our bodies in energy circuits known as meridians. Through meditation, refinement, and tempering, one can expand their internal reserves and strengthen their core.¡±


    Layla absorbed this carefully. ¡°Is qi something one is born with?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no,¡± her father said. ¡°All beings have qi, but some are born with a greater affinity. However, talent is not absolute. A dedicated cultivator with determination can surpass a genius who lacks discipline.¡±


    Layla filed that information away. So, like in my past life, hard work could overcome birthright.


    ¡°The ranks of Qi Cultivation are as follows:¡± He lifted his fingers, marking each stage as he spoke.


    Foundation Establishment ¨C The beginning of all cultivators. The stage of refining and stabilizing the body¡¯s connection to qi.


    Qi Condensation ¨C The first step toward true strength. The cultivator compresses qi into a denser, more potent form.


    Core Formation ¨C The cultivator forms a golden core within themselves, a source of boundless energy.


    Nascent Soul ¨C The core evolves into a soul-bound entity, giving the cultivator deeper control over energy and thought.


    Spirit Ascension ¨C The cultivator sheds their previous limitations, becoming a force that can influence reality itself.


    Divine Manifestation ¨C A realm beyond mortals, where a cultivator¡¯s will can shape the world itself.


    Her father paused, then continued, his tone heavy with reverence.


    ¡°Many have walked these paths before you,¡± he said. ¡°Some rose to greatness, their names etched into history as paragons of cultivation. Others... succumbed to the allure of power, their legacies drowned in blood and madness.¡±


    He lifted his gaze to meet Layla¡¯s. ¡°Let me tell you of them.¡±


    Famous Cultivators


    ¡°There was Zhao Wujin, the Jade Dragon Immortal. They say he reached Divine Manifestation at the age of thirty, his golden core so dense with qi that he could reshape entire landscapes with a flick of his sleeve. He was a man of wisdom, one who sought to uplift weaker cultivators instead of crushing them beneath his feet. His greatest feat? Holding back the collapse of the Eastern Celestial Mountains by weaving qi into the very air, creating an unshatterable equilibrium that still holds to this day.¡±


    ¡°Then there was Lady Xuanyin of the White Lotus, who pioneered the art of dual-core cultivation, allowing her to wield both Yin and Yang qi in harmony. With her mastery, she could heal the gravest wounds or unleash destruction in equal measure. It was said that during the Warring Sects Era, entire battlefields fell silent at her arrival, knowing that either salvation or annihilation would soon follow.¡±


    Layla listened intently, committing their names to memory. But then her father¡¯s expression darkened.


    Infamous Cultivators


    ¡°But not all who reach the pinnacle of cultivation remain just. Some fall into ruin, consumed by their own ambitions.¡±


    He exhaled, then spoke the first name in a whisper. ¡°Hei Long, the Abyssal Tyrant.¡±


    Layla frowned. She had never heard the name before, but the weight of it in the air was enough to send a chill down her spine.


    ¡°Once a prodigy, once a hero,¡± her father said bitterly. ¡°They say he was the first to reach Spirit Ascension in an era where others barely touched Nascent Soul. He sought absolute control over the flow of qi in others, turning warriors into lifeless puppets. When he attacked the Holy Monasteries, he enslaved thousands, using their very life force to sustain his own. The heavens struck him down in the end, or so the legends say. But there are whispers... whispers that his techniques did not die with him.¡±


    Layla remained silent as her father continued.


    ¡°And then, there was Mo Cheng the Devourer. He did not cultivate qi¡ªhe stole it. His techniques drained others, siphoning years of hard work in an instant. He fed upon the meridians of weaker cultivators, draining them to fuel his own power. He became so feared that entire sects abandoned their lands rather than risk being his prey.¡±


    Layla exhaled slowly. For every legend of honor and wisdom, there were those of terror and ruin.


    Her father studied her face carefully. ¡°Power does not make a person just, Meilin. Remember that.¡±


    2. Martial Techniques


    ¡°Qi alone does not make one powerful,¡± her father continued. ¡°Without refinement, it is like possessing an ocean but lacking the ability to wield a sword.¡±


    Layla nodded. Discipline and technique over raw strength.


    ¡°There are three primary combat styles:¡±


    Pure Martialists ¨C Those who refine their bodies through relentless training, capable of splitting mountains without ever using qi.


    Qi Warriors ¨C Those who blend martial arts with qi, using enhanced techniques to perform supernatural feats.


    Dao Seekers ¨C Those who dedicate themselves to the understanding of the world¡¯s principles, wielding reality itself as a weapon.


    ¡°The strongest warriors walk multiple paths,¡± her father said. ¡°One who refines only their qi will fall against a master of combat. One who hones only their body will break against true power. Balance is the key.¡±


    Famous Martial Artists


    ¡°There have been many who stood at the pinnacle of martial arts,¡± he continued. ¡°Legends who shaped the world not with raw qi, but with technique honed to perfection.¡±


    ¡°Shen Tian, the Heavenly Spear, was a warrior so refined in spear arts that his strikes could pierce through reality itself. It is said that at his peak, his spear could travel beyond space, striking down enemies before they even realized they had been attacked. He never relied on overwhelming qi, but on precision, footwork, and mastery of angles.¡±


    ¡°Then there was Jiang Yue, the Flowing Moon, a woman whose swordplay was like water¡ªimpossible to predict, yet endlessly adaptable. She defeated entire sects without ever being touched, flowing between their attacks like a phantom. Even when faced with cultivators wielding immense qi, her blade always found the gap between their defenses, striking where no amount of energy could protect them.¡±


    Layla listened, intrigued. These were not cultivators who relied on sheer power. They turned martial techniques into an art, a philosophy.


    Infamous Martial Artists


    Her father¡¯s expression darkened.


    ¡°But not all who perfect their techniques use them for honor.¡±


    ¡°Wu Xun, the Thousand Hands Executioner, was said to have mastered every form of hand-to-hand combat, his strikes so fast that he could tear through armor like paper. But instead of becoming a protector of the weak, he became a butcher. He sold his skills to the highest bidder, wiping out entire clans in a single night. Some say his techniques still live on, hidden within the underworld, passed down among assassins.¡±


    ¡°And then there was Bao Shuren, the Laughing Demon, whose fists could break mountains, but whose mind was even more terrifying. He believed that suffering created strength, and so he crushed countless challengers just to watch them rise again. He left behind no students, only ruins. Some say his spirit lingers in cursed battlefields, whispering forbidden secrets to those desperate enough to listen.¡±


    Layla exhaled slowly. To master martial techniques was to walk a path of discipline and refinement, but it was also a path that could lead to unchecked destruction.


    Her father studied her carefully. ¡°Strength is not defined by power alone, Meilin. It is defined by how it is used.¡±


    3. Dao Comprehension


    ¡°And then,¡± he said, his voice quieting, ¡°there is the Dao.¡±


    Layla frowned. ¡°The Dao?¡±


    ¡°The Way of All Things.¡±


    Unlike qi and martial techniques, which could be measured and practiced, Dao Comprehension was enlightenment itself.


    ¡°To understand the Dao is to understand existence,¡± her father explained. ¡°Each cultivator seeks a different truth. Some comprehend the Dao of Fire and wield flame as an extension of their will. Some follow the Dao of the Sword, making their blade an unbreakable law of the universe. Others follow the Dao of Nothingness, fading into oblivion beyond the reach of time.¡±


    Layla considered this carefully. The Dao was not just power. It was the philosophy of the world itself.


    Famous Dao Seekers


    ¡°Many have glimpsed the true nature of reality,¡± her father continued. ¡°But only a few have ever dared to embody it fully.¡±


    ¡°Master Tianlu, the Whispering Wind, understood the Dao of Emptiness. He could erase his presence from existence so completely that even the heavens could not record his presence. It is said that he walked between battlefields unseen, his enemies falling as if struck by fate itself.¡±


    ¡°Then there was Lady Yunqing, the Ocean¡¯s Reflection, whose mastery of the Dao of Mirrors allowed her to create infinite reflections of herself. Each was as real as the original, indistinguishable and deadly. She once fought an entire sect alone, her illusions turning every enemy against each other, until none remained standing but herself.¡±


    Infamous Dao Seekers


    His expression grew grim.


    ¡°But not all who seek enlightenment use it for wisdom.¡±


    ¡°The Black Sage, Xu Mo, followed the Dao of Decay, believing that all things must return to nothingness. He did not fight wars¡ªhe simply touched cities, and they crumbled. He whispered words, and entire bloodlines withered. Even now, the ruins of his passage are places where no life dares to grow.¡±


    ¡°And then, there was Gao Lan, the Thousand Truths, a man who glimpsed the fundamental laws of existence. But instead of guiding others, he sought to reshape reality itself. His Dao of Dominion allowed him to impose his will upon the world, twisting nature to obey his thoughts. When he was finally defeated, it took seven Grandmasters and the sacrifice of an entire sect to bind his existence into an eternal prison.¡±


    Layla exhaled. The Dao was not just strength¡ªit was knowledge. And knowledge could be the greatest weapon of all.


    Her father watched her carefully. ¡°To walk the Dao is to glimpse the truth behind the illusion of power. It is to wield the fabric of reality itself.¡±


    She tilted her head slightly, feigning uncertainty. "If all cultivators must progress through the known stages, and if even the strongest can fall, then where do I stand? What level have I reached?"


    Her father exhaled, studying her carefully. "You have been in an unwakeable slumber for weeks, Meilin. Your meridians should have withered, your qi should have stagnated."


    He reached out, pressing two fingers against her wrist. Layla braced herself, expecting to feel a surge of energy, a remnant of some hidden power.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    But there was nothing. No hum of boundless strength, no comforting wave of qi flowing through her veins. Only the faintest flicker of energy, weak and dormant, like dying embers struggling to reignite.


    Her father frowned, withdrawing his hand. "Your cultivation... it is not gone, but it is fragile. Whatever put you in that state has severed your progress. You will need to start again."


    Layla let out a slow breath, pushing aside any lingering delusions of an easy return. If she had truly retained her strength, then why did she feel so... unrefined? Her body did not pulse with overwhelming energy, nor did she sense any newfound power coursing through her meridians.


    She clenched her hands. If anything, she felt weak.


    Her father watched her carefully before speaking again. "Regaining what was lost will take time. Effort."


    Layla straightened, her voice firm. "Then I will train. I will restore what was lost and rebuild our sect."


    The air in the room grew heavy. Her father looked away. Her mother, who had remained silent for most of the conversation, exhaled shakily. The few elders lingering in the background averted their gazes.


    "Meilin..." her mother finally spoke, her voice tinged with sorrow. "There is nothing left to rebuild. The world has moved on. We are a dying sect."


    Layla met her father¡¯s eyes. "But not dead."


    He hesitated. "Not yet. But we are hanging by a thread. Resources are scarce, our numbers dwindle, and the other sects do not see us as a threat."


    "Then that is an advantage," Layla said immediately. "If they do not see us as a threat, they will not see us coming."


    Her father sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is not just about strength, Meilin. It is about time, about resources, about whether those who remain have the will to fight. Tell me, do you think a starving man who has lost everything will have the strength to wield a sword again?"


    Layla remained silent, but inwardly, her mind raced. She would find a way. She had to.


    Her mind worked rapidly, calculating possibilities, drawing from her past life as a ruler. What does a fallen nation need to rise again?


    First¡ªstability. The people needed food, security, and a reason to believe in the sect again. A dying sect did not attract disciples, and without new blood, the Silver Lotus Sect would wither into obscurity.


    Second¡ªresources. If cultivation was the foundation of power, then herbs, weapons, and training grounds were the pillars supporting it. They had neither the land nor the backing of any major factions. Would trade be an option? Or would they have to seize what they needed?


    Third¡ªstrength. A sect¡¯s power was judged by its strongest warriors. She had none. If they were to survive, they needed cultivators who could stand against the tides of destruction.


    Fourth¡ªalliances. No kingdom, no empire, no sect survived alone. If the Silver Lotus Sect had no allies, then Layla would create them. By force or by persuasion.


    Her fingers twitched slightly, the echoes of a past life guiding her instinctively. A dying kingdom and a dying sect¡­ are they truly so different?


    She turned to her father, ready to speak, when the doors to the hall burst open.


    A figure staggered in, covered in blood, his robes torn, his face barely recognizable beneath the bruises and cuts. Gasps filled the room as disciples rushed forward, but the man¡ªbarely standing¡ªforced himself to speak.


    "Sect Leader¡­" he rasped. "They''re coming. The Crimson Serpent Sect¡­ they intend to annihilate us."


    Silence fell, thick and suffocating. Layla swore internally, a sharp pulse of frustration running through her. Damn it. This changes everything. All her careful planning, her measured steps¡ªit meant nothing if they didn¡¯t survive the night. She had been strategizing a future, but now the present was threatening to erase them entirely.


    She clenched her fists beneath the table, nails digging into her palms. Obsolescence was not an option. If she couldn¡¯t act, if she couldn¡¯t turn this around, then all her grand ideas were worthless. She would not be worthless.


    Around her, the room was sinking into despair.


    The elders exchanged grim glances, their shoulders heavy with resignation. One of them, an old man with hollowed-out cheeks, shook his head. "So it has come to this at last."


    Her mother covered her mouth, her eyes glassy. "We cannot fight them. We barely have twenty capable disciples left. Even if we resist, it will only delay the inevitable."


    Layla glanced at her father, searching for defiance, for something other than helplessness. But his face was unreadable, his silence more damning than words.


    The battered disciple coughed violently, blood staining his lips. "They gave us an ultimatum," he wheezed. "Surrender and dissolve the sect... or be slaughtered."


    A sharp, rattling inhale filled the room. Someone stifled a sob. Another disciple sank to his knees, shaking his head as if he could will away the reality of their situation.


    Fear spread like a disease. Layla could see it¡ªfraying the last threads of resolve, wrapping around throats like an unseen noose.


    Hopelessness.


    She had seen this before, in another life. In the eyes of generals who realized the battle was lost. In the voices of rulers who knew their cities would burn.


    But she had never let it stop her before.


    And she wouldn¡¯t now.


    And she wouldn¡¯t now.


    Layla inhaled sharply, locking her emotions away. Panic is the enemy. Fear is the first defeat.


    Her gaze snapped to the wounded disciple. "How much time do we have?" Her voice was steady, sharp.


    The man swayed but forced himself to answer. "A day... two at most. Their vanguard was already moving when I escaped."


    A day.


    Layla''s mind burned with calculations. Not enough time to mount a full defense. Not enough resources to hold a siege. Not enough warriors to fight head-on.


    Layla hesitated for the briefest moment, considering the weight of what she was about to do. Should she take command? She was not the sect leader. Her father was. The elders had more experience. Yet, in this room filled with despairing faces, no one had stepped forward. No voice had risen in defiance.


    She understood human nature¡ªfear paralyzed, uncertainty killed before the enemy even arrived. They were waiting. For someone, for anyone to tell them they were not doomed.


    If no one else would take that role, then she must.


    But by doing so, she would reveal something else entirely. Something unsettling.


    They would see her not as Meilin, the daughter they had known, but as something else. Someone else.


    Then they wouldn¡¯t.


    She turned sharply, barking orders without hesitation. "Get him to the infirmary¡ªnow. Clean his wounds, apply a pain suppressant, and make sure he lives. We will not lose another soul today."


    The room jolted, startled by the authority in her voice. Even her parents looked momentarily stunned.


    This was not their Meilin. The quiet, obedient daughter who had once hesitated behind their protection was gone. In her place stood something else entirely¡ªa ruler, forged in fire.


    And yet, as her voice rang through the hall, something darker stirred within the room.


    The way she spoke, the raw command, the sharpness of her words¡ªit was too reminiscent of him.


    Her father¡¯s fingers tensed at his sides. The elders exchanged wary glances, unease creeping into their gazes. They had heard this kind of authority before, this kind of unyielding will. And it had come from the very man they feared.


    The tyrant.


    Jinhai.


    For a fleeting second, doubt flickered in her mother¡¯s eyes. Not recognition¡ªno, not yet¡ªbut something that made her look at Layla as if she were seeing a stranger wearing their daughter¡¯s skin.


    Layla felt her chest tighten, her body still weak from her slumber, but she pushed through it, stepping forward. "Those who are uninjured, gather what supplies we have! Rations, medicine, weapons¡ªanything usable. We do not have the luxury of waste!"


    No one moved. The weight of despair still clung to the room, suffocating, paralyzing. They had already accepted death.


    Layla gritted her teeth. Fine. If they would not move, then she would force them to.


    She took a deep breath, and then she shouted.


    "DO YOU WISH TO DIE AS CATTLE, OR AS WARRIORS?"


    Her voice was raw, powerful, tearing through the air like a war drum. Pain lanced through her throat, her weakened body screaming in protest, but she did not stop.


    "THE CRIMSON SERPENT SECT THINKS WE ARE NOTHING! THEY THINK WE WILL KNEEL, THAT WE WILL WAIT FOR THE EXECUTIONER¡¯S BLADE! BUT I TELL YOU NOW¡ªTHEY ARE WRONG!"


    The torches flickered. Something shifted.


    Disciples who had slumped in despair now sat straighter. The elders, once filled with silent resignation, looked uncertain. Even her parents¡ªwho had seen her as nothing more than their daughter¡ªstared at her with something unreadable in their eyes.


    Layla pressed on, forcing her voice to hold firm. A commander does not waver. A leader does not break.


    "We have one day before the Crimson Serpent Sect arrives. One day to decide whether we kneel and wait for slaughter or rise and carve our own path!"


    Her body trembled from the exertion. Damn this weakness. Damn this body for failing her. But she planted her feet, straightened her back, and lifted her chin.


    She had been a ruler once. She would be one again.


    She turned to her father, her voice quieter now but no less powerful. "Give me one day. One day to prepare, to rally, to turn this battlefield into our advantage. If by nightfall tomorrow we are still standing, then you will see what the Silver Lotus Sect is truly capable of."


    A heavy silence. Then her father exhaled slowly. "One day."


    The decision had been made. Layla clenched her fist at her side. Now, let¡¯s see if I can make them believe it.


    Unnoticed by her, her mother turned slightly, whispering to her father, "Meilin¡­ she¡¯s never spoken like this before."


    Her father did not respond. He only watched his daughter, a shadow of unreadable thoughts behind his gaze.


    Crimson Serpent Sect


    The chamber was suffocating with the mingling scents of blood, incense, and damp stone. Torches flickered against the cavernous walls, casting grotesque shadows that danced with the dying embers of the fire pit at the center. Above it all, seated atop an obsidian throne adorned with serpent motifs, Shen Mu observed his captive with a lazy, almost indifferent gaze.


    The half-dead disciple of the Silver Lotus Sect hung from iron chains, his face battered beyond recognition, his body bearing the cruel artistry of meticulous torture. His breaths were ragged, but he still lived¡ªfor now.


    "You made it far," Shen Mu murmured, swirling a goblet of spiced wine in his hand. His tone was almost admiring, but laced with mockery. "But not far enough."


    The disciple coughed weakly, blood splattering onto the stone floor.


    Shen Mu leaned forward. "You know why we are coming, don¡¯t you? It is not just for land, not just for resources."


    He crouched, gripping the disciple¡¯s chin between his fingers, forcing their gazes to meet. "It is because your sect harbors something far more dangerous than weakness. Hope."


    He stood, his voice carrying across the chamber. "Hope is a disease. It spreads like wildfire, infecting even the most broken of people. It convinces the weak that they can defy the strong. That is why we must eradicate them."


    He turned to his trusted lieutenants, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "But let¡¯s not pretend this is merely about philosophy." His gaze darkened. "Your sect leader¡ªLin Wuye¡ªhe cost me dearly years ago. He was a thorn in my father¡¯s side before I tore that old bastard¡¯s heart out myself. I will not suffer the same mistakes. The Silver Lotus Sect should have been wiped from history long ago, but the old man refused to die. Now I will correct that."


    A messenger entered, bowing low. "My Lord, our spies report movement in the Silver Lotus Sect. They have not fled. They are preparing to fight."


    Shen Mu smirked. "Oh? How unexpected. Perhaps they have found their courage after all. No matter. We will teach them what happens when the weak mistake desperation for strength."


    He turned to a hooded figure standing near the edge of the chamber¡ªsilent, unmoving. "Ensure the message reaches our informants. Let it be known that the Silver Lotus Sect is resisting. And ensure the Underlord of the West receives this¡­ personally."


    The figure did not bow. Did not speak. He simply turned and vanished into the darkness.


    Zafira, Underlord of the West


    Beyond the endless dunes and jagged ridges of the western frontier lay a bastion of steel and ambition¡ªa hidden outpost standing at the edge of civilization. A place of trade, refuge, and unseen dealings.


    This was no grand city, no gilded empire of courts and politics. It was a waystation of necessity, a lawless borderland where gold and power spoke louder than names. Merchants came to barter. Mercenaries sought employment. Smugglers whispered secrets behind closed doors. And above it all, deep within its fortified heart, the great engine was being built.


    From the worn stone paths leading to its gates to the towering scaffolds surrounding its core, the outpost thrived in organized chaos. Every brick, every beam of steel was another step toward something greater¡ªa machine unlike any the world had seen before. A creation that would either forge a new era or be lost to the sands of time.


    And at its center, seated within a dimly lit chamber lined with maps and ledgers, Zafira al-Rahim ruled.


    No deal was made, no caravan moved, no war erupted without her knowing. Her spies were not merely paid informants¡ªthey were merchants, beggars, scholars, soldiers. They were everyone and no one.


    The latest reports lay before her, scattered across a worn oak table. Prices of rare alchemical reagents fluctuating in the east. A war brewing between two sects in the north threatening trade routes. A noble family in the empire purchasing vast quantities of refined steel. The emperor¡¯s scholars seeking rare metals for something undisclosed.


    And then, the most curious report of all¡ªthe Silver Lotus Sect had chosen to resist.


    Zafira''s eyes flickered with interest. The Silver Lotus Sect, a name that once commanded respect, had been a crumbling relic for decades. Its disciples were few, its resources dwindling, and worst of all¡ªit had no successor worthy of its name.


    Lin Wuye, the current sect leader, was a man respected for his wisdom, not his strength. A father before a warrior, a teacher before a ruler. He had spent more time nurturing his disciples'' minds than sharpening their blades. His decision to lead with compassion rather than fear had left the sect vulnerable, a lamb amongst wolves.


    For years, their decline had been predictable, their fate seemingly sealed. But now¡­ resistance? Why?


    Zafira tapped a finger against the parchment. This was not the behavior of a dying sect. Something¡ªor someone¡ªhad changed the equation.


    The emergence of a new leader? A secret alliance? A weapon, perhaps? No, too sudden. There had to be a catalyst, a shift that had reignited the embers of defiance in a sect that had long been written off.


    A calculated smile curled her lips. "Interesting."


    She traced a gloved finger over the parchment, reading it once, twice. A slow, calculating smile curled upon her lips. "Interesting."


    A figure knelt before her, head bowed low. "The message was delivered as requested."


    Zafira leaned back in her chair, eyes half-lidded. "And the one who sent it?"


    The spy hesitated. "Unknown. The message changed hands several times before reaching us."


    Zafira¡¯s smile thinned. Clever. Someone didn¡¯t want her knowing who pulled the strings.


    "And yet," she mused, tapping a finger against the parchment, "it still found its way to me. How very considerate."


    She let the thought settle, filing it away. If someone wished to obscure their involvement, that meant there was more at play than a simple sect extermination.


    But she would uncover the truth in time. She always did.


    She shifted her attention back to the table, where a second report lay¡ªa list of materials requested by Emery Voss. Sulfur, saltpeter, refined steel, precision instruments. The foundation of something grander than war, if his theories held.


    From the far end of the chamber, beyond the columns draped in silk and reinforced steel, Emery was hunched over a workbench, etching calculations into papers and his quill. His brow furrowed as he muttered under his breath, adjusting his sketches¡ªschematics of a weapon unlike anything this world had seen before.


    "Your materials are being arranged," Zafira called to him without looking up.


    Emery barely acknowledged her, his focus unwavering. "Good. The refining process will take time. Precision is everything."


    She glanced at him, amused. "I thought you only concerned yourself with discovery. Since when did you care about precision in war?"


    Emery finally turned, adjusting his spectacles. "Discovery without precision is nothing but wasted potential. Besides¡­" His eyes flickered to the discarded message on her table. "If war is inevitable, I¡¯d rather not let brutes like Shen Mu dictate how it unfolds."


    Zafira tilted her head slightly. He had heard. He observed me through the smallest movement. He was always listening, always thinking. Always putting pieces together.


    She smiled. "So tell me, scholar. If Shen Mu is playing his game, and the Silver Lotus Sect refuses to fall¡­ what do you think happens next?"


    Emery exhaled, glancing back at his notes. "That depends," he murmured. "On who truly holds the pieces."


    His fingers drummed against the wooden surface of his workbench as his mind began weaving through the possibilities. Why now?


    The Silver Lotus Sect had been in decline for years. A failing sect with no prodigal successors and no great warriors to their name. Their leader, Lin Wuye, was no tactician, no warlord¡ªmerely a scholar who had clung to old ideals for far too long. If Shen Mu¡¯s forces had already been pressuring them, then logically, surrender or retreat would have been their best options. And yet¡­ they resisted.


    Was there an outside influence? Another faction backing them? No, the sect had been isolated for too long, with no known allies willing to stake their own standing for a dying cause. A new benefactor? Possible, but unlikely. A sudden breakthrough in cultivation? No, power did not come overnight.


    Which meant¡ªsomething changed internally.


    His mind cycled through the possible catalysts.


    A hidden expert resurfacing? Unlikely. There were no known grandmasters from the Silver Lotus Sect who had vanished rather than perished. A forbidden technique, a final gamble? That would be a desperate move, but not an impossible one. His mind, however, did not stop there. His thoughts drifted, shifting gears from war to something more fundamental¡ªresources, sustainability. If war was inevitable, then supplies would be paramount. He glanced at the scattered parchments on his workbench, the cost calculations, the sheer amount of leather and silk being consumed for record-keeping alone.


    His fingers tapped absently against the desk as he stared at the scattered parchments before him. The ink smudges on his fingers, the half-dried quill lying discarded at the edge of his workbench¡ªit was inefficient, frustrating. Knowledge was meant to be recorded, refined, expanded upon. Yet here he was, confined by the limitations of ink and paper, constantly rewriting entire sections when a simple correction was needed.


    "This is absurd," he muttered. "There has to be a better way."


    Zafira, watching him with idle amusement, arched a brow. "Why the sudden fuss?."


    Emery reached for a piece of charcoal, rolling it between his fingers. "Paper is fragile. Ink is permanent. Corrections are messy, and rewriting information over and over again is a waste of time and resources. What if there was a way to record knowledge temporarily¡ªsomething reusable, something that doesn¡¯t require endless stacks of parchment?"


    He sketched a quick design on the table, his movements precise and calculated. "A slate board¡ªcoated in a fine layer of dust or mineral-based residue. Write with a chalk-like substance, erase with a simple cloth. It would allow for rapid note-taking, teaching, calculations¡ªwithout the need for ink or wasted parchment."


    Zafira¡¯s fingers stilled against the parchment she had been idly tracing. Her business-minded intuition flared. "You mean to tell me that all this time, scholars have been wasting resources because no one has thought to use something temporary for writing?"


    Emery smirked slightly. "No one has needed to. Until now. But if I can refine the process¡ªfind the right materials, ensure durability¡ªit could change everything. Education, engineering, logistics... even military strategy."


    Zafira leaned forward slightly, her gaze calculating. "And can you do it?"


    Emery adjusted his glasses, his mind already spinning through the possibilities. "Given the right minerals and a stable surface? Of course. The only question is how long it will take to perfect."


    Zafira exhaled, then let out a low, knowing chuckle. "And here I thought you were just a scholar obsessed with weapons. Turns out, you might be the most dangerous man in this room."


    Emery said nothing, only smirking slightly as he returned to his sketches. The world was on the brink of war, and he was about to change it¡ªnot with swords or cultivation, but with the stroke of chalk on slate.


    Emery''s mind is always running and right now he is thinking again about the Silver Lotus situation.


    The Silver Lotus Sect. A failing sect, a weak leader, a history of steady decline¡ªnone of it made sense. Why now? Why resist?


    He exhaled sharply, adjusting his spectacles. Cultivation, as far as he was concerned, was little more than glorified mysticism. People claimed to refine ''qi'' and comprehend the ''Dao,'' but at the end of the day, strength was determined by the same rules governing everything else¡ªbiology, physics, strategy. The strongest warriors were the ones with discipline, knowledge, and the ability to adapt. No divine forces, no fate, just cause and effect.


    And yet, here they were, dealing with a sect that should have already crumbled yet had chosen to stand its ground. The logical part of his mind rejected the idea of some ''miraculous resurgence.'' There had to be something tangible behind it. Was it a last desperate act? Or had something truly changed?


    His fingers tapped against the table as he considered the possibilities. A sudden shift in leadership was the most plausible. But leaders did not appear out of thin air, especially not in a sect on the verge of ruin. If someone had stepped forward, that meant they had power¡ªnot necessarily cultivation, but influence, intelligence, or the ability to make others believe in them.


    A tactician? A war strategist? He scoffed at the notion. Such a mind would have been noticed long before now. Unless...


    Unless they had been underestimated. Hidden in plain sight.


    His smirk faded slightly. If that were the case, then the Crimson Serpent Sect might be walking into something far more dangerous than they anticipated.


    Emery shook his head. "People don''t change overnight. And sects don''t rise from the ashes without reason. Keep an eye on them, Zafira. See who comes out on top. That will tell us everything we need to know."

 Chapter 3: The Art of War

    The Gathering Storm


    Before returning to the war chamber, Layla had taken a solitary journey beyond the sect¡¯s walls. She needed time¡ªnot just to gather supplies, but to retrace the memories of her past life, to ensure her understanding of the terrain was not clouded by flawed recollection.


    Her steps were measured, deliberate. She pressed her fingers against the cold stone of the valley¡¯s edge, feeling the jagged texture beneath her fingertips. This place had once been a battlefield, one she had walked before, though not in this lifetime. The echoes of old conflicts rang in her mind, guiding her sight as she assessed every inch of land.


    She moved toward a narrow crevice between two towering cliffs, running her hand over the rough surface. A bottleneck. If the enemy came through here, it would be their grave.


    In the distance, an ancient riverbed stretched beneath the mountain pass, now dried and cracked. She knelt, scooping the coarse dirt between her fingers. This terrain is unstable. If we set cultivators that has enough firepower here, a controlled collapse could sever their formations.


    Her mind crafted plans as she walked¡ªsome she would share with her sect, others she would keep to herself. What they don¡¯t know, they can¡¯t betray. Even those she trusted most could become liabilities if their minds were too burdened with the full weight of her strategy.


    Then, as she reached a small outcrop shrouded in wild thorns, she noticed it.


    Nestled between the roots of a gnarled tree lay a single stalk of Bloodveil Orchid¡ªa rare herb potent enough to paralyze a warrior in moments. She crouched, running her fingers along its crimson petals, memories flooding back. A weapon hidden in nature. If the boy fails to obtain the requested poisons, this will suffice. If not for Shen Mu, then for another contingency.


    She plucked it carefully, storing it within her satchel before making her way back.


    Before she could take another step, something in her stirred¡ªa sensation she had never consciously tapped into. A slow, deliberate inhale, and suddenly, she could feel it. Qi. It was faint, but present, like a slow-moving current running beneath her skin. She had heard of cultivation, seen it practiced, but she had never attempted it herself. This body, new yet familiar, was reacting to the flow of energy around her.


    Layla closed her eyes, allowing the sensation to deepen, trying to understand what it meant. She focused on channeling the energy, attempting to guide it through her fingertips. There was no instruction, only instinct. She extended her palm toward a tree, releasing a faint pulse of energy.


    Nothing.


    She frowned, recalibrating, then turned her focus to a nearby boulder. This time, she pushed harder, willing the energy outward. A dull thud echoed as the stone barely shifted.


    Layla sighed. Pathetic.


    Then she turned away.


    Master Daokan stood at a distance, his form partially concealed by the shadows of the towering trees. He had been observing Layla¡¯s actions in silence, his aged eyes narrowing as he watched her movements. To her, he was nothing more than a flicker in the corner of her vision, a silhouette swallowed by the night. She had no time to pay him any mind¡ªthere was a war to win, and distractions had no place in her thoughts. The elder cultivator had been walking the outskirts of the sect grounds when he sensed an unfamiliar ripple in the flow of qi. Drawn to the anomaly, he followed it to the clearing where Layla had trained.


    At first, he had dismissed her efforts¡ªher qi reserves were pitifully low, almost negligible. Any ordinary cultivator would have struggled to influence even a leaf with such a minuscule pool of energy. And yet, what she had truly done defied explanation. How could someone with barely any qi cause such devastation? The logical conclusion was that her technique was not one of overwhelming power, but of something far more insidious¡ªprecision. Destruction that took root within, unseen until it was too late when he saw the tree she had barely touched moments ago was now blackened from the inside, its veins crumbling into rot. Even the air around it felt¡­ wrong.


    His breath hitched. This was no ordinary qi manipulation. This was something far more sinister.


    "Internal destruction¡­ but not like anything I¡¯ve seen before," he muttered. His fingers trembled slightly as he knelt beside the tree, pressing his palm against its surface. The moment he made contact, a faint pulse of residual energy lashed at his senses, sharp and invasive. He withdrew his hand quickly, unsettled.


    "This is not normal," he whispered.


    Master Daokan had seen countless forms of qi cultivation in his lifetime, had fought warriors who bent energy to their will in extraordinary ways. But this¡­ this was different. This was not the destruction of force, but corrosion from within. A silent, creeping death. The worst kind of power¡ªone that gave no warning before it was too late.


    He turned his gaze toward where Layla had disappeared, his expression grim. If she did not understand what she had just done, if she did not learn to control it¡­


    The consequences could be terrifying.


    Master Daokan exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. Without taking his eyes off the corrupted tree, he subtly gestured with two fingers. Hidden within the darkness, two figures shifted¡ªthe disciples he had brought with him, silent and unseen until now.


    "Find out everything you can about her," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But do not alert her. Not yet."


    The two figures vanished as quickly as they had appeared, slipping into the night like ghosts. Daokan remained for a moment longer, his expression grim.


    Whatever this was, whatever Layla-Meilin had become¡ªhe needed to understand it before it was too late. "The sect must be warned¡­ but how do you warn them of something you don¡¯t even understand?"


    The Engineer¡¯s DilemmaIf you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Hundreds of miles away, Emery Voss hunched over his workbench, frustration simmering beneath the surface. The latest firearm prototype lay disassembled before him, a reminder of his stalled progress.


    Flintlock? No, too inconsistent. Matchlock? No, too slow. Percussion caps? Too advanced for the materials available.


    He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is absurd. If only I had the resources, I could revolutionize warfare."


    Then he stopped himself. No. Warfare is not my goal. The engine is. His focus had drifted too far into the realm of destruction. His true purpose was not battle¡ªit was progress. Quiet, inevitable progress.


    A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Losing your mind again, Emery?"


    He looked up to see Callum Renshaw, his assistant, leaning against the doorway with a knowing smirk. Callum, a man of logic and quick wit, had an uncanny ability to keep Emery grounded.


    "Not losing my mind," Emery muttered. "Just recalibrating."


    Callum strode over, glancing at the sketches. "You¡¯re stuck on ignition mechanisms again?"


    "Among other things," Emery admitted. He tapped a separate blueprint¡ªa rough sketch of the chalkboard device he was designing for efficient note-taking. "This will work. The firearm? Not yet."


    Callum raised an eyebrow. "Then why not shift your focus? You¡¯re not building an army, Emery. You¡¯re building the future."


    Emery exhaled, nodding. "You''re right."


    Yet, even as he redirected his thoughts, another problem weighed heavily on his mind. His chalkboard invention was nearly complete¡ªbut something else had surfaced.


    A separate message had arrived from his informants, bearing news not of science but of war. The conflict between the Silver Lotus Sect and the Crimson Serpent Sect was reaching a critical point, but his network was not as extensive as Zafira¡¯s. What he did know, however, was troubling. The Serpents were moving in ways that defied conventional strategy. Someone¡ªperhaps Shen Mu himself¡ªwas adapting.


    A carrier pigeon had returned, a note tied securely to its leg. Emery retrieved it, recognizing the seal of one of his informants. He unfolded the parchment with careful fingers, scanning its contents. His breath hitched.


    Someone¡ªsomewhere¡ªhad supposedly discovered the laws of continuity.


    That shouldn¡¯t be possible. He had only begun theorizing about such concepts himself. No one else should have even considered it, let alone found proof.


    His fingers tightened around the parchment. "Who¡­? And how?" His mind raced through possibilities. A hidden scholar? An unknown sect? Or... something else entirely?


    Callum crossed his arms. "You¡¯re still stuck on that report, huh?"


    Emery handed him the paper. "Someone cracked the laws of continuity before I could even solidify the theory. It¡¯s impossible."


    Callum skimmed the text, lips pursed. "Maybe not impossible. Just improbable. You want me to track this down?"


    Emery nodded. "Yes. Get me every record, every rumor. And while you¡¯re at it, check with Zafira¡ªsee when ''that'' is arriving. We¡¯ll need it sooner than expected."


    Callum grinned. "Got it. But if I find something ridiculous, you owe me a drink."


    Emery smirked. "If you find something at all, I might owe you more than that."


    As Callum left, Emery turned back to his work, his thoughts consumed by possibilities. If someone had truly discovered the laws of continuity, then everything¡ªscience, technology, even the foundations of this world¡ªwas about to change.


    And Emery intended to be at the centre of it.


    The Midnight Battle Begins


    The moment had arrived.


    Layla stood at the highest balcony of the main hall, the cold night air brushing against her face. Below her, the warriors of the Silver Lotus Sect stood in formation, their eyes locked on the darkness beyond the valley. The sound of distant marching reverberated through the air, a steady drum of impending conflict.


    A young disciple rushed toward her, bowing deeply. "Lady Meilin, the poison has been successfully mixed and delivered."


    Layla nodded. "Good, Bao. Now prepare the sedative contingency. If this battle extends beyond five minutes, we may need to escalate."


    Bao hesitated. "Five minutes, my lady? That seems¡ª"


    "If it takes longer than that, it means their numbers are far greater than expected." Layla¡¯s gaze hardened. "In that case, we move to Plan C. The boulders."


    She had only managed to spend a few hours ensuring their placement along the cliffs, hastily coordinating with the few cultivators she had to move the boulders into position. It was a sloppy job, rushed and imperfect, but it would have to suffice. If the enemy was too large to outmaneuver, they would be crushed beneath the weight of the mountain¡ªor so she planned.


    Bao nodded swiftly and vanished into the shadows, carrying out his new orders.


    Layla descended from the balcony, making her way toward the war chamber where the remaining elders awaited. The moment she entered, murmurs filled the room¡ªdoubt and unease lingered in their expressions. "We need a fallback if Plan C fails," one of the elders stated. "What if they break through before the boulders drop?"


    Layla exhaled. "Then we fall back to the northern ridge and use the terrain to create a bottleneck. I already stationed cultivators there for reinforcement."


    Her father, Lin Wuye, watched her carefully before speaking. "That is only half of the truth, isn''t it? You have a true plan beyond these contingencies. What is it?"


    Layla met his gaze, weighing her words carefully. "If they push us too far, we lure them into the abandoned ruins east of the valley. The structures there are unstable. If we bring them down at the right moment, it will cut their forces in half."


    A silence stretched in the room before an elder finally muttered, "Risky."


    "Necessary," Layla countered. "We cannot afford to lose this battle. We must control the flow of the fight, no matter the cost."


    Layla inhaled deeply, her inner clock counting each second as she watched the battlefield below. Five minutes. No more.


    The Serpent''s Perspective


    Shen Mu stood at the front of his formation, the scent of damp earth thick in the midnight air. The oppressive silence was unsettling, broken only by the faint rustle of armor and the muted shuffle of his soldiers¡¯ boots.


    He had anticipated resistance, but something about this battle felt wrong. There were no torches lit along the enemy¡¯s walls, no frantic shouting of orders¡ªonly the cold, whispering wind.


    Shen Mu smirked. Are they hiding in fear?


    His forces advanced cautiously. He had devised multiple plans for breaching the Silver Lotus Sect¡¯s defenses, yet none had accounted for this eerie absence of immediate resistance. A feint? A retreat? Or are they setting a trap?


    Then, as they reached the valley¡¯s entrance, he saw it¡ªa lone figure standing at the centre of the open terrain.


    One cultivator.


    He blinked, uncertain. Is this a bluff? An envoy? A fool? His instinct screamed at him, but before he could act, the lone figure raised an arm.


    A deafening rush of wind exploded across the battlefield.


    Gale Severance.


    The gust struck with the force of a collapsing storm, tearing through the first wave of his soldiers, sending them sprawling backward. Shen Mu¡¯s eyes widened as he steadied himself, struggling to maintain balance.


    Then came the shadows.


    Figures darted between the trees and ridges, striking with impossible speed before vanishing once more into the night. The battle had begun¡ªnot as an open clash, but as a massacre of precision.


    Guerrilla warfare.


    Shen Mu gritted his teeth. So this was their game.


    In just thirty seconds, his perfect formation was already starting to unravel.


    The enemy was drawing closer.


    Shen Mu sneered as he observed the eerie silence ahead. Cowards. Was this how the once-respected Silver Lotus Sect intended to fight? Hiding in the shadows, refusing to face him with honour? He gritted his teeth, the thought igniting a simmering fury within him. War was meant to be a clash of wills, of strength against strength. Not this. Not tricks and deception.


    And yet, as he scoffed at their cowardice, an unsettling thought slithered into his mind, one that mirrored the mind of his unseen opponent. He''s probably thinking this is dishonourable.


    Layla, watching from above, smirked. But honour never won a battle!


    A cold wind swept past her, and at that moment, a nearby bird let out a startled cry before taking off frantically into the night. Even nature itself seemed to shudder at her expression.

 The Battle of Two Commanders

    The Battlefield Countdown


    One minute.


    Layla''s breath was steady, her mind running through every moving piece of the battlefield like a grand game board. Her soldiers moved swiftly between the trees and cliffs, darting in and out of view. From the north, archers rained hell upon the Serpent Sect¡¯s front lines, forcing them to hesitate. From the east, traps hidden beneath the underbrush activated, spikes impaling unsuspecting warriors.


    Everything was proceeding as she had predicted.


    Two minutes.


    In the sect¡¯s ranks, murmurs turned to confident cheers.


    "Look at them scatter!" One warrior laughed as he drove his blade into a fallen enemy. "Like headless chickens in a storm!"


    "And to think they thought they''d outlast us!" Another scoffed, twisting his spear free from a writhing foe. "Meilin planned for everything. We could be drinking by sunrise!"


    "Someone get Shen Mu a map," a younger disciple jeered, loosing an arrow into the chaos. "He looks lost."


    To them, the battle was unfolding precisely as Meilin had orchestrated. They could win this.


    And then¡ª


    The enemy forces had started to panic, their tight formations disrupted by the guerrilla tactics. Her cultivators struck hard and retreated, never staying long enough for retaliation. Shen Mu was gathering his bearings, standing amidst the chaos like an unmovable pillar. He had underestimated her¡ªexpected a war of attrition, not a slaughter in the shadows.


    Layla''s fingers curled around the hilt of her blade. He¡¯s starting to realize.


    Three minutes has passed.


    I have two minutes left before we win this war. This is easier than-


    A pulse of raw energy surged through the battlefield, sending chills down Layla''s spine. What?


    She turned her gaze toward Shen Mu, and what she saw made her stomach twist.


    The air around him wavered like a mirage, his qi condensing into an almost physical force. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he let out a deep, guttural roar. His body twisted unnaturally, his arms flexing as veins bulged across his skin. A sickly crimson aura bled from his body, like steam rising from fresh blood.


    Then he moved.


    Like a beast unchained, he tore through the battlefield, his fists crashing into the earth with enough force to shatter stone. This is not normal qi usage. This was something else¡ªa martial art so brutal and unrefined that it seemed almost self-destructive.


    Layla''s breath hitched as she saw him tear through her forces, his fists pulverizing soldiers, his kicks sending bodies flying into trees. He was not just fighting¡ªhe was consuming everything in his path with sheer force.


    For the first time in a long, long time¡ª


    She felt fear.


    Shen Mu¡¯s eyes locked onto her.


    Then, he leaped. Straight towards her tower.


    A powerful strike sent the entire structure crumbling, debris crashing down around her. Layla braced herself, but before the full weight of the collapse could crush her, a figure slammed into her, pushing her clear of the falling wreckage.


    Bao.


    His body shielded her, his breath ragged. Layla stared in disbelief, but before she could even react¡ª


    Shen Mu was there.


    A blur of motion¡ª


    A sickening crack¡ª


    Bao¡¯s body hurled across the battlefield, slamming into a shattered pillar with a sickening crunch. Agony exploded through his ribs as he felt something crack¡ªhis breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, his shoulder dislocated from the impact. Blood trickled from his forehead, blurring his vision, yet he forced himself to move, even as his body screamed in protest. Every inhale was a stab of fire in his lungs, every twitch of his muscles sent searing pain through his nerves. Yet, even through the haze of suffering, his eyes sought Meilin¡ªwas she safe?


    Layla''s vision locked onto Bao. A sickening coldness spread through her limbs as she screamed his name. She barely registered what was gonna happen next as she tried to move,  her instincts screaming at her to dodge. But before she could react, before even another sweat of hers drop


    A foot collided with her stomach.


    The force of Shen Mu¡¯s kick sent her flying, her ribs fracturing on impact. A grotesque crunch echoed in her ears as her back slammed against the ruins of her tower. Pain flared through every nerve, stealing the air from her lungs. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She gasped¡ªonce, twice¡ªbefore finally coughing, red mist spraying from her lips. Her inner qi was scrambling to keep her alive. She could feel her body energy no longer being stable.


    Her arms trembled as she tried to push herself up. She couldn''t.


    Shen Mu stalked toward her, his crimson aura seething with unrestrained malice. Every movement sent fresh agony through her broken body. Her vision swam, her head throbbing from where debris had struck her skull.


    She had never felt this fragile before.


    She had never felt so close to death.


    And as Shen Mu loomed over her, grinning like a beast eyeing its wounded prey¡ª


    She felt something she had abandoned long ago.


    Fear.


    The Desperate Escape


    Emery ran.


    This is ridiculous. Absolutely, painfully ridiculous.


    It had started as a simple errand. He had gone out to procure additional materials for his latest project¡ªone that, in theory, would revolutionize small-scale combustion mechanics. But of course, nothing could ever be simple.


    The vendor had tried to overcharge him. And being Emery¡ªlogical, meticulous, and utterly unwilling to be scammed¡ªhe had done what any reasonable man would do.


    He lectured the vendor.


    For five minutes.


    In excruciating detail. Citing economic principles, material costs, and the merchant¡¯s own incorrect arithmetic.


    "I don¡¯t know what kind of half-wit clientele you usually deal with," Emery had said, crossing his arms. "But I assure you, I will not be extorted like some clueless farmer¡¯s son. Your prices are as inflated as your ego, and quite frankly, an insult to basic market integrity."


    It was only when the vendor''s face darkened and a man in the back cracked his knuckles that Emery began to suspect he had miscalculated.


    The vendor¡¯s lips curled. "You talk too much."


    Then, with an almost casual flick of his fingers, he muttered something to a shadow lingering behind the stall.


    "Kill him."


    And that was how Emery found himself sprinting through the dark, clutching his life¡¯s work, praying to every scientific principle he had ever respected that he wouldn¡¯t die because of a damn overpricing dispute.


    His breath burned in his throat, his legs screaming for relief. His satchel, filled with his life¡¯s work, slammed against his back with every desperate step.


    Behind him, the pursuer was gaining.


    Think, damn it. Think!


    His mind raced through possibilities. He had no weapons, no training in combat¡ªbut he had knowledge. That would have to be enough.


    His eyes darted to a thick, gnarled tree up ahead. There. He fumbled into his satchel, pulling free a handful of chemicals wrapped in parchment. Homemade explosives. Crude, unstable¡ªbut desperate men don¡¯t have the luxury of refinement.


    With a flick of his fingers, he ignited the fuse and hurled the bundle behind the tree.


    BOOM.


    Bark and dirt erupted into the air, sending a cloud of debris into his pursuer¡¯s path. Emery pushed forward, barely buying himself three seconds of distance¡ª


    Pain. A sensation he was not familiar with.


    A blade pierced into his left leg. His body twisted as he stumbled, hitting the ground hard. White-hot pain shot through his leg, spreading like fire with every twitch of his muscles. Blood pooled beneath him, his vision blurring. He tried to move, but the wound sent another sharp jolt through his body, forcing a ragged gasp from his throat.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Damn it¡ªhow much blood am I losing?


    His fingers clawed into the dirt as he fought to stay conscious. I just need to move. Just a little more. But the pain was relentless, his body betraying him as his strength bled away with every passing second.


    No. Not now.


    His pursuer stepped forward, blade dripping with his blood. The air between them was suffocating, filled with a presence Emery could barely comprehend. His mind, so used to equations and logic, struggled to define the way this person moved. Even in this scenario all Emery could think about, was how to get out of this


    Then, in a flash of steel¡ª


    Zafira.


    She intercepted, her twin blades clashing against the attacker¡¯s weapon with a force that sent shockwaves rippling through the ground and even pushed back Emery scrawny body.


    For the first time in three years, Emery felt something similar from Zafira. The same anger when Layla death was announced.


    Rage.


    His hands clenched into fists as he tried to push himself up, but his wounded leg screamed in protest. His vision swam, but all he could focus on was Zafira, battling against a force he could barely comprehend.


    Her strikes were fast, precise¡ªyet every movement of their opponent felt unnatural, as though they were predicting her moves before she made them.


    Zafira¡¯s thoughts raced as she fought. Who the hell fights like this?


    Her opponent¡¯s style wasn¡¯t just efficient¡ªit was alien. Their dodges weren¡¯t reactionary, they were calculated, as if they knew the exact angles to evade. She had faced assassins, warriors, qi masters¡ªbut this was something else.


    And for the first time in a long while¡ª


    She wondered if she could actually win.


    Zafira gritted her teeth as she adjusted her stance. This wasn¡¯t working. Every exchange sent vibrations through her arms, the sheer impact numbing her fingers. Her opponent¡¯s blade was heavier than expected, and every parry rattled her bones. This isn¡¯t just strength¡ªit¡¯s technique, something I don¡¯t understand.


    She pivoted, shifting into a stance she had learned from a sword master in the Eastern Isles¡ªa flowing, unpredictable form that mimicked the ebb and flow of water. With a sharp inhale, she moved, her blade tracing new patterns through the air.


    But even as she weaved between attacks, she kept an eye on Emery. The fool was still breathing, but his face was twisted in pain. And then, because it was Emery¡ªbecause it had to be¡ªhe spoke, through clenched teeth, in pure defiance of his own injuries.


    "I wasn¡¯t about to waste the budget on a scam artist!"


    Zafira let out a short, exasperated breath as she parries an attack "You angered a noble merchant for over pricing!?"


    "He started it!"


    A deep gash sliced across her cheek as she was forced to dodge at the last second. She growled, cursing as fresh blood dripped onto her collar. Her gaze snapped back to her opponent, irritation flaring. "You¡¯re going to be the death of me, Emery!"


    Three minutes.


    That was how long the battle lasted.


    Zafira¡¯s blade found its mark, slicing clean through flesh and bone. A head fell to the ground, and with it, the eerie silence that followed.


    She stumbled, her breathing ragged. She had won. But at what cost? Her pride to strength.


    Zafira knew her body better than anyone. And right now, it was screaming in protest. Her arms felt like lead, her grip weak against the hilt of her sword. Every inch of her body ached, her muscles torn from strain, her bones trembling from the impact of every blocked strike. Her ribs throbbed with every inhale, the deep bruising beneath her armor making even standing a conscious effort.


    Her left shoulder stung¡ªa shallow but sharp cut from when her opponent¡¯s blade had nearly found its mark. Blood trickled down her arm, sticking to the fabric beneath her armor. Worse than the external wounds, though, was the raw, aching exhaustion deep in her core. She had pushed her body past its limit, and it was demanding repayment.


    She clenched her jaw. Damn it. I had to rely on a damn technique. Again.


    Zafira prided herself on her strength, on her ability to carve through enemies with sheer force when necessary. But against this opponent, she hadn¡¯t been able to overpower them. She had been forced to rely on adaptation, footwork, precision¡ªall the techniques she had learned from sword masters across the continent. And while those skills had saved her life, the realization burned in her chest like a humiliation she couldn¡¯t shake.


    She spat to the side, her expression hardening. "If I was stronger, I wouldn''t have needed to dodge so damn much."


    Her legs buckled beneath her, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed to one knee. A sharp, searing pain shot through her ribs, and she clenched her jaw, suppressing a groan. Damn it. She tried to move, but her arms felt heavy, her muscles screaming in protest.


    Her fingers twitched against the hilt of her sword. I overcompensated. I relied too much on skill¡ªagain. I should''ve trained harder.


    She had trained under warriors, assassins, swordmasters from distant lands. She had studied a hundred different techniques, perfected her footwork, refined her counters. But none of it changed the fact that, in the end, she had to outthink her opponent to survive. Strength had never been her path, and that bitter truth gnawed at her now more than ever.


    Her vision blurred for a moment, her body swaying. The weight of exhaustion pressed against her like an unseen force, dragging her closer to the dirt. But she refused to collapse. Not yet. Not in front of him.


    Her gaze flicked to Emery. He was still barely holding himself together, his breathing uneven, his blood staining the ground beneath him. Her frustration twisted into something else entirely. She falls down with blood starting to form a pool underneath her and all she thought of was


    "This idiot almost got himself killed over a budget dispute"


    Behind her, Emery forced himself to move. His vision swam as he tried to stand, his body fighting against every instinct to collapse. But he had never felt horror like this before.


    His entire life had been dictated by logic. Calculations, probabilities, cold efficiency¡ªeverything had its answer. But now, as he looked at Zafira, battered, bleeding, barely holding herself together, his mind came up empty.


    He had followed her for years, had seen her wield her blades like an artist with a brush. Even when he could explain how those techniques science wise, he always had watched her dance through battles with an ease that defied everybody. But he had never seen her like this. Struggling. Hurt. Pushed to the limit.


    Something inside him cracked. Not science. Not logic. Something far more primal.


    His fingers dug into the dirt as he pushed forward, dragging himself forward despite the fire burning in his leg. Each movement was agony, yet something deeper than pain pushed him on. His throat felt raw, his mind reeling between the sharp clarity of knowing what needed to be done and the overwhelming rage at seeing her like this.


    For the first time, science took a backseat. Emotion ignited in its place.


    "GET ME MEDICINE! NOW DAMMIT! WHAT YOU DOING THERE STANDING LIKE IDIOTS!?"


    It wasn''t a request. It wasn''t a calculated order. It was a demand¡ªa plea¡ªa command torn from a place inside him he had never acknowledged before. Not for logic. Not for strategy. But for her.


    For the first time, his mind and heart aligned in the same direction.


    Logic told him to stop. That his injuries were severe. That he needed to think rationally.


    But logic had no place here.


    Not when she was barely standing.


    Not when she had fought for him.


    Not when he had never once been able to fight for her.


    And so, Emery moved. Not with reason. Not with calculation. But with something far more dangerous.


    Emotion.


    The battlefield stood still, but the weight of what had transpired sank deep into every heart. The warriors of the Zafira''s crew once emboldened by her now stood in silent horror. They had seen their commander fight like her life depended on it.


    Now, they saw her crumpled on the ground, struggling to move, her body bloodied and broken.


    "She... She¡¯s hurt..." one crew member stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Commander Zafira is... actually hurt."


    "No¡ªshe¡¯s still alive! She¡ªshe¡¯ll get up, right? She always does!"


    "Then why isn¡¯t she moving?!"


    The crushing realization settled in¡ªtheir unshakable commander was fallible. And if Zafira could fall, what did that mean for them?


    Meanwhile, Emery¡¯s assistant, Callum, stood frozen. He had never seen Emery lose his composure¡ªnot once, not even when facing impossible calculations, dangerous experiments, or life-threatening risks. But this was different.


    Emery wasn¡¯t analyzing. He wasn¡¯t calculating.


    He was screaming.


    "STOP TALKING YOU DUMB BITCH! GET ME THE MEDICINE NOW!"


    For the first time, Callum felt something unexpected¡ªfear. Not of the situation, but of what would happen if Zafira died.


    A slow, methodical crunch of footsteps echoed through the battlefield. Shen Mu moved with a deliberate slowness, his eyes locked on Meilin¡¯s broken form. Blood dripped from his knuckles, pooling at his feet. He exhaled, the sound deep and guttural, before reaching down¡ª


    And grabbing Layla by the hair.


    Pain erupted through her scalp as she was yanked upward. A sharp, involuntary scream tore from her throat, her hands scrambling weakly against his wrist. Her limbs felt heavy, useless, her ribs burning with every ragged breath.


    Her mind screamed at her to move, to resist, but her body refused.


    "Ah...This pain¡­ this weakness¡­ I hate it." she tells to herself


    Her vision blurred with tears, her body trembling as Shen Mu lifted her higher. His grip was like iron, unforgiving, every movement sending fresh agony through her already broken frame.


    "So fragile," he mused, voice laced with cruel amusement. "I expected more from the woman who orchestrated this little ambush. You do look pretty even when covered with your own blood"


    Layla choked back a whimper as she tried to focus, but the agony was blinding. Every breath felt like knives slicing through her lungs, her senses drowning under the overwhelming weight of her injuries. I can¡¯t think. I can¡¯t breathe.


    And then she realized¡ªthe battlefield had grown silent. She knew that either her plans work with perfection and suffered no loss except her or this was about to be a bloodbath.


    The warriors who had secured their victories were now returning, only to find Meilin dangling helplessly in Shen Mu¡¯s grasp.


    They stopped. Stared. Horror settled into their expressions as they felt the shift in the air, a dark presence swallowing their fleeting triumph. The suffocating weight of Shen Mu¡¯s power spread through the battlefield like a creeping plague.


    "Meilin¡­?" One of them whispered, disbelieving. "No¡­ no, this isn¡¯t right."


    Bao, bloodied and battered, forced himself to move. His entire body screamed against the effort, but he could not¡ªwould not¡ªstay still.


    Layla''s blurry vision locked onto him, and for a fleeting moment, her face twisted¡ªnot in desperation, but in silent command. We won. Ask them to leave me. The words never passed her lips, but they were there, screaming through the pain in her eyes. She did not want them to fight for her now. Not when they had already given their all. Not when she could already feel the weight of defeat crushing her lungs.


    But Bao didn''t listen. He never would. He crawled like a worm towards her.


    Her body spasmed as she tried to move, an unnatural burst of adrenaline forcing her limbs to respond. She gritted her teeth, clawing at Shen Mu¡¯s wrist, trying to pry herself free. Her vision darkened at the edges, pain screaming through her bones as she struggled. Move. Move, damn you!


    Shen Mu barely reacted. He exhaled, annoyed, like one swatting away a gnat.


    "Still fighting? Tch." His grip tightened in her hair, sending fresh agony through her skull. He yanked her up higher, her toes now at his stomach level. "You¡¯re starting to be an eyesore."


    His other hand pulled back, fingers flexing¡ªpreparing to end her. The air started to be disoriented. The air was heavy. The killing she knew all too well. She was about to die through a gut punch.


    Then, a gust of wind. A blur of motion.


    A fist, heavier than steel, slammed into Shen Mu¡¯s ribs.


    The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield. The earth beneath them cracked and birds that stood on branches loss their balance. Dust and debris kicked up around them as Shen Mu¡¯s feet skidded against the bloodstained earth. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he released Meilin from his grip, shaking his arm as if to rid himself of an irritant. Layla barely registered her sudden freedom¡ªher body flies into the sky like a marionette with cut strings.


    Up there, staring at the darkened sky above, a bitter thought crept into her mind. Why am I the first person to die twice in a single day?


    She let out a wheezing, broken laugh, the sound barely more than a whisper. Her limbs twitched, trying and failing to move. Not yet. Not like this.


    Before she could spiral further into the abyss of unconsciousness, strong arms caught her, cradling her broken frame. Through blurred vision, she looked up and saw her father.


    Lin Wuye¡¯s face, always so composed, was twisted in something she had rarely seen¡ªgrief. His eyes, rimmed red, darted over her injuries, his breath uneven. "Meilin..." he whispered, voice cracking, as though saying her name aloud would make this nightmare more real.


    Tears fell, unnoticed, as his grip on her tightened. He gently lowers her down to a tree with shaky arms.


    "You will live Meilin, I will make sure of it" he said to her.


    Shen Mu, still rubbing his ribs, let out a low chuckle. "Now, this is interesting. The wise Lin Wuye, breaking his vow of pacifism? I should be honored."


    Standing before him was Lin Wuye¡ªMeilin¡¯s father.


    His scholar¡¯s robes were torn, streaked with dirt and blood. His hands trembled, clenched into fists. His face, always calm, always composed, was contorted with fury, his eyes wet with unshed tears.


    Lin Wuye didn¡¯t answer. He had no words left. Only rage.


    And Shen Mu? He welcomed it with a grin.

 Shifting Fates

    The Kingdom''s Ruler


    Jinhai lounged in his chamber, legs crossed, swirling a cup of wine idly in one hand. The faint glow of candlelight flickered over his papers, stacks of reports detailing minor disputes, trade fluctuations, and military skirmishes. His kingdom ran efficiently, as it always did. That was the way he had built it¡ªa machine, not a monarchy.


    A light knock at the door.


    "Enter."


    A messenger stepped in, bowing deeply before setting a stack of fresh reports onto his desk. "My lord, the situation with the Silver Lotus Sect has escalated. Master Lin Wuye and Shen Mu are set to clash at midnight."


    Jinhai¡¯s fingers paused against the rim of his wine cup.


    Lin Wuye.


    For the first time in years, that name stirred something in him¡ªnot as a ruler, but as a man who once had a past.


    He had known Lin Wuye long before they had become what they were now¡ªbefore Jinhai was a sovereign, before Lin Wuye had taken his path as a scholar. Once, they had been two boys caught between the expectations of their lineage and the boundless ambitions of their youth. They had studied under the same masters, debated philosophy under moonlight, and once even vowed that if they ever held power, they would reshape the world together.


    But that was lifetimes ago.


    The man Lin Wuye had become was not the boy Jinhai once knew. And Jinhai¡­ Jinhai had long abandoned those youthful dreams. Ideals did not build empires. Ruthlessness did.


    His grip on the cup tightened for a fraction of a second. Then, his expression smoothed over like glass, and when he finally spoke, his voice was devoid of anything but cold indifference.


    Jinhai barely glanced up. "A sect dispute? Why are you wasting my time with this?"


    "The region may destabilize if¡ª"


    "If they tear themselves apart, it is of no concern to me." He took a slow sip of his wine, waving a hand dismissively. "Tell the border generals to tighten control of the region. If it collapses, we will pick through the rubble at our leisure."


    The messenger hesitated. "And the situation regarding the merchant request?"


    Jinhai sighed. "Which one? I get this lowly merchants who wants to open sweet shops, weapon shops and even a casino. None of them is exciting and can be put on hold"


    His messenger sterned and said "A merchant named Atlas seeks permission to establish a trade outpost and workshop within our territory. His credentials are impressive, and he claims to bring innovations that could revolutionize production." he hands him over his paperwork and credentials research done on Atlas.


    Jinhai leaned forward slightly, finally looking interested. "Let him set up a shop. Innovation breeds power. But watch him. If he is lying, ensure his disappearance is swift and untraceable."


    The messenger nodded. "And lastly, my lord, your intelligence division has requested guidance. They have received your orders to investigate Yasmina¡¯s death and are seeking leads on her most loyal follower. However, there is little to go on."


    Jinhai tapped a finger against the armrest of his chair, his mind already knew this could''ve happened. "If information is scarce, we pull from a different source. Have my best spies make contact with the Underworld Queen."


    The messenger stiffened at the name. "Are you certain, my lord? She is... unpredictable."


    Jinhai smirked. "Yes, she is. But she is also the most well-connected figure in the underworld. If anyone knows who Yasmina¡¯s devoted follower was, it is her. Tell our men to offer whatever she wants in return for that information."


    As the messenger left, Jinhai exhaled sharply, staring at the flickering candlelight.


    How ironic.


    Here he was, seeking information from a shadowed figure he had never met. And yet, unbeknownst to him, the infamous Underworld Queen was already closer than he realized.


    A Scholar¡¯s Dilemma


    The room smelled of herbs and ink, a strange combination of medicine and industry. Emery sat beside the cot where Zafira lay unconscious, her chest rising and falling steadily, though her face was still pale.


    His fingers worked tirelessly, scribbling notes on parchment while his other hand idly ground a medicinal root with a mortar and pestle. Even injured, even after nearly losing her, he could not sit still. His mind needed to work. His hands needed to build. His leg was taken care of by Callum, a rare thing as Emery despises physical touch but allows it from him.


    Across the room, Callum stood frozen, staring at his master nursing a woman with far too much care for someone who supposedly only cared about science.


    Emery sighed, not even looking up as he reached out and yanked Callum¡¯s ear.


    "Whatever you¡¯re thinking, stop thinking it."


    "I¡ªI wasn¡¯t thinking anything!" Callum yelped, rubbing his ear. "I just¡ªwell, you don¡¯t exactly do this for everyone, Master Emery. I mean, you made me treat my own wounds the last time I got injured!"


    "You tripped over a bucket. That¡¯s not an injury. That¡¯s natural selection trying to do its job."


    Callum scowled, but before he could argue, Emery waved a hand. "Enough. Have you gotten any updates about the law of continuity request I had you put out into the network?"


    Callum blinked, then quickly dug into his satchel and pulled out a collection of letters. "Right! So, I worded it carefully to attract only serious scholars. I asked for anyone with knowledge on theoretical mechanics and the progression of forces without external interference."


    Emery gave him a flat stare. "That¡¯s what you wrote?"


    "Yes? What¡¯s wrong with that?"


    Emery groaned. "You should have phrased it like this¡ª¡®Has anyone observed momentum that seemingly violates natural resistance? Has anyone proven this phenomenon exists?¡¯


    Callum blinked. "That¡¯s the same thing."


    "No, it¡¯s not! You left it open-ended, which means I¡¯ll get every self-proclaimed ¡®scholar¡¯ with a half-baked theory instead of someone with actual results."


    Callum crossed his arms. "Fine, fine. I¡¯ll make the correction. But if I end up attracting some insane philosopher who thinks the stars talk to him, I¡¯m blaming you."


    Emery sighed, but the banter eased the tension in his shoulders. He turned his gaze back to Zafira, watching her breathe. For a moment, the room fell quiet.


    He told himself he was simply waiting for her to wake up.


    Not that he was relieved she was still breathing.


    The Scholar''s Wrath


    The battlefield was silent save for the flickering embers of torches and the distant groans of the wounded. Blood stained the earth, and standing amidst the chaos were two men¡ªone a warlord who thrived in destruction, the other a scholar whose hands were left behind due to his own belief of pacifism.


    Lin Wuye did not move like a traditional martial artist. His footwork was deliberate, each step measured with the precision of a man who had spent his life calculating outcomes. His qi was not wild and uncontrollable like Shen Mu¡¯s; it was sharp, refined, methodical.


    Shen Mu scoffed, cracking his knuckles as his blood-soaked aura pulsed wildly around him. "So the scholar thinks he can fight? This should be amusing."


    Lin Wuye said nothing. His stance was firm, unshaken. Then, with a single movement, he vanished.


    The air split as he reappeared behind Shen Mu, fingers curled into a precise strike that slammed into the warlord¡¯s ribcage. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield, Shen Mu¡¯s body staggering as pain shot through him for the first time in the fight.


    The warriors watching from the distance gasped. Lin Wuye was holding his own.


    Shen Mu growled, his amusement fading into irritation. He retaliated with a devastating palm strike, but Lin Wuye redirected the force with a twist of his wrist, dissipating the impact entirely. Everytime they strike, winds of destruction would follow and the earth beneath them becomes unstable. His movements were effortless, as though he were reading Shen Mu¡¯s attacks before they landed.


    "You rely too much on raw strength," Lin Wuye murmured, his voice laced with quiet disappointment. "Strength without control is a fire that burns its own wielder."The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Shen Mu¡¯s eye twitched. He knew he is struggling against this scholar but then, without hesitation, he pulled a small black pill from his robes and crushed it between his teeth.


    Immediately, his body contorted, veins turning black as his qi surged into something unnatural. A vile, corrupted energy bled from him, twisting his very form as his aura thickened into a suffocating presence.


    "If strength is a fire, then I will become the inferno!" Shen Mu bellowed, lunging forward with inhuman speed.


    For the first time, Lin Wuye faltered.


    Shen Mu¡¯s attacks came faster, stronger, more erratic. Lin Wuye could feel his body straining under the onslaught, muscles screaming in protest as he deflected blow after blow. He could not keep this up¡ªhis body was reaching its limit. This was only going on for 4 minutes but the trees surrounding them started to fall and the earth beneath them made holes each time Shen Mu jumped.


    Pain flared through his arm as one of Shen Mu¡¯s attacks broke through, slamming into his ribs and sending him skidding backward. His vision blurred, his breathing uneven. Qi poisoning. He had pushed himself beyond his natural limit, and his own energy was turning against him.


    Shen Mu laughed, stepping forward, ready to finish him.


    Then, just as Shen Mu prepared to strike the final blow, the air around them shifted.


    A presence surged forth¡ªa pressure so immense that even Shen Mu froze. From the shadows, a figure descended like a falling blade.


    The current Qi Master had arrived.


    A lone figure emerged from the shadows, his robes untouched by the chaos around him, his presence a quiet storm waiting to be unleashed. Master Daokan. The very man who had observed Meilin¡¯s strange qi before the battle, the one who had silently watched from the periphery, now stood at the heart of destruction.


    His sharp eyes flickered between Shen Mu¡¯s contorted form and Lin Wuye¡¯s battered stance. He had seen many battles, but few men had fought as Lin Wuye just had¡ªholding his ground against a warlord despite lacking formal training. Despite the sheer agony twisting his body, Lin Wuye had fought with discipline, strategy, and an unwavering willpower that even seasoned warriors lacked.


    With practiced ease, the Qi Master sidestepped Shen Mu¡¯s corrupted onslaught. His movements were effortless, each step calculated, as if the battle had already been decided. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Shen Mu, his palm hovering inches from the warlord¡¯s chest. A whisper of energy coiled around his fingers, so precise that it felt like the world itself held its breath.


    "No fire burns forever." he said while looking at Shen Mu indifferently.


    A pulse of concentrated qi erupted from the Qi Master¡¯s hand. The mountains behind them split into half and the earth cracked into half from Shen Mu''s direction. Shen Mu¡¯s body convulsed violently, his own corrupted energy turning against him. His muscles spasmed, veins darkening as cracks of energy burst from his skin. His breath hitched¡ªfor the first time, he felt the presence of death.


    He had fought like a beast, relying on overwhelming brutality.


    But in front of this master, he had never stood a chance.


    With a final, silent gasp, his body collapsed inward, the energy within him spiraling into itself before violently extinguishing. His corpse hit the ground with a hollow thud. He choked, eyes wide with disbelief as blood gushed from his mouth.


    The Master then said to him while squatting towards his face in pity "The fact your body didn''t disintegrate when you came into my contact with my strike is proof you were strong. But you would''ve lost either way since you relied on forbidden power."


    A moment later, he was dead.


    Lin Wuye staggered, barely standing. His breath was ragged, his entire body trembling on the verge of collapse. He had survived¡ªbut not by victory. By endurance.


    Before he could fall, a firm grip caught his shoulder, steadying him through stabilising his Qi. Lin Wuye barely turned his head before recognizing the figure beside him. Master Daokan. The elder cultivator regarded him with something between admiration and intrigue.


    "To stand against a warlord with nothing but your own resolve and intellect," Daokan said, his voice measured, "is a feat even trained martial artists cannot claim. You did not win by power, but you proved that power alone does not dictate survival. Few in this world could have lasted as long as you did."


    Lin Wuye let out a weak, breathless chuckle. "Flattery... won''t keep me standing."


    Daokan smirked slightly, tightening his hold to prevent him from collapsing entirely. "Then rest, Scholar. You''ve earned that much."


    Lin Wuye had fought for survival.


    The Qi Master had fought with dominance.


    Layla, watching from the wreckage of her tower, was dumbfounded.


    Her commander¡¯s mind, despite the pain wracking her body, registered everything in pure, unfiltered clarity.


    I need that man''s power!


    She blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. She had fought, planned, manipulated outcomes with precision¡ªand yet, this was a level of dominance she could not yet grasp nor do yet. Even through the haze of pain, something inside her stirred. How had he done that? How could she learn it?


    A groan beside her pulled her out of her thoughts. Her gaze snapped to Bao¡¯s broken form lying nearby, his breath shallow, his wounds severe.


    Her attention whipped back to the Qi Master, and before she could stop herself, she shouted through clenched teeth, her voice dripping with snark even in agony.


    "Hey¡ªmystical grandmaster or whatever you are¡ªheal Bao first, then me!"


    Master Daokan turned, arching a brow at her audacity. Even while battered and barely able to stand, she still barked orders.


    A faint chuckle escaped his lips before he moved toward Bao, as commanded.


    Lin Wuye let out a low groan, finally lowering himself onto a broken pillar for support. He turned toward Daokan, his voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. "I am in your debt, Master Daokan. Few would have intervened against a warlord of Shen Mu¡¯s caliber."


    Daokan waved a hand dismissively. "Debts are heavy burdens, Scholar. Keep yours. I was merely ensuring the battlefield did not fall to complete ruin."


    Around them, the battlefield was beginning to settle. The acrid scent of blood still lingered in the air, and bodies¡ªboth friend and foe¡ªwere strewn across the war-torn ground. Yet, despite the carnage, a strange calmness was creeping over the survivors.


    The Silver Lotus Sect¡¯s warriors stood among the wreckage, exhaustion evident in their faces, but they were alive. The elders exchanged glances, murmuring words of disbelief and praise for Meilin¡¯s tactics.


    "Every countermeasure was calculated," one elder whispered, shaking his head in amazement. "She accounted for every possibility. Without those strategies, we would have been slaughtered."


    "To think she orchestrated this victory while barely able to stand," another muttered, surveying the battlefield. "And against an opponent like Shen Mu. The girl is terrifying."


    Younger disciples, though battered, spoke with a mixture of reverence and humor.


    "I thought we were dead, but Lady Meilin really had backup plans for her backup plans!"


    "I actually feel bad for the enemy. They never stood a chance."


    Despite the brutality of the battle, there was a shared, unspoken sentiment among them. They had survived the night.


    Layla took in their words, watching the remnants of her forces regroup. Rebuilding.


    For the first time since she had arrived in this world, she allowed herself a small, exhausted exhale. It was time to rebuild.


    Bao, barely conscious, cracked open an eye as Daokan¡¯s hand hovered over him, a faint warmth spreading through his battered body. "So¡­ we won, huh?" he rasped.


    Layla, still sprawled in pain but ever the strategist, scoffed. "We won because that mystical grandmaster obliterated the enemy like swatting a fly. Otherwise, you¡¯d be fertilizer by now."


    Bao groaned. "Can¡¯t argue with that."


    Layla then said with sincerity, "Thank you for saving me Bao, if you didn''t become a punching bag for me..I probably would''ve died"


    Bao just gave an approval of her sincerity as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. Layla observes this and thought to herself, he probably would''ve died for me if it came to it.


    Daokan¡¯s fingers pulsed as he finished stabilizing Bao before moving to Meilin. "You, however," he said, turning to her, "have an unnatural way of grasping things beyond your understanding."


    His tone was flat, but the snark in his words was unmistakable. It wasn¡¯t spoken like a compliment¡ªit was the kind of remark an old master would throw at a particularly bold student who thought they had it all figured out. The slight tilt of his head, the measured pause before he spoke, the almost lazy way he assessed her injuries¡ªit all screamed of a man who had seen too much and had the patience for very little.


    Layla, still in pain, scowled. Was this old man mocking her? Layla arched a brow despite the pain. "Oh? You say that like you know me."


    Daokan¡¯s lips curled slightly. "I do. I¡¯ve been observing you for some time."


    Layla''s curiosity spiked, but before she could demand an explanation, Daokan continued whispering to only her, his voice carrying weight. "You show signs of something... unique. Something not entirely of this world¡¯s natural cultivation methods."


    And then he said it loudly. His name. "I am Daokan of the Shrouded Peaks."


    Meilin froze.


    Wait. Wait. Wait.


    The gears in her mind turned, clicking into place with horrifying speed. Memories of this body¡ªits lessons, its history¡ªcame rushing forward.


    Shrouded Peaks. The sect that trained only the most monstrous prodigies, the untouchables of martial society.


    Daokan. A name spoken in whispers by scholars and warriors alike. The man rumored to be both a ghost and a legend.


    Her expression shifted instantly. Without thinking¡ªwithout hesitation¡ªMeilin forced her aching body forward, threw herself onto the ground, and performed a perfect, pain-ridden dogeza.


    A deep bow, forehead pressed to the dirt, despite her wounds screaming in protest. "Master Daokan! Please teach me!"


    The silence that followed was deafening.


    Lin Wuye pinched the bridge of his nose. Bao¡¯s jaw dropped. The surrounding warriors, despite their injuries, all burst into laughter. Even Daokan raised a bemused brow.


    "You¡¯re injured, and yet you throw yourself to the ground?" he mused.


    Layla, her face still firmly against the dirt, grit her teeth through the pain. "If you saw what I saw tonight, you¡¯d be doing the same. I need that kind of power. I need you."


    Daokan exhaled, shaking his head. "Hmph. You certainly are persistent. But power is not given freely."


    Layla peeked up, hopeful. "So you¡¯re saying there¡¯s a chance?"


    More laughter erupted around her, but Daokan only smiled faintly. "Rest first, ambitious one. Then we¡¯ll see."


    As Layla slowly lifted her head, pain rippled through every fiber of her body, but that didn¡¯t matter¡ªnot now. Her mind was already working, already planning.


    This was an opportunity she couldn¡¯t afford to lose. A man of Daokan¡¯s caliber wasn¡¯t just a powerful fighter¡ªhe was a force of nature. If she wanted true power, she needed him. No, she needed to bind him to her side, ensure he had no choice but to teach her. If it required selling her soul to the devil itself, then so be it.


    As her mind spun with strategies, the battlefield finally began to settle. Exhausted warriors sank to the ground where they stood, some tending to their wounded comrades, others simply basking in the realization that they were still breathing. The night, which once carried the thick tension of looming death, now felt lighter, as if the very air had been purged of its suffocating dread.


    Daokan remained awake while the others succumbed to exhaustion. The battlefield, once alive with chaos, had quieted into stillness. The scent of blood still clung to the air, mingling with the faint smoke of dying embers. Bodies of foe, littered the ground¡ªa testament to the brutality of the night.


    The warriors of the Silver Lotus Sect had collapsed into whatever rest they could find, their breath steady but their minds undoubtedly haunted by what had transpired. They had survived, but survival was merely the beginning. The true test would come with the dawn. The test of rebuilding.


    Daokan stood at the edge of it all, his arms crossed, his gaze settling once more on Meilin. There was an unreadable weight behind his eyes, a thought left unspoken. He had watched her fight, watched her refuse to surrender even when she should have. Even without cultivation, even while broken, she had fought like a warrior hardened by countless battles.


    It was an observation that did not sit easily with him.


    He exhaled, almost as if speaking to himself. "The question is not whether I can teach you... but whether I can control what you are going to become."


    Without another word, his form flickered¡ªthen vanished into the night, leaving only the rustling of the wind in his wake.


    The wind carried his words away before Layla could hear them.

 Rebuild

    The morning after Shen Mu''s defeat, the Silver Lotus Sect gathered in the main hall. The battle was won, but leadership had to be decided.


    Lin Wuye sat at the head, exhaustion evident but his mind sharp. The elders murmured among themselves before the most senior among them stood. "This war has made one truth clear: Lady Meilin possesses the mind of a commander. We propose she take command of the sect''s martial affairs while Master Lin Wuye remains as its advisor and administrator."


    Layla, who had been taking a sip of tea, choked. "Excuse me?"


    Her father gave her a pointed look. "Meilin, you led this sect to victory. This is just a formality."


    She looked around at the serious expressions. "You do realize I didn''t actually fight with Qi like the others, right? I just told everyone where to go."


    One elder nodded. "And yet, without you, we would not be here."


    Layla groaned, rubbing her temples. "So let me get this straight¡ªI have to handle all the war stuff, while my father buries himself in paperwork?"


    Lin Wuye coughed. "That was always the plan."


    Layla sighed before muttering, "I should have run when I had the chance."


    Immediately, one of the elders scoffed, his wrinkles deepening as he shook his head. "This is absurd! A commander must be a seasoned cultivator, not¡ª"


    "Not what?" Bao interrupted, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Not the person who just led us to victory? Not the person who kept us alive while others panicked?" He jabbed a finger toward the elder. "With all due respect, Elder, if you''d like to lead the next war, we''ll be happy to take notes."


    Several disciples snorted, muffling their laughter. Another disciple, still bandaged from the battle, groaned, "If Lady Meilin hadn''t been in charge, I''d be dead. I''d rather follow someone with a brain than someone with a bloated ego!"


    The elder''s face darkened, but he muttered something under his breath and fell silent.


    Jiang Wei, the most seasoned disciple, lifted his head from where he had been listening, his sharp eyes narrowing. In a slow, deliberate motion, he turned toward the elder, his expression locked in an unsettling smile that didn''t reach his eyes. "Oh? Would you care to repeat that, Elder?" he asked, his tone polite but dripping with unspoken challenge.


    Meanwhile, Meilin''s mother sat on the sidelines, hands folded in her lap, watching the chaos unfold with the tired expression of a woman who had seen this nonsense too many times before. She let out a soft sigh and muttered, "This family is going to give me gray hairs before winter even comes."


    Lin Wuye coughed into his fist, clearly suppressing a smile. "The decision has been made. Meilin, you are the commander. No more arguments."


    Layla sighed in defeat, rubbing her forehead as if trying to physically push away the headache forming. "Fine, fine," she muttered. "But if I''m going to be a commander, I need to start planning for winter."


    Her mind was already shifting, calculating supplies, food rations, and defensive reinforcements they would need before the first snowfall. The reality of her position settled in, and she realized there was no turning back now.


    She exhaled sharply. "Survive the winter first. Everything else can wait." The aftermath of war always left a strange silence in its wake.


    Layla walked through the remnants of the battlefield, the familiar metallic scent of blood still lingering, though now it was overpowered by the scent of fresh lumber and soil. The Silver Lotus Sect was alive¡ªnot just in the sense that they had survived but in the way they moved, rebuilt, and pressed forward.


    Workers hauled stones to reinforce the eastern wall. Disciples worked tirelessly to restore the damaged training grounds. The once-razed gardens, now trampled into dust, were being resown. Even the wreckage of her fallen tower was being cleared, though the foundation remained scarred. In another section of the sect, she noticed a handful of disciples tending to the few animals they had left¡ªa small herd of mountain goats, a few chickens, and a lone ox used for hauling heavy supplies. They would need more if they wanted to sustain themselves through the winter.


    A week. That was the time they needed to complete the basic repairs, but in truth, they only had a month to fully prepare before winter arrived in full force.


    As she went over their remaining supplies, a frown creased her brow. Their grain stores were dwindling, their cloth stockpiles were nearly depleted, and there were barely enough livestock to maintain their food supply. If they didn''t resupply soon, survival through the cold season would be miserable at best, lethal at worst. She recalled back in her past life that winter was as much a killer as any blade.


    A memory surfaced, sharp and unyielding. She had been a newly crowned queen, walking through the outskirts of her capital during the first snowfall of the season, accompanied by her guards and advisors. The streets had been quiet¡ªtoo quiet. Then she saw him. The streets had been quiet¡ªtoo quiet. Then she saw him. A child, barely ten, curled up against the cold stone wall of an alley. His lips were blue, his tiny hands frozen stiff. She had rushed to him, calling for aid, but it was too late. His eyes were already lifeless.


    She turned sharply to her guards. "How did this happen? Why was no one watching the streets?"


    One of her advisors scoffed, barely looking up from his fur-lined sleeves. "My Queen, he was a commoner. The weak perish in the cold. It is the way of the world."


    Silence followed.


    Layla felt something cold¡ªnot the winter chill, but something deep in her chest. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to face the advisor, her expression unreadable. Then, in one swift motion, she drew the dagger from her belt and slit his throat.


    Gasps erupted around her, the warm spray of blood staining the fresh snow. She watched as he gurgled, falling to the ground, clutching his throat in disbelief.


    "Then let me change the way of the world," she murmured, stepping over his dying body. "From this moment forward, no one in my kingdom will freeze to death again." That night, she had made a decree¡ªno one in her kingdom would suffer the same fate. Winter would never take another innocent life under her rule. She knew from her previous life that food was, the top priority¡ªwithout it, all their rebuilding would be pointless. But cloth was just as essential; a cold body was a weak body, and a weak body would fall to sickness. A starving army was useless, but a freezing one was just as doomed.


    Beyond that, she recalled another necessity that many overlooked: a clean and sustainable water source.


    Another painful memory clawed its way to the surface. She remembered sitting on her throne, the grandeur of the palace doing little to mask the weight pressing down on her shoulders. The heavy doors to the throne room burst open, and a man stumbled in¡ªher childhood friend''s father. His clothes were disheveled, his eyes wild with grief. Guards moved to restrain him, but he shoved them off, his voice hoarse with fury. A man, a loyal subject, had stood before her, grief-stricken and furious. "You were supposed to protect us! " he had said, voice trembling with sorrow and rage. She had no words, confused with this rage asked "Why are you so angry? What has happened?"


    He pointed a trembling finger at her, his breath ragged. "You are our Queen but you betrayed us" he roared. "My son is dead because of you! Because of this kingdom!"


    The guards moved to seize him again, but Layla raised a hand, stopping them. She met his gaze, and for the first time, she saw not just rage, but despair. The kind that festered deep, impossible to mend.


    Her lips parted, but no words came. What could she have said? That she hadn''t known? That she had tried? None of it would matter. He was right. She had no words, only regret.


    It was then that she had sworn to build proper sanitation systems, no matter how absurd her advisors had found the idea. Now, standing in the Silver Lotus Sect, she knew she would have to do it again.


    Layla tapped her fingers against her forehead and her mind was racing through solutions. It was common practice for sect members to relieve themselves wherever convenient¡ªagainst trees, near rivers, in empty courtyards. That needed to change. They needed designated areas, separate from their water sources, with proper disposal methods.


    Would they resist? Absolutely. But she wasn''t going to give them a choice.


    Her fingers tapped against her folded arms as she made a mental checklist. Food, cloth, reinforcements, additional water sources, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªa designated area for excrement disposal, far enough from their drinking water to prevent contamination. It was a lesson she had learned the hard way, and she had no intention of repeating it. Layla took note of every movement, every conversation around her. Some sect members still looked at her with newfound respect. Others¡ªmostly the elders¡ªwatched with caution, as if uncertain whether they had raised a leader or a storm.


    "You''ve done well, Lady Meilin," one of the elders finally said, adjusting his robes. His eyes flickered across the reconstruction, approving yet reserved. "Had we not followed your strategies, we would not be here today."


    Another elder, however, scoffed lightly. "Survival is only the first battle. We must ensure stability."


    Layla turned to them, crossing her arms. "Then ensure it. I already have plans set in place for the winter preparations. Our grain storage will be secured, and the defensive formations will be completed within days."


    The elders exchanged looks, perhaps surprised she had anticipated their concerns. One of them nodded. "Very well. And what of the main city?"


    Meilin exhaled. "I was just about to bring that up."


    Later that evening, Layla found herself sparring with Jiang Wei, the sect''s most seasoned disciple. He had fought in countless battles before Shen Mu''s attack, and despite his age, his movements were precise and efficient. She valued his insight¡ªnot just in combat, but in the ways of war.


    "Your footwork is too rigid," he muttered as he parried one of her strikes with ease. "You rely on calculated movement, but in real battle, chaos is the only constant."


    She gritted her teeth, adjusting her stance before countering with a feint that, while clever in execution, was still sluggish. Jiang Wei stepped back with ease, barely needing to block. She managed to correct her footing in time, avoiding an embarrassing stumble, but her movements were still stiff.


    Jiang Wei sighed, rubbing his temples. "Better. At least you''re not tripping over yourself anymore. But you''re still too rigid."


    Layla scowled. "It''s called strategy."


    "It''s called being predictable." He flicked her forehead lightly, earning a glare. "If I can read your every move, so can an enemy. You''re improving, but you still fight like a scholar trying to choreograph a duel instead of reacting to one."


    She huffed, rolling her shoulders. "So what do you suggest?"


    Jiang Wei smirked. "Survive the next five rounds without me landing a hit, and I''ll tell you."


    Layla''s confidence flickered for a brief second before she rolled her shoulders. "Five rounds? Easy."


    Five rounds later, not only had she failed to avoid a hit¡ªshe had been thoroughly humiliated. Each attempt ended with her flat on the ground, pinned, disarmed, or nursing a new bruise. By the third round, she had barely even lifted her sword before Jiang Wei had already countered. By the fifth, she was starting to think he had been taking it easy on her from the start.


    Lying on her back, staring at the sky, she groaned. "So, do I at least get a consolation prize?"


    Jiang Wei smirked down at her, arms crossed. "Sure. You get the honor of knowing you lost in record time. Faster than even the junior disciples, I might add."


    After their training session, she met with Bao, who was overseeing what remained of their livestock. "It''s bad," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "We barely have enough to sustain the sect, let alone trade."


    "We need to secure more animals," Layla said. "And paper. We''re running low on documentation materials."


    Bao groaned. "You just survived a war, and you''re already thinking about paperwork?"


    She smirked. "Survival means nothing if we''re not prepared for the future."


    As the night deepened, Daokan arrived unexpectedly, though no one seemed to notice him¡ªexcept Meilin. As she turned a corner near the training grounds, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him standing there, arms folded, gaze unreadable. How did he even get in here without anyone seeing him? He tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction with what could only be described as mild amusement. Then, in the most nonchalant tone possible, he said, "If you and your sect survive the winter, find me."


    Meilin exhaled sharply, placing her hands on her hips. "Master Daokan, would it kill you to be more specific?"


    Daokan smirked¡ªactually smirked¡ªbefore turning away. Over his shoulder, he added, "You''re resourceful. Figure it out."


    She scowled, muttering under her breath. "One day, I''m going to return the favor and be just as petty when you need something."


    Later that night, as she sat by the fire with her father, mother, Bao, and Jiang Wei, she brought up the encounter. "Did any of you see Master Daokan earlier?"


    Lin Wuye glanced at her over his tea. "Master Daokan? No, why?"


    Bao raised a brow. "The old man was here? When?"


    Jiang Wei frowned. "I was at the training grounds all evening. If he were around, I would''ve noticed."


    Her mother, ever calm, gave a small sigh. "Meilin, are you sure you weren''t just tired?"


    Layla blinked, processing their collective confusion. She repeated, more dumbfounded this time, "You''re telling me none of you saw him? He was standing right there talking to me."


    Silence.


    Jiang Wei gave her a skeptical look. "Are you sure you didn''t get hit in the head one too many times today?"


    She groaned, rubbing her forehead "You know what? Forget it."


    Shaking off the odd encounter, she turned her attention back to a more pressing matter. "Anyway, we need supplies before winter sets in. Where''s the best place to get them?"


    Bao stretched his arms, cracking his neck. "The main city, obviously. We''ve got traders there who deal in bulk. Metal, textiles, even livestock if you know the right people."


    Jiang Wei nodded in agreement. "We also need proper building materials. The sect repairs are holding for now, but if we want to reinforce anything before the heavy snowfalls, we''ll need stronger timber and stone."


    Layla tapped her chin. "Alright. Looks like a supply trip is unavoidable."


    Her mother, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke. "If you''re going to the main city, there''s something you should know."


    Layla raised a brow. "What is it mother?"


    Her mother sipped her tea before answering. "Daokan''s original sect is in the main city."


    Layla blinked. Then she blinked again. Slowly, her expression twisted into a mix of exasperation and realization. "Oh, you''ve got to be kidding me."


    She sighed, dragging a hand down her face and have a visible vein on her forehead throbbing "So this old man gives me some vague ''find me'' nonsense, and now I learn that he''s been in the city this whole time? I swear, one day I''m going to track him down just to punch him in the face for being so dramatic."


    The Journey to the Main City


    The journey took several days, the winding mountain paths eventually giving way to well-trodden trade roads. Meilin sat in the carriage, watching as the dense forests of the sect''s territory faded into sprawling farmlands, where laborers toiled in preparation for the coming winter. Occasionally, they passed small villages¡ªsome barely more than clusters of huts, others large enough to boast bustling marketplaces.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Seated across from her parents in a simple carriage, Layla listened to the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the dirt road. She couldn''t help but recall how different things had once been. In her previous life, she had traveled in a gilded carriage, lined with the finest silks and cushioned seats befitting a queen. Servants would have tended to her every need, ensuring the journey was as effortless as possible. Now, the worn wooden frame beneath her creaked with every bump, and the chilled air seeped through the cracks. The further they traveled, the more the air changed¡ªcrisp mountain air fading into the thick, smoky scent of industry. Lin Wuye, noticing her quiet observation, spoke up. "Our sect is nestled deep in the mountains, away from the political strife of the empire. The main city, however, is its beating heart, chaotic but full of opportunity. It lies nearly a week''s journey from our home."


    Bao, sitting near the carriage driver, leaned back against the wooden frame. "It''s overwhelming at first, but you get used to it. The city isn''t just one massive cluster¡ªit''s divided into districts, each with its own purpose." The city loomed ahead, its towering stone walls standing as a reminder of the world beyond sect disputes.


    As they passed through the final stretch before the city gates, the contrast became even more apparent. The roads were wider, flanked by merchant caravans, nobles in extravagant carriages, and farmers leading carts filled with produce. The walls of the main city loomed ahead, carved from dark stone and standing tall like an unyielding sentinel.


    Layla inhaled deeply as they entered, immediately noticing the stark difference in air quality¡ªdense with the scents of burning coal, roasted meats, and perfumed oils. She frowned slightly. Perfumed oils? Had that always been a thing, or was this something new? For a moment, she wondered if her invention from her past life that somehow carried into this world, or if it had always existed here. The chatter of merchants calling out their wares blended with the sounds of distant hammering and the clinking of coins exchanging hands. The sound of hammering metal, merchants advertising their wares, and the scent of roasted chestnuts mixed with the crisp air.


    She turned to her father. "The perfumed oils¡ªhave they always been around, or is that something recent?"


    Lin Wuye stroked his chin before answering. "Perfumed oils have existed long before the current emperor. However, their quality and purpose differ greatly depending on who uses them. The common folk use them for masking unpleasant odors, while the nobles have refined versions infused with rare herbs and flowers from distant lands."


    Layla exhaled, nodding slightly, but a nagging thought crept into her mind. Perfumed oils existed long before the current emperor, but had they always been this widely used?


    She had introduced the concept of perfumes in her past life¡ªdistilling scented oils, refining them into something more than just a cover for foul odors. Even as far as to advance revolutionise the scented industry but if that was the case, then why did Jinhai hadn''t further advance upon her creation? Was this something entirely separate? Had he ignored it, or had the world simply evolved in ways she could no longer predict?


    How much time had truly passed since her first death? Hours? Days? Months? Years?


    Her breath quickened. She hadn''t noticed it at first, but the thought burrowed into her mind like a parasite, clawing at her sense of reality. Her fingers clenched around the fabric of her sleeves as her heart pounded against her ribs.


    Or even decades? Was this even the same world? It had to be since Jinhai himself was here.


    But what if it wasn''t? What if everything she had built, everything she had sacrificed, had simply been¡­ rewritten? Her inventions, once groundbreaking, were now afterthoughts, diluted into the background of an empire that had long since moved past her contributions. Jinhai was different¡ªbecause this world was different.


    Her breaths grew more erratic, her chest tightening as the realization struck her like a crushing weight. The city around her blurred, voices melding into an incomprehensible hum. She wasn''t here. She was somewhere else¡ªadrift in a world that should have been hers, but wasn''t.


    She and Jinhai had been the closest thing to forming a union between two great kingdoms. He had known of her sanitation concepts, her push for fair treatment of women and children, her revolutionizing of the perfume industry¡ªideas that had once shaped an empire. But here? Here, none of it had come to pass. It made her sick to her stomach. If these things had never been introduced, then was this truly her world? Or just a warped reflection of it?


    A hand touched her shoulder¡ªwarm, grounding. "Meilin," her mother''s voice was gentle, but firm. "Breathe."


    She gasped, as if surfacing from deep waters, only now realizing how tightly she had wound herself. Her mother''s grip remained steady, her expression unreadable, but concern flickered in her eyes. "You''re trembling. What''s wrong?"


    Layla exhaled shakily, forcing herself to swallow the rising panic. "Nothing," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just¡­ thinking."


    Her mother didn''t believe her, that much was clear, but she didn''t press. Instead, she squeezed her shoulder once before releasing her. "One step at a time, Meilin. Whatever it is, you''re not facing it alone."


    She nodded, inhaling deeply, willing herself to believe it.


    She force herself to suppressed the thought for now, refocusing on the bustling city around her.


    Jiang Wei sitting beside Bao, stretching his arms after the long journey, pointed toward the various sections of the city. "You''ve got the noble district near the palace¡ªhigh walls, lavish estates, and enough politics to make your head spin. Then there''s the commoners'' district, where most merchants and laborers live. The poor quarter is... well, exactly what it sounds like. You don''t want to linger there."


    Bao smirked. "Then there''s the infamous red-light district, home to brothels and gambling dens. Emperor''s district is off-limits unless you have high-standing connections."


    The carriage came to a slow halt, the driver announcing their arrival. Layla exhaled and stepped out, paying the driver as Jiang Wei and Bao flanked her in a protective stance, their eyes scanning the bustling streets for potential threats. Her father and mother walked side by side, their expressions unreadable but firm.


    The market was alive with activity, reminiscent of the vibrant night markets from centuries past. Lanterns hung from wooden stalls, casting a warm glow over vendors shouting out their wares¡ªspices from the east, silks from distant lands, bundles of herbs promising miraculous cures. The scent of roasting meat and fried dough wafted through the air, mingling with the more unpleasant stench of unwashed bodies and livestock pens.


    "Fresh fish! Straight from the river this morning!" a merchant bellowed.


    "Jewelry fit for a noblewoman! Handcrafted with the finest jade!" another called out, shaking a necklace for emphasis.


    Further ahead, a different kind of transaction took place. A group of shackled individuals stood on a wooden platform, their gazes vacant, their bodies frail. A well-dressed man waved his hands toward the highest bidder. "Strong backs, willing hands! A lifetime of service for the right price!" He laughed, counting a stack of coins as a hooded buyer stepped forward to inspect the goods.


    Layla''s stomach twisted. Slavery. She had abolished it in her past life, ensuring that no man, woman, or child would be bound in chains under her rule. But here, it thrived, just another aspect of how this world functioned.


    Her mother, sensing her unease, placed a steadying hand on her arm. "This is how the big city works, Meilin," she said quietly. "We may not like it, but we can''t change it."


    Her father sighed, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "The empire is built on trade, power, and control. Money flows through every transaction, and those without it are left behind. This is reality."


    Layla clenched her fists but said nothing. She had changed a kingdom before¡ªperhaps, in time, she could change this one too.


    A sudden shift in the auctioneer''s voice caught her attention. "And now, for the crown jewel of tonight''s sale!" His voice dripped with exaggerated enthusiasm as he gestured toward a fragile, young girl being dragged onto the platform. Her delicate frame was wrapped in tattered silk, her wide, hollow eyes devoid of hope.


    "A rare beauty! Gentle, obedient, untouched! A treasure fit for any discerning master!" the seller declared, his grin wide and sickening. The crowd murmured in interest, a few men stepping forward, their gazes sharp with predatory hunger.


    Layla felt her stomach churn. Every muscle in her body tensed, her vision narrowing as rage pulsed through her veins. Her intelligence, her carefully calculated mind¡ªnone of it mattered in that moment. Her body moved before she could think, her feet carrying her forward as she shoved her way through the crowd.


    "Meilin!" her father''s voice snapped behind her, but she barely heard it.


    Jiang Wei caught her arm, his grip firm. "You can''t do this! We''ll handle it another way."


    "No," she snarled, wrenching herself free. "Not this time."


    She surged forward, ignoring the hands trying to restrain her, ignoring the stares turning in her direction. The auctioneer barely had time to react before Meilin was there, standing before the girl, placing herself between her and the leering buyers. The world had wronged this child, just as it had wronged so many before.


    But not today. Not if Layla had anything to say about it.


    The Merchant


    Atlas adjusted the weight of a wooden crate beside him, shifting some of his goods into place. The scent of dried herbs and freshly cut wood filled the air around his small shop, a modest stall nestled between a blacksmith and a tea vendor. He wiped his hands on a cloth and turned to his companion, Meyu, who was carefully tallying their inventory.


    "You know, we''re running low on ironwood. That sells fast during winter," she murmured, her dark eyes flicking over the parchment in her hands.


    Atlas grinned. "We''re running low on a lot of things. But if we haggle well, we''ll restock by the week''s end."


    Meyu scoffed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Haggling? You mean swindling."


    "It''s only swindling if they realize," he shot back with a smirk.


    She shook her head, a faint smile touching her lips. "Sometimes I wonder why I stick around."


    Atlas glanced at her, his expression briefly serious. "Because I bought you fair and square, remember? And then, out of the kindness of my heart, I freed you. You''re here because you want to be."


    Meyu rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, my noble saviour. You''re still not getting a discount on your own merchandise."


    Before Atlas could respond, movement near the square caught his attention.


    At first, he thought nothing of it. Just another passerby, a young girl who couldn''t look older than 16¡ªif he were to be honest¡ªlooked rather fair. But then his sharp eyes caught sight of the two prominent figures chasing closely behind her. That was unusual. Nobles rarely mixed with common markets, and those who did never walked unguarded. The presence of these figures piqued his curiosity.


    "Atlas?" Meyu''s voice pulled him back, but he barely heard her. His gaze had already shifted toward the commotion ahead. The slave auction.


    He had passed by it countless times before, never paying much mind. He wasn''t a saint, he bought Meyu as a slave and the city''s rules weren''t his to change. But this time, something made his stomach turn. A child, barely clinging to life, being paraded on the auction block. This was too much even for him.


    Meyu followed his line of sight and sighed. "You''re thinking about doing something stupid again, aren''t you?" Depends on your definition of stupid," Atlas muttered, already reaching for his pouch.


    Her voice was softer this time, lacking its usual teasing edge. She crossed her arms, her fingers clenching at her sleeves as she followed his gaze. "Slavery is cruel, Atlas. I know that better than anyone. But this... this is more than just cruelty. This is depravity." Her voice shook slightly, her usually steady demeanour cracking. "When I was a slave, I saw what they did to children like her. The punishments, the conditioning, the so-called training¡ªit''s not about making them obedient. It''s about breaking them completely. Turning them into something less than human. She exhaled sharply, her fists clenching. "And the ones who resist? They don''t last long. They disappear. Or worse... they become examples." She becomes more somber and visible pain can be seen on her face, ''''All the children I met died and the fact she survived is..."


    Atlas turned to her, the sharpness in his usual wit dulled. He had known Meyu''s past in fragments¡ªnever spoken outright, never elaborated upon. But he had seen the scars, the moments where her confidence flickered, the way she always scanned a crowd for potential threats. Now, those pieces came together with sickening clarity.


    "Meyu..." he started, but she shook her head, eyes burning with something between anger and sorrow. "Don''t. Just do what you have to do. But if you walk into that crowd, you''d better make damn sure you win."


    His fingers grazed the weight of his coins.


    He wasn''t sure why he was doing this.


    Atlas took a slow, measured step forward, weaving through the throng of merchants and spectators. The slave auction had already reached an alarming height¡ªone gold coin. A fortune for most, the equivalent of a year''s hard-earned wages. His brows furrowed. Atlas had money, far more than the average merchant, yet he lived a deliberately modest life to avoid drawing the attention of the higher-ups. Wealth meant influence, and influence meant trouble.


    The auctioneer''s voice boomed over the restless crowd. "One gold coin! Do I hear one and five silvers?"


    Atlas grimaced. He had at most thirty gold coins to his name. He could afford to bid, but if the price soared too high, even he would struggle.


    Just as he was preparing to raise his hand, a sudden scream cut through the market''s noise.


    "You sick bastards!" A female voice, raw with fury and grief.


    Atlas turned sharply, his gaze locking onto a young woman¡ªno older than sixteen¡ªher face flushed with rage, tears brimming in her eyes. She struggled violently, thrashing against the grip of two men trying to restrain her. One, an older man with an air of quiet authority. The other, a sharp-eyed warrior who radiated the presence of a trained fighter.


    "Let me go!" the girl¡ªMeilin, if Atlas caught it right from the murmurs naming her from a sect¡ªsnarled. "How can you just stand there while this happens?!"


    Her captors murmured hurried apologies, their expressions tense as they tried to subdue her without drawing too much attention.


    Atlas tilted his head. He had assumed she was a noble, given the way she carried herself, but now¡­ something didn''t add up. Nobles turned a blind eye to these things. They didn''t throw themselves into the fray like a commoner with nothing to lose.


    Intrigued, Atlas stepped closer, keeping his gaze on the stage while his ears tuned in to the unfolding chaos behind him. If he was going to make his move, it had to be soon.


    He raised his hand. "Two gold coins."


    A hush fell over the crowd. The auctioneer''s eyes gleamed with excitement. "Two gold coins! Now that''s a serious bid! Do I hear two and five silvers?"


    Before anyone could counter, a furious voice rang out. "You sick, depraved bastard!"


    Atlas barely had time to react before Layla''s rage-filled glare locked onto him. Her entire body trembled with fury, her tear-streaked face twisted in disgust. "You''re just as bad as the rest of them! Buying and selling people like cattle!"


    Jiang Wei moved swiftly, covering her mouth before she could draw even more attention. She thrashed in his grip, muffled curses still escaping as he lifted her with ease. Her father stepped forward, approaching Atlas with a stiff, composed expression. "I apologize for the outburst," he said, though the words felt hollow. His gaze lingered on Atlas with something close to disdain, as if he found the entire interaction distasteful. "She does not understand how things work here."


    Atlas met his stare evenly, suppressing the urge to scoff. This man, whoever he was, had the air of someone who saw himself above others. The apology was nothing more than a polite formality, devoid of sincerity.


    Still, Atlas said nothing. He simply nodded, his focus returning to the auction. If she thought she had seen the worst of life, she was mistaken. Because unlike her, he had no illusions about how the world worked.


    The auctioneer slammed his gavel down. "Sold! To the gentleman for two gold coins!" The crowd murmured, some disappointed, others approving of the hefty price paid.


    Atlas stepped forward as the child was pushed towards him. She was small¡ªfar too small for her age, her body frail and thin like brittle twigs. Hollow eyes stared out from a gaunt face, her skin marred by hidden bruises peeking from beneath the tattered silk draped over her shoulders. The sight of her made Atlas''s stomach churn, and for a brief moment, he felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it back.


    The girl, however, did not resist. Instead, a single thought echoed in her hollow mind: Whatever this master is going to do to me, it can''t be worse than what I''ve already endured.


    Atlas took her by the wrist gently, guiding her away from the stage as the crowd resumed their business. Eyes followed him, judging, whispering. He could feel their disgust, their curiosity, but he ignored them. He knew the truth¡ªhe wasn''t like them. He wasn''t taking her as property; he was saving her, just like he had saved Meyu.


    He led her through the winding streets back to his shop. As they arrived, Meyu looked up from her work, her sharp gaze softening the moment she saw the child. Pity flickered across her face, but she forced a smile, crouching down to meet the girl''s empty eyes. "Hey there, little one. You''re safe now."


    The child stared at Meyu, her thoughts dull but observant. She was... beautiful. Her skin smooth, her hair long and well-kept, her stance strong. She was tall too¡ªso much taller than herself. An envious whisper formed in her mind, but she was too exhausted to hold onto it.


    Atlas exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Meyu, I need you to help me find that girl¡ªthe one who lost her mind back at the auction."


    Meyu arched a brow. "The noble-looking one? I remember her face. Shouldn''t be too hard to track down."


    And she was right. It wasn''t long before they found Layla again. The tall authority figure was trying to calm her down and Atlas slowly walked in their direction with Meyu and the child.


    When Atlas approached, Layla turned, her expression twisting into something venomous the moment she laid eyes on him. Hatred burned so intensely in her gaze that it sent a rare shiver down his spine.


    The child, standing quietly by his side, felt nothing at all. Layla took a step forward, her voice dripping with pure malice. "What do you want now? Come to gloat about your purchase?" Her eyes burned with disgust, piercing through Atlas as if he were the lowest form of existence.


    Atlas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His mind worked in rapid succession, analyzing every word, every movement, every possible reaction. Layla was sharp¡ªjust as sharp as he was. If he gave her a weak argument, she''d tear through it in an instant. He needed to be precise, logical, and, above all, undeniable.


    "I didn''t buy her to keep her. I bought her to free her," he said, carefully controlling his tone, making sure it was neither defensive nor pleading. Just fact.


    Layla scoffed, folding her arms. "Right. And I''m supposed to believe that? Just like that?" Her voice rose, laced with venom. "You''re no better than the rest of them! A man who sees people as commodities and pretends to have a conscience when it suits him! If you''re such a do-gooder, why didn''t you free everyone? Surely you can, but no¡ªyou choose to act only when it suits you. You pretend like you''re some kind of hero, but in reality, you''re just a fucking coward!"


    Atlas didn''t flinch. Instead, he absorbed her words, twisting them over in his mind like a puzzle. Layla''s distrust wasn''t baseless¡ªit was built on experience, on the knowledge that men like him existed in droves. If he wanted to convince her, he had to give her something solid.


    Meyu, who had been standing beside Atlas, stepped forward, her expression calm yet firm. "Atlas isn''t like them," she said, lifting her arm to reveal the faded but still visible slave mark on her wrist. "I was a slave too. He bought me. And then he freed me."


    Layla''s eyes snapped to Meyu, and a new kind of fury overtook her features. "Then why are you still acting like one?!" she shouted, her voice trembling. "Why are you standing by his side, defending him?!"


    Meyu held her gaze, unflinching, but this time, her voice softened. There was no anger in it¡ªjust a quiet understanding. "Because even when I was a slave, he never treated me as one," she said, her tone almost motherly. "He treated me as a friend. He never raised a hand against me, never locked me away. He burned my contract the day he bought me. He destroyed my chains with his own hands. The only reason I stayed was because I wanted to."


    Atlas took note of Layla''s slight hesitation. There. Doubt. It was a small crack in her otherwise ironclad stance, but it was enough. Now, he had to widen it.


    "You want proof? Fine. You''ll have it." His voice was smooth, deliberate. "I won''t ask for your trust, Layla. But winter is coming, and if I am what you say I am, then you''ll see it soon enough. Watch me. Watch everything I do. If by the end of winter, you still believe I''m a monster, then say it to my face."


    Layla''s jaw tightened, her mind warring with itself. Finally, she exhaled sharply. "Fine. I''ll be watching. But don''t expect me to trust a single word either of you say."


    Atlas merely nodded, his mind already working on his next move. "I wouldn''t expect anything less."


    Before he could react further, a sudden impact struck the back of his head. Darkness swallowed his vision as he crumpled to the ground. Jiang stood over him, shaking out his hand as if knocking Atlas out had been nothing more than a chore.


    Meyu gasped, stepping forward in alarm. "What are you doing!? He''s a good man!"


    Jiang swiftly restrained her, gripping her arms as she struggled. "We''re taking him back," he said flatly.


    Layla exhaled sharply, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she looked down at Atlas''s unconscious form. "He wanted me to see what kind of man he is," she murmured, her voice eerily calm. "Then I''ll see for myself¡ªat the sect."


    Nearby, the child stood frozen, her gaze darting between the arguing adults. Their raised voices, the tension in the air¡ªit was all too familiar. The way they snapped at each other, the way one moment was quiet and the next erupted into chaos, it sent her spiraling into memories she wished had stayed buried.


    Her parents had fought like this. Shouting, blaming, and in the end, selling her off as if she were nothing. The sound of their voices blended with the present, overlapping in her mind, distorting reality. Her breathing became shallow, her small hands trembling as her vision blurred.


    A sudden wave of dizziness overtook her. The voices, the sounds, the memories crashed into her all at once, suffocating her. She swayed on her feet, her body unable to handle the surge of fear and exhaustion, and before she could utter a word, the world around her went dark.


    Lin Wuye was the first to react, his sharp eyes catching the child just as she collapsed. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and scooped her into his arms. "We don''t have time for this. I''m taking her to Master Daokan''s sect."


    Layla''s gaze drifted to the frail body in her father''s arms. The child''s thin frame, the bruises barely hidden beneath tattered fabric, the way her limbs seemed too light, too weak¡ªit sent a wave of nausea rolling through her. She had suffered too. She knew what it meant to be powerless, to be at the mercy of others who only saw her as something to be used. For a moment, her hands trembled at her sides, her breath uneven. The weight of old memories pressed against her chest.


    She said nothing, only nodded in silent agreement. A gentle hand settled on her head¡ªher mother''s quiet reassurance. Layla barely reacted, still staring at the unconscious child as her father adjusted his grip and turned away.


    Meanwhile, Meyu knelt beside Atlas, pressing two fingers to his temple. With a precise flow of Qi, she worked to stir him awake, muttering under her breath. "Come on, Atlas... you need to get up."

 Qi is Science

    A Gun That Outclasses Cultivation


    The morning sun cast long shadows over the open field where Emery had set up his latest experiment. A dozen metal targets stood in the distance, their surfaces already dented from failed tests. His latest creation¡ªa refined firearm¡ªrested in his gloved hands. The air smelled of iron, oil, and sweat.


    "Alright," Emery muttered, levelling the gun. His grip tightened as he exhaled slowly.


    "Let''s see what you can do."


    The trigger clicked. A sharp crack split the air. The bullet struck the target but did little more than splinter the wood. Emery frowned.


    Zafira stood behind him, arms crossed, unimpressed. "Not enough power."


    He ignored the comment and immediately made adjustments, disassembling the chamber with practiced ease. The other disciples watched with curiosity and a hint of unease. Cultivation had always ruled the battlefield. To see destruction born without Qi¡ªit unsettled them.


    "Again," Emery ordered.


    This time, when he pulled the trigger, the firearm roared. The bullet slammed into the target, obliterating it into splinters. The disciples staggered back, their murmurs turning to uneasy silence.


    A second shot tore through reinforced steel, sending echoes across the training ground. The sheer force of it left deep cracks in the testing wall.


    Zafira and Callum exchanged glances¡ªrealizing this weapon could change warfare forever.


    Zafira, intrigued yet uneasy, asked, "Do you even understand what you''ve just created?"


    Emery, tightening his grip on the weapon, whispered, "This is only the beginning."


    ---


    Weeks of trial and error had led to this moment.


    Emery wiped sweat from his brow, standing before the engine that had consumed his every waking thought. The machine¡ªan intricate network of gears, pistons, and chambers¡ªhad refused to cooperate for too long. Now, with a final modification, he was ready.


    He pulled the lever.


    The engine shuddered before roaring to life, its metallic groan vibrating through the ground. Steam hissed from the pipes. The gears turned, trembling with effort. The noise was deafening.


    And yet, something was wrong.


    Emery narrowed his eyes, watching the machine struggle and shutting down. It was consuming fuel at an alarming rate, the heat dispersing inefficiently. This was not true power. It was forced. Primitive. Wasteful.


    He realizes: It''s not about movement¡ªit''s about energy control.


    He took a step back, rubbing his temples. "No," he muttered.


    "This isn''t it."


    Before he could delve further, Zafira strode into the room, arms crossed. "Your materials arrived."


    Emery turned, momentarily snapped out of his thoughts. "What?"


    She gestured to the crates stacked in the corner. "The raw materials you wanted for your ''''chalkboards''''. Enough to cover every damn wall in this workshop once you put them together. You''re lucky I agreed to this."


    Emery''s eyes lit up with renewed intensity. "Finally."


    But the work had only just begun.


    The materials were raw slate, unfinished, uncut. Creating a single usable chalkboard took a full month of trial and error, testing different sanding techniques, reinforcement frames, and mounting structures. Callum assisted relentlessly, cutting and refining slabs to match Emery''s specifications while Zafira continued her daily inspections, ensuring their work remained funded. The weeks blurred together in sawdust and labor, their hands roughened from the process.


    Finally, after months of gruelling work, stacks of completed boards filled the workshop, their dark surfaces smooth and pristine. Emery wiped sweat from his brow, taking a step back to admire the results. "This is it." He turned to Zafira, who had been watching with a raised brow.


    "You can sell the chalkboards to anyone you want now."


    Zafira smirked, stepping forward. "Sell them, huh?"


    She picked up a piece of chalk and, with exaggerated movements, began drawing on one of the freshly completed boards.


    Emery squinted, his curiosity quickly turning into horror as the image took shape¡ªhis own face, but grotesquely exaggerated. His nose was comically large, his eyes wide and uneven, his mouth twisted into an absurd grin.


    Callum took one look and burst into laughter, doubling over. "Oh gods, that''s¡ªThat''s awful!"


    Emery''s face flushed red. "Zafira, what in the fuck is that supposed to be?!"


    "You," she said innocently, stepping back to admire her masterpiece.


    "What do you think? A fine piece of art, isn''t it?"


    Before Emery could argue, some of Zafira''s crew, drawn by the noise, wandered in. The moment they saw the drawing, they couldn''t contain themselves, chuckling and egging each other on. Within moments, chalk was passed around, and soon the boards were filled with all manner of ridiculous doodles¡ªsome of Emery, others of Zafira and Callum in equally exaggerated fashion.


    Emery groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as the workshop descended into chaotic amusement. "I created these for science, not for¡ª!"


    Callum wiped a tear from his eye as he slung an arm around Emery''s shoulder in a side hug. "Emery, my friend, you''ve just given the world something even greater than knowledge. You''ve given us entertainment."


    Emery, who normally despised physical contact, found himself not minding it¡ªfrom Callum, at least. He simply sighed in disbelief, rubbing his temples as laughter continued around him.


    He turned to Zafira, expecting her usual smirk, but instead, she gave him a small nod of approval. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there.


    His face heated slightly, and he looked away, "Tch. Whatever.".


    After the celebration died down, Emery found himself alone with Zafira and Callum in the engine room. The two stood behind him as he stepped forward, gripping the lever with tense fingers. "Watch closely," he murmured.


    With a deep breath, he pulled the lever.


    The machine trembled, gears grinding against one another before, at last, a deep, guttural roar filled the room. Steam hissed from the pipes. The engine was alive.


    Callum''s mouth parted slightly in awe. "Emery¡­ you did it."


    Zafira exhaled through her nose, arms crossed but visibly impressed. "Not bad."


    And yet, Emery only frowned.


    He watched the pistons move, the heat escape in wasteful bursts. The engine worked, but it was flawed. Primitive. Inefficient. This wasn''t power. This wasn''t progress.


    It was still caged fire.


    Zafira glanced at him, noting the deep crease in his brow. "You look disappointed."


    "Because I am," he admitted. "This isn''t enough."


    As the machine churned behind them, Zafira found herself lost in thought, staring at the rhythmic pulsing of the pistons. For a moment, she wasn''t here¡ªshe was somewhere else, in the past.


    Yasmina''s voice echoed in her mind.


    "Layla is different. She''s reckless, yes, but she doesn''t just want to fight¡ªshe wants to change things."


    Zafira had scoffed back then. "Change things? War doesn''t change. You either win or you die."


    Yasmina had only smiled, eyes distant with admiration. "Maybe. But if anyone could do it, it''s her."


    She hadn''t just meant Layla''s idealism¡ªshe also meant Layla''s brutality.


    Layla didn''t simply fight wars; she ended them. There had been a battle, one where defeat was all but certain. Their forces were outnumbered, resources depleted, and morale shattered. And yet, Layla had turned the tide with sheer ruthlessness.


    She had sent her own troops ahead as bait, luring the enemy into a false sense of victory. Then, under the cover of night, she burned their supply lines, poisoned their water, and left false retreat paths littered with traps. By dawn, the enemy army wasn''t just defeated¡ªthey were annihilated.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Even Zafira had been shaken by the lengths Layla had gone to secure victory.


    "She doesn''t just seek to change things," Yasmina had murmured that night, watching the battlefield from the cliffs above.


    "She''s willing to become something monstrous to do it."


    And now, standing before Emery¡ªanother mind consumed by progress¡ªZafira felt that same unease creep into her spine.


    The memory faded, and Zafira''s gaze flickered toward Emery.


    Another mad genius chasing the impossible.


    Zafira watched him, arms crossed, unease curling in her gut. Emery had always been intense, but this¡­ this was something else. His posture, the manic gleam in his eyes, the way he muttered equations under his breath like a prayer¡ªit was all too familiar.


    She had seen this before. Layla, before the fall. The Emperor, before the rise.


    The machine still trembled in the background, an incomplete beast, loud and unstable. His mind raced through every calculation, every mistake, and yet he didn''t stop¡ªhe couldn''t.


    She exhaled sharply and reached out, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "You need to take a break. Travel for a bit. Clear your head."


    Emery barely reacted. "No," he said flatly. "I still have a job to do."


    Zafira frowned. "The engine¡ª"


    "¡ªisn''t finished." He finally turned to her, eyes sharp with unwavering determination. "You didn''t recruit me to rest. You recruited me to give you power. And I will."


    Zafira studied him for a long moment, then slowly withdrew her hand. This wasn''t just ambition anymore. This was obsession.


    She exhaled sharply. "You''ve been working non-stop since the day we met at that spice shop," she said, her voice edged with something almost resembling concern. "You don''t need to indulge in this, Emery. You''ve already done more than enough."


    Emery let out a breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "And yet, it''s not enough." He turned back toward the engine, still trembling with inefficiency. "You recruited me for a reason, Zafira. I have a job to do. And I''m going to finish it."


    She narrowed her eyes. "At what cost?"


    He didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and, in an uncharacteristic move, gripped her wrist¡ªnot tightly, but firm enough that she felt it. "I will get it done," he said, his voice unwavering.


    Zafira blinked, momentarily taken aback. He was scrawny, physically unimposing, but in that moment, his grip felt heavier than steel.


    A tense silence stretched between them before she clicked her tongue and pulled her hand away.


    "Stubborn idiot."


    A ghost of a smirk flickered across Emery''s lips. "Takes one to know one."


    Zafira''s expression cracked. Her usual controlled demeanor twisted into something more forceful, her voice rising above even the engine''s groaning whir. "I''m not an idiot! You are!"


    Before Emery could react, she closed the distance between them, nearly jabbing a finger into his chest. "You''re not like me, Emery. I''m not smart like you, I don''t have your damn equations, but I can see what''s happening to you. You look like a¡ª" she struggled for the right word, her tone shifting from anger to something dangerously close to concern, "¡ªan animal chasing something it''ll never catch."


    Emery exhaled, his gaze steady. Then, without hesitation, he pushed her hand aside and stepped forward. "Follow me."


    "What?"


    "Both of you." His voice was sharper now, laced with something unreadable. He strode toward the far end of the workshop, where towering stacks of parchment and crates of ink were piled high. "You want to know what I''ve been doing?" He grabbed a handful of papers and let them scatter to the floor. Pages upon pages of theories, sketches, calculations.


    Callum knelt, picking one up, his eyes widening at the complex diagrams detailing circuits, energy storage, and something far beyond mere engines. He traced a finger over the intricate notes, muttering under his breath. "You''re theorizing how to harness energy itself... transmission without loss... controlled output... Emery, this isn''t just an engine anymore. This is something else entirely."


    Zafira picked up another sheet, her sharp eyes scanning the lines of calculations. Her brow furrowed. "Wait a damn second¡ªthis... this was all done by you? Alone?"


    Emery turned away from them, walking toward the humming engine. "I knew the engine worked before anyone else did," he admitted, voice low. "When you all left for winter supplies, I stayed behind and ran the test in secret. It worked. But it was flawed. Just as I suspected."


    Zafira snapped her gaze to him. "Then why hide it? Why go through all this?" She gestured toward the mountain of papers, the endless scrawlings of one man''s genius bordering on madness.


    Emery finally faced them, his eyes dark with purpose. "Because I realized the truth. This engine¡ªit''s not the future. It''s a stepping stone. If I stopped here, if I accepted it as ''good enough,'' I''d be no better than those who cling to outdated power." He swept his hand over the sketches again. "I need something greater. Not just motion. Not just heat. I need control over energy itself."


    Zafira stared at him, fingers tightening around the papers in her grasp. The sheer scale of what she was holding¡ªwhat had been created by one man alone¡ªmade her uneasy.


    She exhaled sharply, then scoffed. "You think this makes you powerful? There are cultivators who can split mountains with a wave of their hand. Even if you do harness electricity, you''re defying the heavens themselves. The Qi, the Dao¡ªcultivators don''t follow the principles of science or math."


    Emery''s head snapped up, eyes burning with frustration. "Bullshit."


    Callum hesitated. "Emery, you''ve seen what Zafira can do. You really think Qi can be explained?"


    Emery slammed his fist onto the table. "Every technique, every so-called miracle of cultivation can be explained. Qi is nothing more than the body adapting, becoming stronger through external training and internal refinement. Just because no one has mapped it properly doesn''t mean it''s beyond comprehension! It follows rules, just like everything else in this world!" His voice was raw, defiant. "You believe in Qi because you''ve seen it. I believe in science because I understand it. And if I understand something, I can replicate it¡ªno, improve upon it."


    Zafira narrowed her eyes. "And if you''re wrong?"


    Emery''s expression darkened. "Then I''ll prove myself right."


    Zafira barely had time to react before Emery spun toward the chalkboard, grabbing a fresh piece of chalk. With swift, precise strokes, he began drawing out diagrams, angles, and equations.


    "Your footwork," he started, his voice sharp. "During the fight with that unusual swordsman, you moved at an inhuman speed. To the untrained eye, it looks like magic. But it isn''t."


    He sketched a rough diagram of a human figure, marking arrows along the legs and feet. "You pivoted at a precise forty-two-degree angle to conserve momentum while accelerating forward. The force exerted on the ground¡ªcombined with the low-friction movement of your Qi-enhanced muscles¡ªallowed you to bypass normal biological limitations. It''s Newton''s Third Law in action. Every step you took transferred energy efficiently, allowing exponential acceleration."


    Zafira narrowed her eyes but said nothing.


    Visibly frustrated, Emery clenched his fists. "Fine," he snapped. "I''ll show you."


    Before she could protest, he took a step back, adjusting his stance. "Count your clock internally," he instructed, his voice sharp. "Each time I move, mark the seconds."


    Zafira hesitated, something in her gut telling her to stop him. "Emery, you''re not a cultivator. If you push yourself¡ª"


    "Just count," he interrupted. Without waiting for approval, he launched himself forward, mimicking the exact movements he had analyzed from her fight.


    His form wasn''t as fluid, nor was his speed nearly as fast, but the mechanics were flawless. His feet struck the ground at precise angles, his weight shifting at calculated intervals. His momentum carried him forward in near-perfect replication of her technique¡ªalbeit slower, human, and raw.


    Zafira watched, her lips parting slightly. He''s actually doing it.


    She had assumed his theories were just that¡ªtheories. But here he was, executing them without Qi, relying solely on physics, muscle control, and calculated force.


    Callum looked between them, stunned. "Zafira... he''s proving you right by proving you wrong."


    Emery skidded to a halt, breathing heavily but triumphant. He turned to Zafira, sweat dripping from his brow. "Your technique works because of physics. Not magic. Not divine energy. Science."


    Zafira, for once, had nothing to say.


    Emery wasn''t done. "Then, the slash."


    He drew another diagram, this time a motion arc of her sword. "Your blade cut through a solid steel spear. That should be impossible¡ªunless you manipulated kinetic energy upon impact. The speed of your slash¡ªlet''s approximate it to 80 m/s¡ªcombined with the concentrated force output of your muscles enhanced through Qi, increased the pressure per square inch of the blade''s edge. By focusing all energy into a single focal point, the target''s structural integrity was overwhelmed in an instant. The result? A seamless cut."


    Callum slowly exhaled, absorbing every word. "He''s... he''s right."


    Zafira, arms crossed, said nothing, but her lips pressed into a thin line. She had felt the technique, executed it instinctively, but never once had she thought of it in mathematical terms. And yet¡ªeverything he said made perfect sense.


    Emery turned to her, meeting her gaze.


    Without warning, he grabbed a thick tree branch that had been left near the entrance. Callum barely had time to react to dodge before Emery lunged at him, using the same calculated movement principles he''d just described. The arc of his strike mirrored Zafira''s technique¡ªprecise angles, controlled force, and minimal wasted motion.


    As the branch connected with the ground at a specific angle, a sharp crack echoed through the room. The wood split perfectly down the middle, both halves falling symmetrically apart. Emery stepped back, breathing heavily, watching as the splintered pieces settled.


    "See?" His voice was steady, but his eyes burned with intensity. "By controlling the exact force distribution and impact vector, I created a clean break¡ªno jagged edges, no uneven split. Your technique works because of physics. Not magic. Not divine energy. Science."


    Zafira''s eyes widened slightly. He hadn''t moved nearly as fast as she could, but there was no denying it¡ªhe had replicated the mechanics of her technique, step by step, without Qi.


    Breathing heavily, Emery straightened. "See? I don''t need Qi to perform your techniques. Given enough time, I could match them¡ªsurpass them, even."


    His frustration boiled over, his fists clenching at his sides. "I''m so fucking sick of this Qi nonsense! Every time, people act like it''s some divine, untouchable force. But it''s not! It follows rules¡ªit has to! If Qi masters can split mountains, then there is a goddamn reason for it. And I''ll find it."


    For a long moment, Zafira simply stared at him, her unease growing.


    This wasn''t just about understanding Qi anymore.


    This was Emery proving he could surpass it.


    Still panting, Emery pointed a trembling finger at Zafira, his entire body drenched in sweat from exertion. "I will harness electricity," he declared, his voice hoarse but unwavering. "I will give humanity light. I will light up this world and revolutionize it."


    Zafira''s breath hitched as she studied him. His sweat-soaked clothes clung to his wiry frame, his muscles trembling from strain. His normally pale skin was flushed from exertion, streaked with grime and sweat. His silver-grey eyes, sharp and calculating, burned with a manic intensity, their usual glint of curiosity now overshadowed by raw obsession. Strands of his dark brown hair, usually neatly kept, clung messily to his forehead, further adding to the image of a man teetering on the edge of brilliance and madness. His usually sharp eyes burned with something deeper¡ªan obsession that teetered between brilliance and madness. Even knowing he had no Qi, she couldn''t shake the unease crawling up her spine.


    He shouldn''t be capable of this. And yet, he was.


    Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. For the first time, Zafira found herself wondering if Emery wasn''t rejecting Qi¡ªbut proving it through another path. If he could achieve this much without it, then what would happen if he truly did find the answer to everything?


    Before she could dwell on the thought further, she moved. In a blur, her fingers pressed against the precise Qi points on Emery''s body, cutting off his movement in an instant.


    Emery staggered, his knees buckling as he fought against the sudden wave of exhaustion. "Damn it¡ª!" he cursed, glaring up at her. "You used that on me again?! I hate that!"


    Zafira exhaled, steadying herself. "I know," she murmured. "I''m sorry. But you need to rest."


    She turned to Callum, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Make sure he sleeps. He''s done enough."


    Callum hesitated but nodded, moving to support Emery before he could collapse completely.


    Zafira took one last look at the chaotic mess of papers scattered across the floor. With careful hands, she began stacking them neatly, her fingers brushing over the endless calculations, sketches, and theories.


    How do I support him? she wondered. Even as he teetered on the edge of obsession, she found herself unwilling to let him fall alone.


    Something about this reminded her of years ago¡ªwhen she had trained under Master Li Ru, a swordsman whose methods had been nothing short of ruthless. She had watched him refine his techniques, sharpening them over and over with an almost inhuman intensity, cutting down anything that stood in his way.


    And now, Emery was doing the same. But his sword was knowledge, and his battlefield was his own limits.

 How to negotiate and enjoy luxury

    The Gates of Shrouded Peaks


    The towering stone gates of Shrouded Peaks loomed before them, their surface weathered with age yet no less imposing. Beyond them, the hidden sect remained silent, watching, waiting. What wasn¡¯t silent, however, were the spears pointed at their throats.


    Jiang and Bao had already moved into defensive stances, their hands hovering over their weapons. The guards of Shrouded Peaks, clad in dark gray robes and polished armor, held their ground, unmoving, their eyes sharp and unreadable.


    Yuxe Wuye, Meilin''s mother exhaled slowly, her hands folded before her in a gesture of negotiation rather than submission. "We are not here to fight," she stated evenly, her voice carrying an air of authority that only a woman of her wisdom could possess. "We seek an audience with Master Daokan. The child in our care needs urgent help."


    One of the guards narrowed his eyes. "Master Daokan does not take unannounced visitors. Especially not ones who bring unconscious prisoners with them."


    Atlas groaned, stirring slightly. He was awake now, though his head still ached from Jiang¡¯s less than gentle method of securing his arrival. He barely had time to process his surroundings before he realized he was being held in a side embrace by Meyu, who, despite the tension, was calmly explaining the situation.


    "Try not to move too much," she whispered, keeping her voice low. "You got knocked out. We¡¯re at the gates of a hidden sect, and if you so much as twitch wrong, you might end up with a spear through your chest."


    Atlas took a slow, measured breath, his mind kicking into gear. Assess. Plan. Execute. He scanned the scene, analyzing the guards¡¯ postures, the tension in their grips, the way their gazes flickered with hesitation. They weren¡¯t looking for a fight¡ªthey were following protocol.


    A plan formed in his mind, one that required precision and just the right amount of theatrical absurdity.


    He reached into his coat, slowly so as not to provoke a reaction, and retrieved a document sealed with an imperial insignia. It was his business license and trading approval¡ªone that had indeed been signed by the Emperor himself. What it did not state, however, was that his approval was strictly for commercial endeavors.


    Atlas straightened his posture, flashing his most dazzling smile as he presented the document with a flourish. "Gentlemen! I come bearing the Emperor¡¯s own decree!" he declared, letting the golden insignia catch the sunlight in just the right way. "I am a humble¡ªnay, an essential¡ªmerchant, officially approved by the highest seat of power. You may verify its authenticity if you wish, though I must warn you... the bureaucratic process is agonizing. Do you really wish to be the ones to delay a man personally sanctioned by the Emperor?" He tilted his head, feigning sympathy. "Paperwork. So tedious. So extensive. Do you really want to be the poor souls tangled in that mess?"


    The guards faltered, exchanging glances. Atlas seized the hesitation and leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You see, the Emperor¡ªwise, benevolent, extraordinarily handsome¡ªvalues efficiency. And I, dear sirs, am nothing if not an efficient man. I have goods to trade, coins to spend, and if we keep this moving smoothly, I assure you, my gratitude knows no bounds."


    With a grin stretching across his face like a devil who had just found an unguarded prey, Atlas smoothly reached into his pocket and revealed several gleaming gold coins, letting them slip between his fingers in a mesmerizing display of wealth. The coins clinked softly, their unmistakable weight promising lucrative opportunities. His expression¡ªa mix of overconfidence and charm¡ªonly solidified the illusion that he was the most reasonable, yet dangerous, man to refuse.


    Hook set. Now, to let them fight among themselves.


    One of them whispered something hurriedly to the other. The moment of uncertainty spread like wildfire. If there was even a fraction of truth to what Atlas had said, denying him entry could mean defying imperial authority.


    Meanwhile, Layla¡¯s sharp eyes followed the exchange. She was already planning her own angle.


    She glanced at Bao, then at the guards, then back at Bao again. Yes... that could work.


    She cleared her throat loudly, adjusting her posture in an almost theatrical manner¡ªone she had clearly picked up from watching Atlas. She even mimicked the exaggerated confidence in his expression, though her smirk had an extra edge of mischief.


    "I see how it is!" she called out, voice full of melodrama. "You refuse us entry because you¡¯re afraid! Afraid that Master Daokan will hear what I have to say!" She lifted her chin, placing a dramatic hand over her chest, as if genuinely appalled by their cowardice.


    Several of the guards stiffened, their expressions shifting between confusion and irritation.


    Layla pressed on, arms crossed, one eyebrow arching. "If Master Daokan were here, would he turn away someone in need? Would he refuse to hear why a disciple of the Silver Lotus Sect has come all this way seeking help over a sick child? Or are you too afraid to even let him decide for himself?"


    Bao, catching on to her play, scoffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You know what? Maybe Master Daokan really isn¡¯t as great as people say. If his own disciples are too cowardly to even let a message reach him, then perhaps he¡¯s not worth the journey after all."


    The guards bristled, but one turned and rushed into the sect to report.


    A silence stretched before the air itself seemed to bend. A crushing force, unseen yet undeniable, pressed down upon them. An order without words. A demand from existence itself.


    Atlas felt the wind started to pickup and then Meyu whimpered beside him, her body trembling as she barely managed to keep herself from falling completely. Meyu fell onto her knees, fear widening her eyes as tremors wracked her frame, her breath coming in shallow gasps.


    Jiang gritted his teeth, his entire body trembling as his knees buckled. Bao swayed but caught himself, breath labored. Yuxe Wuye hands curled into fists, sweat dripping from her brow as she struggled to remain upright. Lin Wuye never let go of the child, shielding her as best he could, his arms tightening around her small frame even as his bones protested against the overwhelming force.


    Layla gasped, the sheer weight of it unlike anything she had ever felt. How... how can one man exude such pressure? Her body screamed, her mind raced, yet all she could think of was the absurdity of human strength reaching such a level. This isn¡¯t Qi. This is something beyond it. Fear curled in her gut, primal and unavoidable.


    Atlas, however, did not kneel.


    Master Daokan stepped through the now-open gates, his robes billowing like a storm given form. Beside him stood his most trusted disciple, Yan Shuren, a warrior whose presence alone commanded respect, his skill second only to Daokan himself.


    Daokan¡¯s gaze swept over them before locking onto Atlas. Scanning his internal self as to why he wasn''t affected. Could it be..?


    A flicker of disbelief crossed his face.


    No Qi. None. Even newborns have Qi. And yet, this man stands.


    His voice, when it came, was quiet but impossible to ignore.


    "Tell me, merchant¡­ do you truly believe the Emperor¡¯s name alone grants you entry into my domain?"


    The weight of Daokan¡¯s presence still hung over them like a storm waiting to break. Atlas, standing alone amid a sea of kneeling bodies, took in the scene with a keen eye. His mind worked in rapid succession, piecing together every clue, every reaction.


    This is Master Daokan. The infamous recluse of the Shrouded Peaks. The man even warlords spoke of in hushed tones. And here he was, radiating an oppressive aura so strong it forced battle-hardened warriors to their knees.


    Atlas blinked, then turned his head slightly, taking in the absurdity of the scene. Jiang, Bao, Lin Wuye¡ªall kneeling like devout disciples at temple. Layla looked on the verge of collapsing, her entire body shaking from the sheer pressure. And Meyu¡ªMeyu had fallen completely, fear etched into her usually composed features, her hands digging into the dirt as if grounding herself was the only thing keeping her sane. He managed to assess the situation in just 5 seconds and came up with a plan to convince Master Daokan albeit a gamble.


    A slow exhale left his lips. Right. This was bad.


    Atlas straightened, adjusting his collar in an exaggerated, almost leisurely manner. His mind raced. This was a delicate game, and one misstep could have him buried at the base of these mountains. But that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t enjoy himself a little. He knows that they value honour, respect, wealth and strength.


    He clasped his hands behind his back and offered Daokan the most respectful bow he could muster¡ªlow enough to show deference, but not so low as to appear desperate. "Master Daokan, I presume? An honor, truly. I must say, your reputation does you justice. The sheer power, the presence! Why, if I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d think I had just met a deity in human form."


    A twitch of an eyebrow from Daokan in disbelief. Good. He was listening.


    Atlas continued, voice smooth and measured. "Now, I understand your concern. A mere merchant, tossing around the Emperor¡¯s name like a common dice game¡ªit¡¯s terribly improper, isn¡¯t it? But let me assure you, I am not just any merchant. I am a merchant with an impeccable sense of timing and an even greater appreciation for... opportunities."


    He let the words settle, watching Daokan¡¯s expression. Calculating. Weighing. Testing.


    Atlas lifted a hand and gestured lightly to the others still kneeling. "And, if I may be so bold, it would be quite the tragedy if such esteemed guests of the Silver Lotus Sect were to pass out here in the cold, wouldn¡¯t it? But not just any guests¡ªan innocent slave child, fragile and barely clinging to consciousness, dragged all this way for a sliver of mercy."


    His eyes flicked briefly to Layla, who, despite her trembling form, still held her head high. A slow, almost pitying smile curved his lips. "And her. This ever-so-frail girl, shaking in her boots yet still clinging to her pride like a lifeline. Really, Master Daokan, what would it say of the great Shrouded Peaks if you left such helpless souls out here to suffer?" He sighed dramatically. "A true tragedy, I say."


    Layla grit her teeth, her mind whirling with equal parts irritation and reluctant admiration. Atlas was infuriating¡ªslick, shameless, and somehow always in control. But damn it, he was effective. That didn¡¯t mean she wouldn¡¯t kick him for this later. Hard.


    There was a beat of silence.


    Daokan¡¯s disciple shifted slightly, clearly unimpressed. But Daokan himself merely exhaled, his sharp gaze never leaving Atlas.


    Atlas knew he had only seconds before the humour turned against him. He adjusted his stance, lowering his voice slightly, making it more serious. "Master Daokan, I am not here to disrespect your gates. In fact quite the opposite. I am here on business, and business is what I do best. But right now even before my own livelihood, that poor child life matters more. There are things I can offer. And if you¡¯ll hear us out and help us, I do believe you¡¯ll find it... worth your time."


    The old master studied him now with a different lens, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the slightly sun-kissed hue of his skin¡ªforeign, unmistakably Western. He wasn¡¯t as broad-shouldered as Jiang or Bao, nor did he carry the same hardened muscle, but there was something unsettling about his presence. Not in strength, but in mind. His expression was unreadable, not in the manner of a seasoned warrior masking their emotions, but in a way that suggested he was either alarmingly honest or a master manipulator.


    A flicker of disbelief crossed Daokan¡¯s face. No Qi. None. Even newborns have Qi. And yet, this man stands.


    Then Daokan spoke, ''''Let them in.''''


    The shift was immediate. The suffocating weight that had pressed upon them vanished like mist under the morning sun. Bao and Jiang released shuddering breaths, their muscles aching from the strain of resistance. Yuxe Wuye closed her eyes briefly, composing herself before rising to her feet with practiced grace. Meyu, still trembling, let out a quiet gasp, her body weak from the ordeal. Atlas helps her stand up while patting her head to reassure her.


    Layla, however, was slower to recover. Her limbs felt like lead, her breath uneven. She turned to Atlas, eyes burning with a mix of disbelief and irritation. Her lips moved soundlessly, forming words only he could understand: "I''m going to kill you."


    Atlas blinked and¡ªwithout a second thought¡ªslid behind Meyu as if she were a human shield. Meyu, still catching her breath, frowned in confusion. "...What?"


    Layla groaned, rubbing her back. She had barely recovered from nearly being crushed under the weight of Daokan¡¯s aura, and now she had to deal with this man making an absolute fool of himself.


    As the gates of Shrouded Peaks fully opened, the difference between it and Silver Lotus was immediately apparent. Layla took one step inside and came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes swept over the towering structures, the intricate stone pathways, the smoothly polished training grounds where disciples practiced in disciplined formations.


    She scoffed, gesturing wildly at the pristine environment. "Oh, come on."


    Jiang, still stretching out his sore limbs from the earlier pressure, raised a brow. "What?"


    Layla threw her arms up in exasperation. "Are you seeing this? Look at those buildings! They¡¯re actually standing! Properly! No holes in the roofs, no broken support beams!"


    Bao, taking in the scene, whistled low. "Damn. Their roads don¡¯t even have dirt patches."


    Yuxe Wuye, walking beside her husband, chuckled under her breath. "They certainly have the resources."


    Layla continued, unfazed. "And those lanterns? Silk-covered lanterns? Glass windows? My sect barely has doors that don¡¯t fall off their hinges, and these guys are out here living in luxury!"


    Atlas, still taking in his surroundings, muttered, "I thought the Silver Lotus Sect was one of the oldest sects in the region?"


    Layla turned on her feet, jabbing a finger at him. "Yeah, and just like an old man, it¡¯s falling apart! You think we have marble flooring like this? No! We have dirt! You think our disciples have matching uniforms? No! Half of them are wearing patchwork robes held together by pure willpower!" She threw a glare towards her father. "Why didn¡¯t we have nice things?"


    Lin Wuye, completely unbothered, carrying the child while administrating Qi into her. "I told you. Administration is expensive."


    "So is my sanity," Layla shot back.


    Meanwhile, Bao had wandered closer to one of the training grounds, watching a group of Shrouded Peaks disciples practicing advanced formations with their spears. Their movements were precise, synchronized. It was the kind of training that spoke of discipline honed over generations.


    "This is a proper sect," Bao admitted. "Their body so solid like stone."


    Jiang crossed his arms, nodding as well. "Their techniques aren¡¯t flashy, but they¡¯re precise. Practical. I don¡¯t see any wasted movement."


    Layla muttered under her breath, still glancing around. "Not to mention, they¡¯ve actually got proper storage for their weapons. We just leave ours lying around in piles!"


    Atlas, taking it all in with a keen eye, finally let out a low chuckle. "So what I¡¯m hearing is, your sect is like a group of overly determined bandits squatting in the remains of a once-great institution."


    Layla glared daggers at him. "If I didn¡¯t need you alive to clear up this mess, I¡¯d throw you off this mountain."


    Internally, however, Atlas''s mind was already at work. This sect was well-organized, well-funded, and most importantly, well-supplied. If he played this right, there was an opportunity here. The resources alone made them a valuable connection. But how to get in without making it obvious? He needed leverage¡ªsomething they wanted that only he could provide. Perhaps trade? Perhaps something deeper? He filed the thought away for later, already formatting the foundation of a potential business deal in his mind.


    Meyu, meanwhile, had been quiet, walking closely beside Atlas. She exhaled deeply, still shaking off the remnants of the pressure she had felt earlier. She spared a glance toward Lin Wuye, who still held the unconscious child securely in his arms. "Master, how is she?"


    Lin Wuye adjusted his grip on the child and glanced down at her frail form. "She¡¯s stable for now, but she needs proper care. Malnourished, exhausted. It will take time before she recovers fully."


    Yan, who had been standing near Daokan, spoke for the first time since they entered. "Shrouded Peaks has some of the best medicinal facilities in the region. She¡¯ll be in good hands."


    Layla exhaled, some of her earlier frustration fading as she looked at the child. "At least that¡¯s something."


    Jiang stepped forward. "Where will we be staying?"


    Daokan, who had been silently watching the entire exchange, finally turned toward his disciple, the man second only to him in skill. "Yan Shuren, see to it that our guests are given quarters. Ensure the child is taken to the healers immediately."


    Yan nodded, his expression neutral as he gestured for the guards to proceed. ''This way, Silver Lotus Sect and..that merchant'' Yan also ordered a couple of the maids to take care of the child to their own physician. Lin Wuye slowly lets the child to the maid''s arm to which he sees how the maids sees her in pure sorrow and pity and walks quickly to the physician while covering her in warm cloth.


    As they moved deeper into the sect, Layla couldn¡¯t help but mutter under her breath, "I swear, if they have heated floors too, I¡¯m going to riot."


    They stepped into the main headquarters of Shrouded Peaks, and the difference was staggering. Layla had expected some level of grandeur, but this was beyond comprehension. The main building grounds were massive¡ªlarger than the entirety of Silver Lotus, including its own training grounds, living quarters, and meditation halls combined. The architecture was refined yet imposing, carved directly into the mountainside, blending seamlessly with the environment. Majestic pillars held up intricately designed ceilings, detailed murals depicting great battles and past masters lined the walls, and every pathway was immaculately maintained. What Layla assumed was the top Disciples practicing their Qi as she could feel the disturbance in the air to which she wonders if it''s because she was so weak. They moved and strike with practiced efficiency, their robes pristine, their expressions disciplined. There was no scrambling to rebuild, no signs of desperation. This was a sect that had never fallen. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    After this exchange of thoughts, Atlas disturbed Layla by introducing himself with an exaggerated flourish, much like a swindler. His voice carried the same dramatic flair, his posture exuding an overconfidence that instantly made Layla''s eye twitch in irritation.


    "A pleasure to make your acquaintance!" Atlas declared, grinning as he extended a hand towards her. "A merchant of the highest caliber, a man of wealth and taste, and, most importantly, someone who simply must know the name of the radiant young lady before him. My name is Atlas Ryland, Meyu is my business partner and you?"


    Layla stared at him, unamused. "...No."


    Atlas gasped, clutching his chest as if she had stabbed him. "No? You wound me! You deny me the honor of your name? A name, I am certain, that carries grace and legend alike?"


    Layla sighed, rubbing her temples. "Meilin. There. Happy now?"


    Atlas beamed. "Ecstatic! And now that we''re all friends¡ªtell me, Meilin, why does this place feel so *weird *to you? Judging by your face, I¡¯d say it¡¯s been gnawing at you since we got here."


    Layla exhaled sharply, her gaze drifting across the pristine sect. "It¡¯s too perfect. Too¡­ intact."


    Atlas raised a brow. "And your sect isn¡¯t?"


    Layla let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, my sect isn¡¯t just not intact. It¡¯s barely holding itself together. Seeing this just makes me realize how bad it really is."


    Seeing this just makes me realize how bad it really is."


    After this admission, Layla straightened, her expression hardening as she turned to introduce two figures who had been silent until now. "This is my father, Lin Wuye, and my mother, Yuxe Wuye."


    Atlas regarded them with a polite nod, adjusting his stance with a well-practiced ease. He took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back in a manner that suggested both respect and confidence. "An honour to meet you both. Given the state of the world and the challenges sects face today, I must ask¡ªhow is Silver Lotus faring? As a merchant by trade, I find myself always interested to establish relationship of great establishments such as yours. Perhaps there is something I can do to help."


    His voice was smooth, conversational, yet probing just enough to invite further dialogue. Atlas wasn¡¯t just asking out of politeness¡ªhe was watching, waiting, analyzing. And he knew Layla was doing the same to him.


    Her eyes narrowed. There were only two possibilities. Either Atlas was stupidly honest¡ªso confident in his own words that he never needed to hide anything. Or¡­ he was a master manipulator, someone who controlled every word, every movement, every outcome, even in casual conversation. Atlas, fully aware of this, from noticing her intent glare, kept up his act¡ªhis expressions perfectly balanced between casual sincerity and playful mischief. He let just enough of his personality slip through to keep Layla guessing.


    If she wanted to figure him out, she was going to have to work for it. Layla, still studying him, began to pick apart his demeanor¡ªhis expressions, his reactions, the small shifts in his body language. He was too composed, too measured. Despite his seemingly carefree attitude, nothing about him felt truly unguarded.


    Lin Wuye after hearing Atlas merchant-like question nodded thoughtfully before responding. "When Meilin¡ªour daughter¡ªfirst came to the main city, there were many things she required to keep Silver Lotus functioning. Resources were scarce, and even basic trade negotiations were difficult without proper backing. The sect has endured, but not without its struggles. When we came to the city, we tried to secure food but no merchant wanted to trade with us just because we are a struggling sect"


    Yuxe Wuye added, "She fought hard to secure what was needed, but the process was slow, and she met resistance at every turn. Many saw Silver Lotus as a sect on the decline. They were unwilling to invest in what they believed was a losing cause."


    Atlas tapped his chin, feigning deep contemplation while carefully watching Layla¡¯s reaction. "That is quite the predicament. If supply lines are the issue, then a merchant¡¯s network could be invaluable. I assume you¡¯d be interested in striking new trade agreements to stabilize the sect¡¯s standing?"


    Lin Wuye met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "That would certainly be beneficial. However, such negotiations require trust. Perhaps, once our meeting with Master Daokan is concluded, you and my daughter can strike a deal of your own."


    Layla''s head snapped toward her father, eyes narrowing. "Father!"


    Lin Wuye merely smiled, giving Atlas a knowing look. "You are, after all, a merchant of the highest caliber, are you not?"


    At those words, a gleam flickered in Atlas¡¯s eyes¡ªthe unmistakable look of a man who had just spotted a golden opportunity. It was the expression of a merchant who could smell profit from miles away.


    Atlas clasped his hands together, his voice oozing with enthusiasm. "Ah, Master Lin, you flatter me! But of course, my primary goal in life is to ensure mutually beneficial relationships! Now, Meilin, my dear business partner, tell me¡ªwhat exactly does Silver Lotus need? A stronger supply chain? Strategic trade routes? Or perhaps¡­ something more refined?"


    Layla¡¯s eye twitched. "Stop looking at me like I¡¯m a high-value investment."


    Atlas feigned deep contemplation, rubbing his chin. "But that¡¯s precisely what you are¡ªa leader of a struggling sect seeking revitalization. With the right connections, funding, and trade, Silver Lotus could flourish. And luckily for you, I specialize in making the impossible¡­ possible."


    Layla opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, a calm yet commanding voice cut through the air.


    "Enough. Sit."


    The entire group turned as Master Daokan stepped forward, his mere presence silencing the room. The air grew heavy with authority, and even Atlas, ever the opportunist, knew when to pause. The time for negotiation would come later.


    Master Daokan stood and insisted on them to sit while he verbally says to the maids ''Bring out the best'' and followed them outside.


    The moment they sat inside the grand hall, something unexpected happened.


    Bao let out an audible "Ahhh~" as he practically melted onto the floor. The entire group turned to him as he sprawled onto his back, stretching like a cat basking in the sun.


    "Bao," Jiang hissed, eyes darting around at the staring disciples. "Get up. You¡¯re embarrassing us."


    Bao sighed blissfully, completely ignoring him. "You don¡¯t understand. The floor is warm. The floor... is heated."


    Layla¡¯s eye twitched. Slowly, deliberately, she knelt down and pressed her palm against the polished wooden surface. A wave of comforting warmth radiated up her fingers.


    Layla had scoffed earlier at the mere idea of heated floors, dismissing it as an unnecessary luxury. ''What kind of spoiled sect would waste resources on something so ridiculous?'' she had thought at the time.


    Layla¡¯s eye twitched again. Slowly, she sat down.


    And then stood up.


    Then sat back down.


    Then up again.


    Her face twisted into something between horror and reluctant admiration as she kept shifting between positions, trying to comprehend the sheer staggering difference in temperature.


    Atlas watched her with barely restrained amusement. "Meilin¡­ are you comparing the floor temperatures?"


    Layla, still in a state of mild disbelief, muttered, "It doesn¡¯t make sense. How¡­ how can a floor feel this good?"


    Bao, sprawled on his back, raised a lazy hand. "Join me. Embrace the warmth. Give in."


    Jiang groaned. "I swear, I will leave you here."


    As if a silent agreement had passed through the group, one by one, they all sank onto the floor. Bao had already claimed his spot, but now Jiang, despite his earlier protests, hesitantly lowered himself, letting out a slow exhale as warmth seeped into his bones. Meilin''s parents followed suit with a measured grace, but even Lin Wuye let out a pleased hum.


    Atlas, ever the opportunist, stretched his legs out, sighing in mock satisfaction. "Now this¡­ this is civilization."


    Layla shot him another glare, but even she couldn¡¯t deny the comfort as she crossed her arms and sat fully. "This is an insult to all struggling sects everywhere."


    Meyu, who had resisted the longest, finally relented, sitting with her hands pressed flat to the wood. "I don''t think I can ever go back to cold floors."


    Atlas, ever the joker he is, tilted his head and smirked. "Alright, real question¡ªif Master Daokan himself asked you to be his concubine in exchange for permanent access to these floors, would you leave me?"


    Meyu barely hesitated before playfully responding, "Hmm¡­ depends. Would the deal include heated walls too?"


    Atlas let out a sharp laugh, but something inside him twisted. It was a joke. He knew it was a joke. And yet, the idea¡ªher leaving him, even hypothetically¡ªstung in a way he hadn¡¯t expected.


    He kept his expression relaxed, casual, but the weight of the answer settled deep in his chest, unnoticed by anyone else but him.


    Jiang, eyes shut in reluctant bliss, muttered, "If we had this back home, I¡¯d never leave my quarters."


    Bao, still sprawled on his back, lazily waved a hand. "Forget everything else. I propose we abandon all worldly struggles and dedicate our lives to floor appreciation."


    Layla groaned. "I swear, if Master Daokan walks in and sees us like this, we¡¯re never getting taken seriously."


    Atlas leaned back on his hands, smirking. "Or, we could propose a lucrative heated floor business expansion. Think of the profits, Meilin. Think of the future."


    Layla buried her face in her hands. "I am so done with you all."


    But the thought stayed with both of them.


    Atlas, for his part, merely scoffed at Layla¡¯s rejection, recognizing it for what it was¡ªpettiness. She had to know this was a brilliant idea. He could already see the potential: luxury-heated floors in every sect, a revolution in comfort that he would personally monopolize. Of course, that meant he first had to convince a certain sect master to let him have a piece of this operation. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he began mentally crafting his pitch¡ªafter all, what kind of merchant would he be if he let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers?


    Meanwhile, Layla sat stiffly, her thoughts racing. Atlas was dangerous¡ªnot because of his fighting ability, but because of his mind. She could feel him scheming already. She knew exactly what he was thinking because she had the same idea herself. But there was no way in hell she was letting him be the one to take advantage of this. No, if there was anyone who was going to strike a deal with Master Daokan and secure this innovation for their own sect, it was going to be her.


    All she needed to do was figure out how to get Atlas out of the picture first.


    Before she could plot any further, the air in the room shifted, and the presence of authority became undeniable. Master Daokan returned, his expression unreadable as he took his place at the head of the hall.


    Without hesitation, as if reading their very thoughts, he simply stated, "No."


    Atlas blinked. "No?"


    Daokan¡¯s gaze swept over them, unimpressed. "You are not the first to come here offering business ventures, and you will not be the last. Heated floors, trade agreements, alliances¡ªI have rejected them all. And I will continue to reject them. My sect has no need for outside interference."


    Layla and Atlas exchanged a glance. They had both been shut down before they could even open their mouths.


    But that didn¡¯t deter either of them. At least, not yet.


    Atlas, ever the businessman, clapped his hands together and gave the floor an appreciative pat, his grin widening. "Master Daokan, I must say, your sect''s infrastructure is truly a marvel! Heated floors in a mountain stronghold¡ªsuch foresight, such innovation! A true testament to leadership that values both practicality and luxury!"


    Layla shot him a glare, practically vibrating with frustration. "Don¡¯t compliment them! My sect is out here fighting off starvation and patching walls with leftover robes, and these people are walking on luxury!" She turned her head toward Daokan and his disciple Yan Shuren, eyes narrowed. "How do you have heated floors?"


    Yan Shuren, ever the composed warrior, simply inclined his head. "The sect values comfort and efficiency. The mountains are harsh in the winter. We prepare accordingly."


    Bao, still on the ground, let out another satisfied groan. "I could live here."


    Jiang promptly kicked him in the side. "You disgrace us all."


    Layla, arms crossed, exhaled sharply. "Unbelievable. First, they have an entire sect bigger than our entire territory. Then, they have pristine architecture, immaculate floors, and now heated floors? What¡¯s next? Personal servants? Massage parlors? A dining hall that doesn¡¯t serve week-old rice?"


    Before she could even fully process her own words, Master Daokan simply raised a hand, his voice carrying an air of effortless authority. "Come in."


    The doors to the grand hall swung open. Maids entered in seamless formation, bringing in freshly steamed delicacies, silk-clad attendants stepping forward with practiced elegance. A row of well-dressed servants appeared, one carrying an assortment of fine teas, another presenting heated towels. A subtle, soothing aroma filled the air as a pair of masseurs stationed themselves nearby, waiting expectantly.


    Layla stared, her brain halting mid-thought. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again as she failed to form a single coherent word. Before she could even attempt to process the absurdity of what was happening, a servant appeared at her side, gracefully placing a warm silk towel in her hands. Another stepped forward, offering a cup of fragrant tea, the rich aroma curling into her senses. She took it without thinking, still too stunned to react properly.


    Then, she felt it¡ªa pair of gentle hands pressing against her shoulders, kneading expertly into the knots of tension she hadn¡¯t even realized were there.


    Layla stiffened. "What¡ª"


    "Relax, honored guest," the masseuse said smoothly. "You carry much stress. It is unbecoming of one in such a refined establishment."


    Atlas, now fully seated and leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, burst into laughter. "Meilin, you¡¯re practically royalty now! You sure you don¡¯t want to negotiate a long-term stay?"


    She turned to glare at him, only to freeze when another servant approached with a delicate plate of what looked like the finest, most perfectly cooked dumplings she had ever seen.


    Her fingers twitched. Her soul wavered.


    "No," she whispered to herself. "Stay strong."


    Atlas, wiping away a tear of laughter, leaned in. "Be honest. If we left you here for an hour, you¡¯d be wearing their robes, wouldn''t you?"


    Layla took a deep breath, gripping the tea in one hand and the warm towel in the other, now fully sinking into the luxurious trap set before her and eating a dumpling. "I hate this place so much."


    Atlas only laughed harder.


    As the group settled into their newfound comfort, Jiang, though reluctant at first, finally gave in, sighing as he sipped his tea. "I hate to admit it... but this is nice.


    Bao, already sprawled comfortably, grinned. "You see? Acceptance is the first step. The second step is never leaving."


    Meyu chuckled, shaking her head. "I don¡¯t know what¡¯s worse¡ªthe fact that you¡¯re saying this, or the fact that I kind of agree."


    Lin Wuye, who had remained silent until now, chuckled lightly. "Perhaps instead of resentment, we should take this as a learning opportunity."


    Layla muttered something incoherent under her breath but didn¡¯t argue further.


    Master Daokan, watching their exchange with a small, knowing smile, finally spoke. "I must apologize for the trouble my guards caused you earlier. They were merely following protocol."


    The group exchanged glances before shrugging collectively. In unison, they all replied, "It¡¯s okay."


    Daokan nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Good. Now, let us proceed."


    Layla wasted no time. She straightened, setting aside her tea and swallowing her dumping. Her expression grew serious. "Master Daokan, before we move forward, you should know what happened earlier in the city."


    She went on to explain in detail, recounting how she had tried to secure resources, only to be met with rejection at every turn. But as she continued, her focus narrowed on one particular incident¡ªthe slave traders.


    Her voice grew sharper as she described the sight of people turned into slaves were being treated like commodities, their hollow eyes, their resigned silence. She told him about the kid that was brought here was the slave over there who was bought at a high price of 2 gold coins.


    Then, she turned, pointing directly at Atlas. "And as a final insult, do you know who the buyer was?"


    Atlas blinked. "Now, wait a¡ª"


    Before he could even finish his sentence, the masseuse standing behind him moved faster than anyone could react. One moment, she was a mere attendant¡ªsilent, unassuming. The next, she had a needle pressed against his neck, her grip firm, her expression unreadable.


    No one had seen it. Not Jiang, not Bao, not even Lin Wuye, who had spent years mastering perception and reading the flow of battle. And certainly not Atlas, who prided himself on seeing through layers of deception and manipulation. His mind screamed internally, trying to process what just happened, but no explanation came.


    For the first time in a long while, he had been completely, utterly caught off guard. In an instant, a needle was pressed against his neck, her grip firm, her expression unreadable.


    Tension shattered the easy atmosphere. Meyu immediately sat up, alarm flashing across her face. "Hey, wait, hold on¡ª!"


    Jiang and Bao tensed, their hands moving instinctively toward their weapons, but even they hesitated, realizing just how quickly Atlas had been caught.


    Atlas, frozen in place, let out a slow breath. "...I feel like this is a misunderstanding."


    A sharp crack echoed through the hall.


    Master Daokan had not moved, had not raised his voice, and yet, in his hand, the porcelain teacup had shattered, hairline fractures spreading before it crumbled entirely. A single droplet of tea slipped down his fingers, but his gaze remained locked onto Atlas, unreadable yet undeniably furious.


    The sheer weight of his presence pressed down on the room. Even without Qi, Atlas felt his body go weak, his limbs suddenly resembling jelly. His brain screamed at him to move, to act, to say something, but all he could do was sit there, sweat forming at the nape of his neck as the needle remained firmly in place.


    Atlas let out a nervous chuckle, his voice barely above a whisper. "Alright, maybe a slight misunderstanding..."


    Master Daokan¡¯s eyes narrowed, his expression shifting into something eerily calm. Too calm. His fingers, still dusted with shattered porcelain, flexed slightly, and Atlas swore he felt the air itself tighten.


    "Curious," Daokan said, his voice quiet, yet cutting through the tension like a blade. "You spoke with such urgency before my gates. You stressed the condition of the child, claimed she needed help beyond all else." His gaze sharpened, each word slow and deliberate. "And yet now, I find that same child was purchased by you. A merchant. Tell me, Atlas Ryland, how does one justify turning concern into ownership?"


    Atlas¡¯s entire body tensed. Years of manipulation, of reading people, of knowing when to pivot and when to act, screamed at him that if Daokan so much as stood up, he was already dead.


    Three seconds.


    That¡¯s all he had.


    In the first second, he pieced together his response.


    In the second, he calculated how much truth he could afford to reveal.


    In the third, he spoke¡ªfast, smooth, desperate, but without a single wasted breath.


    "I bought her because I had to¡ªbecause if I didn¡¯t, she would¡¯ve ended up in a place far worse. My goal was never ownership but protection. Every slave I¡¯ve ever bought, including Meyu, was freed the moment I could guarantee their safety. I don¡¯t profit off them, I don¡¯t sell them. I get them out before people who actually deserve to be crushed under your boot take them first."


    He exhaled sharply, heart hammering, as Daokan remained perfectly still, the weight of his gaze unrelenting.


    But Atlas could tell.


    The master was thinking the same thing Layla had¡ªhe is a merchant, and surely, he has enough.


    Atlas knew that the Master didn¡¯t know the depth of his pockets.


    But Layla did.


    In just a second, his tongue flicked out, licking his lips at light speed¡ªa nervous tick that, for once, was entirely justified. Funny as it might¡¯ve looked to Layla, it was the physical sign of his mind revving at full speed, a merchant weighing his own actions against the morality he so carefully curated.


    His thoughts solidified into conviction.


    "I can tell," he began, voice steadier now, "by a person¡¯s posture, their face, their emotions, their eye movement, the way they breathe, the way they stand. I can tell, with at least 90% certainty, what kind of person they are. And I knew¡ªI knew¡ªif I didn¡¯t act first, someone far worse would have."


    His gaze locked onto Daokan¡¯s, unwavering now. "I don¡¯t make a habit of justifying myself. But if you¡¯re going to judge me, then judge me for what I do, not just what I am."


    Daokan remained silent for a moment, then leaned slightly forward. "How many slaves have you freed?"


    Atlas didn¡¯t flinch. "Thirty-six."


    "Why did Meyu stay?"


    Atlas inhaled through his nose, then exhaled. "Because she chose to. I never forced her to stay, never asked her to repay me. Some people just... don''t have anywhere else to go."


    Daokan¡¯s gaze remained sharp. "And yet, you only save a select few. Why not all?"


    Atlas scoffed. "Because I¡¯m not a saint. Because I don¡¯t have infinite wealth or infinite patience. Because some of them deserve to be there." His voice hardened. "I¡¯ve met criminals hiding behind chains, conmen who sold their own families, thieves who ruin honest men, traitors who burned their own people for gold. And I¡¯ve met innocents, people thrown into a system they never deserved to be in. But I can¡¯t save them all. I don¡¯t have the luxury of blind kindness, only calculated mercy."


    The room was heavy with silence.


    Layla shifted, crossing her arms before hesitating. "May I break the silence Master? Just for a second?"


    Daokan gave a slight nod, allowing it.


    She turned her gaze to Atlas, her expression unreadable. "I have a proper question for you. No tricks, no over the top facial, no buttery words, just an honest answer." She leaned forward. "If you were king, what would you do?"


    Atlas blinked. His usual smirk faltered just slightly. For the first time in this entire exchange, he wasn¡¯t thinking in calculated steps¡ªwasn¡¯t formulating an escape or a counter.


    He thought about it. And then, sincerely, he spoke.


    "If I were king¡­ I¡¯d do what I always do. Weigh the cost of every decision, cut away what doesn¡¯t work, and make sure the people who can stand on their own do so while protecting those who can¡¯t. I wouldn¡¯t try to be a hero. I wouldn¡¯t try to be loved. I¡¯d try to make things work."


    Layla studied him, her expression unreadable.


    Atlas let out a breath, shaking his head. "I¡¯m not a king, Meilin I¡¯m a merchant. I deal in exchanges, not miracles. But if I had power? Real power? Then I¡¯d make damn sure no one had to rely on luck just to survive." For a moment, his words lingered in the air, but in his mind, they carried him elsewhere¡ªfar from the Dynasty of Jin, far from this room, back to Europe, back to a life he had buried beneath every calculated step he took.


    He remembered the streets he grew up on, the cold that seeped into his bones no matter how many layers he wore. The sound of his mother¡¯s coughing in the night, worsening with every passing week. His father¡¯s desperate attempts to keep their small business afloat, only to be crushed beneath the weight of taxes and ruthless competitors who played dirtier than they ever could. He remembered the empty pantry, the days of hunger, the cold realization that no one was coming to save them.


    And then he remembered the moment he understood.


    The world didn¡¯t reward kindness. It didn¡¯t punish cruelty. It moved forward, indifferent, uncaring. Survival wasn¡¯t about being good¡ªit was about being smart. And so, Atlas became smart. He learned to negotiate before he learned to trust. He learned to read people before he let them read him. And when the chance came to leave it all behind, to start over in a new foreign country, the Jin Dynasty with nothing but his wits and ambition, he took it. He learned the language painstakingly. Didn''t matter if he was met with eyes that disapprove of him. He relied on his own hardwork.


    Because luck had failed him once.


    And he swore it would never control his life again.


    Master Daokan, arms folded, exhaled slowly, his expression still unreadable. "You speak with conviction, Atlas Ryland. But words are easy. Let''s see proof of your skill."


    Master Daokan remained silent for a beat, then slowly, deliberately, raised the stakes. "And since you seem so confident, let¡¯s make it more interesting. Analyse not just anyone¡ªbut the one currently holding your life. The masseuse"


    Atlas¡¯s entire thought process came to a screeching halt.


    Externally, his face did not change.


    Internally? He''s screwed.


    His mind scrambled at light speed. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Was Daokan trying to see if he¡¯d break under pressure? Because if so, he was absolutely succeeding. Analysing someone under normal conditions was one thing, but analysing the person who had a literal needle pressed to his neck? That was an entirely new level of madness.


    Externally, his face remained a picture of iron-willed confidence, not a single muscle betraying the internal panic setting in. His years of experience told him one undeniable truth¡ªif he refused, it would only confirm Daokan¡¯s doubts.


    "Yes," he said, far too quickly, his mouth working ahead of his brain.


    Silence followed. Then, slowly, almost eerily, every single person in the room¡ªLayla, her parents, Jiang, Bao, Yan, Meyu, and all the disciples¡ªturned their heads toward Atlas in perfect unison, as if they shared the same exact thought.


    Ah, that face again.


    Atlas¡¯s expression was a masterpiece of forced composure¡ªa face that had weathered countless negotiations, tricked warlords, charmed nobles, and convinced even the most skeptical merchants to part with their gold. His brows held the perfect arch of feigned confidence, his lips barely curving in what could be mistaken for a smirk but was, in truth, the face of a man rapidly running calculations in his head.


    His eyes, however, were betraying him just slightly¡ªa flicker of desperation, of a man who knew he had been thrown into deep waters without knowing how to swim. His jaw tensed just enough to reveal the silent suffering of someone who was about to do the most dangerous thing he had ever done: improvise.


    The result? A face that was both unreadable and comically obvious at the same time.

 Manipulation and Tomfoolery

    Atlas Ryland had faced lords, nobles, warlords, conmen, slavers, and bureaucrats armed with nothing but his wit and a dangerously sharp tongue. But right now, at this precise moment, he was experiencing something far worse than all of them combined.


    A needle at his neck.


    His body remained still, but his mind was a lightning storm of deductions, processing everything in less than ten seconds.


    First: Hands.


    Soft, yet firm. Calluses¡ªsubtle, precise. The kind formed by wielding weapons, not scrubbing floors.


    Grip? Perfectly measured. No wasted tension. She wasn¡¯t restraining him; she was controlling him.


    The needles? Balanced. Unshaken. This was someone who didn¡¯t just handle weapons¡ªshe mastered them.


    ¡®She¡¯s not a servant. She¡¯s a warrior who could gut me before I even think of screaming.¡¯


    Second: Breath.


    Silent. Controlled. Not a hint of exertion. Qi discipline most likely.


    No fluctuation, no tell-tale heartbeat spike. No anger, no hesitation.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t instinct. This is refined, ruthless training.¡¯


    Third: Chest.


    Atlas, as a dedicated observer, took stock of the proportions with professional curiosity.


    Tightly wrapped beneath martial robes but shape and size was noticeable. Maybe like a peach. No shift, no movement¡ªshe wasn¡¯t just controlling her breath. She was controlling her body.


    ¡®Qi suppression. The same kind used by grandmasters.¡¯


    Atlas internally sighed. ¡®Fantastic. I¡¯m pinned by a legend-in-the-making.¡¯


    Fourth: Posture & Strength.


    Feet planted with intent. Even weight distribution¡ªdefensive and offensive in equal measure.


    No slouch, no wavering.


    The stance? The exact same as Daokan.


    Atlas¡¯ stomach dropped slightly. ¡®Oh. Oh no. She¡¯s someone important.¡¯


    Fifth: The Needle.


    Not poisoned. If it were, he¡¯d smell the chemicals.


    Not shaking. If it were meant to kill, it would¡¯ve already punctured skin.


    ¡®This isn¡¯t a threat. It¡¯s a statement. I am in her mercy.¡¯


    Atlas sighed dramatically, finally speaking. "Not that I don¡¯t enjoy a woman¡¯s hands on me, but usually I prefer dinner first."


    A sharp exhale came from infront of him¡ªMeyu. Atlas, ever attuned to his surroundings, didn¡¯t need to look to know she had stiffened. A fraction too long before she folded her arms, eyes narrowing.


    ''Oh? Interesting.''


    She masked it quickly, but not quickly enough. The barely audible click of her tongue, the shift in weight from one foot to another¡ªMeyu wasn¡¯t pleased. Not furious, not jealous in the overt sense, but there was something. A subtle irritation, the kind a person had when they didn¡¯t understand why they were irritated.


    Atlas almost smirked. Almost.


    No response. Unshaken.


    Sixth: Tone of Voice.


    When she finally spoke, it was calm, deliberate, and practiced.


    ¡°You talk too much.¡±


    No venom, no emotion. Just control.


    Atlas¡¯ brain clicked into place like a puzzle snapping shut.


    ¡®Daughter of Daokan. Has to be¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t a guess. It was the only logical answer.


    His smirk returned. ¡°You don¡¯t like my voice? Tragic. Women usually fall for it.¡±


    Her grip tightened.


    Got her.


    Seventh: Instinctive Response.


    When he spoke, her fingers twitched. Just slightly.


    Unconscious reaction. Meaning not completely emotionless.


    Meaning vulnerable to manipulation.


    Atlas leaned ever so slightly into the needle, feeling her hand react again¡ªadjusting before he could even fully shift. Perfect reaction speed. ¡®She¡¯s as fast as top cultivators, but she¡¯s unknown to the world. That means she¡¯s a hidden ace.¡¯


    And all of this? Less than thirty seconds.


    Most of that time was wasted waiting for her to speak. The deductions? They had already been completed within the first fifteen.


    His grin deepened, slow and deliberate, stretching with devilish amusement. It was the kind of grin that belonged to a man who had just solved the puzzle before anyone even realized there was one. A grin eerily reminiscent of a trickster who had already won the game.


    Layla and Master Daokan both watched this unfold, their expressions unreadable¡ªuntil their inner thoughts, in perfect sync, betrayed them.


    ''I want to punch this guy.''


    ¡°Tell me,¡± he murmured, voice silk-soft and cunning, ¡°Are you the strong, silent type because it¡¯s your style? Or because it¡¯s expected of you?¡±


    A fraction of a second. A tiny flicker of her fingers.


    Atlas exhaled through his nose, as if bored, and leaned back slightly, his eyes sweeping across the room before locking onto Meilin and Daokan. "Alright, let''s make this easy for everyone."


    He raised a single finger, twirling it lazily. "She¡¯s not a servant. That much is obvious. Hands too refined, yet too calloused in all the right places. That means she¡¯s trained¡ªtrained well. Probably from birth."


    His eyes flicked toward the needle still pressed against his neck, and he smirked. "Breath control? Impeccable. Not just calm¡ªcontrolled. No wasted energy, no unnecessary movements. That¡¯s high-level Qi suppression. You don¡¯t learn that from carrying trays of tea and scrubbing floors."


    Atlas tapped his forehead. "Posture¡¯s the giveaway, though. Balanced. Offensive stance, but weight distributed for absolute control. The only other person that could move like that? A Grandmaster threatening me and unless you¡¯ve got an entire army of that''s tucked away in the sea of the servants, you would be able to conquer the world but this with all the other reason I said earlier makes her special."


    His grin widened as he gestured toward Daokan. "Special, and conveniently very close to you. That¡¯s the kicker, isn¡¯t it? You don¡¯t let just anyone train at that level. That¡¯s blood. That¡¯s legacy. That¡¯s¡ª"


    He tilted his head dramatically, ignoring the increased pressure on the needle as if it were no more than a mosquito bite. "Master Daokan¡¯s own daughter."


    Silence.


    Daokan¡¯s expression remained unreadable, but the tension in the air said enough. Layla blinked, then scowled. Jiang furrowed his brows, looking between Atlas and Daokan as if trying to find the lie. Bao outright snorted, shaking his head. Even Meyu¡ªwho had seen Atlas work miracles before¡ªcrossed her arms and whispered to Yuxe, "No way. He¡¯s bluffing."


    Layla exhaled sharply again, rubbing her forehead. I swear to the heavens, this man was put on this earth just to be insufferable. Even she found herself doubting him. Could he really have deduced all that in seconds? No, it wasn¡¯t possible¡­ was it?


    Daokan remained eerily still, but his eyes had narrowed just slightly. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table, a silent cadence of suppressed thought. And the woman with the needle? Still unmoving. Still unreadable. But Atlas knew. He saw it¡ªthe tiniest, almost imperceptible flicker in her stance.


    Atlas chuckled. "Oh, you¡¯re good. Really good. But see, the thing about being me is¡­ I only need one reaction. And I already got it, from both father and daughter I might add."


    He let his grin widen, letting it morph into something downright wicked. Then, without breaking eye contact with Daokan, he exhaled dramatically. "And you, Master Daokan... that fury earlier? That wasn¡¯t just because of the child slave. No, that anger runs deeper."


    Daokan¡¯s fingers halted mid-tap.


    Atlas tilted his head. "It¡¯s personal, isn¡¯t it? That unshakable fury when I mentioned the girl¡¯s fate? That¡¯s not righteous indignation. That¡¯s pain. Because you once almost lost someone the same way. Someone very close to you. Someone¡ª"


    The needle sank into his skin just enough to draw a bead of blood.


    Atlas, despite himself, grinned even wider. His voice dropped to a near whisper, eyes glinting like a devil who had just won his game.


    "I¡¯m right, aren¡¯t I?"


    The masseuse¡¯s grip tightened, her fingers pressing into his skin with barely concealed irritation. "You are infuriating," she hissed, finally breaking her silence. The weight of her frustration bore down on him, but he only chuckled.


    Master Daokan exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a brief moment as if contemplating whether it was worth the effort to deny it. When he opened them again, his gaze was sharp and unwavering. "Yes," he said at last. "She is my daughter."


    The room froze.


    Jiang¡¯s mouth slightly parted, his usually impassive face betraying a flicker of shock. Bao let out an incredulous huff, shaking his head. Meyu stared, blinking in disbelief. Even Layla, who had been prepared for some level of absurdity, felt her mind momentarily stall.


    He was right?


    Layla exhaled, her fingers instinctively rubbing her temples realising that Atlas was dangerous. More dangerous than any rulers, armies, warrior she had ever faced.


    Not because he was the strongest. Not because he wielded some ancient technique. No, his power lay in his ability to see through people, to unravel their very being with nothing but words and intuition. He was a weapon disguised as a man, cutting deeper than any blade ever could.


    If he had been in her past life¡ªwhen she had worn the crown, ruled from the gilded throne, played the great game of politics¡ªwhat would she have done? If she had encountered him not as a merchant, but as a rival noble, an enemy warlord, or even a mere advisor with nothing but ambition in his veins?


    Would she have been able to stop him?


    Her mind ran the scenarios: If he had commanded even a minor town, would she have been able to crush him? No, he would have thrived, manipulating every lord and general under her rule. If he had been among her courtiers, she would never have been able to fully trust him¡ªbecause he saw too much.


    And if he had been an enemy?


    Layla felt a chill crawl down her spine.


    She had fought wars before, but against men of brute strength, against warriors whose rage could be countered with calculation. If Atlas had led an army against her in her past life, she wasn¡¯t sure she would have won. No, worse¡ªshe wasn¡¯t sure she would have even seen him coming.


    It wasn¡¯t about brute strength, nor was it about power in the conventional sense. No, what made Atlas terrifying was his ability to break them down, piece by piece, and rearrange them into something more useful for his game.


    The masseuse¡ªno, Daokan¡¯s daughter¡ªreleased Atlas, her movements controlled, but her annoyance was clear. With a sharp motion, she reached up and pulled away the thin veil covering her face, revealing sharp, refined features that bore a striking resemblance to Master Daokan.


    "I am Shen Xue of the Daokan lineage," she stated, her voice crisp, proud, and laced with residual irritation.


    "And you, merchant, are far too perceptive for your own good."


    Atlas barely flinched as a warm cloth dabbed at his neck, absorbing the thin trail of blood trickling from where the needle had pierced skin. The servant tending to him moved with careful precision, as if afraid that one wrong move might set off something¡ªhim, Shen Xue, or perhaps the tense silence still weighing on the room.


    But Atlas? He simply watched Shen Xue with a lopsided smirk, as if the moment had already passed, as if her attack had been nothing more than an amusing game to him. The sharp amusement in his gaze, however, didn¡¯t quite hide the depth of his scrutiny.


    ¡°I imagine this is the part where I apologize,¡± he mused, tilting his head slightly to give the servant better access.


    ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s the part where I grovel for forgiveness? You seem the type to appreciate proper decorum. Maybe I should offer my hand or better my head just because I was right and you took offense to it¡±


    Shen Xue remained still, arms crossed, gaze clearly annoyed. Atlas chuckled, low and knowing.


    ¡°But I won¡¯t. Because I¡¯m not sorry.¡±


    Layla¡¯s eyes narrowed. She wasn¡¯t sure what irritated her more¡ªthe sheer audacity of his words or the undeniable truth buried beneath them. Atlas never did anything without reason, and she had no doubt he had one now. The room waited for him to elaborate, even Daokan watching with an expression carved from stone.


    Atlas exhaled through his nose, his amusement tempering into something sharper, something edged with reality.


    ¡°I survive in this world because I see things for what they are. Because I don¡¯t walk into a room blind and hope for the best. That¡¯s how you die, and I rather enjoy living.¡±


    He let the words settle before continuing, voice softer now, but no less dangerous.


    ¡°You call me perceptive like it¡¯s a flaw. Like knowing the truth, finding the cracks, and pulling them apart is some kind of sin.¡±


    He met Shen Xue¡¯s gaze directly, unflinching.


    ¡°But that¡¯s how I stay alive. That¡¯s how I win. This world isn¡¯t kind¡ªit¡¯s cruel, it¡¯s ruthless, and it will chew up anyone too blind to see the knife at their throat before it¡¯s too late.¡±


    Layla found herself gripping her arms tighter, nails digging into fabric. Because she couldn¡¯t deny it. She didn¡¯t want to agree with him, didn¡¯t want to acknowledge that his methods¡ªhis frustrating, insufferable, almost supernatural ability to dissect people in an instant¡ªwere necessary.


    And yet, wasn¡¯t it the truth?


    She had doubted him. When he made that deduction, she had refused to believe he could piece it together in seconds. She had thought, No, it¡¯s not possible. But it was. And if she had been in his place, would she have done the same?


    No.


    The answer chilled her more than anything.


    Atlas had seen what no one else did. Not her, not Daokan, not Meyu. He had done it in mere moments, with nothing but instinct, wit, and sheer audacity.


    And now, a horrifying thought took root in her mind¡ªone she couldn¡¯t shake, no matter how much she wanted to.


    If Atlas had been part of the Lotus Sect, if he had been at their side when they faced Shen Mu¡ªthe warlord who brought the sect to its knees¡ªwould he have been able to outmaneuver him? Would he have been able to predict every move, every possibility, dismantle his forces, and unravel him before he even realized he lost or dead even?Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Would Atlas have been able to defeat Shen Mu without losing a single drop of blood?


    Layla felt something uneasy settle in her chest. Because for the first time, she couldn¡¯t confidently answer no.


    Master Daokan¡¯s voice broke the silence. ¡°And what will you do with the child?¡±


    Atlas glanced at him, tilting his head.


    ¡°What will I do? The same thing I¡¯d do for any child. I¡¯ll care for her. Feed her. Give her a place where she isn¡¯t just another broken tool.¡±


    His smirk wavered, though his voice remained steady.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be teaching her Qi¡ªnot because I don¡¯t want to, but because I don¡¯t even know how. And frankly, it''s too much of a headache.¡±


    He leaned back, his expression momentarily distant, as if recalling something long buried.


    ¡°They were powerless. Useless, by most accounts. But they were the slaves I freed and I never expected anything from them except to be themselves.¡±


    His gaze returned to Daokan, sharp yet honest.


    ¡°That¡¯s how I¡¯ll treat her. She¡¯s not a weapon, not an asset. She¡¯ll have her freedom, and if one day she decides she wants to leave to me, she¡¯ll walk away without chains.¡±


    Before anyone could respond, Lin Wuye cleared his throat.


    ¡°Perhaps we should focus on why the child is in such a state in the first place.¡±


    Master Daokan nodded, his expression with sadness.


    ¡°I went out earlier to see her with the physician. The child is malnourished, but worse¡ªher body bears the scars of forced cultivation. She has over fifty bruises, some fresh, others layered over older wounds. Someone has been pushing her beyond her limits, draining her potential far too early. She wakes up in a panic, barely sleeps, and struggles to speak.¡±


    A heavy silence fell over the room. Atlas¡¯s jaw tightened, but his outward expression remained neutral.


    But beneath his words, a storm brewed in his chest. Someone had done this to her. Someone had turned a child into a husk, covered in bruises¡ªtoo many to count. Her arms, her back, her legs¡ªeach a road map of cruelty. And she flinched at the smallest movement. Not just pain. Fear. A fear ingrained deep, one that couldn¡¯t be erased overnight. Atlas smiled, but inside, his mind was already turning, already planning.


    Someone had done this. And someone was going to pay. ¡°She deserves better.¡± His voice was quieter now, but firm.


    Daokan met his gaze. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled.¡±


    Layla took a deep breath. ¡°And what about the supplies for my sect? We need food, clothing, necessities. The situation is dire.¡±


    Daokan nodded. ¡°The hardships you faced in the main city¡ªI will handle it. By tomorrow, when you leave the sect, you and your people will receive more than adequate treatment from all the merchants. No more scorn, no more denial. I will see to it personally.¡±


    Layla studied him carefully before exhaling. ¡°Good. That¡¯s a start.¡±


    Daokan then turned towards Layla. ¡°And as for you, I have a proposal.¡±


    Layla crossed her arms. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°Atlas will act as the Silver Lotus Sect¡¯s personal merchant. In return, you will have access to fair profits and protection under our name should Atlas failed at his role.¡±


    Layla grinned. ¡°Oh?¡±


    Before Atlas could open his mouth, Daokan smoothly turned to him. ¡°And you, Atlas, will ensure the smooth execution of this arrangement.¡±


    Atlas blinked. ¡°Wait, hold on a second. I was going to negotiate my own¡ª¡±


    Daokan¡¯s smile was polite, almost pleasant. ¡°Ah, yes, about that. I assume you still want that audience with the Emperor? You remember, of course, your little... pleads at the gate earlier?¡±


    Atlas stiffened, his mind flashing back to the embarrassing spectacle he had caused just hours before. He coughed, then immediately straightened, expression shifting into exaggerated enthusiasm.


    ¡°Master Daokan, my dearest, wisest, most generous master,¡± Atlas beamed, clasping his hands together in exaggerated reverence.


    ¡°It would be the honour of my life to serve the esteemed Silver Lotus Sect. Why, it is practically my destiny to ensure the sect thrives through my impeccable business acumen! Truly, this is a blessing upon me!¡±


    Layla stared. ¡°That was fast.¡±


    Atlas sighed dramatically. ¡°A man must know when he is in the presence of greatness. And who am I to argue with fate?¡±


    He placed a hand on his chest, feigning sincerity. ¡°Consider me your most loyal servant, bound by duty, honor, and a totally not-forced contract.¡±


    Layla sighed. ¡°Fine. But if he overcharges us, I swear¡ª¡±


    Atlas clapped his hands together. ¡°Overcharge? Me? Perish the thought, dear Meilin! Why, I will ensure the finest deals, the most competitive prices¡ªnay, I will bring prosperity the likes of which your sect has never seen! The name Atlas Ryland shall be sung in your halls for generations to come!¡±


    Layla groaned, rubbing her temples. ¡°This is going to be a nightmare.¡±


    Atlas winked. ¡°Think of it as a learning opportunity.¡±


    Layla shot him a glare. ¡°I¡¯d rather think of it as torture.¡±


    Daokan ignored them both. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled.¡±


    Atlas gave an exaggerated bow. ¡°Your faith in me shall not be misplaced, O mighty Master Daokan. From this day forth, I dedicate my unparalleled skills to the Silver Lotus Sect. And if there¡¯s ever a moment where my brilliance falters¡ª¡± he placed a dramatic hand over his heart, ¡°¡ªmay the heavens strike me down where I stand.¡±


    Layla kicked his shin.


    Atlas yelped, hopping on one foot. ¡°Treachery! Betrayal! Meilin, you promised to kill me later, not cripple me now!¡±


    Layla simply amused and said in the same tone as Atlas,


    ''''This was for using my pathetic little shivering body as you said. I am nothing-nay-a fragile girl like you put it''''


    Daokan simply sighed. ¡°Get to work.¡±


    At his command, a pair of servants quickly entered the room, one carrying a stack of parchment and a fine quill, while another unrolled an inkstone with practiced efficiency. The terms and conditions of Atlas¡¯s newfound servitude¡ªahem, partnership¡ªwere written down immediately.


    Another wave of attendants followed, this time bearing additional platters of food, their warm aroma filling the chamber. Bowls of steamed rice, fragrant roasted duck, and fresh vegetables were set on the table, a gesture of hospitality to their guests. The tension that had once clouded the room slowly began to ease into something more manageable.


    Meyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed as she observed the scene. ¡°Well, this is an improvement,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°At least no one is threatening to stab each other anymore. A marked success, really.¡±


    Layla, rubbing her hands, huffed. ¡°It¡¯s only temporary.¡±


    Atlas, seated at the table, looked as though he were preparing for his own funeral. He picked up the quill and added minor details to the contract with all the enthusiasm of a man sentenced to death. Master Daokan read his minor details and simply allowed it. Atlas expresses his tragedy as he stared down at the contract.


    ¡°Oh, what cruel fate is this,¡± he lamented. ¡°To bind a free spirit such as myself to parchment and ink! Is there no mercy in this world?¡±


    ¡°Sign it, Atlas,¡± Daokan said dryly.


    Atlas let out a long, exaggerated sigh and dramatically dipped the quill into the ink. ¡°If I must,¡± he muttered, dragging out the moment as if each stroke of the quill drained his very soul. With a final flourish, he signed his name, then leaned back in his chair with an expression so deeply sorrowful one might have thought he had just signed away his firstborn child.


    Meyu chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen someone look so miserable about making money.¡±


    Atlas gave her a betrayed look. ¡°It¡¯s not about the money, Meyu. It¡¯s about the principle.¡±


    He placed a dramatic hand over his heart.


    ¡°I am a man of dignity, of freedom! And now? A mere merchant! A peddler of wares! I weep for the loss of my untamed spirit.¡±


    Layla snorted. ¡°You were a merchant before this.¡±


    Atlas gasped. ¡°Meilin, please. At least let me have my moment of grief.¡±


    Daokan, entirely unfazed, simply took the parchment and began reviewing it.


    ¡°With the support of Shrouded Peaks, this agreement will be reinforced, ensuring smooth trade routes and secured passage for our goods,¡± he remarked, nodding in approval.


    ¡°It is done.¡±


    Atlas slumped against the table. ¡°It is done,¡± he echoed dramatically, staring forlornly at the ceiling. ¡°And thus, Atlas Ryland, once a noble free-roaming spirit, is now shackled to the ruthless world of commerce.¡±


    Meyu smirked. ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy watching you suffer.¡±


    As the food was set before them, each person took a moment to savor the sight and aroma. Layla idly tapped her fingers against the table, eyeing the roasted duck before finally relenting and serving herself a portion.


    ¡°At least the food is good,¡± she admitted begrudgingly.


    Meyu smirked. ¡°Good? This is some of the finest cuisine I¡¯ve seen in months.¡± She took a bite of the braised vegetables, humming in satisfaction.


    ¡°I¡¯d almost forgive the fact that this meal comes with an unbearable amount of Atlas¡¯ whining.¡±


    Atlas, still dramatically slumped, peeked up from the table. ¡°And yet, here I sit, a man betrayed, my soul withering under the weight of my unjust servitude. Not even the finest roast can soothe my aching heart.¡±


    Yan Shuren, ever composed, inclined his head politely. "May I join you?"


    Daokan gestured toward the open seats.


    "Please, I told you many times you don''t need to ask. You''re practically like my son"


    The daughter of Daokan, Shen Xue, had already begun to eat, carefully picking at her food with precise movements. She turned toward Yan Shuren with mild curiosity.


    "You don¡¯t strike me as someone who indulges in large meals," she remarked.


    Yan gave a small, knowing smile. "It is rare, but even I must eat. Besides, good company makes for better digestion."


    Shen Xue nodded, acknowledging the remark as she took another bite. One of the attendants poured warm tea for the guests, the fragrant steam curling gently in the air.


    Layla took a sip, sighing as the warmth spread through her. ¡°Well, at least tea''s good.¡±


    Bao, let out a satisfied groan. "This... this is heaven. I never want to leave."


    Jiang, ever composed, took a measured bite of his meal and gave a slow nod.


    "The balance of flavors is impeccable. Even the texture is perfectly crafted. I can see why this sect values its hospitality."


    Bao waved a lazy hand. "You talk too much. Just eat and be happy." He stuffed another piece of duck into his mouth, chewing with a look of pure euphoria.


    Meilin¡¯s parents exchanged glances before her father let out a pleased hum. ¡°I must admit, the seasoning is perfect. Whoever prepared this understands balance well.¡±


    Her mother nodded, delicately picking at her food. ¡°It reminds me of my home cooking, yet more refined. A meal crafted with care.¡±


    Yan Shuren, hearing this, gave a respectful nod. ¡°The sect prides itself on hospitality. It is good to know our efforts are appreciated.¡±


    Meilin¡¯s father chuckled. ¡°Hospitality is one thing. This, however, is beyond that. This is excellence.¡±


    --


    Meanwhile, in another chamber, a beautiful servant carefully adjusted the blanket over the child¡¯s frail form as the physician examined her once more. The girl stirred slightly but did not wake.


    ¡°She¡¯s still weak,¡± the physician murmured, running a practiced hand over the child¡¯s bruised skin. ¡°Whoever did this pushed her far beyond her limits.¡±


    The servant nodded, her gaze soft with sympathy. ¡°Will she recover?¡±


    The physician hesitated. ¡°Physically, perhaps. But the trauma¡­ that will take time.¡± He dipped a cloth into a bowl of herbal-infused water and gently dabbed at the child¡¯s wrist. ¡°She barely speaks, barely reacts. She flinches at the smallest touch.¡±


    The servant sighed, adjusting the girl¡¯s pillow with careful hands. ¡°She deserves kindness. I hope she finds it here.¡±


    The physician glanced toward the door, as if considering something. He exhaled through his nose, skepticism written all over his face. "With that merchant taking her in... perhaps she will¡ªthough I do wonder if handing a traumatized child over to a snarky merchant with the face of a devil is truly the wisest course of action."


    The servant stifled a laugh, but quickly composed herself. "He does have a certain... flair for dramatics."


    The physician nodded solemnly. "Indeed. I can already imagine him corrupting her with his theatrics and nonsense."


    The servant tilted her head.


    "True, but... are we really going to let him raise a child? I mean, he¡¯s dramatic, snarky, and half the time I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s a genius or an idiot."


    The physician groaned, rubbing his temples.


    "Exactly. He looks like a villain in one of those old fables. What if she ends up just as dramatic? What if she starts throwing her arms in the air and making grand speeches about the tragedy of commerce?"


    The servant stifled a laugh. "Honestly, I¡¯d pay to see that."


    The physician shook his head.


    "We should just take her in ourselves. At least then, she wouldn¡¯t be subjected to whatever Atlas-style parenting looks like."


    The servant sighed, adjusting the girl¡¯s blanket.


    "Well, it¡¯s not up to us, is it? Though... if it all goes terribly wrong, we can always rescue her later."


    The physician groaned, rubbing his temples. "Yes, yes, and the heavens help us all for it."


    As if on cue, a group of maids entered the room carrying additional trays, their presence momentarily diverting the tension. They moved gracefully, bowing respectfully to the physician before setting down a fresh round of medicinal herbs and warm broth for the child.


    One of the maids, bowed deeply before speaking. "Physician Ming, we have prepared everything as requested."


    Ming nodded, though his gaze flicked momentarily to her. "Thank you" "Could you adjust her head, I wouldn''t want her to choke"


    The servant who was attending the child Xian Yue turned to adjust the child¡¯s blanket once more, her movements precise and delicate. Yet, as she worked, the physician¡¯s mind wandered back to the absurdity of the situation.


    "I still can¡¯t believe it," he muttered under his breath.


    "That devil-faced merchant? Raising a child? I half expect her to start grinning like him within a week."


    Xian Yue smirked. "That would be a sight. The poor girl, doomed to an eternity of exaggerated flair and dramatic sighs."


    The physician sighed heavily. "We should just take her in. It¡¯s not too late, you know. We could make it look like an accident."


    Xian Yue tapped her chin thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes.


    "Perhaps... I should seduce Master Daokan and persuade him to let us take the child instead."


    Physician Ming nearly choked on his own breath, coughing as he gave her a wide-eyed stare. "Excuse me?"


    She shrugged. "What? He respects me, doesn¡¯t he? Maybe a little charm, a few well-placed words, and he¡¯ll reconsider."


    Physician Ming rubbed his forehead. "You want to seduce the most disciplined man in the sect just to stop him from raising this child?"


    Xian Yue folded her arms. "Well, do you have a better idea? Because if we don¡¯t do something, that poor girl will be reciting soliloquies about merchant sorrows by the end of the month."


    The physician sighed in exasperation. "Maybe we should just beg instead. A good, old-fashioned plea for mercy. Less risk, less embarrassment, and no potential sect scandal."


    Xian Yue scoffed. "Where¡¯s the fun in that?"


    Before the physician could respond, the doors to the chamber slid open, and a young disciple stepped inside with a composed demeanor, his movements measured and precise. Xian Yue immediately bowed in respect. "Disciple Ren," she greeted, straightening before stepping aside to allow him the floor.


    Ren returned the bow with a polite nod before turning his attention to the physician. His expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes. He took a slow breath, as if gathering his thoughts, before finally speaking. "Physician Ming, I bring news from the grand hall."


    The disciple said, clearing his throat, "I just came from the grand hall, where this Atlas is... well, being Atlas."


    Xian Yue arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what grand spectacle has he managed to pull off this time? The gate theatrics rumours was already outlandish enough"


    Ren sighed. "Aside from his usual excessive dramatics, let¡¯s see¡ªhe nearly knocked over an entire tray of tea trying to make a grand proclamation, attempted to toast himself with a goblet of water, and somehow convinced Bao to carry him around the hall on a chair like some kind of emperor."


    Physician Ming pinched the bridge of his nose.


    "And this is the man Master Daokan allows to behave this way?"


    Ren opened his mouth, hesitated, then sighed. "Master Daokan doesn''t just allow it... he''s laughing too."


    Xian Yue blinked. "You mean to tell me that the man who holds the weight of the sect on his shoulders is just letting Atlas do all this?"


    Ren sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not just letting it happen¡ªhe''s laughing not only that but Lady Shen who had been quietly observing, looked utterly dumbfounded. Her father¡ªMaster Daokan, the man known for his stoicism and discipline¡ªwas laughing. It was a sight no one in the sect had ever witnessed, and she wasn¡¯t entirely sure she believed it herself all the while, Yan Shuren, seated beside Daokan, had his face turned slightly away, shoulders trembling as he barely held back his own laughter. His composed demeanor was cracking, betraying just how amusing he found the situation.


    Ren rubbed his temples. "Not only that, but Silver Lotus Leader Lin Wuye and Lady Meilin are practically begging Master Daokan not to kill anyone over Atlas¡¯ antics. All the while Lady Meilin is running around like a frantic mother trying to catch Bao, who is currently parading Atlas around the hall on a chair like some kind of deranged emperor."


    Xian Yue raised an eyebrow. "So, it''s like watching a mother wrangle two overgrown children?"


    Ren nodded solemnly. "Exactly. One is Atlas, the other is his newly converted disciple, Bao, who has decided that listening to Atlas'' nonsense is his new life purpose. Lady Meilin, poor soul, is stuck trying to keep them both in check. It''s like a battle of wills, and she''s losing."


    Physician Ming groaned, rubbing his temples as he tried to process everything. "That fool merchant is spreading his madness to the entire sect. How does someone like him, a mere merchant, manage to pull all of this off against a Qi Master?"


    Xian Yue scoffed, though even she was struggling to keep a straight face.


    "Of course, he lands on his feet. The real issue is that he takes everyone down with him while somehow staying upright. I swear, at this rate, he''ll be running the sect before we even realize what happened."


    The disciple shook his head, clearly exasperated.


    "If that¡¯s the case, then the heavens truly have abandoned us."


    Meanwhile, back in the grand hall, chaos had fully erupted. Servants scurried about in sheer panic, desperately trying to salvage what little order remained. One unfortunate attendant yelped as Atlas, still being paraded around by Bao, nearly kicked over a meticulously arranged centerpiece of delicate porcelain cups.


    A couple of servants and disciples were now frantically chasing after Bao and Atlas, their eyes wide with sheer panic as they desperately tried to keep anything in their path from being shattered. One servant yelped, diving just in time to save a priceless vase from toppling over, while another flailed hopelessly in an attempt to block Bao from knocking into a fragile tea set.


    "Stop! STOP! Don¡¯t let him touch anything!" one of the disciples shrieked, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to intercept the chaotic duo.


    Bao, grinning ear to ear, effortlessly dodged the scrambling figures. "Fear not! Our great merchant-king shall be carried with honor!"


    Atlas, perched regally on his chair-throne, waved dramatically to the imaginary crowd. "Yes, yes, let the people witness my ascent! A leader must be seen, after all!"


    Bao, carrying Atlas like he''s some king, "I am merely helping our great merchant-king bask in his glory!" he declared, adjusting his grip on the chair as Atlas struck a noble pose.


    "Meilin, please! Let me have this!" Atlas called out dramatically, raising his arms as if addressing a grand audience. "The people need a leader! And if I must bear this burden, so be it!"


    "You''re a merchant, not a monarch!" Layla snapped, dodging a wayward plate flung in the commotion. She turned sharply toward Jiang, who was quietly observing the madness while methodically enjoying his food. "Are you just going to sit there and eat while this happens?"


    Jiang took another bite and nodded. "Yes."


    Jiang then rubbed his forehead, muttering, "I have seen warzones with less destruction."


    Daokan, still seated at the head of the table, threw his head back and laughed heartily, a rare and almost unsettling sound that echoed through the hall. "Now this is entertainment!" he declared, clearly enjoying the spectacle far more than he should.


    "Atlas, you truly know how to liven up a gathering! Keep going, let¡¯s see where this madness leads!" Beside him, Yan Shuren had turned away, shoulders shaking as he struggled to maintain his usual air of composure.


    Shen Xue, staring at her father, was visibly shaken. "He¡¯s laughing," she muttered to herself, eyes wide.


    "Father doesn¡¯t laugh. Father doesn¡¯t smirk."


    Lin Wuye, meanwhile, was caught between trying to appeal to Daokan¡¯s sense of reason and maintaining what dignity is left. "Master Daokan, I implore you, please stop this before it becomes even more embarrassing."


    Daokan waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, let them have their fun. It''s been a while since the sect had such... vibrant energy."


    Lin Wuye groaned. "This isn¡¯t vibrant energy, this is a disaster!"


    "Tomato, tomahto," Atlas quipped from atop his impromptu throne.


    "BAO, DROP HIM!" Layla shouted.


    Meyu burst into laughter, her usually composed demeanor breaking entirely as she clutched her stomach. "I... I can''t! This is the most ridiculous thing I''ve ever seen!"


    Yuxe Wuye, usually a pillar of grace, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, her shoulders trembling as she tried and failed to suppress her laughter. "You know, I always thought the sect would meet its downfall in a great battle. Turns out, it might just be Atlas and his chaos instead."


    Meyu leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you think Meilin even has a plan, or is she just running on pure desperation at this point?"


    Yuxe Wuye smirked. "Desperation. Absolute, motherly desperation. It''s like watching someone try to herd two overgrown toddlers with too much energy."


    Layla, overhearing them, whirled around with wide, furious eyes. "IF YOU''RE NOT GOING TO HELP, STOP COMMENTATING!"


    Meyu waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, come on, you¡¯ve got this! We believe in you!" she called, doing absolutely nothing to assist.


    Yuxe Wuye nodded sagely. "Yes, think of this as training for when you have actual children. Consider it an invaluable life lesson."


    Layla let out an exasperated scream.


    "I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND!"


    Meanwhile, Jiang, ever composed, took another bite of his food, savoring the rich flavors and drinking the warmth of the tea as he stretched his legs against the heated floors. The contrast between his serene enjoyment and the absolute chaos around him was almost poetic.


    Just as he lifted his cup for another sip, Bao¡ªwith Atlas still perched upon his impromptu throne¡ªleapt over a row of cushions in a dramatic flourish. Layla lunged in pursuit, arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to catch them. Without so much as a glance, Jiang leaned slightly to the left, effortlessly dodging the airborne trio as they crashed past him.


    He took another sip of tea, exhaled slowly, and muttered, "This is nice''''

 Fight in the Dark

    A Punishment of Night and Senses


    Master Daokan sighed, standing effortlessly as if the weight of the sect rested on his shoulders yet burdened him none. In mere seconds, with a single, commanding movement, made everyone running around sat down and with a glance, he silenced the entire room. A force of authority radiated from him, so absolute that even Atlas and Bao, usually the biggest instigators of chaos, straightened like scolded children. The room froze.


    "Enough," Daokan¡¯s voice was soft, yet it carried an unmistakable edge. "You will all be silent."


    And just like that, they were.


    Even Atlas, always prepared with a snarky remark, found himself instinctively lowering his head. Bao, who had been halfway to a nervous chuckle, swallowed it immediately.


    Then, as if his instincts were impossible to suppress, Atlas performed an immediate dogeza¡ªbut, in true Atlas fashion, his form was completely wrong. His face pressed to the floor, but his rear was comically high in the air.


    The reaction was immediate.


    Master Daokan twitched. His smirk disappeared, replaced with sheer irritation.


    The ladies in the room, however, found the sight quite amusing. Shen Xue smirked, Meyu snorted softly, and Layla, despite her deep frustration, barely held back a chuckle. Even Yuxe Wuye raised an eyebrow, hiding the smallest hint of amusement behind her sleeve.


    Daokan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Atlas, lower your ass."


    Atlas, still face-down, wiggled slightly in confusion. "Lower it more, Master? I am already expressing my utmost humility¡ª"


    "NOW."


    Atlas flinched and flattened immediately.


    Master Daokan exhaled slowly before sweeping his gaze across the entire group. "This disaster was not caused by Atlas alone. Each and every one of you contributed to this absurdity." His eyes gleamed with amusement and authority alike. "So, you all will face punishment."


    As if on cue, the entire room turned and glared at Atlas.


    Atlas, whose face was still pressed to the floor, could feel the heat of their stares.


    "Why do I feel like I am being singled out?" he muttered, his voice muffled against the ground.


    "Because you are." Layla deadpanned.


    All eyes were glaring daggers at Atlas.


    Atlas, ever the shameless survivor, casually ducked behind Bao, peeking over his shoulder like a child hiding behind a guardian. Bao, the ever-loyal, instinctively stepped forward, crossing his arms in a protective stance.


    "We all know who''s at fault here," Layla said, voice dangerously low, her hands clenched into fists.


    Atlas, feigning complete innocence, peeked out. "Fault? My dear Meilin, I am but a humble merchant caught in a series of unfortunate events!"


    "You incited a coup in Master''s sect within hours of arriving," she deadpanned, eyes burning with anger.


    Before Bao could even attempt a defense, Meyu stepped in, her maternal instincts triggered beyond reason. Without hesitation, she placed both hands on Atlas'' shoulders and shoved him forward.


    It was almost cartoonish, his feet skidding across the floor as he tried to resist. "Meyu! My most trusted companion! Betrayal!"


    "Accept your punishment like a man." Meyu huffed, dusting off her hands, looking completely unbothered.


    Atlas barely caught his balance before turning back to Bao for support. "Brother Bao, surely you¡ª"


    Bao scooted a single step away.


    Atlas blinked. "Et tu, Bao?"


    "Sorry, brother, but..." Bao glanced at Layla, whose face now radiated pure murderous intent. "I value my life."


    Layla exhaled sharply, cracking her knuckles. "I was supposed to leave for Silver Lotus today. Now, thanks to you, I am stuck here playing along with your stupidity!"


    "Oh come now," Atlas grinned, recovering swiftly, "think of it as an extended diplomatic mission!"


    "I think of it as a prolonged nightmare."


    "Tomato, tomahto."


    Before Layla could launch herself at him, Master Daokan chuckled.


    "That¡¯s enough." His voice was calm, but the weight behind it silenced the room immediately. "Since you all have such boundless energy, I¡¯ve decided on your punishment."


    The disciples straightened, wariness creeping into their stances.


    Daokan leaned forward, his smirk widening. "The sun has set. We will train until the middle of the night."


    Atlas blinked, tilting his head like a confused puppy. "I¡¯m sorry, I must have misheard. You said¡ªno, surely not. My ears must be playing tricks on me. Did you say a delightful evening feast? Perhaps a restful meditation session?"


    "Until the middle of the night, yes." Master Daokan''s smirk widened ever so slightly, clearly enjoying the suffering about to unfold.


    Before Atlas could properly process his impending doom, Meyu smacked the back of his head with a sharp thwap, her expression exasperated. "Stop looking for an escape, you brought this on yourself."


    "Ow!" Atlas rubbed his head, pouting. "I¡¯m just a humble merchant caught in a terrible injustice!"


    Layla ignored his whining, arms crossed. "Fine. What exactly are we doing, Master?"


    Daokan¡¯s smirk remained as he folded his arms. "We will train in complete darkness. You will rely on your other senses¡ªsound, touch, movement. A warrior who depends only on sight is a warrior who will not survive."


    A murmur of excitement rippled through the group. Jiang nodded approvingly, Bao grinned in anticipation, and even Shen Xue¡¯s eyes gleamed with interest.


    All except Atlas, who groaned dramatically. "Fantastic. My two greatest strengths: running and talking, utterly useless."


    A collective groan rose from the Silver Lotus group hearing this.


    "Consider this a lesson." Daokan stood, the authority in his posture commanding their silence. "Even when blinded, you must acknowledge your senses. In true battle, sight alone will betray you."


    Before anyone could react, Daokan vanished. Or rather, that¡¯s what it looked like. A faint blur, an afterimage of where he had been, lingered for the briefest moment before Atlas let out a startled yelp. Daokan¡¯s hand was already resting on his shoulder.


    Atlas stiffened, eyes wide. "By the heavens¡ª"


    Daokan smirked. "Even those with little Qi, if they harness enough strength and awareness, can take down a master." He removed his hand and stepped back just as effortlessly, as if the movement had been no more difficult than a stroll.


    "Power alone is meaningless if you don¡¯t know how to use it."


    "You will each face one of my best." His smirk returned. "Let¡¯s see how much you can rely on instinct alone."


    Daokan: "Meilin, you will fight Yan Shuren."


    Yan Shuren frowned. "Master, this isn''t fair¡ª"


    Daokan raised a hand. "It¡¯s not about fairness. Make her stronger, not shatter her."


    Yan sighed, giving Layla a look of mild concern. "Understood."


    Daokan: I will fight against Lin Wuye and Jiang. I hope you put up a good fight


    Lin Wuye looked at Jiang then look at Daokan: Master with all due respect, isn''t it unfair to you?''''


    Daokan simply answered with a sense of wisdom: ''''In war, use whatever tactics to win. You will face me, the both of you.''''


    Daokan then turned to Shen Xue and Atlas.


    Daokan: "As for this match..." He glanced at his daughter, his smirk widening. "Whatever she wants."


    Shen Xue cracked her knuckles, her eyes gleaming with dangerous intent.


    Atlas took a step back. "Ahaha, Shen Xue, my dearest friend, esteemed warrior of Shrouded Peaks! Before we engage in such unnecessary violence, allow me to offer my sincerest apologies for any perceived slights. In fact, I propose an alternative¡ªhow about I gracefully concede this match? Yes! A surrender! Think of the efficiency! We avoid the hassle of bruises, broken bones, and shattered pride¡ªmostly mine, of course."


    Shen Xue remained silent, gripping her knuckles with a slow, deliberate motion.


    Atlas gulped. "Or perhaps a compromise? I stand still, you lightly tap me, and we call it a day? I swear on my finest silk robes that I¡ª"


    Shen Xue¡¯s grip tightened around Atlas¡¯ shoulder, her fingers digging in just enough to send a clear message.


    Atlas stiffened. "Oh, delightful! A firm yet gentle touch! I appreciate the attention, but if we could perhaps¡ª"


    His eyes darted toward Meyu, silently pleading for salvation.


    Meyu, arms crossed, simply gave him the look of ¡®Good luck¡¯ before turning away.


    Atlas gulped. "Meyu, my dearest, most treasured ally, please don¡¯t abandon me in my hour of need!"


    Shen Xue¡¯s grip only grew firmer as she leaned in ever so slightly. "Oh, I¡¯ll decide how this goes."


    Atlas sighed dramatically, already resigned to his fate. "Very well, but please¡ªgo easy on my beautiful face. If it gets ruined, the world loses a piece of art."


    The servants guided the group toward the training ground, their lanterns flickering in the night. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of impending battle settling over them.


    As they reached the open clearing, Master Daokan turned to Layla and Yan Shuren. "Step forward. Choose a weapon."


    Layla ran her fingers over the selection of wooden weapons, eyes lingering on the spear. It was the easiest choice¡ªnot just in this life, but in her past one as well.


    Yan Shuren watched her quietly as she picked it up, twirling it in her grip. "A spear?"


    She smirked. "Old habits."


    Master Daokan gave a nod of approval. "A wise choice. Now, let¡¯s begin."


    The servants extinguished the lanterns, plunging the training ground into near darkness. The only illumination came from the moon above, casting long shadows over the two warriors.


    Layla shifted into position, spear tip hovering just above the ground. Yan Shuren mirrored her stance, his wooden sword held at the ready.


    Then, they moved.


    Layla lunged first, thrusting her spear forward in a precise motion. Yan twisted at the last moment, sidestepping the attack with fluid grace before retaliating with a downward slash. Layla barely managed to shift her grip, redirecting his strike with the shaft of her spear, the wood vibrating from the force of impact.


    Yan advanced, his footwork impeccable as he closed the distance between them. Layla spun her spear, using its extended reach to force him back, each movement flowing effortlessly into the next. Their weapons clashed again, the resounding crack of wood echoing through the clearing.


    Yan¡¯s sword came sweeping low, aiming for her legs. Layla leapt back, landing lightly on the balls of her feet. She took a breath, analyzing his stance¡ªhe was holding back.


    She narrowed her eyes. "You¡¯re going easy on me."


    Yan tilted his head. "I was told to make you stronger, not break you."


    "Then stop treating me like glass."


    The moment the words left her lips, the fight changed.


    Yan Shuren vanished. Or at least, that¡¯s how it felt. His movements were so fast, it was as if he cast two shadows, each shifting in opposite directions, distorting Layla¡¯s senses.


    She swung her spear instinctively, but she was already too late.


    A single blow struck her midsection¡ªa mere fraction of his true strength, no more than 1/10th of his power.


    Yet it felt like a hammer had slammed into her.


    Layla¡¯s body lifted off the ground, sent hurtling through the air before she crashed into the stone wall behind her with a sickening thud. Dust and debris scattered around her as she slumped to her knees, blood trickling from her forehead.


    Pain flared through her body, her vision swimming for a moment. But she refused to fall.


    With a trembling arm, she wiped the blood from her brow and forced herself to stand. Her legs screamed in protest, but she planted her feet firmly against the ground, spear still in hand.


    Yan Shuren watched her, his expression unreadable. "You¡¯re still standing?"


    Layla spat to the side, her breath ragged but steady. "Damn right, I am."


    Atlas had seen many fights before¡ªbar brawls, street duels, even the occasional tournament matches. But this? This was something else entirely.


    Layla looked like a beginner. Her speed is slow, no overwhelming strength¡ªonly her intelligence. And intelligence alone wouldn¡¯t save her here.


    Yan Shuren moved with the efficiency of someone who had done this countless times. His wooden sword wasn¡¯t just a training weapon in his hands¡ªit was a tool of precision. Every strike was measured, every movement deliberate. Layla, for all her effort, was barely keeping up.


    Lin Wuye stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, eyes keenly following the fight. He could see it clearly¡ªthe vast gulf between them. Yan wasn¡¯t just stronger; he was faster, sharper. Layla could think through strategies, but against an opponent of this calliber, she had no time to apply them. This wasn¡¯t about winning. It was about survival.


    Layla gritted her teeth and lunged, her wooden spear stabbing forward in a desperate attempt to push Yan back. It was predictable. Yan sidestepped effortlessly and countered with a downward strike. Layla barely raised her spear in time, the impact sending painful vibrations up her arms.


    Atlas winced. That was just a wooden sword, yet it looked like she had been struck by a hammer. If Yan had been using even a fraction more force, she would have been on the ground already.


    Another exchange. Another devastating impact. Lin Wuye kept his eyes on Yan¡¯s form, noting the precision of each movement. Yan was holding back¡ªsignificantly so. His strikes were just enough to push Layla, to force her body to learn, to make her instincts sharpen. This wasn¡¯t a fight. This was a lesson.


    Master Daokan¡¯s brows furrowed slightly from where he stood, observing. He had seen this before. The tree Layla struck days ago¡ªits inner roots blackened, the decay slow yet inevitable. Now, here it was again. Her spear trembled in her grip, the shift almost imperceptible. He remained silent, watching closely.


    Yan swung again, his wooden sword a blur in the darkness. Layla raised her spear to block, expecting the same jarring pain to shoot through her arms.


    But something changed.


    The moment her spear met his strike, a faint tremor ran along the wood. Yan¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the shift. The force of his blow seemed to dissipate, the impact duller than before. He stepped back, studying her carefully, something gnawing at the back of his mind. Something was wrong with the wood¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t tell what.


    Layla didn¡¯t notice. She was too focused on staying upright, too lost in the battle to realize what had begun to take root. The manifestation of her qi, slow and unseen¡ªlike the creeping decay beneath a tree¡¯s bark, waiting for the right moment to spread.


    Then, she moved.


    She knew she should stop. She should listen. Her body was pitiful, her qi reserves even worse. She wasn¡¯t strong, she wasn¡¯t fast, and she had already overstepped her limits. But that part of her¡ªthe part that refused to bow, the part that clawed and bled and fought even when it was hopeless¡ªwouldn¡¯t let her yield. She had been a queen once, and even then, she never stopped trying.


    Fueled by nothing but adrenaline, Layla threw herself forward, spear striking in rapid succession. Her body was battered, bruised, but she ignored it. The pain was secondary. She had to keep going. Had to try.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Yan deflected her strikes with ease. Every hit she took sent her skidding back, her limbs screaming in protest, but she came back like a ghost¡ªrelentless, ceaseless, refusing to stay down.


    Layla¡¯s breaths grew heavier. Her vision blurred at the edges, a sickening heat rising in her chest. Her Qi was pushing too hard, burning through her reserves at a dangerous rate. Her body wasn¡¯t ready for this. She could feel it creeping through her veins, poisoning her from the inside out.


    She was losing. But she wouldn¡¯t stop.


    Yan parried another strike, his expression unreadable. He saw it now¡ªthe reckless overexertion, the way her movements were becoming erratic. This wasn¡¯t just determination. This was desperation.


    Then, it happened.


    The Qi poison hit her like a truck, her body freezing mid-strike as an unbearable wave of nausea and pain consumed her. Her breath hitched, her vision flickered, and her legs buckled beneath her. But before she could collapse, Yan¡¯s final strike landed.


    His wooden sword crashed against her, sending her hurtling through the air. She slammed into a stone pillar, the impact cracking it, dust and debris scattering in all directions.


    A deafening silence followed.


    Before Layla could hit the ground, Shen moved. In a blur of motion, matching Yan¡¯s speed, she caught Layla just before impact, cradling her limp form with surprising gentleness. Without hesitation, she rushed toward Master Daokan, her expression unreadable, but the urgency in her movements unmistakable.


    Yan¡¯s grip on his sword faltered as he turned to watch. He felt it¡ªa slow, creeping sensation. He looked down.


    The wood of his sword had begun to blacken.


    Eyes widening, he instantly let go, the weapon dropping to the ground with a dull thud. His fingers tingled, a faint numbness creeping through them.


    Master Daokan stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Now, you see it. The decay."


    Yan stared at the sword, then at Layla, realization dawning on him. "What¡­ is this?"


    Master Daokan¡¯s gaze remained on Layla as Shen laid her down before him. Before he could begin, Lin Wuye stepped forward, his face set in a deep frown. "What is happening to her?" His voice was tense, edged with something between concern and demand.


    Master Daokan exhaled slowly. "Her Qi doesn¡¯t attack instantly. It lingers, spreads, rots from within. And right now¡ªshe is completely consumed by it. If I do not intervene now, it will consume her entirely."


    Lin Wuye''s fists clenched at his sides. "That is my daughter¡¯s body. I demand answers, Master Daokan. What is happening to Meilin?"


    Within Layla¡¯s consciousness, darkness swirled. She could feel it¡ªthe strange, foreign qi that wasn¡¯t hers. It moved, pulsed, whispered in the void. A voice, vague and distant, called to her, its presence both haunting and familiar.


    "You are not from here," it murmured.


    Layla hesitated. "Who are you?"


    "A presence," it whispered. "A truth hidden beneath your own."


    Layla¡¯s breath caught. "You¡­ you know who I am?" The figure''s fingers trailed along Layla¡¯s essence, a figure so dark it is devoid of anything, making her shudder.


    "Oh, I know much more than that¡­"


    The voice chuckled. "I know you were a ruler. I know you held power. And I know you thought your Qi was ordinary. But it isn¡¯t, is it?"


    Layla shivered. "What do you want?"


    "Oh, don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t reveal you¡¯re a fake. You adapted well, for being a fraud. You led a battle to victory when the Silver Lotus should have lost. You defeated Shen Mu¡ªthough only by luck, and Master Daokan¡¯s intervention. But you did it, Layla. Or should I say¡­ the ruler of Eternal Crescent, Queen Layla al-Zahira."


    Layla¡¯s breath hitched. The darkness curled around her, the figure¡¯s presence suffocating yet eerily intimate.


    "Who¡­ what are you?" she whispered, her voice trembling.


    The figure chuckled softly, fingers tracing an unseen path along Layla¡¯s very essence. "Names are trivial, fleeting. I am what lingers. What festers. What watches. And you¡­ you are far more interesting than I anticipated." Layla shuddered, unable to move, her consciousness seemingly suspended in this abyss.


    "What do you want from me?"


    The figure tilted its head, considering her. "Want? Oh, Layla, this isn¡¯t about what I want. This is about what you are becoming. A queen once more? A warrior? Or just another lost soul grasping for purpose?"


    Layla clenched her fists. "I am not lost."


    "Aren¡¯t you? You wear another¡¯s face, live another¡¯s life, yet your heart still beats to the rhythm of a fallen throne. How long will you pretend, Layla? How long before they see you for what you are?"


    The words cut deep. Layla recoiled, but the figure only drew closer, its touch grazing the edges of her soul, a suffocating weight pressing down.


    "Enough!"


    Layla forced the word out, her very being shaking. "Leave me be!"


    The figure sighed, amused yet indulgent. "Very well. For now. But know this¡ªI am watching. And one day, you will have no choice but to let me in."


    As the figure withdrew, its presence dissipating like mist, Layla gasped for air, though none truly existed in this realm. Darkness faded, and slowly, painfully, she felt herself slipping away¡­


    ¡ª


    Master Daokan exhaled, his palms hovering above Layla¡¯s chest as the last of his Qi sealed the raging storm within her. The glow around her flickered before settling into an uneasy stillness.


    He pulled away, sweat lining his brow. "She is stable for now."


    Lin Wuye watched intently, arms crossed, but there was no mistaking the concern in his gaze.


    "She needs proper care. We should send her to the physician immediately."


    Master Daokan nodded and motioned to the waiting servants. "Take her to the physician¡¯s quarters. See that she is treated well."


    As they carefully lifted Layla¡¯s unconscious form, Master Daokan lingered, eyes narrowed in thought. He had felt it¡ªsomething beyond the decay, beyond the poison corrupting her Qi.


    Something had touched her soul.


    And whatever it was¡­ it had not let go.


    Master Daokan exhaled sharply and turned toward Yan, his expression shifting from grave contemplation to mild irritation. With a swift movement, he flicked his knuckles against Yan¡¯s forehead.


    "Ow!" Yan rubbed the sore spot, scowling. "What was that for?!"


    "That," Master Daokan said dryly, "was for going too hard on her. What were you trying to do? Kill her?" His voice carried a hint of amusement despite his serious tone.


    Yan huffed, crossing his arms. "She kept getting up. It¡¯s not my fault she doesn¡¯t know when to quit."


    Master Daokan smirked. "And now she doesn¡¯t have a choice in the matter, does she?" He shook his head before lowering his voice.


    "Take that rotted wooden sword and bring it to my informants. I need to know what this corruption truly is."


    Yan blinked at the sudden shift in tone but nodded, picking up the blackened weapon carefully. As he did, Master Daokan leaned in slightly, his voice a near whisper. "And keep your ears open about Meilin. Something about her disturbance does not sit right with me. Not a word of this to anyone else."


    Yan¡¯s eyes darkened slightly, but he gave a firm nod before stepping away.


    Master Daokan straightened, rolling his shoulders before addressing the rest of the gathered warriors.


    "Enough stalling! The fight resumes! This time¡­" His lips curled into a knowing smile.


    "It will be me against both Jiang and Lin Wuye. Let¡¯s see if either of you are up to the challenge."


    He raised a hand before they could prepare. "I will handicap myself¡ªI will not use a weapon." His gaze swept over them as Jiang and Lin Wuye exchanged looks before picking up their wooden weapons of choice.


    Without another word, the battle began.


    The air cracked with force as Jiang lunged forward, swinging his wooden staff with precision, only for Master Daokan to sidestep effortlessly. Lin Wuye followed, his wooden sword striking at an angle meant to catch the master off guard, but Daokan twisted, ducking beneath the blow with unnerving ease.


    Their strikes were precise, fast, deadly even for wooden weapons¡ªbut Master Daokan moved as though he had all the time in the world. Not a single wasted motion, not a single step out of place.


    Jiang was the first to falter. His breath labored, his form a fraction too slow. A single, open-palmed strike from Daokan sent him reeling, his body launching across the courtyard. The impact against the stone pillar was deafening, and Jiang crumpled to the ground, momentarily stunned.


    Lin Wuye gritted his teeth, adjusting his stance. He knew better than to hesitate.


    Their exchange resumed, but it was clear to all who watched¡ªMaster Daokan¡¯s strength was overwhelming. His strikes weren¡¯t just powerful, they were precise, aimed at openings that barely existed. He controlled the rhythm, dictating every move, forcing Lin Wuye to react rather than act.


    The fight was dazzling. Blows clashed like thunder, their movements a blur, but no one¡ªno matter how skilled¡ªcould keep up with Master Daokan.


    And it was only a matter of time before Lin Wuye realized it too.


    Jiang groaned, shaking his head as he pushed himself up. Unlike Layla, there was no blood dripping from his lips¡ªonly the bruising ache spreading across his back. He clenched his fists, exhaling sharply, then darted forward once more, his movements sharper, quicker. If he couldn¡¯t match Master Daokan alone, then he would have to match Lin Wuye¡¯s pace instead.


    "Don¡¯t fall behind." Jiang muttered under his breath as he reached Lin Wuye¡¯s side, his stance shifting, ready to move in sync.


    Lin Wuye spared him a quick glance but gave a small nod. "Then keep up."


    From Lin Wuye¡¯s perspective, the battle had become a war of survival. Master Daokan wasn¡¯t just fast¡ªhe was absurdly strong. Each blow Lin Wuye managed to parry sent jarring force through his arms, his bones rattling as if he had just stopped the charge of an enraged war elephant. And this was Master Daokan holding back.


    Lin Wuye gritted his teeth, adjusting his footwork. He needed to shift the flow of battle. His mind raced, recalling the techniques drilled into him back at the Silver Lotus Sect. Their style wasn¡¯t about brute force¡ªit was about speed, precision, and control over the winds themselves.


    He inhaled deeply. The air around him shifted.


    Master Daokan¡¯s eyes flickered with interest as Lin Wuye¡¯s wooden sword became a blur, his movements suddenly weightless, as if carried by the breeze.


    "Ah," Daokan mused, dodging a swift strike, "now you¡¯re getting serious."


    Lin Wuye¡¯s steps became sharper, more precise. He activated the Steps of the Gale, a technique of 30 intricate steps. Even a single step placed immense strain on the body, draining Qi at an alarming rate if one''s Qi wasn''t trained.


    Step One: Whispering Breeze. Lin Wuye¡¯s movements became elusive, his body gliding like a wisp of air. His first strike came from an angle too difficult to read, but Daokan deflected it effortlessly.


    Step Two: Rushing Wind. His speed doubled, his sword now a blur of motion. The air howled as his attacks became relentless, each strike hammering down like a windstorm.


    Step Three: Gale¡¯s Kiss. The pressure of his attacks became suffocating, his strikes forming shockwaves that pushed Daokan back an inch¡ªyet still, the master remained unshaken.


    Step Four: Roaring Tempest. Lin Wuye¡¯s muscles screamed in protest, his veins burning with exertion as the wind spiralled violently around him. Each slash was no longer just a strike¡ªit was a force of nature.


    Step Five: Cyclone¡¯s Wrath. His sword no longer just moved through the air¡ªit commanded it. The air pressure twisted violently, forming visible arcs of wind that lashed out at Daokan, forcing him to take his first defensive step.


    Step Six: Tornado¡¯s Edge. The very ground beneath him cracked from the sheer force of his movements. Each step threatened to break his body apart, yet he pushed forward, his qi burning away at an alarming rate.


    Step Seven: Heaven¡¯s Howl. The final step Lin Wuye could manage at the time. He had use until step 15th against the fight with Shen Mu. A single strike of Heaven''s Howl could tear through anything in its path. The moment he swung, the very air itself seemed to be sliced open, creating a vacuum that threatened to consume everything before it.


    Jiang, watching in awe, clenched his fists. He couldn¡¯t let Lin Wuye stand alone.


    Digging deep into his reserves, he activated the technique as well.


    Step One: Whispering Breeze. His stance shifted, his movements becoming light and untouchable.


    Step Two: Rushing Wind. He accelerated, syncing with Lin Wuye, his strikes a dance of precision. But Jiang¡¯s body lacked Lin¡¯s reserves¡ªhe had only enough Qi to sustain this. Jiang could go until step seven but it would mean sacrificing his body functionality for one strike.


    Atlas, watching from the sidelines, was in full panic mode. "Oh no¡ªNO¡ªNOT AGAIN!" The gust of wind blasted into him with the force of a typhoon. His pants, already suffering from the previous impact, were finally ripped clean off.


    "WHY ME?!" Atlas wailed, frantically trying to cover himself as his undergarments fluttered dangerously in the breeze.


    Meyu, quick on her feet, lunged forward and held up a cloth, covering him just in time. "For the love of the heavens, Atlas, how do you always end up like this?!"


    Atlas, still clutching the remnants of his dignity, groaned. "Why does every fight in this place personally attack me?!"


    Master Daokan continued deflecting Lin Wuye¡¯s seventh step with minimal effort, his expression calm. "You, when you fought Shen Mu, how many steps did you use?" he asked, his voice steady. "I know this isn¡¯t all you¡¯re capable of."


    Lin Wuye exhaled sharply, keeping his stance firm. "I reached the 25th step," he admitted. "I never used it. That step is meant to sacrifice my entire body for one strike. I almost considered it when Shen Mu became a berserker filled with negative Qi."


    Master Daokan gave a small nod, acknowledging his efforts. "Impressive. But technique alone will never be enough. Let me show you why."


    He raised his hands slightly, his stance shifting. "This is my own creation¡ªThe Shrouded Peaks Technique." He took a deep breath, and the air around him seemed to compress, all oxygen seemingly sucked away. The pressure was suffocating, and the wind techniques Lin and Jiang had conjured dissipated like mist before an oncoming storm. The ground trembled, cracks forming beneath his feet.


    First Strike: Sundering Summit. He thrust his palm forward, the force of the strike splitting the air. Even the mountains in the far distance seemed to shudder.


    Lin Wuye and Jiang had no time to react. Their bodies instinctively reinforced themselves with Qi, their weapons raised in a desperate defense. The impact was immediate¡ªan overwhelming force that sent them both flying, smashing through the grand hall¡¯s solid wooden layers. Beams shattered, debris rained down, and by the time they landed, both were unconscious.


    A figure stepped forward¡ªShen again. Kneeling beside them, she placed her hands on their foreheads, channeling her Qi into their cores. Moments later, Lin Wuye and Jiang stirred, groggy but awake.


    Shen studied them, a smirk playing on her lips. "You two are strong. Worthy of learning even more."


    Lin Wuye remained silent, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. Had it finally come to this? Was it time to abandon his pacifist nature?


    Jiang, noticing his hesitation, turned to him.


    "Don¡¯t forget," he said firmly.


    "Meilin¡ªshe stood against Shen Mu. You nearly lost her. If you hesitate again, what will happen next time?"


    Master Daokan dusted off his robes and turned to the gathered crowd. "Next fight: Bao versus Ren."


    Atlas, now clad in fresh robes from the servants, groaned as he adjusted his clothes. "Great. A fair fight for once." Then, realizing he still had to fight Shen Xue, he gulped and muttered,


    "Maybe I can negotiate again..."


    Atlas took a deep breath, straightened his freshly donned robes, and approached Shen Xue with what he hoped was a confident stride. He cleared his throat, then placed a hand over his heart, flashing a diplomatic¡ªalbeit slightly desperate¡ªsmile.


    "Shen Xue, my dear, formidable, and incredibly wise opponent," Atlas began, choosing his words carefully. "Surely, in the grand scheme of martial arts, our battle is but a minor skirmish, a tiny ripple in the vast ocean of combat. Would it not be more beneficial for both of us to resolve this with words rather than fists?"


    Shen Xue folded her arms, unimpressed. "You tried this last time. It didn''t work."


    Atlas sighed. "True, but consider this! In a world brimming with conflict, must we always default to violence? Perhaps a gentleman¡¯s agreement, a pact of mutual benefit¡ª"


    "Atlas."


    "Yes?"


    "If you don¡¯t fight me, I¡¯ll fight you anyway."


    Atlas''s hopeful grin wavered. "Right. Just thought I''d check."


    Shen Xue raised an eyebrow. "You''re not getting out of this."


    Atlas groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, okay, but what if¡ªand hear me out¡ªwe stage the fight? You hit me, I dramatically fall over, everyone gasps, and we call it a day?"


    Shen Xue stared at him, deadpan.


    "No."


    Atlas threw his hands up. "What if I bribe you?"


    "No."


    "An all-expenses-paid meal at the finest restaurant in the city?"


    "Still no."


    Atlas crossed his arms and pouted. "You drive a hard bargain, Shen."


    She smirked. "I don''t negotiate."


    Before Atlas could attempt another desperate ploy, Master Daokan called out, "Bao versus Ren, step forward."


    Atlas nearly collapsed in relief as the attention shifted away from him. He scurried back to the sidelines, whispering to himself,


    "Another day, another chance to negotiate."


    Bao stepped into the ring, his eyes locked onto Ren. The two warriors faced each other in silence, the tension between them almost tangible.


    Bao inhaled deeply, centering himself. Unlike Lin Wuye or Jiang, his body lacked their hardened physique, but his Qi reserves ran deep. If nothing else, he could sustain his techniques longer than most.


    With a single step, he launched into the first technique of the Silver Lotus Sect¡ª"Whispering Breeze." His body glided like a wisp of air, his movements elusive and unreadable as his fist cut toward Ren.


    Ren didn¡¯t move. At the last possible moment, he tilted his head slightly, letting the strike pass by harmlessly.


    Bao wasted no time, shifting into "Rushing Wind." His speed doubled, his fists blurring into a near-invisible flurry of strikes. The air howled as his attacks rained down in relentless succession.


    Ren finally responded, weaving effortlessly between Bao¡¯s strikes. He parried a punch with the back of his hand, then stepped forward, pressing into Bao¡¯s space. His movements were frustratingly simple¡ªdirect, efficient¡ªbut they carried the weight of complete mastery.


    Bao grit his teeth and pushed forward. His Qi surged, allowing him to maintain his technique longer than most, but it also made him reckless. He struck out again, but Ren anticipated it, stepping just out of reach before slamming a palm into Bao¡¯s chest.


    Bao stumbled, his breath hitching from the force. But he refused to fall.


    "Again," Bao muttered, resetting his stance.


    Ren smirked. "You¡¯re persistent."


    Bao launched forward, his movements smoother, more refined, as he maintained "Whispering Breeze" and "Rushing Wind" simultaneously. He was fast¡ªfaster than he had ever been before. And for the first time, Ren had to block rather than evade.


    Bao saw his opening. He twisted, driving his fist toward Ren¡¯s ribs.


    It landed.


    Ren took a single step back, a faint look of approval in his eyes.


    But in the next breath, he struck back. His fist drove into Bao¡¯s stomach with the force of a collapsing mountain. The air in Bao¡¯s lungs vanished instantly. He barely registered the pain before his vision blurred, his body sent flying across the arena.


    He crashed hard, coughing violently as his limbs refused to obey him. Ren exhaled, stepping back calmly.


    Shen watched intently. "Ren isn¡¯t just strong. He¡¯s terrifying."


    Bao groaned, pushing himself up from the ground, his body screaming in protest. His limbs trembled, and his breath came in ragged gasps, but he refused to surrender. His Qi was still surging within him, and that meant he could still fight.


    Master Daokan watched from the sidelines, his sharp eyes analyzing every movement. "He''s pushing his body past the limits," he murmured, his voice unreadable.


    "His body is weaker than the others, but his qi reserves are immense. If he can maintain control, he might still turn this around."


    Beside him, Shen smirked. "He''s got heart, I''ll give him that. But Ren isn¡¯t the kind of opponent who¡¯ll let him push forward much longer."


    Yue Wuye, standing with her arms crossed, observed quietly. "Even so, he''s forcing Ren to work harder than expected. That alone is impressive."


    Bao steadied his stance, inhaling deeply. The pain dulled under the sheer force of his will, and he launched forward again, his form shifting back into "Whispering Breeze." His movements became unpredictable, his strikes weaving through the air like the wind itself.


    Ren exhaled, mildly irritated now. "You don¡¯t know when to stay down, do you?"


    Bao ignored him, pouring his energy into "Rushing Wind." His speed spiked again, his strikes blurring into a tempest. He weaved and lashed out, forcing Ren onto the defensive for the first time in the match.


    Master Daokan¡¯s eyes flickered with interest. "He¡¯s adapting. His instincts are getting sharper.''''


    Ren clicked his tongue, stepping back, dodging each strike with ease¡ªbut there was a subtle shift in his stance, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.


    Bao saw it.


    Seizing the moment, Bao pivoted and twisted his entire body into a single, explosive punch. His fist connected squarely with Ren¡¯s jaw, sending a shockwave rippling through the air.


    Master Daokan¡¯s brows lifted ever so slightly. "He landed a clean hit.''''


    Ren staggered back a step, touching his chin. He blinked once, then frowned. "That... actually hurt."


    Bao exhaled sharply, his entire body burning with exhaustion, but he stood firm.


    "I¡¯m not done yet."


    Ren rolled his shoulders, his irritation now palpable. "Alright. I¡¯ve humoured you enough."


    Master Daokan¡¯s gaze darkened. "Now comes the real test."


    Ren shifted his weight, his posture subtly changing. Before Bao could react, Ren moved¡ªtoo fast for the eye to follow. One instant he was standing still, the next, his fist buried deep into Bao¡¯s abdomen.


    Bao¡¯s breath caught, his vision flashing white as pain exploded through his body. But something instinctive took over. His hand shot out, grabbing Ren¡¯s wrist just as the force sent him staggering back.


    A surge of power ignited in his core.


    Master Daokan¡¯s eyes widened slightly. "Oh...?"


    Bao felt it¡ªthe third step.


    "Gale¡¯s Kiss."The air around them howled as Bao¡¯s qi flared wildly, reinforcing his battered body. Pain flooded his limbs, his muscles screaming in protest, but his qi absorbed the damage, allowing him to move again.


    Ren¡¯s expression darkened. "You¡¯re still standing?"


    Bao didn¡¯t answer. His fists clenched, the wind roaring around him. He dashed forward, faster than before, his strikes sharper, deadlier.


    Master Daokan nodded approvingly. "He¡¯s enduring it... but for how long?"


    Ren let out a slow breath, his stance shifting. Then, with no hesitation, he surged forward, intercepting Bao¡¯s next strike. The impact sent a gust of wind through the arena, but this time, Ren didn''t give an inch. He countered immediately, twisting Bao¡¯s arm and slamming a knee into his ribs. Bao gasped, but instead of collapsing, he forced himself through the pain, retaliating with a wild, sweeping kick. Ren sidestepped cleanly, bringing his elbow down on Bao¡¯s shoulder with brutal precision.


    Shen clicked her tongue. "He¡¯s done."


    Yue Wuye sighed. "He lasted longer than I expected. But Ren is still the better fighter."


    Bao¡¯s vision swam. His body, already battered, finally betrayed him. He dropped to one knee, struggling to stay upright, but Ren was already preparing the finishing blow.


    A final strike landed cleanly against Bao¡¯s chest, sending him sprawling across the floor.


    Master Daokan exhaled. "It¡¯s over."


    Ren stepped back, rolling his shoulders. "You put up a good fight," he admitted.


    Bao lay on the ground, chest heaving, his Qi finally spent.


    Shen smirked. "Not bad, kid. Maybe next time."


    Yan Shuren, returning from sending Layla to the physician, frowned as he saw another battered-up child. He turned to Master Daokan.


    "Why didn¡¯t you punish Ren for making a kid pass out?"


    Master Daokan remained calm, his gaze unwavering. "Because the lesson wasn¡¯t just for Bao. Strength isn¡¯t just about enduring¡ªit¡¯s about understanding limits. If Ren had held back, Bao would never know how far he still has to go. A true warrior must experience hardship to grow."


    He glanced toward the ring where the remnants of the battle still lingered. "Unlike your fight with Meilin, which was frankly one-sided and you making Meilin like a bouncing ball leaving many holes in the main compound, Bao and Ren were almost equals. Their battle was a true test, not just of power but of adaptation and endurance. If I punished Ren for this, I would be undermining the very lesson Bao needed to learn."


    He turned toward a nearby servant and spoke in a low but firm voice. "Take Bao to the physician. Make sure he¡¯s well cared for."


    The servant nodded, swiftly carrying out the order. Meanwhile, the rest of the fighters¡ªLin Wuye, Jiang, Layla all bandaged up and Yan Shuren¡ªreturned, taking their places among the spectators. The air was thick with anticipation, but no one was more confused than Atlas, who had been subtly edging his way toward the exit.


    Then, with a slight smirk¡ªsomething rare for him¡ªMaster Daokan clapped his hands together, drawing everyone''s attention. "And now, the final match of the day."


    Atlas froze mid-step. "Wait, what? That was the last fight, right?"


    Master Daokan turned toward him, his tone far too eager.


    "No, Atlas. This is the last fight. You, against Shen Xue."

 Atlass Heart

    Atlas paled, his mind racing. "You know, Master Daokan, I do believe that we''ve learned a valuable lesson today. Strength, endurance, perseverance¡ªreally, there''s no need to continue, is there?"


    Master Daokan folded his arms, his expression almost amused. "You''ve been under my skin more times than anyone else I''ve ever met, Atlas. More than emperors, nobles, disciples, sect leaders¡ªevery single one. And now, you''ve even gotten under my daughter skin as well. It''s only fair."


    Atlas gulped. He had talked his way out of countless situations before, manipulating, redirecting, charming¡ªbut now he was facing something worse than sheer stubbornness.


    This wasn''t just about martial arts. This was an agenda.


    He had never met someone he couldn''t manipulate unless they were either too naturally stubborn or had something to gain. Even the stubborn he has made them danced on his palms but Master Daokan? He had both.


    Layla watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Atlas. She knew his tricks, had seen him talk circles around people and escape situations no one else could. He was infuriating, but also... strangely entertaining.


    "I can''t believe he''s finally out of options," she murmured to Jiang.


    Jiang smirked. "About time someone corners him. He''s played you enough, hasn''t he?"


    Layla rolled her eyes. "Please. If he thinks he''s getting out of this one, he''s delusional."


    Atlas forced a weak chuckle. "Surely, a civilized discussion¡ª"


    "Step into the ring, Atlas." Master Daokan gestured toward the arena.


    Shen Xue cracked her knuckles, rolling her shoulders with a smirk. "I''ve been waiting for this."


    Atlas turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. "Now, Shen, let''s not be hasty. I would never want to sully our wonderful, professional relationship with something as barbaric as a fight."


    Shen Xue tilted her head. "Oh? Because let''s go about that. You not only sully the grand hall which frankly even the current Emperor honoured, you made it a like a circus, Bao carrying you like a king and you making many things drop which frankly, would take even more than your body to pay it back.''''


    Atlas coughed. "I may have been...active..?"


    Shen Xue cracked her knuckles louder. "No, you weren''t."


    Atlas exhaled sharply and turned toward the rack of wooden training weapons at the side of the ring. If he had to fight, he needed something¡ªanything¡ªto at least look like he stood a chance. His eyes darted over the options: a wooden spear, a wooden sword, a wooden staff, a wooden longsword, and wooden daggers.


    He ran a quick mental calculation. A spear would give him range, but he had absolutely no experience using one, and Shen Xue would likely disarm him in seconds. A sword? Too predictable, and she probably knew how to counter every style of swordplay in existence. The staff? He could at least try to keep his distance, but it required finesse¡ªfinesse he lacked. A longsword was heavier, unwieldy, and Shen Xue didn''t seem like someone he could outmuscle. And daggers? Close combat with Shen Xue was a death sentence.


    His stomach twisted. No matter what he chose, he was a prey walking into a slaughter. The real question wasn''t which weapon would help him win¡ªit was which one would help him survive long enough to run away if needed.


    He remembered back when the first time he encountered Shen Xue ¡ªwhen she pressed a needle against his throat, her expression utterly unreadable. That was when he realized she was different. Calculated. Deadly.


    His mind pieced together what he knew about her. She was probably light on her feet, graceful maybe but most efficient. Her strength probably wasn''t in brute force but in speed, precision, and knowing exactly where to strike to cause the most damage. Atlas recalled the brief sensation of cold steel when she held the needle to his skin, the way she positioned herself to maximize control with minimal effort.


    His gaze flickered back to the weapon rack. If she relied on precision, his best bet was something unpredictable, something that forced her to react instead of dictate the flow of battle.


    His hand hesitated, then settled on the wooden staff. It had range, and though he had no finesse, he could at least swing it wildly and hope to keep her from closing in too quickly. He wasn''t delusional enough to think he could win¡ªbut if he played it right, he might just last long enough to call this a "learning experience."


    "Huh," Layla murmured, watching as Shen Xue made her way toward the weapon rack. "Let''s see what she picks."


    To her surprise, Shen Xue reached for the wooden longsword. Layla''s brows rose slightly. "Interesting."


    Jiang glanced at her. "What?"


    "Atlas just spent all that time analyzing her precision-based fighting style," Layla mused. "But now she''s using a longsword. That means whatever deduction he made earlier is now completely useless. This is going to be a good show."


    Meanwhile, Atlas watched as Shen Xue lifted the longsword with ease. He blinked. Then blinked again. His brain refused to process the betrayal of logic he was witnessing.


    "What?" he muttered. "No. No, that''s not right."


    He had been expecting daggers. Maybe a needle, or something similarly delicate. But a longsword? He wasn''t prepared for that.


    Atlas turned back to Master Daokan, raising a hesitant hand. "Hypothetically speaking, am I allowed to use more than one weapon?"


    Master Daokan gave him a flat stare. "Why?"


    Atlas cleared his throat. "Oh, no reason. Just a scholarly inquiry. You see, as an intellectual, I believe in thorough research and adaptable strategies. It would be a grave disservice to the art of combat if I were limited in my choice of tools."


    Shen Xue smirked, resting the blade on her shoulder. "You''re panicking."


    "Me? Panicking?" Atlas let out a forced chuckle. "Pffft. Please. This is just... tactical recalibration. A moment of strategic enlightenment."


    Master Daokan sighed. "Use as many weapons as you wish. It will not change the outcome."


    Atlas perked up slightly. "Oh? A generous and wise decision, Master Daokan. Truly, your fairness knows no bounds."


    Shen Xue raised an eyebrow. "You''re going to need all the help you can get."


    Atlas placed a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Yes, yes, but let''s consider the optics of this. Shen Xue, daughter of the great Master Daokan, a warrior of unparalleled skill, choosing to wield multiple weapons against little old me? A simple, unassuming scholar? Doesn''t that seem... dishonourable?"


    Shen Xue narrowed her eyes. "What are you getting at?"


    Atlas sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "I mean, if I, a humble man of intellect, were to choose one single weapon while you, a prodigy of combat, required multiple... what would that say about your confidence? Your honour as a warrior?"


    Shen Xue''s grip on the longsword tightened slightly. Layla, watching from the sidelines, nearly choked on a laugh. "Oh, he''s really doing it."


    Jiang smirked. "He''s actually trying to guilt-trip her into fighting fair."


    Master Daokan watched in bemusement but said nothing, letting his daughter handle it.


    Shen Xue''s gaze bore into Atlas. For a moment, she seemed genuinely considering his words before scoffing. "Nice try. You''re still going to lose."


    Atlas sighed, shrugging. "Ah, but at least I lose with dignity. Now, let''s begin."


    Atlas took a deep breath and adjusted the weapons he had selected. His primary choice was the wooden staff, giving him the best chance to keep Shen Xue at bay. As a backup, he tucked a wooden dagger at his waist¡ªsomething he hoped he wouldn''t have to use. Finally, strapped to his back was a wooden spear, an option he could switch to if things got desperate.


    Jiang, watching from the sidelines, nudged Lin Wuye with a smirk. "Does Atlas have any conceivable way of lasting more than five seconds?"


    Lin Wuye exhaled, shaking his head. "Against the daughter of Master Daokan? The same Shen Xue who restored all our qi points earlier, on par with Yan? No. Not unless he discovers a hidden divine bloodline in the next few seconds."


    Layla folded her arms, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Honestly, I just want to see how long he keeps talking before Shen Xue gets tired of it and smashes him into the ground."


    Master Daokan raised his hand, signalling the start of the match. "Begin."


    Atlas took an exaggerated step back, twirling his staff in a way that was meant to look impressive but only succeeded in making him seem wildly uncoordinated. "Now, Shen, let''s talk about this rationally. Fighting is such a crude method of conflict resolution¡ª"


    Shen Xue lunged.


    Atlas barely had time to react before she was upon him, her longsword slicing through the air with practiced precision. He stumbled back, using the staff to desperately block the strike, but the sheer force of the impact sent vibrations rattling through his arms.


    "Hah!" he forced a laugh. "You''re fast, but I¡ª"


    Another strike. This time, he barely managed to twist his body in time to avoid taking a direct hit. Shen Xue''s movements were fluid, relentless, like a predator toying with its prey.


    Jiang smirked. "Three seconds. Not bad."


    Lin Wuye chuckled. "He''s still breathing, which is a surprise."


    Atlas decided now was the time for a tactical retreat. He jumped back, reaching behind him to grab the spear strapped to his back. With a dramatic flourish, he pointed it at Shen Xue. "Ah-ha! Behold, the weapon of warriors!"


    Shen Xue tilted her head. "You don''t know how to use that, do you?"


    Atlas hesitated. "That''s subjective."


    She sighed, then moved again. He thrust the spear wildly, hoping to create some distance, but Shen Xue was already too close. With a swift motion, she sidestepped his attack, grabbed the spear shaft, and wrenched it from his grip before tossing it effortlessly across the arena.


    Atlas blinked. "Right. Expected that."


    Layla laughed. "Five seconds. He''s exceeding expectations."


    Atlas exhaled sharply and pulled the dagger from his waist. "Plan C!"


    Shen Xue''s smirk grew wider. "You mean ''Plan Desperation''?"


    Atlas had no response¡ªmainly because Shen Xue was already coming at him again.


    She moved with deceptive ease, her sword slicing through the air in slow, deliberate arcs. To the untrained eye, it might seem like she was merely warming up, but Layla could see the truth. "She''s toying with him," she muttered. "She''s barely using a fraction of her strength. Even Bao would put up a better fight than this tragedy."


    Jiang nodded. "She''s testing him. Seeing how long it takes before he runs out of tricks."


    Atlas, meanwhile, was sweating bullets. His mind raced as he dodged and parried, barely keeping up. "Now, Shen, let''s be reasonable," he said between hurried breaths, sidestepping yet another swipe. "I am but a humble scholar! A man of intellect! Would you strike down an unarmed philosopher?"


    Shen Xue scoffed. "You''re armed. And you''re not a philosopher."


    "Minor details," Atlas said, ducking under another swing. "But let''s think about this logically. Wouldn''t it be a more valuable use of your time to fight someone, I don''t know, worthier?"


    She lunged, forcing Atlas to stumble backward. "Oh? And who do you propose?"


    "Jiang!" Atlas pointed wildly. "Jiang is strong. Trained. He¡ª"


    Jiang crossed his arms. "Not a chance."


    Atlas let out a strangled laugh, narrowly avoiding a downward slash. "Master Lin Wuye! A legendary warrior! Surely, a more engaging opponent!"


    Lin Wuye smiled. "You''re on your own, Atlas."


    Atlas groaned, barely managing to sidestep before Shen Xue''s blade although wood nearly took his arm off. "You''re all heartless!"


    Layla laughed. "Oh, I''m loving this."


    Master Daokan watched the fight unfold, his expression unreadable. "He''s clever, but cleverness alone won''t save him."


    Yan Shuren, his trusted disciple, crossed his arms. "It''s amusing, though. I''ve never seen someone try so hard to avoid a fight while actively fighting."


    Ren, the youngest yet already an undeniable prodigy, observed with keen interest. "He''s adapting. Not efficiently, but he''s trying. It''s almost admirable."


    Meyu, standing beside them, sighed. "Almost. He talks a lot, but he''s still going to get beaten into the ground."


    Yue Wuye, watched with an amused glint in her eye. "I think he knows that. But still, he fights in his own way. It may not be the strongest, but it''s uniquely him."


    Atlas, meanwhile, had somehow backed himself into a corner, staff gripped tightly as Shen Xue advanced. "Now, now, let''s not be rash. What if we¡ª"


    Shen Xue swung. Atlas yelped and barely ducked, the force of the strike sending a rush of air past his face. The sheer pressure of the blow carved into the ground behind him, rustling the trees at the edges of the arena. Leaves tore from their branches, scattering like frightened birds. Even the spectators felt the impact ripple through the air, a gust washing over them like a stormfront.


    Atlas blinked at the destruction behind him. "Okay, okay! How about a break? Just a small one? Water break? No?"


    Shen Xue grinned. "No."


    Out of pure spite, she channelled a fraction of her qi, sending a controlled yet forceful strike toward Atlas. The very air around her vibrated from the sheer pressure.


    But the moment it made contact, the energy crackled and dissipated, swallowed by an unseen force. Instead of immediately reflecting back, the energy lingered within Atlas, coursing through his body like a foreign entity seeking to root itself. His limbs twitched involuntarily, an uncomfortable heat pooling within his heart. The shockwave should have rebounded, but instead, it resides within Atlas. Shen Xue barely tilted her head, watching curiously as the energy sputtered and fizzled against his skin, yet did not lash back toward her.


    Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh?"


    Atlas, oblivious to what just happened, flailed in panic, his body feeling strangely heavier, like something unnatural was pressing against his insides. He barely managed to duck. He hadn''t even realized what his own body had done.


    "Ha! Missed!" he blurted out, before immediately scrambling out of the way of another precise blow.


    The next few moments were a chaotic display of comedic dodging¡ªAtlas twisting, rolling, and flinging himself to the side in ways that resembled more of a dance than actual combat. "Too slow!" he taunted before tripping over his own foot and narrowly avoiding what would have been a direct hit to his ribs.


    Layla snorted. "This is both the worst and best fight I''ve ever seen."


    But his luck couldn''t last forever.


    Shen Xue finally adjusted, realizing that her Qi-based attacks were useless. With one well-placed strike, she abandoned energy entirely and relied on sheer physical force, slamming the blunt force of her longsword squarely into his stomach. The impact sent him flying backward, his entire body feeling as though it had been struck by a battering ram.


    Atlas hit the ground with a loud thud, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. But beyond the pain, a deeper, more insidious sensation churned inside him. The energy he had absorbed was still there, refusing to leave, slowly poisoning his very being. His limbs twitched violently as he tried to process what was happening.


    Jiang winced. "Oof. That looked painful."


    Lin Wuye chuckled. "He doesn''t have Qi to soften the blow. But... did you see that? The Qi attack didn''t affect him."


    Jiang furrowed his brow. "Wait. That energy didn''t fully return to Shen Could it be that Atlas''s body absorbs Qi?"This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Yan Shuren crossed his arms. "There are two possibilities. Either his body acts as a vessel, temporarily holding qi until he expels it through physical contact¡ªor, worse, his body simply has no way to regulate qi at all, meaning it will keep accumulating until it tears him apart from the inside."


    Jiang frowned. "So either he has to fight back, or he''ll be dealing with something far worse than just losing this match?"


    Yan Shuren nodded. "Exactly. But there''s another question to consider. If his body cannot regulate Qi, what happens when he finally releases it?"


    Lin Wuye, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "There are two likely outcomes. If his body is merely storing the Qi, then when he does release it, it will be uncontrolled¡ªwild, chaotic, and potentially destructive to himself and those around him. However, if his body fundamentally rejects Qi as a foreign entity, then forcing it out could damage his meridians beyond repair. Either way, the longer he holds it in, the worse it becomes."


    Jiang frowned. "So he''s either a ticking time bomb or slowly poisoning himself just by standing there?"


    Lin Wuye sighed. "Exactly. Either he learns how to consciously control and release it, or he won''t make it out of this fight in one piece."


    Master Daokan, arms crossed, observed Atlas with a contemplative expression. "The question is, what happens if he does manage to release it?"


    Yan Shuren glanced at him. "You''re worried about the scale of the effect?"


    Master Daokan nodded. "If his body is storing Qi without control, then the release could be catastrophic. If it''s simply expelled, it might just disperse harmlessly. But if it rebounds with equal force..." He trailed off, letting the implication settle.


    Yue Wuye frowned. "That would mean anyone in range could be affected. Depending on how much he''s absorbed, it could cripple him or even Shen herself."


    Ren, watching closely, finally spoke. "Should we intervene if it comes to that?"


    Master Daokan remained silent for a moment before exhaling. "No. Not yet. He needs to figure it out himself. But if it spirals out of control, then we step in. Atlas has been a headache for too long, but I have no intention of watching him die today."


    Atlas wheezed, lifting a trembling hand. "Objection... to... this entire situation..."


    A sharp, searing sensation coiled within his chest, unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn''t just pain¡ªit was something worse. It felt like his own body was trying to reject itself, like an unnatural force was twisting through his veins, trying to find an exit. His limbs felt heavy, his breath uneven, his heart hammering as if it were moments away from shattering. Every fiber of his being screamed at him that something was wrong.


    And yet, Atlas scoffed, letting out a breathy chuckle. "Tch... is that all?"


    Because to him, no pain could ever compare to his past.


    The stench of burning wood and iron filled his lungs. The cries of desperation, the metallic taste of blood in the air, the overwhelming heat¡ªall of it had been etched into his very soul. He had stood amidst the wreckage of his old life, watching it crumble, powerless to do anything but survive.


    Pain? Pain had been starvation in the gutters, wounds left untreated, betrayals from those he once trusted. Pain was learning that the world had no mercy for the weak, that suffering was inevitable unless you found a way to stand above it all.


    Pain was realizing no one was coming to save him.


    So no, whatever this was¡ªthis roiling storm inside his body, this creeping venom in his bloodstream¡ªthis was nothing.


    Nothing compared to what he had already endured.


    Atlas exhaled sharply, shaking off the lingering echoes of the past. But his body disagreed. The storm within him raged stronger now, an unbearable heat pooling deeper into his core, sinking into his bones like molten iron. Every breath felt heavier, like his lungs were filling with something thick and suffocating. His fingertips trembled as they clenched around his staff, veins subtly pulsing with an unnatural glow that flickered in and out of sight.


    Shen Xue noticed it first, pausing in mid-stride. Her eyes flickered to his hands, her usual smirk fading just slightly. "Huh."


    From the sidelines, Lin Wuye narrowed his eyes. "His body''s reacting. The Qi inside him is still building up."


    Jiang scoffed. "At this rate, it doesn''t matter if he fights back¡ªhis body might break apart before he figures it out."


    Atlas, meanwhile, took a shaky step forward, finally managing to parry one of Shen Xue''s held-back strikes. He barely registered the motion, his mind split between the fight and the unbearable heat searing through his body. "Oh wow, would you look at that? I blocked something. Let''s all take a moment to appreciate this historic event."


    Shen Xue arched an eyebrow. "You''re still joking?"


    Atlas forced a grin. "Of course. If I stop, I might actually process how much pain I''m in, and we wouldn''t want that, would we?" The moment his staff met her blade, something in the air shifted. A faint, invisible ripple pulsed outward, a flicker of force that Shen Xue instinctively recognized.


    She adjusted her grip. "So you can parry now? Let''s see how long that lasts."


    Atlas groaned, shifting his stance. "Can we at least pretend I have a chance? Maybe give me an honorary warrior title? Atlas the... uh... Enduring? That has a nice ring to it."


    Shen Xue lunged again. Atlas barely blocked in time, his staff vibrating violently from the impact. The pain inside him twisted, tightening like a vice. He winced but forced out another quip. "Oh no, is that the best you''ve got? I expected more from the great Shen Xue!"


    Atlas barely had time to react before she struck again, this time faster. He managed to block once more, but the pain in his core worsened, like the very act of resisting her was accelerating the turmoil inside him. His breath hitched as another wave of agony crawled up his spine.


    Meyu frowned, watching from the sidelines. "His face is getting pale. And... is it just me, or does he look different?"


    Ren tilted his head. "His aura is shifting. The more he fights, the more unstable his presence feels."


    Master Daokan exhaled slowly. "His body wasn''t meant to handle Qi. But right now, it''s trying to adapt, whether he wants it to or not."


    Atlas staggered slightly, his vision flickering. His limbs twitched with an unnatural energy, his breathing ragged. He glanced at his own hands, the veins beneath his skin glowing faintly. "Okay. New problem. I think I might explode. And not in a cool way. More like a ''pieces of me end up in different provinces'' kind of way."


    Meyu covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. "He''s still talking like that?"


    Lin Wuye exhaled. "It''s probably a coping mechanism."


    Jiang smirked. "Or a death wish."


    Atlas, refusing to acknowledge the severity of his situation, wiped the sweat off his brow with a shaky hand. "Shen, I have to say, for someone so deadly, you really do have unfair advantages. You''re quick, precise, and let''s be honest¡ªfrankly too good-looking for me to focus properly. This is psychological warfare. I demand compensation."


    Shen Xue''s eye twitched.


    Layla snorted. "Oh, he''s going to regret that."


    Shen Xue exhaled, rolling her shoulders before gripping her longsword with both hands. "Fine. I''ll make sure you stop talking."


    She moved. Faster. The blade became a blur as Qi flared around her, amplifying her strikes. Atlas barely managed to parry the first blow, the impact rattling through his bones. The second one sent him skidding back, his feet struggling to find balance. The third? He wasn''t fast enough.


    The longsword slammed into his side, sending a shockwave through the ground beneath him. The earth cracked under the force, a spiderweb of fractures spreading outward. His clothes tore at the edges, the fabric unable to withstand the sheer weight of the strike.


    Atlas let out a wheezing laugh as he stumbled. "I... I feel like that was personal."


    Shen Xue scoffed. "Oh, it was."


    The pain in Atlas''s core deepened. His body convulsed slightly as more Qi poured into him, absorbed upon impact. His limbs felt heavier, his breath more erratic. The glow pulsing through his veins brightened, the energy inside him reaching an unbearable threshold.


    Meyu''s smile faded. "His body... it''s breaking down, isn''t it?"


    Lin Wuye''s expression darkened. "He''s absorbing too much, and it''s not dispersing. If he doesn''t find a way to let it out soon, it won''t matter how much pain he''s used to¡ªhis body will tear itself apart."


    Layla''s smirk faded as she watched Atlas''s erratic movements. His attacks were no longer calculated¡ªor as calculated as his usually sloppy combat could be. Now, they were instinctual, wild.


    "Wait¡­ he''s still attacking?"


    Shen Xue frowned, sidestepping another swing of his staff with ease. "He''s not thinking anymore." Another strike came at her, and again she parried effortlessly. "His body is moving on its own."


    The atmosphere around them shifted. Even as Shen Xue countered every move, something felt off. Atlas, despite the clear agony in his face, kept advancing. He had no technique, no form¡ªonly a desperate, automatic response to the energy wreaking havoc inside him. His body wanted to expel it, and the only way it knew how was to keep hitting her.


    Shen Xue''s grip on her sword tightened. "If this continues¡ª"


    "Enough," Master Daokan''s voice cut through the arena, his tone firm. "Shen Xue, do not use Qi strikes anymore. If you do, you may push him past the point of return."


    Shen Xue hesitated but ultimately lowered her stance slightly. "Understood."


    Lin Wuye exhaled, now focused entirely on Atlas''s movements. "We need to be ready to stop him if this gets worse. If he loses control completely, we might not be dealing with just a match anymore."


    Atlas, ever the opportunist, let out a weak chuckle despite his rapidly deteriorating condition. "Well, at least if I explode, you''ll all remember me as a trailblazer in the fine art of self-destruction."


    Shen Xue''s grip tightened further. "Shut up and stop moving."


    Atlas, of course, did neither.


    Instead, his instincts took over once more. His body jerked forward without his consent, swinging the staff wildly at Shen Xue. She parried effortlessly, but he didn''t stop. Every blocked strike sent another wave of agony rippling through him, the qi inside growing more volatile, more unstable.


    The wooden staff in his hands began to change.


    The air around it shimmered unnaturally, distorting like heatwaves on a summer road. The once ordinary wood darkened, almost as if absorbing the same energy wreaking havoc inside him. Faint lines of glowing inscriptions¡ªsymbols no one could immediately recognize¡ªetched themselves along the shaft.


    Layla''s eyes widened. "Is that... manifesting?"


    Master Daokan''s expression darkened. "No. It''s reacting to him."


    Jiang took a step forward. "That''s never happened before, has it?"


    Lin Wuye shook his head. "No. And considering the state he''s in, we have no idea what will happen next."


    Atlas''s consciousness finally slipped. His vision tunnelled, the world around him dissolving into darkness.


    He was somewhere else.


    A city, one long lost to time, loomed over him. Towering buildings, blackened by soot and fire, stretched endlessly into the sky. The air was thick with smoke, suffocating, oppressive. Screams echoed through the alleyways, fleeting and desperate before being swallowed by silence. The scent of iron and ash clung to everything, seeping into his skin like an old curse that refused to fade.


    Atlas knew this place. He wished he didn''t.


    A younger version of himself staggered through the ruins, barefoot and clad in rags. His stomach twisted with hunger, his limbs weak from exhaustion. He clutched a small pouch close to his chest¡ªhis only possession, filled with scraps barely worth eating. His breathing was shallow, every step heavier than the last.


    Then, the voices came.


    "Oi, look at this one."


    Atlas stiffened. He turned, met with the sight of three older boys blocking the alley''s only exit. Their clothes were better¡ªpatched but sturdy. Their eyes were sharp, cruel. Predators who had long since learned that the world favored the strong.


    "Didn''t we tell you?" the tallest one sneered. "This is our street."


    Atlas took a step back, his grip on the pouch tightening. "I found this first."


    The second boy laughed, a rough sound like gravel scraping against metal. "And now we''re finding it for ourselves. Hand it over."


    Atlas shook his head. He had fought too hard for this. He wasn''t going to let them take it. Not again. Not this time.


    But his body was too weak, his arms too frail. When the first punch came, he couldn''t even raise his hands in time to block it. Pain exploded in his ribs as he was knocked to the ground, dust rising around him. The second kick sent his pouch flying from his grasp.


    "No¡ª!"


    The third boy grabbed it before he could, shaking it open and sneering at the pitiful contents. "Barely enough for a rat. You really thought you''d get away with this?"


    Atlas gasped for breath, fingers digging into the dirt. On the cold road. Nobody around. He forced himself onto his hands and knees, his body screaming in protest. He had to stand. Had to fight. But he was just a starving, broken child. And they were bigger. Stronger.


    Pain? He had learned pain long before this moment. The bruises, the hunger, the loneliness¡ªthose had become constants, things he simply endured. But that day, something inside him had truly broken.


    Because as they laughed and walked away, leaving him in the dust, Atlas realized something worse than pain¡ª


    Powerlessness.


    Meanwhile, in the real world, Atlas''s body moved eerily in sync with Shen Xue, his reflexes sharpened despite his unconscious state. Every strike she made, he countered¡ªsloppily, but effectively. But with each clash, his body trembled, his breath becoming more erratic. The energy inside him was no longer just unstable; it was growing.


    Shen Xue frowned. "This isn''t right."


    Layla''s eyes widened as she observed him more closely. Then, realization struck. "Wait¡­ he''s not just absorbing it anymore."


    Meyu turned to her, panic rising in her voice. "What do you mean?"


    Layla swallowed hard. "He''s pulling in energy from the environment. Look at the weapons rack."


    They turned, and their stomachs dropped. The wooden weapons¡ªswords, spears, staffs¡ªwere crumbling into dust, the energy within them siphoned away. But worse, far worse¡ª


    Master Daokan stiffened. "Everyone. Hold your Qi."


    The masters around the arena exchanged alarmed glances. They could feel it now¡ªAtlas wasn''t just absorbing energy from Shen Xue''s strikes. He was pulling at the very essence around him. Even their own Qi trembled, as if being drawn toward him.


    Yuxe Wuye placed a gentle hand on Meyu''s shoulder, sensing her distress. "It will be fine. Master Daokan will handle it."


    But as she said it, her gaze never left Atlas. Because deep down, even she wasn''t certain of that anymore.


    Then, suddenly, Atlas''s body convulsed. A deep, guttural sound escaped his throat as the energy trapped within him reached its breaking point. His veins, glowing like molten lines beneath his skin, pulsed violently. The energy within him, wild and untamed, surged to the surface.


    A massive shockwave erupted from his core, the sheer force sending tremors through the ground. The moment his staff struck downward¡ªwhether by instinct or fate¡ªthe very earth beneath Shen Xue cracked apart. The force carved a deep, jagged rift behind her, splitting the arena floor in two. The ground didn''t simply break; it was as if an invisible blade had carved through the stone itself, exposing layers of earth that had remained undisturbed for centuries. The rift extended far beyond the arena, jagged and raw, a terrifying display of uncontrolled power.


    Shen Xue''s breath hitched. For the first time in the fight, her eyes widened¡ªnot out of surprise, but out of genuine alarm. She had been prepared for many things, but not this. Not an attack of this magnitude from someone who had no control over his own energy. Her instincts screamed at her to move, but even she had hesitated for just a fraction of a second, thrown off by the sheer destruction behind her.


    Layla, Meyu, and Yuxe Wuye were caught in the aftermath, the force of the strike sending a powerful gust outward, strong enough to knock them off balance. They staggered back, barely able to stay on their feet as the shockwave rattled the entire arena. Beyond the arena, the shockwave had not gone unnoticed.


    In the heart of Jinhai City, merchants and travelers alike paused as the distant sound of the explosion reached their ears. Birds scattered from the rooftops, and the very air seemed to hum with residual energy. The city guards, stationed at the high walls, exchanged uneasy glances. Even the sect elders, deep in meditation within their chambers, opened their eyes as a ripple of unseen force passed through their surroundings.


    Meanwhile, within the Imperial Palace of Jinhai, the current Emperor, Jinhai sat in quiet contemplation within his grand chamber, surrounded by his advisors and generals. The shockwave sent a subtle tremor through the air, making the golden incense burners sway slightly. The Emperor''s eyes snapped open, sharp and calculating, as he immediately recognized the disturbance for what it was¡ªa release of power unlike any in recent memory.


    A moment later, he turned toward one of his royal investigators, his voice calm yet firm. "Find the source. Immediately."


    The official bowed deeply. "At once, Your Majesty."


    The Emperor remained seated, fingers steepled together as he stared at the horizon beyond his palace walls. He was one of the few in the world who could match Master Daokan in raw strength and wisdom. And if something had shaken even the heavens themselves, it was not something he could ignore.


    Far beyond the Regime of Jin, across the vast ocean, within the towering halls of the underground network in Europe, Emery, seated amidst an array of intricate equations and sketches, felt the faint disturbance as if it were a whisper carried by the wind. His fingers froze mid-turn over a page of old parchment, his gaze flickering toward the horizon.


    "Well now," Emery murmured, drumming his fingers against the table. "Isn''t that interesting?"


    What... the hell?" Layla muttered, brushing dust off her sleeves as she regained her footing.


    Meyu''s heart pounded in her chest. "That wasn''t just a normal energy release. That was¡ª"


    Then she noticed something else.


    All eyes remained on Atlas, who remained unconscious, his body finally still. But the rift behind Shen Xue remained¡ªa scar in the earth, and a warning to all who had witnessed it.


    A hush fell over the spectators. Even the masters, for the first time in a long while, were left momentarily speechless.


    Master Daokan, however, was the first to recover, his voice low but firm. "That technique... I recognize it. It is not something he should be able to do."


    Lin Wuye, still processing what he had just witnessed, exhaled sharply. "If I''m not mistaken... that was an incomplete form of the Devouring Pulse. But it shouldn''t exist in someone like him. He has no cultivated Qi. No formal training. How is this possible?"


    Jiang, arms crossed, muttered, "And more importantly... what happens if he does it again?"


    Lin Wuye''s gaze lingered on Atlas''s unconscious form, his mind racing through possibilities. "That''s the question, isn''t it? If his body can naturally absorb Qi, then release it in such a destructive manner... he might not have any control over when it happens. This was incomplete, unstable. If he does it again, the next one could be worse."


    Master Daokan took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand toward Atlas. His qi flared subtly as he analyzed the boy''s state, his senses stretching deep within him. Then, his eyes narrowed slightly.


    "Fascinating," he murmured. "His Qi is... gone. It''s returned to nothing, as if it never existed at all."


    Lin Wuye''s brows furrowed. "As it should have been. His body isn''t meant to retain Qi yet for a brief moment, it harnessed an immense force beyond reason. And now, it''s simply vanished? That should be impossible."


    Master Daokan straightened, his expression firm. "Whatever just happened, his body has reset. But that doesn''t mean he''s unharmed. He''s in a deep coma. His core may be empty again, but the strain on his body and mind... he won''t wake up anytime soon."


    Before anyone else could react, Meyu rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside Atlas. "Atlas!" Her voice cracked as she shook his shoulder lightly, her hands trembling.


    "You idiot, wake up! You always talk your way out of things, so talk your way out of this!"


    Her breaths came unsteady, panic settling deep in her chest. Atlas had always been unbreakable¡ªannoying, infuriating, reckless¡ªbut unbreakable. And yet now, he looked so still, so fragile, his usually sharp and witty face eerily quiet.


    Yuxe Wuye followed behind her, kneeling gracefully before placing a reassuring hand on Meyu''s shoulder. "He''s alive," she murmured, her voice a calm contrast to the storm raging in Meyu''s heart. "Master Daokan will ensure he''s taken care of. He will wake up."


    Meyu squeezed her eyes shut, gripping Atlas''s torn sleeve tightly. "He better. He always gets out of things. Always. He talks, he schemes, he finds a way. He wouldn''t¡ªhe can''t just¡ª" Her voice broke, tears slipping down her cheeks.


    "Not like this."


    Her fingers trembled as they clutched his sleeve, as if holding on tightly enough would keep him from slipping away.


    "He''s all I have left."


    Yuxe Wuye knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "He''s not gone, Meyu. He''s just... lost right now. But he''ll find his way back. He always does."


    Meyu hiccupped, burying her face against Yuxe Wuye''s shoulder, her body shaking. "He''s an idiot. A reckless, frustrating idiot.''''


    Yuxe Wuye stroked her hair gently, her voice soft. "Then trust him to be that idiot. To fight his way back."


    Meyu squeezed her eyes shut, nodding against her. "He has to."


    Layla, still standing a few steps away, folded her arms. Unlike the others, she didn''t rush forward, but that didn''t mean she felt nothing. Even in her past life, hardened as she was, she had never been immune to moments like this. Her fingers tightened around her sleeve.


    "Damn you, Atlas... you always find a way to make things worse."


    Despite her words, there was no mockery in her tone. Only a rare flicker of something else¡ªconcern.


    "So, what do we do with him?"


    Master Daokan exhaled. "We ensure he survives first. And then, we prepare for when he wakes up. Because this is only the beginning."


    Layla''s gaze lingered on Atlas''s still form for a moment longer before she exhaled sharply, shaking her head. As much as she cared, survival was still her priority. The coming winter wouldn''t wait for anyone, and no amount of sentiment would keep their people from freezing.


    She straightened, crossing her arms. "As cruel as it might sound, I need to head back tomorrow. We need supplies, and I don''t intend to sit around waiting when there''s work to be done. So, who''s going to take care of him?"


    Master Daokan didn''t hesitate. "I will." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "Shen Xue will assist me."


    Shen Xue nodded in agreement. "I''ll help. It was my match with him that caused this. It''s only right that I take responsibility."


    Layla gave them a long look before arching an eyebrow. "And what about when he wakes up? I assume you have some plan beyond just keeping him breathing?"


    Master Daokan''s expression didn''t change. "He''ll be useful. He''s already proved he can survive in the most unexpected ways. Perhaps it''s time we officially make him our own personal merchant as well''''


    Meyu, who had been silent up until now, visibly bristled. "Are you seriously¡ª"


    Before she could go off, Yuxe Wuye gently placed a hand on her arm and turned to Meilin. "We will leave tomorrow. Master Daokan has already ensured that we will be more than adequately treated in the main city."


    Layla, still watching Atlas, nodded slowly. "Then let''s make sure we''re ready."


    Meyu stood in silence, her gaze fixed on Atlas''s unconscious form. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides as she wrestled with the decision before her. Atlas had always been the one to push forward, the one to take risks while she stood at his side. Now, for the first time, he wouldn''t be there to lead the charge.


    Yuxe Wuye, sensing her turmoil, spoke gently. "You don''t have to decide now, Meyu. But whatever choice you make, it should be for yourself, not just for him."


    Meyu swallowed hard. "If I go with the Silver Lotus, I can handle Atlas''s business. Make sure everything he built doesn''t fall apart while he''s like this. But... if I stay..." Her voice wavered.


    "If I stay, I can make sure he''s not alone when he wakes up."


    She turned to Master Daokan, her expression torn. "If I stay, will I be allowed to?" Master Daokan studied her for a long moment before nodding. "If that is your decision, then yes."


    Meyu inhaled sharply, glancing one last time at Atlas. She had followed him for so long, through every scheme and reckless gamble, through victories and failures alike. Now, for once, she had to decide for herself.


    "I need to think about it," she finally admitted.


    Yuxe Wuye gave her a small nod. "Then think quickly. Whatever you choose, we leave at dawn."

 The Contract

    The road back to the main city was silent, save for the steady clopping of hooves against the dirt path. Layla and the others from the Silver Lotus Sect moved with purpose, their thoughts already focused on survival. The winter was coming, and despite everything that had happened, the world did not wait for tragedy to settle before demanding its due.


    Meyu, however, lingered at the gates, her gaze locked onto the distant form of Atlas, now left behind in the care of Master Daokan. She had made her decision. As much as she wanted to stay, to be there when he woke, she knew what he would have chosen. Someone had to keep his business running, and that responsibility fell to her. It was not just out of obligation¡ªit was out of respect.


    Yuxe Wuye stood beside her, her presence a steadying force. "You made the logical choice," she said, her tone as measured as ever. "Atlas would have done the same."


    Meyu exhaled slowly, nodding. "I know. But that doesn¡¯t mean it feels right."


    Yuxe gave her a knowing glance. "Logic rarely does. But this is how you honor him¡ªnot by waiting at his bedside, but by ensuring he has something to wake up to."


    The two stood in quiet understanding before turning to follow the rest of the group into the distance. The further they walked, the quieter the air became, until finally, they disappeared from sight.


    From the high walls of the sect, Master Daokan watched their departure, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Yan Shuren and Shen Xue stood in silence.


    "Our obligation now is clear," Master Daokan murmured.


    "Atlas."


    Shen Xue tensed slightly, knowing what was coming. Master Daokan turned his gaze toward her, his voice firm. "You will receive punishment befitting your strength. You are to train under my watch until you can ensure such a disaster does not happen again. You lost control of the match, and that is unacceptable."


    Shen Xue bowed her head in acknowledgment, but the weight of his words pressed against her pride. "Understood, father."


    Yan Shuren exhaled. "That technique he used¡­ It shouldn¡¯t exist."


    Master Daokan¡¯s brow furrowed. "And yet it does." He looked toward the unconscious Atlas, lying still in the sect¡¯s infirmary. "I am more concerned than I have been in years."


    He turned back to them, his voice carrying a rare edge of unease. "That technique. Absorption of qi. It is nearly identical to the forbidden techniques of Mo Cheng the Devourer."


    Shen Xue¡¯s expression darkened. "The man who stole rather than cultivated."


    Master Daokan nodded. "He did not cultivate Qi¡ªhe stole it. His techniques drained others, siphoning years of hard work in an instant. He fed upon the meridians of weaker cultivators, draining them to fuel his own power. He was a plague upon the martial world, and in the end, he was killed by my master. That technique should have died with him. And yet, here it is, manifesting in someone who has never trained a day in his life."


    His fists clenched. "How?"


    Yan Shuren, ever the rational one, offered a measured explanation. "There are only three ways such a technique could resurface. One¡ªhis bloodline carries remnants of it, intentionally or not. Two¡ªsomeone else, somewhere, has been practicing it, and Atlas is reacting to an external force. Three¡ªthis is not the same technique, but something even worse."


    Master Daokan¡¯s eyes darkened. "Worse?"


    Yan hesitated before speaking. "You asked me to investigate Meilin¡¯s Qi rot. The information I uncovered was¡­ disturbing. The nature of her affliction aligns with a forgotten path of cultivation. A technique that should have been wiped from history."


    Shen Xue frowned. "What technique?"


    Yan¡¯s voice was grim. "The Dao of Decay. The path followed by the Black Sage, Xu Mo."


    A heavy silence fell over them. Master Daokan inhaled sharply. "Xu Mo¡­ I should have remembered sooner."


    Yan continued, "The Black Sage did not fight wars¡ªhe simply touched cities, and they crumbled. He whispered words, and entire bloodlines withered. Even now, the ruins of his passage are places where no life dares to grow. The very concept of qi rot¡­ it is his legacy."


    Master Daokan¡¯s jaw tightened. "If this is truly related, then I have failed in my duty to remember history¡¯s lessons."


    His mind drifted back, decades into the past, to the battle that ended Xu Mo¡¯s reign. The battlefield was ruined, the air thick with death. He had barely been standing, his own body ravaged by the withering touch of the Black Sage¡¯s techniques. Before him, Xu Mo lay in a broken heap, a gaping wound in his chest where Daokan¡¯s final strike had landed.


    The Black Sage had smiled through bloodied teeth, his voice a whisper of malice. "You may have killed me, Daokan, but decay does not die. It lingers. It waits. And one day, it will return."


    Master Daokan clenched his fists. He had ignored those words for years, dismissing them as the final delusions of a dying man. But now, as he looked upon Atlas¡¯s unconscious form, he feared Xu Mo had spoken the truth.


    Yan Shuren broke the silence first, his voice heavy with the weight of realization. "Two forbidden, forgotten techniques¡ªone in Atlas and one in Meilin. And we are the ones who must guide them. How do we cultivate something that was never meant to be cultivated?"


    Master Daokan¡¯s expression remained impassive, but his mind turned sharply over the dilemma. "Meilin¡¯s Qi rot¡ªI noticed it long before she ever arrived at the sect. I should have investigated further. Now, we face an unknown path."


    Shen Xue frowned. "You never spoke of it before. Why?"


    Master Daokan exhaled. "Because at the time, it was only a theory. Now, it is a reality. If Xu Mo¡¯s legacy lives within her, then the method to train her must be rewritten entirely. The Dao of Decay was never meant for cultivation¡ªit was a force of destruction. If we do not find a way to stabilize it, it will consume her just as surely as Atlas¡¯s power will consume him."


    Yan crossed his arms. "Then the answer is clear. We do not train them in the ways of traditional cultivation. We train them in how to survive their own power."


    Master Daokan took a slow breath, steadying himself. "Then we start now. But this will not be a simple path. It is not just their survival we must consider, but the consequences of what they become."


    Before anyone could respond, a small voice interrupted them.


    "What¡¯s wrong with him?"


    They turned to see the child Atlas had bought, now awake and standing beside Physician Ming. The girl¡¯s eyes, still heavy with sleep, were locked onto Atlas¡¯s unconscious form, her expression unreadable.


    "He looks¡­ empty."


    Physician Ming placed a reassuring hand on the child¡¯s shoulder. "He needs time to heal."


    The girl did not look away. "But will he wake up the same?"


    Yan Shuren knelt slightly, offering her a gentle smile. "He will be fine. You don''t need to worry."


    Master Daokan nodded, his voice calm but firm. "Atlas is strong. He will wake up."


    The girl, with her empty eyes unwavering. "You''re both lying."


    The air grew still.


    "People who get hurt like this¡­ they don¡¯t wake up the same. If they wake up at all," she continued, her voice quiet yet sharp, carrying the weight of a child who had seen too much.


    "Why do adults always say things like that?"


    Master Daokan stiffened. The realization hit him harder than he expected. He had seen countless warriors break, seen men far stronger than Atlas and Meilin reduced to husks of themselves, but looking into the girl¡¯s empty eyes, he knew better than to lie again.


    Instead, he asked, "How did you wake up?"


    The girl tilted her head, an eerie calm settling over her face before she spoke.


    "I didn¡¯t. They woke me up." A ghost of something¡ªtoo twisted to be called a smile¡ªcrossed her lips. "And I screamed until my voice gave out."


    A cold chill ran through the room. Shen Xue clenched her fists. Yan Shuren swallowed, a rare unease flickering across his usually composed features.


    Master Daokan, however, remained steady. "You were experimented on. Forced to endure something you should never have gone through. And yet, you are here. Why?"


    The girl blinked, and for a moment, the indifference in her gaze made everyone feel sick. "Because they wanted to see what would happen."


    Physician Ming visibly paled, a tremor running through his hands as he instinctively took a step back. Xian Yue, the beautiful servant who had remained composed through many horrors, covered her mouth, turning away as though she might be sick. Even Shen Xue, hardened as she was, tightened her jaw, her usual sharp confidence wavering.


    Master Daokan, however, looked the most furious of all. His expression remained still, but beneath the surface, his Qi trembled¡ªa rare sign of his barely contained rage. His fingers curled into a tight fist at his side, his breathing slow and controlled. "Who did this to you?"


    The girl hesitated for only a moment before speaking, her voice eerily detached. "My parents sold me. They called me useless. A burden. They fought over who would get the coin, and in the end, they sold me to a trader who didn¡¯t even count me as a person¡ªjust weight on his cart."


    She lifted her gaze, staring at nothing in particular. "They trained us to be obedient. If we weren¡¯t, we were punished. Some were broken fast, some held on longer. It didn¡¯t matter. Eventually, we all broke."


    A sudden gagging sound broke the heavy silence.


    Ren, who had been walking nearby and overheard everything, stumbled to the side and vomited, his body rejecting the sheer horror of what he had just heard. He braced himself against a pillar, his breath ragged, his heart torn between disgust and overwhelming pity. His fists clenched as he tried to steady himself, but the fury bubbling inside him made it impossible to stay still.


    He wiped his mouth, his voice shaking. "How¡­ how could anyone do that to a child?"


    Her voice was hollow as she continued. "There was a Qi master there. I never knew his name, but I remember his face. He was different from the slavers¡ªcalm, collected. He didn¡¯t hit us or shout. He didn¡¯t need to."


    Master Daokan¡¯s expression darkened. "Describe him."


    The girl¡¯s eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Tall. Silver hair, even though he wasn¡¯t old. His hands never stopped moving, like he was always testing something. He had a mark on his wrist¡ªsome kind of seal. He smiled when the others screamed."


    Yan Shuren inhaled sharply. "That sounds like a descendant of Wu Xun."


    Shen Xue tensed. "The Thousand Hands Executioner?"


    Master Daokan¡¯s fingers tightened. "Wu Xun was said to have mastered every form of hand-to-hand combat, his strikes so fast that he could tear through armor like paper. But instead of becoming a protector of the weak, he became a butcher. He sold his skills to the highest bidder, wiping out entire clans in a single night."


    He exhaled sharply, his mind racing. "But Wu Xun has been dead for decades. If what you say is true, then this man must be his descendant. And if his bloodline still carries those techniques, then he is a threat that must be identified immediately."


    Without hesitation, Master Daokan turned on his heel, motioning to one of his hidden disciples lurking in the shadows. "Send word to my informants. I want everything on the remnants of Wu Xun¡¯s lineage. If there is an heir to his craft operating in the underworld, I want to know who they are, where they are, and what they are planning."


    The disciple bowed and vanished, the air shifting slightly in his wake.


    Yan Shuren watched, arms crossed. "This is dangerous. If Wu Xun¡¯s techniques have truly survived, we may be dealing with something far worse than just a rogue assassin."


    The silence that followed was broken by the girl¡¯s voice, as if she were asking something as routine as the weather. "So, what will you do to me? Make me lay down and do those things again?"


    The weight of her words struck like a hammer.


    Xian Yue, the ever-poised servant, turned pale, her hands trembling as she clutched at her robes. Several of the female attendants had to look away, their stomachs churning at the realization of just how much horror this child had endured. Physician Ming visibly recoiled, looking as though he might be sick.


    Master Daokan¡¯s fury deepened, his qi pulsing with restrained rage. Shen Xue¡¯s fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Even Yan Shuren, the ever-composed warrior had to take a slow breath to contain himself.


    But no one¡ªno one¡ªhesitated in their answer.


    "No," Master Daokan said, his voice carrying an unshakable finality. "You will never endure that again."


    Yan Shuren nodded. "From this moment forward, you are under our protection."


    Shen Xue took a step forward, her gaze unwavering. "Whatever was done to you, it ends here."


    The room, once filled with calculation and tension, now held a singular resolution. They had come here for Atlas. But now, they had two to protect.


    "Then I¡¯ll show her something else instead."


    Ren stood in the doorway, his expression a mixture of anger and determination. He had overheard everything, and though his heart ached with pity, he knew there was something more important than just feeling sorry for her.


    "I¡¯ll show her fun things to do around here," he continued, his voice filled with an unshaken resolve. "She doesn¡¯t need to keep remembering all of that. She needs to know what it¡¯s like to just... be a kid."


    Master Daokan, a man who rarely tolerated interruptions, said nothing for a moment. Then, something in his expression softened.


    "Go ahead," he said. "Who wouldn¡¯t allow that?"


    The journey back to the main city was a silent one.


    Layla rode alongside the others, the distant echoes of battle still haunting the land around them. The dirt road was uneven, marred with patches of dried blood from animals caught in the blast and the occasional crater¡ªa brutal reminder of Atlas¡¯ fight. Despite the cold wind that swept through the plains, the very air still felt charged, as if the remnants of his absorbed Qi had yet to fully dissipate. The land itself bore the scars of the explosion, where the ground had been scorched in some places and cracked in others. Broken trees lined the path, some snapped cleanly in half, others twisted unnaturally, as though something had torn at them from within.


    Layla exhaled, watching as her breath curled into the cold air. Winter was arriving fast. The once-fertile earth was hardening, and the trees had long since begun shedding their leaves. Even the wind carried an icy bite, seeping through her robes. She didn¡¯t react to it at first¡ªcold was something she had endured many times before¡ªbut Bao, always perceptive, noticed the slight tremor in her shoulders.


    Without a word, he reached into his pack and pulled out a thick woolen shawl. With a single motion, he draped it over her shoulders.


    ¡°You¡¯re shivering,¡± he said simply.


    Layla blinked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. ¡°I can handle it.¡±


    Bao snorted. ¡°I know you can. But why should you?¡±


    She opened her mouth to retort but found no argument. Instead, she pulled the shawl closer, letting its warmth settle over her. Bao said nothing more, returning his focus to the road ahead. Layla simply sighed, choosing not to fight the simple kindness.


    By the time they reached the city, it was clear that Master Daokan had kept his word.


    Unlike their last visit, where suspicion and disdain had followed them like a shadow, the city guards barely hesitated before letting them pass. The market streets, usually filled with prying eyes and whispered judgments, instead met them with respectful nods. It was subtle but unmistakable¡ªan unspoken acknowledgment of the Shrouded Peaks Sect¡¯s endorsement. Master Daokan¡¯s influence had paved their way, and it showed in the way merchants and officials treated them.


    Meyu took the lead, her mind already working through what needed to be done. She had taken responsibility for Atlas¡¯ business, which meant she carried his coin pouch as well. The weight of it was a constant reminder of just how absurdly well-off he was, a fact that, much to Layla''s frustration, Layla couldn¡¯t deny.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Meyu said, stopping in the middle of the bustling market. ¡°We have supplies to get before heading back. Listen up, because I¡¯m only explaining this once.¡±


    She gestured toward the numerous stalls lining the streets. "The city¡¯s economy runs on a three-tiered currency system. Copper coins for daily purchases, silver for bulk goods or higher-end items, and gold¡­ well, gold is what nobles and the wealthy use. One gold coin is roughly a year¡¯s wage for a normal worker. Farmers, laborers, small-time merchants¡ªall of them rarely see more than a few gold coins in their lifetime. For most, silver is king. Oh, and there¡¯s also the barter system. If you have no money, you can trade something of equal or greater value. Unless you¡¯re Atlas. Then you just talk until they give up."


    Layla snorted but didn¡¯t comment.


    Lin Wuye, standing quietly nearby, slowly reached into his pouch and opened it. A single silver coin and three copper coins sat inside.


    Silence.


    Lin Wuye blinked.


    Layla stared. "That¡¯s¡­ all of it?"


    Lin Wuye coughed. "It would appear so."Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Bao leaned over. "Wait, isn¡¯t that the sect¡¯s finance too?"


    Lin Wuye¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. "...Yes."


    Layla massaged her temples. "Great. Fantastic."


    Meyu, however, simply rolled her shoulders. "Don¡¯t worry. This is already covered under the contract."


    Layla shot her a look. "Seriously?"


    Meyu pulled out the neatly folded document and began reading dramatically, mimicking Atlas¡¯ flair: "As per the legally binding agreement between Atlas and Master Daokan, all business dealings, expenses, and financial obligations pertaining to the acquisition of goods, resources, and trade contracts of the Silver Lotus Sect shall henceforth be managed by Ryl Trading, in accordance with the mutually beneficial terms outlined herein.¡¯"


    Jiang raised an eyebrow. "So, in simple terms?"


    Meyu said. "Atlas made sure to handle everything but since he''s in a coma.." Meyu had a visible sad face but masked it over a cheery one, "Ah but don''t worry, the terms are actually equal and beneficial to the sect. Mostly because he didn¡¯t negotiate thanks to Master Daokan. You can check the terms back when we reach the sect if you wish."


    Layla sighed. "That explains a lot and yes I will be checking it later with father."


    Bao crossed his arms. "Are you sure you can handle it?"


    Meyu¡¯s grin widened, and for a moment, her entire presence shifted. The air around her seemed to carry the faint aura of Atlas Ryland''s ridiculous confidence, as if she had absorbed too much of Atlas¡¯ antics over the years.


    She straightened her back, adjusted her sleeves, and smirked. "Oh, please. I¡¯ve spent years watching Atlas work. I can handle a few merchants and you¡¯re with Ryl Trading, which means we don¡¯t need to make deals. We are the deal. And going to what the contract state, we will provide food supplies in bulk¡ªgrains, dried vegetables, jujubes, apricots, wheat, and meat. We will provide bulk cloth for the winter, and spices as well."


    She cracked her knuckles. "Now, let¡¯s get ourselves a deal so good they¡¯ll cry about it later."


    Layla crossed her arms. "And if they don¡¯t want to negotiate?"


    Meyu¡¯s smirk widened. "Then I¡¯ll just do what Atlas does."


    Bao muttered, "Sweet talk them?"


    "No. Worse."


    What followed next could only be described as a spectacle of absurd proportions.


    The First Deal ¨C Bulk Grains


    Meyu approached the grain merchant with measured steps, her posture relaxed yet deliberate, her silk robe draping effortlessly over her figure. Her eyes, warm and inviting, locked onto the merchant¡¯s, and she gave him a smile that was both playful and knowing.


    "Ah, Miss Meyu! A pleasure as always! What brings Ryland Trading to my humble stall?" the merchant greeted, already eager.


    Meyu tilted her head slightly, her fingers lightly brushing the wooden counter, just enough to command his full attention. "Oh, just a little business, my dear friend. You see, I need a bulk order of grains, and I¡¯m willing to pay¡­ let¡¯s say, one gold for the whole lot."


    The merchant¡¯s expression tensed. "One gold? Miss Meyu, I respect you, but that¡¯s¡ª"


    Meyu leaned forward, resting her chin on her delicate fingers, her voice dipping into something honeyed yet firm. "Hmm? You wouldn¡¯t be suggesting that you¡¯d rather have your grains sit here, untouched, while my lovely, wealthy, powerful trade empire takes its business elsewhere, would you?"


    The merchant swallowed, suddenly aware of how close she was. "I¡ªWell, no, but¡ª"


    Meyu gave a small sigh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her tone shifting into a playful chide. "You¡¯re such a smart businessman! I knew you¡¯d see reason! One gold, and I promise that next season, I¡¯ll consider buying from you first before checking your competitors."


    The merchant opened his mouth, then closed it. His resolve crumbled instantly. "I¡­ I suppose that¡¯s fair¡­"


    Jiang (whispering): "That was terrifying."


    Bao (stunned): "Did she just... seduce the price down?"


    The Second Deal ¨C Winter Cloth


    The fabric merchant¡¯s eyes widened slightly as Meyu approached, her lips curling into a subtle smile.


    "Miss Meyu, fine fabrics such as these don¡¯t come cheap. Two gold at least."


    Meyu sighed theatrically, placing a delicate hand on her hip, shifting slightly so that the movement drew attention to the perfectly fitted silk of her attire. "Oh, you¡¯re right! But¡­ that¡¯s assuming other buyers will come in this season, yes? With the winter closing in?"


    The merchant hesitated. "Of course, people always¡ª"


    Meyu took a single step closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Buyers who aren¡¯t already contracted? Buyers who haven¡¯t already spent their gold on food and survival? Buyers who aren¡¯t my friends?"


    A bead of sweat rolled down the merchant¡¯s forehead. "..."


    Meyu gave him a knowing wink. "How about half a gold and a little favour? I¡¯ll make sure your name is whispered in the right places."


    Merchant: sweating "...Fine."


    Lin Wuye (rubbing his temples): "I don¡¯t know whether to be relieved or terrified."


    Layla (muttering): "She¡¯s Atlas in disguise."


    The Third Deal ¨C Spices


    The spice vendor tried to steel himself, but as soon as Meyu tilted her head, her fingers grazing the spice jars, his defenses were already cracking.


    "These spices are rare imports, Miss Meyu. I can¡¯t just¡ª"


    Meyu gently tapped a jar, letting her clothe just enough to reveal her cleavage, her voice lilting with mock curiosity. "Oh, of course. Rare. Exotic. Highly sought after. And completely overpriced when you realize I can buy them cheaper at the docks."


    The vendor¡¯s confidence faltered. "You wouldn¡¯t¡ª"


    Meyu sighed, feigning disappointment, her gaze locking onto his with a slow, deliberate blink. "But I won¡¯t. Because I like you. And because you¡¯re about to give me an offer so good that I¡¯ll have no choice but to praise you to everyone I meet. Aren¡¯t you?"


    The merchant let out a shaky breath, utterly defeated. "I¡­ I¡­"


    Meyu: "Say it with me. ¡®Yes, Miss Meyu. Half a gold for everything.¡¯"


    Merchant: "Yes, Miss Meyu. Half a gold for everything¡­"


    Bao: "No. NO. That should NOT have worked."


    Jiang: "Oh gods, she¡¯s literally Atlas but hot."


    Layla stood beside Yuxe Wuye and Lin Wuye, watching as Meyu worked through the market with frightening efficiency. What started as mild amusement quickly turned into something else entirely.


    "This is scary," Layla whispered, turning to Yuxe Wuye. "I think she¡¯s infected."


    Yuxe raised an eyebrow. "Infected?"


    Layla nodded toward Meyu, who was currently smiling sweetly at a merchant while completely dismantling his will to resist. "With the Atlas disease. She¡¯s negotiating like him. Moving like him. That face¡ªthat¡¯s the devil¡¯s face. I swear it¡¯s the exact same as Atlas when he pulls his stunts."


    Lin Wuye, standing nearby, let out a long sigh.


    "If this continues, I fear for the economy of Jin."


    "Forget the economy. I fear for humanity." Layla watched in disbelief as another merchant literally thanked Meyu for taking his goods for half the price. "Are we sure no one else is infected? Should we be concerned? Should we check Bao? Jiang? Gods, is it contagious?"


    Bao, overhearing this, looked at her incredulously. "What? No! Don¡¯t lump me in with¡­ that!"


    Layla arched an eyebrow at Bao, unimpressed. "Oh really? Because I distinctly remember you carrying Atlas on a chair, parading him around like a king in Master Daokan¡¯s own grand hall¡ªand dropping a lifetime¡¯s worth of wealth just because he convinced you it was a worthy investment.


    Bao unable to fight back, just sighed in defeat.


    But the truth was undeniable. Meyu was, in fact, Atlas¡ªbut hot.


    Meyu walked through the streets humming cheerfully, swinging the ridiculously loud coin pouch at her side as if she hadn''t just committed daylight robbery with a smile. She bought a year''s worth of grains, spices and cloth for only 3 gold and 20 silvers.


    The rest of the group? Dumbfounded.


    Jiang finally spoke up, "Meyu¡­ do you even realize what you just did?"


    Meyu with an oblivious smile, "Yes, I did what Atlas would do."


    A long silence followed.


    Lin Wuye exhaled. "I cannot tell if this is a good thing¡­ or terrifying."


    Layla groaned, rubbing her forehead. "I think it¡¯s both. It¡¯s definitely both."


    With their negotiations complete, they made their way toward Ryl Trading¡¯s main shop. Upon arrival, Meyu didn¡¯t even hesitate. She clapped her hands twice, and within moments, a handful of Atlas¡¯ workers rushed forward.


    "Alright, I need winter necessities. Bring out the wood, weapons, extra food, and all essential supplies for Silver Lotus Sect. Get it all packed and ready for transport."


    One of the workers hesitated. "Miss Meyu, that¡¯s a large order. The cost¡ª"


    Lin Wuye immediately stepped forward. "Yes! The cost! We can¡¯t pay for this right now."


    Meyu casually pulled out the contract and held it up. "Oh, no worries! That¡¯s already been handled. As per the agreement between Atlas and Master Daokan, Silver Lotus doesn¡¯t have to pay a single coin until winter is over. It was one of the terms Master Daokan himself set."


    Layla froze. "Wait. Atlas didn¡¯t negotiate this?"


    Meyu shrugged. "Nope. He just accepted the terms outright."


    Lin Wuye frowned. "That¡­ doesn¡¯t sound like Atlas."


    Layla crossed her arms. "He would never just accepts deals knowing what kind of a man he is. He is probably the type to deal that squeezes the life out of them. Why didn¡¯t he negotiate?"


    Meyu tilted her head, thinking. "Well, there could be a few reasons¡­"


    She held up three fingers.


    "One, he was secretly planning something even bigger and just went along with it to avoid suspicion."


    Layla and Lin Wuye nodded. That made sense.


    She put a second finger down. "Two, he was testing Master Daokan to see how far he could push the sect before they realized they were being exploited."


    Bao muttered, "That sounds like him."


    Finally, she lowered the last finger, "Or three¡­ he was just really, really lazy that day and didn¡¯t feel like arguing."


    Silence.


    Jiang squinted. "That...is the most unlikely."


    Layla groaned. "Why is that somehow even worse?"


    Meyu just laughed, clapping her hands together. "Well, whatever the reason, the deal¡¯s done! So, let¡¯s get moving before someone realizes I just took half of the emperor''s economy and put it in our pockets!"


    Jiang sighing and making a facepalm, "We are going to be banned from this city one day."


    Layla looked at him, then at Meyu, then back at him. "One day? I give it a month at most."


    And with that, they left Ryland Trading, fully stocked, not a single coin more spent.


    With their negotiations complete, Meyu led them toward a row of sleek, well-maintained carriages, each one attached to muscular, well-bred horses. They were nothing like the battered transports they had arrived in.


    Layla raised an eyebrow, running a hand along the fine craftsmanship of the nearest carriage. "This¡­ is a lot fancier than I expected. How in the world did Atlas even acquire something like this?"


    Meyu, completely nonchalant, shrugged. "Oh, a noble gave it to him."


    Layla blinked. "A noble... just gave him this?"


    Meyu nodded, her expression unbothered. "Mhm. Well, technically, it was the Emperor¡¯s own relative."


    Jiang, who had been sipping from his waterskin, promptly choked. "The Emperor¡¯s relative?"


    Lin Wuye coughed. "Excuse me, what?!"


    Meyu waved a hand. "Oh, don¡¯t look so surprised. You should know by now that Atlas has a... way of making things happen."


    Yuxe Wuye narrowed her eyes. "No. No, no, no. You don¡¯t get to just drop that and walk away from it. How?"


    Meyu tapped a finger against her chin, as if recalling an old memory. "Oh, well, you see, there was this ¡®tiny misunderstanding¡¯ involving a tax audit, an ¡®accidental¡¯ forged document, and something about the noble¡¯s prized racehorses mysteriously ending up at the wrong estate. Twice."


    Lin Wuye pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me he didn¡¯t blackmail an imperial noble."


    "Blackmail? Gods, no!" Meyu gasped in mock offense. "It was an enlightened trade. Atlas simply pointed out that should certain ¡®oversights¡¯ come to light, it would be a tragedy for the noble¡¯s reputation. In return, he generously offered to resolve the issue by taking these carriages off his hands¡ªpurely out of kindness, of course."


    Jiang¡¯s eye twitched. "He extorted an imperial noble and called it a trade."


    Meyu nonchalantly. "Something like that"


    Layla just stared at her. "Atlas is a menace."


    Yuxe Wuye observed the sturdy horses and nodded. "With this setup, we should arrive back in less than a week."


    Meyu, however, smirked. "Less than a week? I think you''re underestimating us. I say Three to four days, max."


    Jiang blinked. "That¡¯s impossible."


    Bao shook his head. "Absolutely not happening."


    The carriages sped through the vast plains at an absurd pace. The horses galloped at full tilt, their hooves kicking up dust as the wheels thundered across the path. Trees and landmarks blurred past them, the world a streak of motion.


    Inside, Lin Wuye maintained some sense of dignity, but the interior of the carriage was a warzone. The finely crafted wooden panels creaked under the strain of their unnatural speed. Cushions that were meant to offer comfort were instead being used as desperate stabilizers, grabbed at by everyone except Meyu.


    Yuxe Wuye, however, her hair, once neatly tied, had fully come undone, strands whipping wildly in every direction like a possessed spirit in the wind. Her usually serene beauty had taken on a slightly unhinged edge, her eyes squinting through the strands as if stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the chaos.


    Lin Wuye cast her a glance, then looked at himself¡ªperfectly balanced, sitting with practiced ease, his posture unshaken despite the turbulence. Then, he looked back at his wife. He adored Yuxe Wuye, but right now, with her hair flailing like a storm-wrecked banner, eyes twitching from strands whipping against her face, she looked less like a composed scholar and more like a woman personally offended by physics itself.


    Still, he loved her. Even like this. Maybe especially like this.


    He sighed. "Darling, you look¡­ radiant."


    Yuxe Wuye, her composure cracking ever so slightly as another violent gust nearly blinded her, responded without looking up. "Shut up, darling."


    Inside one of the carriages, Layla clung to the edge of her seat, her knuckles white as she tried to stay upright.


    "This is madness!"


    Across from her, Meyu sat perfectly still, her hands neatly folded in her lap. Her hair flowed freely in the wind, yet she remained unshaken, perfectly at ease in the chaos.


    Jiang bounced unceremoniously against the side of the carriage, gritting his teeth as he tried to stabilize himself. "Meyu, why are these horses so fast?! What are they?!"


    Meyu, lounging comfortably, reached into a pouch and pulled out a piece of dried fruit, taking a leisurely bite before responding. "Oh, they''re the Emperor¡¯s relative¡¯s prized racehorses. The fastest ones. The ones that always won."


    Layla, barely holding onto her seat, gawked at her. "AND YOU DIDN¡¯T THINK TO MENTION THAT EARLIER?!"


    Meyu simply smiled. "Relax! We¡¯ll be home in no time!"


    The journey did take only 3 days. She was right and by dawn as well.


    At the gates of the Silver Lotus Sect, three figures watched the carriages arrive at unnatural speed, kicking up dust and rattling the worn wooden doors of the entrance.


    First was Zhu Fen, the youngest disciple of the sect, barely twelve years old. His oversized robes, patched in places, fluttered as he squinted at the incoming vehicles. "Are we under attack?" he asked nervously, gripping the small wooden training sword at his side.


    Beside him, Elder Jian Bo, the oldest active sect member at sixty, stroked his thin white beard. His robes, faded with years of wear, barely hung onto his wiry frame, but his back remained straight. "No noble arrives at this speed unless they are here to extort us. Prepare to greet them as befits this sect."


    The third figure, Zhao Lihua, the only female elder besides Yuxe Wuye, crossed her arms. At twenty-eight, she was relatively young for an elder, but her sharp gaze carried experience well beyond her years. Clad in simple, well-maintained robes, she assessed the scene with a skeptical frown. "Or," she said dryly, "someone deeply unhinged is at the reins."


    As the sect¡¯s remaining disciples hurried to gather, Zhu Fen looked up at the two elders. "So... do we fight them or bow?"


    Jian Bo sighed. "We¡¯ll see. If they demand money, we have nothing left to give anyway."


    The carriages screeched to a halt at the entrance of the Silver Lotus Sect, dust swirling in the air as the exhausted yet deeply traumatized the ones in the carriage.


    Jiang stepped out with trembling legs, his face pale. "I will never doubt Meyu again... but I will also never get into a carriage with her in charge ever again."


    Bao groaned, his back popping audibly. "I think my soul left my body at least twice."


    Layla, meanwhile, was still gripping the carriage door, as if uncertain the world had truly stopped moving. "That... wasn''t a journey. That was a war."


    Yuxe Wuye, now fully composed but with hair that still looked vaguely haunted, exhaled slowly. "At least we made it."


    Lin Wuye, completely unaffected, patted his robes free of dust and turned to Meyu. "Tell me, did Atlas ever use this method of travel himself?"


    Meyu, stretching casually as if the past three days had been nothing more than a leisurely stroll, smirked. "Oh, no. He absolutely refused. He said, and I quote, ''I enjoy living.''


    More elders and disciples had gathered, drawn by the commotion of the speeding and wealthy carriages and the spectacle of the exhausted Sect new leader, Meilin Wuye and Lin Wuye, the advisor. A handful of nervous junior disciples whispered among themselves, while the more seasoned members stood at attention, ready to intervene if necessary.


    Among them, Zhu Fen, the youngest disciple, peeked out from behind Elder Jian Bo, his small hands gripping his tattered robes. His voice wavered as he spoke. "Elder Jian Bo... w-what¡¯s going on? Who are they?"


    Lin Wuye, stepped forward alongside Layla. "Calm yourself, Zhu Fen. No one¡¯s here to harm the sect. In fact..." He shot a quick glance at Meyu, who was dusting herself off with an entirely too-smug expression.


    "You could say we¡¯ve acquired something far more valuable."


    Layla smirked, placing a hand on her hip. "The sect now has its own personal merchant."


    A silence settled over the gathered members before Elder Jian Bo let out a deep, incredulous sigh, his already worn features twisting into a deep frown of disbelief. "A what? Lady Meilin, you do realize the sect has no money, yes? We can barely afford to feed our disciples, let alone hire someone!"


    Zhao Lihua crossed her arms, watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. "I have to agree with Elder Jian Bo. How exactly do you plan to pay this so-called ¡®personal merchant¡¯? With goodwill?"


    A few disciples murmured in agreement, concern growing as they considered their already struggling finances. The sect had barely managed to get by over the years, and now they were taking on a merchant?


    Meyu took a step forward, clasping her hands behind her back with a slow, deliberate movement that somehow made the gathered elders even more wary. Her smirk widened, that dangerously persuasive glint in her eye sharpening.


    "Ah, I see," she said lightly. "You¡¯re all assuming this is an expense. That¡¯s adorable."


    Elder Jian Bo¡¯s frown deepened, the lines on his face tightening. "That is typically how merchants work. They expect payment. Unless, of course, you¡¯re planning to enlighten us on how this ¡®arrangement¡¯ isn¡¯t a drain on resources we don¡¯t have."


    Meyu rocked slightly on her sandals, looking for all the world as if she had just been asked whether the sky was blue. "Oh, come now. Do you think a respectable merchant, like Master Atlas, would ever invest in something that didn¡¯t benefit him and everyone else? Give him a little more credit."


    Zhao Lihua raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And yet, you¡¯re the one standing here instead of him."


    Meyu¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t falter. "That¡¯s because someone has to keep his empire running while he takes a very dramatic and long nap. But don¡¯t worry¡ªhe left me with very clear instructions."


    Jian Bo crossed his arms. "Which were?"


    Meyu exhaled dramatically. "Well, first, I was supposed to ensure the Silver Lotus Sect didn¡¯t starve to death during the winter. Which, you know, is important. Second, I was to make sure no one tried to weasel out of a perfectly good deal just because they don¡¯t know how to read a contract. And third, I was to be patient while a bunch of skeptical elders questioned a brilliant business decision. And look at that, I¡¯m already succeeding at number three!"


    Zhao Lihua pinched her forehead. "Get to the point."


    Meyu grinned. "Gladly. The sect isn¡¯t paying us."


    A pause. Several confused blinks.


    "...Excuse me?" Elder Jian Bo said slowly


    Meyu pulled out a copy of the contract, tapping a perfectly manicured finger against one of the clauses. "Silver Lotus Sect owes nothing until winter is over. That was part of the terms Master Daokan himself agreed to. Atlas didn¡¯t even negotiate. He just gave him that."


    Layla, catching on immediately, nodded sagely. "Ah, of course. That makes sense." Then, with a perfectly executed thoughtful expression, she turned to Lin Wuye.


    "Doesn''t it?"


    Lin Wuye, sharp enough to follow her lead, rubbed his chin as if he had known this all along. "Absolutely. In fact, I would¡¯ve been concerned if Atlas had negotiated. This level of generosity was clearly part of a grander scheme."


    Meyu waved a dismissive hand. "I know, right? It¡¯s a mystery. But, if I had to guess, I¡¯d say it¡¯s one of three reasons." She lifted a finger. "One: He saw a greater long-term benefit to the sect thriving rather than struggling, which meant it was an investment rather than a favor." Another finger. "Two: He was planning something that required Master Daokan¡¯s goodwill, and this was just the setup." And finally, a third. "Or three: He was feeling particularly generous that day and wanted to see how much power he could get away with giving away before someone finally called him out on it."


    Jian Bo, however, still looked unimpressed. "That still doesn¡¯t explain what you¡¯re getting out of this. You don¡¯t work for free."


    Meyu sighed. "Of course not. I get a portion of future earnings from trade facilitated between the sect and the city merchants, using goods provided by Ryl Trading." Her smile widened.


    "Everyone wins. The sect gets food, winter supplies, and materials. I get to expand Atlas¡¯s trade network. And all of you get to sleep soundly knowing you¡¯re not going to have to scrape by on rice gruel and prayer until spring."


    A silence stretched among the elders and disciples. Some of the younger ones actually looked hopeful, but the senior members were still processing just how easily they¡¯d been maneuvered into accepting the arrangement.


    Zhao Lihua exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. "So you mean to tell me that while we were struggling, begging local traders for fair prices, Atlas had already set up a deal where we wouldn¡¯t have to pay a single copper until spring?"


    Meyu nodded, completely unbothered. "Yup. And you¡¯re welcome."


    Jian Bo muttered under his breath before finally conceding with a heavy sigh. "Fine. But if this turns out to be a mistake¡ª"


    Meyu cut in smoothly, already turning on her heel. "Oh, don¡¯t worry. It won¡¯t." She flashed a dazzling grin over her shoulder.


    "Because I¡¯m very, very good at what I do."


    She took two steps before pausing, tilting her head as if she had just remembered something trivial. "Oh, right. One more thing." She turned back to face them, smile widening into something that was both playful and devastating. "Since Ryl Trading is covering everything for the winter... you¡¯re all working for us."


    Jian Bo blinked. "Excuse me?"


    "You heard me!" Meyu clasped her hands together cheerfully. "For the entire winter, the Silver Lotus Sect will be handling some very basic trade work in return for not starving. Simple, really."


    Layla scowled. "Wait a minute¡ª"


    Meyu whirled on her, eyes gleaming. "Ah-ah, dear Meilin. You don¡¯t want to sound ungrateful, do you? After all, we did sponsor everything. The food? The supplies? The warm, cozy winter instead of freezing in the mountains? That was us." Her voice dropped into something dangerously sweet. "And let¡¯s not forget... you¡¯ll be learning valuable business skills! Think of it as education. Literacy training. A favor, really."


    Lin Wuye looked between them, then let out a long sigh. "We¡¯ve been scammed, haven¡¯t we?"


    Meyu beamed. "No, no! Scamming implies you got nothing in return. This? This is an opportunity." She turned on her sandals, humming to herself as she walked away, already thinking of the most efficient way to put them all to work.


    Jiang, watching all of this unfold, muttered to Bao. "I hate how effective this is."


    Bao sighed. "I hate how much she reminds me of him."


    Before Jiang could agree, the sound of multiple heavy boots hitting the ground made them both turn. Meyu looked back at them with a knowing smirk. "Oh, did I forget to mention? The workers from Ryl Trading will be assisting with the rebuild. It¡¯s only fair that the sect does some work in return."


    The carriage doors swung open, and out stepped the workers from Ryl Trading.


    They weren¡¯t just ordinary merchants or traders¡ªno, these were laborers, haulers, and craftsmen, all built like warriors. Muscles rippled beneath their clothes, their arms thick from years of carrying heavy goods and working manual labour. A few of the women among them looked just as strong¡ªif not stronger¡ªthan some of the sect¡¯s own disciples.


    Jiang, who prided himself on his own physical prowess, felt insecure.


    He leaned toward Bao. "Uh. Am I imagining things, or do some of those women look more ripped than me?"


    Bao clapped a hand on his shoulder solemnly. "No, brother. They absolutely do."


    Layla, Lin Wuye, and Yuxe Wuye all looked absolutely dumbfounded, their expressions frozen in disbelief, eyes wide like characters straight out of an exaggerated drama.


    Layla turned to her father, still processing what she was seeing. "I thought women in this place weren¡¯t allowed to be laborers or work hard jobs?"


    Somehow, despite the distance, Meyu¡¯s ears perked up. She casually waved a hand.


    "Atlas doesn¡¯t care about gender, status or whatever you are. If you can work, you get paid. Simple as that."


    Layla blinked, then slowly nodded, a thought settling into her mind. As a former queen, she had fought against outdated status quos, pushing for women¡¯s rights in a world that resisted. Even in her previous life, she had defied expectations, abolishing archaic traditions despite being surrounded by those who sought to maintain them. The logic was sound. She couldn¡¯t even argue against it.


    Layla blinked again but now in confusion, "That still doesn¡¯t explain why some of the woman are so strong."


    Lin Wuye, his face one of smiling defeat, a tear falling down from his right cheek, simply patted her on the shoulder. "Meilin, my daughter, just let it be."

 Silver Lotus Rebuild

    Layla exhaled sharply. "Fine. But I want a full report on how this trade deal affects sect operations. We can''t afford to rely entirely on outside merchants."


    Meyu stretched lazily. "Oh, don''t worry, dear sect leader. We''re in an era of¡­ economic prosperity. You''ll thank me later."


    Layla shot her a warning look but chose not to press the issue further. Not yet.


    Meyu leaned back on a tree, her mind spinning with calculations just like Atlas. Atlas always said, "Control the flow, and you control the future." This wasn''t just about making the sect wealthier¡ªit was about ensuring sustainability.


    First, the workforce.


    She needed to divide the labour between Ryl Trading''s people and Silver Lotus Sect''s disciples. Merchants and skilled workers would focus on trade, infrastructure, and specialized crafts, while the sect''s disciples would be trained in essential survival skills¡ªfarming, storage management, and resource conservation. No one would be idle, and no work would be wasted.


    Next, the buildings.


    Two new structures had to be built.


    A school: Literacy was essential if they were going to modernize. A moderate-sized building, 20 meters long and 10 meters wide, with two classrooms and a storage room for scrolls and writing tools. This would be enough to accommodate a steady rotation of students without overwhelming resources.


    A sanitation building: Layla had requested better hygiene facilities in the carriage and previously, and now was the time to act. This one would be slightly larger, around 25 meters long and 15 meters wide, designed to house bathing areas, a clean water supply, and proper waste disposal.


    Finally, food storage.


    The sect needed a preservation system that would last through the harsh winters. She planned for:


    Rice & Wheat Storage: A granary elevated on stone pillars to prevent moisture damage.


    Meat Storage: A smokehouse built near the northern edge of the sect, using traditional curing methods to preserve protein sources.


    Vegetable & Fruit Preservation: Underground storage cellars, where natural insulation would keep them fresh longer.


    Meyu''s lips curled into a grin. With this, Atlas''s influence wouldn''t just bring control¡ªit would bring long-term stability.


    She turned to Layla. "Alright, I have a plan."


    Layla raised an eyebrow. "That was fast."


    "Efficiency, dear sect leader." Meyu gestured toward the gathered sect members.


    "We divide the workforce between skilled trades and general labor. We construct two new buildings¡ªone for literacy, the other for sanitation, per your request of course. And we establish proper food storage to ensure we never run out of supplies."


    Layla''s expression shifted into deep contemplation. "Give me the specifics."


    As Meyu relayed the details, Layla''s mind sharpened, slipping into the practiced calculations of a ruler. A queen does not accept plans blindly¡ªshe dissects them, tests them for flaws, and bends them to serve her vision.


    She assessed the workforce division first. Splitting labor between traders and sect disciples was logical. The traders handled commerce and craftsmanship, while the disciples learned practical survival skills. It ensured productivity without compromising sect traditions.


    Then the buildings. The school was necessary but had to be scaled properly. A 20-meter by 10-meter structure was reasonable, but she would ensure the space could be expanded later. A small investment now would prevent future stagnation. The sanitation building, on the other hand, was non-negotiable¡ªcleanliness equated to health, and a healthy sect was a strong one. She noted the 25-meter by 15-meter dimensions and approved without hesitation.


    Food storage required particular scrutiny. The granary''s stone pillars were ideal against moisture, but placement had to be strategic. If positioned too close to the river, flooding could be an issue. She would relocate it to higher ground. The underground cellars for vegetables and fruit were practical, but she would demand an inspection routine to prevent rot.


    Satisfied with the foundations, Layla gave her final adjustments. Only when she was certain the sect''s future was secure did she nod her approval. When they were finished, Layla nodded. "Approved. Give the orders."


    Meyu clapped her hands together, turning toward the crowd. "Alright, listen up! Here''s how we''re going to change this sect forever¡ª"


    The Ryl Trading employees, almost on instinct, snapped into position, standing in neat, disciplined rows like trained soldiers. In stark contrast, the disciples of the Silver Lotus Sect stood haphazardly, shifting uneasily as they observed the precision of their merchant counterparts. Some of the younger sect members whispered among themselves, clearly wondering when and how traders had become more organized than cultivators.


    Layla let out a quiet sigh but quickly refocused. She reached out as Lin Wuye handed her a paper and quill¡ªsomething she hadn''t seen in some time. The feeling of the quill between her fingers stirred old memories, but she pushed them aside. Now was not the time for nostalgia.


    She knelt and began sketching the layout of the new structures with swift, precise strokes. "We need to complete this before winter strikes in full force¡ªno later than two weeks from now. Otherwise, survival will be a problem."


    She pointed to the sections of the map. "The workforce will be divided efficiently. Masons and builders will focus on constructing the school and sanitation building. Farmers and general laborers will set up the granary and preservation systems. The sect disciples will have designated training times to ensure physical strength and qi refinement aren''t neglected."


    She paused, adjusting a few details. "We need to set dedicated training hours¡ªearly mornings and evenings. That way, no one loses focus on cultivation while we prepare for the coming months."


    Before she could continue, Lin Wuye stepped forward.


    "We should modify the labor schedules slightly. While your plan is strong, we need to ensure proper breaks and alternate shifts. Overworking will lead to mistakes, and in winter, mistakes are fatal."


    His voice carried more authority than before, a subtle but significant shift. For years, he had remained passive, but now, he was stepping forward¡ªan unmistakable declaration that the Silver Lotus Sect was no longer idle.


    Jiang smirked, stepping forward. "I''ll take charge of the new trainees. We''ll need someone to lead the physical drills and qi refinement."


    Layla gave him a pointed look. "Wasn''t that a given?"


    The murmurs among the elders grew louder. The eldest of them, Elder Jian Bo, narrowed his eyes. "Why this sudden shift? We have followed the same traditions for decades. Now, we''re suddenly restructuring everything? Are we not straying too far from our foundations?"


    Lin Wuye, his voice firm, interjected before the whispers could grow into outright protest. "We won the last war not through brute strength, but through Meilin''s strategy. Yet we nearly lost because we lacked the power to support it. Tell me, elders, if we had to fight warriors all as strong as Shen Mu, would we survive?"


    A heavy silence followed, some of the elders shifting uneasily. They knew the answer but refused to speak it aloud.


    Meyu clicked her tongue, stepping forward with a dramatic sigh, her voice laced with mockery. "Oh, come now, elders. If your answer isn''t a confident ''yes,'' then what are we even arguing about? Or are we just debating how long it would take before we''re wiped out entirely?" She smirked, eyes gleaming. "Because that''s certainly an option. Maybe if we pray hard enough, the next war will be kind enough to ignore us."


    A few disciples stifled nervous chuckles, while some elders bristled at her words. However, no one dared to refute her outright. Meyu, much like Atlas, had a way of cutting through pretense and ensuring no room for argument remained.


    A young disciple hesitated before raising his hand. "How will we train? Will it be different?"


    At that moment, a ripple of realization passed through the gathered sect members. Layla, Jiang, Bao, and Lin Wuye all exchanged glances, recalling their own training under Master Daokan. The elders, especially the eldest, Jian Bo, and even Elder Zhao Lihua, scoffed at the notion. "Master Daokan training people like us? That''s nonsense. The man is an untouchable legend."


    Layla, undeterred, turned to Bao. "Step forward. Show them your improvements."


    Bao moved to the center, taking his stance. He executed the first step of the Steps of the Gale¡ªWhispering Breeze. His movements became elusive, his body gliding like a wisp of air, each step calculated, each strike a blur of precision. The gathered elders and disciples murmured among themselves¡ªthis was expected. Bao was a capable fighter, after all.


    Then he transitioned into the second step¡ªRushing Wind. His speed doubled and the wind howled around him, his attacks becoming harder to follow.


    Then he transitioned into the third step¡ªGale''s Kiss.


    The pressure of his attacks became suffocating, his strikes forming shockwaves that forced the air itself to part around him. The murmurs in the crowd ceased, the disbelief among the elders now turning to stunned silence as they watched a technique that Bao never used before come to life before their eyes.


    Silence fell over the crowd as they watched the sheer intensity of his form shift into something beyond what they had previously seen.


    Lin Wuye crossed his arms, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "Is anyone else doubting our words now?"


    The Rebuild Begins


    Layla oversaw the rebuilding efforts with the keen eyes of a ruler. The sect had been stagnant for too long, and now was the time for action. The first step was clearing the necessary land. To everyone''s astonishment, the Ryl Trading workers, disciplined and efficient, managed to clear the designated areas within half a day¡ªa feat that left the sect disciples in stunned silence.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Meanwhile, Meyu took some of the sect elders, particularly those not crucial to combat or construction, and redirected them into assisting Ryl Trading''s business sector. The extra workers were guided in skills that benefited the trading network¡ªlogistics management, inventory tracking, and contract negotiations¡ªensuring they contributed to the sect''s new economic structure rather than standing idle.


    "I never thought I''d see the day when an elder had to learn bookkeeping," one disciple whispered, watching as an elder struggled to calculate trade values under the watchful eyes of an amused Ryl employee.


    The school was the first priority. In just three days, the foundation had been set, and the framework for the 20-meter by 10-meter building took shape. Layla walked the site, inspecting every wooden beam, ensuring that the structure would not only hold but last for generations.


    To her surprise, Meyu was also on-site, not just overseeing but actively helping. With shocking ease, she lifted an entire log of wood onto her shoulder, carrying it across the work site. The disciples gawked in disbelief.


    Layla blinked. "Meyu, since when could you do that?"


    Meyu grinned. "Oh? You thought I was just here to order people around? Strength is an important part of negotiations, you know. Sometimes you have to carry deals¡ªand lumber."


    Next came the sanitation building.


    The 25-meter by 15-meter facility was a larger undertaking, requiring careful planning for water distribution and waste management. As they walked through the plans, Meyu raised an eyebrow.


    "Why do we even need this again? Wouldn''t it be easier to just dig some holes and let nature handle the rest?"


    Layla shot her a sharp look.


    "Do you really want to train alongside people who stink so bad you can''t focus? Proper sanitation prevents disease, preserves morale, and improves living conditions. If you want strong warriors, they need to stay healthy."


    Meyu hummed. "Fine, fine, you win. But you have to admit¡ªmy way was the low-cost option."


    The granary and storage facilities progressed steadily. The stone-pillar design was implemented to protect grains from moisture, while the smokehouse''s construction ensured a steady supply of preserved meats. Layla had personally inspected the underground cellars to confirm their placement¡ªfar enough from any potential flooding zones yet close enough for accessibility. With winter looming, every decision is calculated.


    Even as she led the logistics, she didn''t neglect her own training. Every dawn, before the sect awoke, she trained¡ªrepeating the Steps of the Gale in solitude. Each movement refined, each breath measured.


    One evening, as she practiced in isolation, her father, Lin Wuye, approached. "Meilin, your footwork is sharper now, but you still lack the control to execute the first step properly. Come, I''ll teach you."


    Layla listened intently as her father guided her through the intricate technique of Whispering Breeze. He demonstrated the delicate shifts in balance and the precise qi circulation required to make the movement seamless. Layla attempted to replicate it, but each time she tried, she felt the strain on her body, her Qi dispersing too erratically.


    She repeated the step over and over, frustration growing, but she reminded herself¡ªa queen is not forged in comfort, but in discipline.


    Through her training, she noticed subtle changes in her body. Her muscles adapted, becoming leaner, more refined. Her Qi reserves, once limited, expanded, allowing her to sustain greater exertion. She felt herself evolving, no longer the same woman who had first arrived into this world.


    Jiang led the new trainees in drills, reinforcing strength and discipline, while Lin Wuye provided invaluable insight into qi refinement. Layla often joined them at night, training alongside them, proving that leadership was not about command alone, but example.


    However, the combined effort of labor and training was taking a toll. Layla caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of a nearby water basin¡ªher once delicate form had gained sharper muscle definition, her frame more hardened than before. She frowned slightly.


    Meyu, naturally, took notice. "Oh no, Meilin. Don''t tell me you''re upset about losing that delicate princess look?"


    Layla scowled. "I didn''t mind being strong, but must I look like I could wrestle Jiang?"


    Meyu snickered. "Oh, don''t be so dramatic. Besides, this is just proof that all my efficient labor plans worked. Congratulations! You''ve evolved into a stronger model of yourself."


    A week before winter hits in full force, the Break of Dawn


    Jiang smirked as he took a stance across from Layla in the sparring ring.


    "Meilin, you''ve improved since your last beatdown. I''d almost say you''re unrecognizable¡ªthough that might just be because you''re still standing this time."


    Layla rolled her shoulders, letting the tension ease from her muscles. "Funny. I was just thinking how predictable your footwork is."


    Their sparring began, the clash of blades and shifting footwork echoing through the training grounds. Jiang pushed harder, forcing Layla to match his intensity, but unlike before, she did not falter so easily. Her movements were sharper, her responses quicker, and though she still struggled to fully utilize Whispering Breeze, the progress was undeniable.


    From the sidelines, Yuxe Wuye watched with a soft smile, arms crossed as she observed her daughter.


    Meyu, naturally, couldn''t resist making her own commentary. "Ah, look at that. Just a little while ago, she was getting passed around by Yan Shuren like a training dummy. Now, she''s still getting passed around¡ªjust a tiny bit less. Improvement!"


    Layla shot her a glare mid-movement, nearly missing Jiang''s feint. "Meyu¡ª"


    Jiang capitalized on her distraction, tapping his blade lightly against her shoulder.


    "Still getting distracted, Meilin. You''ll never win like that."


    Layla exhaled sharply but allowed herself the smallest smile. She wasn''t there yet, but she was getting closer. Closer to mastering her techniques. Closer to becoming stronger.


    She adjusted her stance and readied herself for another round, but as she moved, she muttered,


    "And I will always lose¡­"


    Jiang chuckled. "Good to know you''ve accepted your fate. Let''s keep going."


    They continued their sparring, each clash of blades echoing across the training grounds. Sweat dripped down Layla''s brow, her muscles aching from the relentless pace, but she refused to slow down. They fought until exhaustion set in, until the movement became instinctive, until her mind was forced to sharpen under pressure.


    Meyu, who had been watching with crossed arms, finally sighed.


    "Alright, enough of this. I let you have your fun, but we have actual work to do."


    Layla, breathing heavily, took a cautious step back. "I think I''ll pass. I did my fair share of labor already."


    Meyu smirked. "Oh, Meilin. You must have hit your head too hard if you think you get special treatment just because you''re exhausted. You''re the sect leader¡ªyour presence is an inspiration. Your strong, capable hands should be leading the labor force."


    Layla''s eyes darted toward the exit. "Actually, I¡ª"


    Before she could make her escape, Meyu grabbed her by the collar with surprising strength, dragging her forward like a child being taken to task.


    "Come along, dear leader. Nothing sets an example better than getting your hands dirty."


    Layla groaned, limbs flailing uselessly. "Meyu, let go! I can''t feel my legs! I¡ª"


    Meyu, ever unfazed, waved to the stunned disciples as she hauled Layla away.


    "Fear not, everyone! Our great and benevolent sect leader is merely showing you all how NOT to slack off. A lesson in perseverance!"


    From the sidelines, Yuxe Wuye calmly sipped her tea, watching the spectacle unfold. She turned to Jiang with an amused expression.


    "Tell me, Jiang, do you think Meyu is worse than Atlas?"


    Jiang snorted, crossing his arms. "Lady Yuxe, that depends. If you mean in terms of sheer chaos, Atlas still wins. But if you''re talking about immediate suffering, well¡­ Meyu does have a talent for making people regret their choices faster."


    Yuxe chuckled lightly. "An efficient tormentor. Fitting."


    Jiang smirked. "Indeed. Atlas at least gives you the illusion of choice. Meyu? You realize too late you never had one to begin with."


    Two days before winter hit full force.


    Layla found herself sprawled across the snow-covered ground, exhaustion seeping into her bones. The combination of relentless training and relentless labor had finally caught up to her. Her breath came in slow, visible puffs, her limbs aching from days of ceaseless movement.


    Jiang crouched beside her, nudging her side with the hilt of his sword. "You''re not dead, are you? Because that would be really inconvenient."


    Layla groaned, barely lifting her head. "I wish."


    Jiang chuckled, shaking his head. "You''ve changed, Meilin. Your body''s sturdier, your movements sharper. Even your qi¡ªit''s more refined, controlled." He eyed her with something almost like pride. "Still not quite at Bao''s level, but you''re sitting at least to his level now."


    Lin Wuye stood nearby, arms crossed. "She''s improved a great deal," he confirmed. "Her qi flow is steadier, and she''s not burning out as quickly. Before, she relied too much on precision and intellect to survive. Now? She''s built the endurance to back it up."


    Layla''s fingers curled into the snow, her mind instinctively checking her reserves. Her qi, once erratic and barely manageable, now moved like a steady current, no longer spilling uncontrollably at the slightest exertion. It wasn''t limitless, but it was efficient. Strong.


    She exhaled. Progress.


    Before she could savor the moment, Meyu clapped her hands together, instantly ruining the quiet.


    "Alright, everyone! It''s time for the moment you''ve all been dreading¡ªeducation!" She held up a scroll dramatically, unfurling it to reveal a perfectly structured schedule.


    Confused silence followed.


    The elders exchanged glances. The disciples blinked in unison. Even Layla, barely recovering from her collapse, squinted up at Meyu in sheer disbelief. "...What?"


    Meyu''s smirk widened as she shifted into full Atlas mode. "Oh? You thought we were just going to build a school and not use it? Come now, dear sect members. Reading, writing, mathematics¡ªall critical tools for any cultivator! What happens if you''re tricked in a contract? If you can''t count the enemy forces properly? If you don''t understand basic business etiquette?" She placed a hand over her chest, her face almost sorrowful. "Truly tragic. It''s like leaving a sword to rust."


    "That''s¡ª" One of the younger disciples hesitated. "That''s actually¡­ kind of reasonable?"


    "Of course it is!" Meyu declared, ignoring the baffled stares. "And to make sure this happens, we''ve brought in the finest instructors money can bribe!"


    As if on cue, the Ryl Trading workers, who had been seen building the buildings just a day ago, emerged from the side¡ªdressed in full scholar attire. Long robes, ink-stained sleeves, even glasses that made them look ten times more intellectual than before.


    The transformation was too much.


    "What¡ª" Layla''s eye twitched. "When did they¡ª?"


    "Oh, please," Meyu waved a hand dismissively. "You think we were just clearing land? We were preparing for the future. These men will teach you English, Mathematics, Science, and Business." She paused dramatically. "Because you, my dear disciples, are Atlas'' investment. And this¡­ is how you start repaying the deal."


    The Zhao Lihua gaped. "This is the most absurd thing I''ve ever heard!"


    "Yet you can''t argue with the logic," Meyu shot back smoothly, her smirk unwavering.


    Zhu Fen scratched his head. "So¡­ we''re learning now?"


    One of the "scholars" stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Yes! First lesson¡ªhow to count beyond what''s needed for simple market haggling. And by the end of the month, you will know how to read a contract without being swindled!"


    Jiang sighed, rubbing his forehead.


    "Meilin, if we don''t stop her, she''s going to turn this sect into a corporate empire."


    Layla, still lying in the snow, covered her face. "It''s already too late."


    The Arrival of Winter


    Winter came swiftly, blanketing the sect in an unforgiving layer of snow. Layla observed the way the ice crystals clung to the trees, how the wind howled through the mountain paths, piercing even the thickest of robes. Without a proper fireplace or insulated shelter, surviving out here would be nearly impossible.


    The warmth of the thick, fluffy cloaks provided by Ryl Trading was proof of the company''s resources. They weren''t just well-off¡ªthey were thriving. Every sect member had received proper winter attire, ensuring no one froze within their quarters. Temporary barracks had also been constructed by Ryl Trading''s workers, their efficiency never waning, even against the harsh climate.


    But despite the accommodations, the cold seeped in.


    Meyu, however, seemed entirely unaffected¡ªprobably because she was currently latched onto Layla like a leech.


    Layla groaned, shifting slightly, but Meyu only held on tighter, burying herself against her side as though she were a living fireplace.


    "Meyu," Layla muttered, voice still groggy.


    "Why are you sleeping beside me?"


    "Haven''t you heard? Body warmth is the best way to fight the cold," Meyu half asleep replied, not even bothering to lift her head.


    Layla''s eye twitched. "You have your own quarters."


    "Too far. This is better." Meyu snuggled in closer, completely shameless before falling asleep again.


    Layla was about to argue when she suddenly felt Meyu twitch slightly in her sleep. Her breathing hitched¡ªjust for a moment¡ªbefore settling again. The usual smug expression she always wore was gone, replaced by something tense, something fragile.


    Layla recognized that look all too well. Memories. Painful ones.


    Meyu murmured something incoherent, gripping Layla''s sleeve as if she were afraid it would be taken away.


    Layla sighed quietly. A queen does not turn away from her people, no matter how insufferable they may be.


    Gently, she adjusted the blanket, making sure it covered Meyu properly. She did not wake her, nor did she pry. Instead, she simply whispered


    "Rest. You''ve earned it."


    And for the first time, Meyu''s grip loosened just slightly, as if something¡ªjust for tonight¡ªhad been lifted from her shoulders.

 Jinhai and the West

    In the grand halls of the imperial palace, Jinhai sat upon his throne, listening as his informants relayed the latest whispers from beyond the Regime of Jin.


    "Your Majesty," one of them began hesitantly, bowing low, "there are rumors from the West of a new invention¡ªa surface that can be written upon with chalk and wiped away with mere cloth. They say it renders paper and quill all but obsolete."


    Jinhai raised a skeptical brow. "A surface that can be used infinitely? Preposterous. If such a thing existed, the scholars of Jin would have devised it centuries ago."


    "Yet the rumors persist, Your Majesty," the informant pressed.


    "They claim it will change education, trade, even governance itself."


    Jinhai waved a dismissive hand. "Another fool''s dream. What else?"


    The informant hesitated before continuing, "There are also whispers¡­ of a weapon capable of tearing through reinforced steel."


    This made Jinhai pause. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp.


    "A weapon that pierces steel? With Qi?"


    "No, Your Majesty. Without qi. A creation of pure machinery."


    Jinhai scoffed. "Impossible. No blade, no hammer, no spear can cut steel without immense force. Where did this rumor originate?"


    Another figure stepped forward¡ªWei Xian, Jinhai''s most trusted informant.


    Unlike the others, his word carried weight, his sources rarely failing. "The rumors are true, Your Majesty. I have spoken to someone¡­ deeply embedded within the Western underworld. The weapon exists. And it is most likely in the hands of the Queen of the Underworld."


    Jinhai''s eyes narrowed. "Who is she?"


    Wei Xian shook his head. "No kings, no emperors, no leaders know her true name. She is only known by her title."


    The emperor drummed his fingers against the armrest of his throne, annoyance flickering across his features. "A nameless ruler controlling power beyond comprehension. How convenient."


    He exhaled, reigning in his irritation. "And what of Yasmina''s most loyal follower? Any leads?"


    Wei Xian hesitated before pulling out a document. "Her name, once erased from records, has resurfaced. She was known as Zafira. But she no longer goes by that name."


    Jinhai''s brow furrowed. "Is this information verified?"


    Wei Xian handed over the document. "Official records confirm it. But tracking her down? That is another matter entirely. She''s a ghost."


    Jinhai scanned the paper before clenching his jaw. "Find her. I don''t care how long it takes."


    He then leaned back, composing himself.


    "And tell me¡ªhave there been any recent disturbances? Anything¡­ that made a ''boom''?"


    The other informants exchanged uneasy glances before one finally spoke. "Yes, Your Majesty. But it is not a simple matter. The source of the disturbance came from Shrouded Peaks Sect."


    Jinhai''s expression darkened instantly. He clenched the armrest of his throne. "That damned sect again. One of the few places in this world beyond my reach¡­"


    His grip tightened. He controlled kings, armies, trade routes. But the cultivators hidden within the Shrouded Peaks Sect remained elusive, untouchable.


    His mind churned. "A weapon that pierces steel. A hidden queen of the underworld. A ghost from Yasmina''s past. And now¡­ destruction from within Shrouded Peaks itself?"


    He dismissed the informants with a wave of his hand. "Find me answers. And bring me results."


    As the hall emptied, Jinhai sat in silence, contemplating the impossible.


    "No known weapon could tear through steel," he muttered. "Unless¡­"


    He tapped his fingers against the cold stone of his throne, mind racing.


    "Unless it was something new entirely."


    Emery and the Science of War


    In a dimly lit workshop cluttered with metal parts, glass vials, and stacks of scribbled notes, Emery meticulously adjusted the firing mechanism of his latest invention. His hands moved with precision as he made minute changes to the inner workings of the weapon. Behind him, a large wooden board stood propped up, covered in equations and intricate sketches detailing his plans for a device that could harness electricity.


    "Callum, hold that steady," Emery said absentmindedly, tightening a screw on the weapon''s barrel.


    Callum, looking absolutely exhausted, struggled under the weight of the chalk-writing surface and its wooden stand that Emery had demanded be set up for his calculations. "You know," Callum huffed, "most people would use a simple notebook, but no, you had to invent something that makes quills and ink obsolete."


    Emery, without missing a beat, gestured toward the board.


    "Why limit myself to archaic tools when I can create something infinitely reusable? Think about it, Callum! A surface where you can write and erase instantly with nothing but a cloth! No more wasted parchment! No more costly ink spills! This will revolutionize knowledge itself!"


    Callum rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, and next you''ll be telling me that we should replace candles with something called ''electric lights.''"


    Emery snapped his fingers. "An excellent idea! I''ll make a note of that."


    Before Callum could curse his own existence, the door swung open and Zafira strolled in, holding one of the prototype firearms. She casually spun the weapon around her finger before aiming it at a wooden target across the room. With a deafening bang, the bullet tore through the target, embedding itself into the stone wall behind it.


    Callum flinched. "Ever heard of a warning shot?!"


    Zafira smirked. "That was the warning shot. The real one would''ve gone through your skull."


    Emery chuckled, barely looking up as he jotted down notes.


    "You see, Callum? She understands efficiency."


    Zafira holstered the gun and leaned against the workbench.


    "Speaking of efficiency, my informants just returned with something interesting. The rumours have already spread like you wanted. Jinhai is asking for information on the Queen of the Underworld."


    Emery paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Obviously, you didn''t give him your name, right?"


    Zafira stretched lazily, her smirk widening. "Oh, but I did."


    The workshop fell into stunned silence.


    Callum choked on air. "YOU WHAT?!"


    Emery pinched the bridge of his nose. "Zafira, I''m going to need you to repeat that slowly so I can process the sheer magnitude of the mistake you just made."


    Zafira chuckled. "I simply told them the truth. My name is Zafira. That''s all."


    Callum looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "Jinhai¡ªthe emperor of the Regime of Jin, the most powerful man in the East¡ªnow knows the name of the person ruling the Western Underworld, and you think that''s fine?!"


    Zafira shrugged. "Oh, come on. It''s not like he can do anything with just a name. No one knows what I look like, and I don''t exactly go around carrying that name either. I''m Ezra remember"


    Emery sighed, rubbing his forehead. "That may be true, but it won''t stop Jinhai from trying to track you down."


    Zafira waved a dismissive hand.


    "Let him try. It''s impossible, and we both know it."


    Callum looked between the two of them, still flabbergasted. "You two are actually insane."


    Before Emery could reply, another informant rushed into the room, bowing quickly.


    "Apologies for the intrusion, but there''s more. Jinhai''s men have also uncovered the real name of Yasmina''s most trusted follower."


    The air in the workshop grew tense. Emery and Callum turned to Zafira, who remained unnervingly calm.


    "Go on," she said.


    The informant hesitated before producing a document.


    "They have records linking Yasmina''s most trusted follower to Zafira. An official document confirming the name."


    Emery took the paper and scanned it before handing it to Zafira. She barely glanced at it before smirking.


    "Fascinating. And yet, all that effort will still lead them nowhere."


    Callum leaned over to look. "So¡­ is it true?"


    Zafira tilted her head. "What do you think?"


    Callum opened his mouth, then shut it. "...Right. I''m just going to pretend I didn''t ask."


    The informant cleared his throat. "There''s one last thing, commander. Jinhai also inquired if there had been any incidents involving a loud explosion recently."


    Emery and Callum exchanged glances.


    Zafira raised an eyebrow. "And?"


    The informant looked visibly uneasy. "We confirmed that there was indeed such an event. But the location¡­ It came from Shrouded Peaks Sect."


    The tension in the room thickened.


    Ezra let out a low whistle. "Oh, Jinhai is going to hate that."


    Emery exhaled, leaning against the workbench. "He''s one of the few rulers in this world that has no control over that sect."


    Callum muttered, "And knowing his personality, that fact alone probably keeps him up at night."


    Ezra grinned. "Well, at least we know where his spies will be heading next."


    Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open again, revealing a woman draped in dark traveling robes, her face partially obscured by a scarf.


    Seraphine, one of Zafira''s most capable informants, stepped forward, her presence demanding attention without a single word.


    She bowed slightly before speaking. "Lady Ezra, we''ve completed the investigation on the Silver Lotus Sect versus Crimson Serpent Sect war."


    Zafira raised an eyebrow. "And?"


    Seraphine smirked. "Silver Lotus won."


    The room fell silent for a moment before Callum let out an incredulous laugh. "You''re joking. No way they pulled that off."


    Emery, however, showed no surprise. "Not impossible. Unlikely, yes, but not impossible."


    Seraphine continued, "There''s more. The sect has supposedly changed hands in leadership. The new leader is Meilin Wuye, daughter of Lin Wuye, the former sect leader."


    That got everyone''s attention.


    "Meilin Wuye?" Callum frowned. "She''s barely older than sixteen. How the hell did a kid take over a war-torn sect?"


    Emery placed a hand on his forehead and slowly pushed his hair back, his mind already racing through possibilities. If the Silver Lotus Sect won, there were only a few plausible explanations.


    "Tactical superiority?"


    Seraphine nodded. "The reports say the battle was decided through precise formations, terrain manipulation, and calculated strikes rather than brute force."


    "Deception?"


    "It''s rumored they made the Crimson Serpent Sect believe they had the upper hand multiple times, only to exploit their overconfidence."


    "Sacrificial plays?"


    "Yes. Barely any losses on their side, but they forced the enemy to overextend at key moments."


    Emery smirked. "Then there it is. They didn''t win because they were stronger. They won because they were smarter."


    Callum shook his head in disbelief.


    "A sixteen-year-old led them to victory through strategy alone? That''s insane."


    Zafira tapped her fingers on the table, her expression unreadable.


    "Not insane. Just rare. Very, very rare."


    Emery let out a sharp exhale, rolling his shoulders as he processed the probabilities. "The statistical likelihood of a sixteen-year-old leading an entire sect to victory is... less than one percent. No, scratch that¡ªcloser to 0.03% given the variables of experience, leadership, and battlefield adaptability."This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He tapped his fingers against his forehead before sliding them back through his hair. "Unless... she wasn''t acting alone."


    Callum frowned. "Go on, genius."


    Emery smirked. "She had to have access to knowledge that the Crimson Serpent Sect underestimated. Tactical superiority isn''t just about formations; it''s about foresight. The sect would''ve needed access to precise scouting data, prediction models for enemy movements, and a commander capable of rapid mid-battle adjustments."


    Seraphine nodded. "Our sources say they won through positioning and calculated strikes. The enemy was led into believing they were winning, only to fall into pre-planned traps."


    "So she played them like a game of stones." Emery mused.


    "The best way to defeat an arrogant opponent is to let them believe they''re winning¡ªright up until they aren''t. And if she has that level of foresight¡­ well, that makes her very, very dangerous."


    Zafira stretched lazily before dismissing the thought. "Then let''s make sure we know more before assuming. New mission: find out everything you can about Meilin Wuye. See if there''s a way to open communication with the Shrouded Peaks Sect. If there''s even a chance we can meet her and Daokan, I want to know."


    Before Seraphine could leave, she smirked and snapped her fingers. The doors swung open, and two of her men dragged in a bound figure wrapped in thick ropes, his muffled protests evident beneath the gag. They tossed him onto the stone floor unceremoniously.


    The man shouted something in Chinese, his voice panicked.


    "·ÅÁËÎÒ!ÄãÃDz»ÖªµÀ×Ô¼ºÔÚºÍË­´ò½»µÀ!" (Let me go! You don''t know who you''re dealing with!)


    Zafira''s eyes gleamed as she crouched down beside him, her tone calm but edged with danger. "ÎÒÃǵ±È»ÖªµÀ.ÎÊÌâÊÇ,ÄãÖªµÀÄãÏÖÔÚÔÚºÍ˭˵»°Âð?" (Oh, we know exactly who we''re dealing with. The question is, do you know who you''re speaking to?)


    The man''s face paled.


    Callum, arms crossed, sighed. "Oh great. Here we go again. Chinese that I don''t understand."


    Seraphine and the other informants bowed before stepping back, their figures slipping into the shadows as they exited.


    "We will return once we have more information, Commander."


    Zafira barely acknowledged their departure, her focus entirely on the bound man before her. Before she could begin, Emery¡ªwatching with his usual mix of curiosity and detached amusement¡ªleaned against the table.


    "You know, you really should use the firearm. It could cut the interrogation time in half."


    Zafira hummed in thought before suddenly drawing the firearm from her hip, inspecting it like it had just become the most fascinating tool in existence. Then, without hesitation, she aimed it directly at the captive''s forehead, her expression turning unreadable.


    "So. What exactly are you doing here? And more importantly, what''s your purpose?"


    The man, despite his bound state, scoffed. "You think that little shit can hurt me?" His eyes flicked to the gun, unimpressed.


    "It''s just a foreigner''s toy. Nothing compared to true strength."


    Zafira exhaled through her nose, almost disappointed. "Ah. You poor, ignorant soul."


    Without breaking eye contact, she shifted the gun downward and pulled the trigger.


    A sharp bang echoed through the room as the bullet buried itself into the stone floor just inches from his leg. The captive flinched violently, his bravado cracking for the first time as his breathing became erratic.


    Emery, arms crossed, sighed in English. "Zafira. What. Are. You. Doing."


    She gave him a casual shrug, still pointing the weapon lazily at the man''s knee.


    "A demonstration. He seems to think this is just a toy. I figured a little hands-on learning would help."


    The captive, now visibly sweating, gritted his teeth. "Y-You missed."


    Zafira''s smirk widened and spoke back in their language.


    "Oh, I wasn''t aiming for you. But I can fix that mistake real quick."


    Callum groaned, rubbing his forehead and hands. "One day, just one day, can we do things without scarring someone for life?"


    The captive, still visibly shaken, suddenly closed his eyes, his breathing steadying. A faint shimmer of energy surrounded his body as he focused his Qi inward, attempting to reinforce his limbs and snap the bindings. The ropes trembled as his muscles flexed, veins pulsing from the enhanced strength.


    "Hah!" he sneered. "You think I''m just going to sit here and beg? You''re all powerless against true cultivators¡ª"


    Bang!


    Before she pulled the trigger, Zafira grabbed the captive by the collar and slammed him down with brute force, her muscles tensing as she overpowered his Qi-reinforced body without using any Qi herself. The ground cracked beneath the impact, and the captive gasped in shock¡ªhis so-called reinforcement was crushed by raw strength alone.


    "All that reinforcement, and you still can''t beat someone who''s just stronger than you?" she mused, pressing her boot against his chest to keep him pinned.


    Then, without hesitation, she pulled the trigger. The bullet struck his thigh, punching through his supposedly reinforced Qi defense like paper. The moment it connected, his expression morphed from arrogance to sheer agony. He screamed, collapsing onto his side as blood seeped into the stone floor.


    Emery blinked. "Zafira, WHAT THE FUCK!?"


    She tilted her head, genuinely intrigued. "Huh. That''s interesting."


    "Interesting? You just shot him!" Callum gawked, kneeling beside the now-twitching captive, trying to stop the bleeding.


    Zafira ignored him, crouching down beside her target.


    "Your Qi reinforcement should have stopped that bullet. And yet¡­" She poked his shoulder with the tip of the gun, watching him flinch.


    "It didn''t."


    Emery''s eyes sharpened as he processed the implications. "Wait. Are you saying¡ª"


    Zafira nodded. "Your gun, Emery, doesn''t just bypass standard Qi reinforcement¡ªit weakens it. Not completely, but enough. I''d say the damage output is somewhere around a beginner level of raw force, maybe slightly more. But still enough to make cultivators bleed."


    Emery scoffed, shaking his head. "Oh, right. Qi reinforcement. The mystical, all-powerful shield cultivators swear by. If it was so perfect, why does it keep failing when faced with actual physics?" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.


    "Theoretically, it should have absorbed the impact, redirected the kinetic energy, something. But no, here we are, watching reality prove them wrong."


    He crouched beside the now-bleeding captive, observing the wound with a detached curiosity speaks to him in Chinese. "ÄãµÄËùν"Æø"²¢²»ÉñÊ¥,ËüÖ»ÊÇÁíÒ»ÖÖÄÜÁ¿³¡.¶øµ±Ò»¸öÎïÌåÒƶ¯µÃ±ÈÄãµÄÇ¿»¯·´Ó¦¸ü¿ìʱ,»á·¢Éúʲô?(You see, your so-called ''Qi'' isn''t divine, it''s just another energy field. And what happens when an object moves faster than your precious reinforcement can react?) He tapped the gun bullet hole. ºÜ¼òµ¥,¾ÍÊÇÕâÑù. (It goes through. Simple as that.)


    Zafira smirked, nudging the man with her boot.


    "So much for being untouchable."


    Callum, still holding a very injured and very much screaming captive, groaned. "You''re both fascinated by this?! Can we at least pretend to care that he''s bleeding out?"


    Emery let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temples before rolling up his sleeves.


    "Fine, fine. If you insist on interrupting my incredibly valuable research time¡­" He motioned to Callum.


    "First, press down on the wound. Hard. If he bleeds out before I get a proper look, I''ll personally make you test the next firearm."


    Callum muttered something under his breath but obeyed, applying pressure as the captive winced and groaned in pain.


    Emery turned to Zafira. "Cover his mouth. Tight. If he bites his tongue off from the pain, we lose a perfectly good test subject."


    Zafira smirked but complied, shoving a cloth between the man''s teeth before pressing a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams.


    With practiced efficiency, Emery took out the bullet with his bare hands, though he made sure to wipe them thoroughly with a clean cloth first. The projectile was still warm from the shot, slick with blood. He inspected it for a moment before discarding it.


    "No warping. Clean entry. Looks like the barrel design is holding up."


    Callum gave him an incredulous look. "I meant what are you doing about him, not your damn gun."


    Emery ignored him, already moving on to the next step. He grabbed a bottle of brandy from the nearby shelf, uncorked it, drank some and poured it directly onto the wound. The captive''s entire body convulsed as a muffled scream tore from his throat.


    Callum flinched. "What the hell, Emery?!"


    Zafira, who had been watching with amusement, suddenly stiffened. "Wait. Is that¡ªwas that my brandy?"


    Emery barely glanced at her.


    "Yes, and now it''s a cleaning drink."


    Zafira groaned, rubbing her temples. "That was a perfectly good bottle of expensive liquor! I was saving that!"


    Emery scoffed. "Oh yes, forgive me for prioritizing stopping a man from dying over your own action and extravagant drinking habits. Next time, I''ll let the wound rot and we can all enjoy a fine drink while watching him succumb to sepsis. Very civilized."


    Emery rolled his eyes. "Relax. It''s called brandy but right now it''s a cleaning agent. If I must I''ll explain to you why I use it but unless you''d rather watch him die slowly from infection, in which case, by all means, continue questioning my methods."


    Callum hesitated. "But¡ª"


    "Why alcohol?" Emery interrupted, cutting off the inevitable complaint.


    "Simple. Whatever Qi nonsense he was relying on clearly failed him, which means he''s as vulnerable to septic infection as anyone else. Alcohol should kill off any unseen germs." He scoffed.


    "Of course, if people actually understood why things rot and fester, we wouldn''t have to rely on superstitious nonsense like ''bad air'' and ''angry spirits.''"


    Zafira chuckled. "Always the skeptic."


    Emery ignored her, reaching into a small crate filled with dried herbs.


    "Callum, elevate his leg while I prepare the clotting agents."


    Callum followed the order while Emery ground yarrow and mugwort between his fingers, crushing them into a fine paste before pressing it firmly into the wound. "These should slow the bleeding and prevent further infection. At least, that''s the theory."


    "The theory?" Callum echoed, horrified.


    "Oh, don''t look at me like that. He''s still alive, isn''t he?" Emery grabbed a clean cloth and wrapped it tightly around the wound, binding it securely.


    "There. Congratulations, he won''t die immediately. Now, can I go back to my work?"


    Callum, however, wasn''t letting him off that easily. "Wait. Hold on. You just did all of that like it was second nature. What exactly did you do?"


    Emery sighed dramatically, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Are you seriously asking me to explain basic logic? Fine. You start by slowing the bleeding¡ªwhich you did, surprisingly well, might I add. Next, you prevent infection, which is why I had to sacrifice Zafira''s precious brandy to clean the wound."


    He smirked at Zafira, who scowled at him. "Then, you elevate the limb to reduce blood flow and swelling. After that, you apply coagulants¡ªhence the herbs. Finally, you wrap it up tightly to keep everything in place."


    Callum blinked. "So¡­ you just invented the first actual method for treating gunshot wounds?"


    Emery scoffed. "Oh, don''t be ridiculous. I didn''t invent it¡ªI just figured it out first. Big difference."


    Meanwhile, as Emery unknowingly laid the foundation for modern battlefield medicine, Zafira casually retied the captive''s bindings, her hands swift and efficient. She shoved him back into position, this time without the gun, leaning in with an easy smirk.


    "Now that we''ve established you''re not invincible, shall we continue?"


    The captive, breathing heavily, suddenly shifted his gaze to Zafira, desperation flickering in his eyes. "Please¡­ I have a family." he pleaded.


    "I did nothing wrong. I only wandered too far into your territory. I swear it!"


    Zafira tilted her head, considering his words, but her expression remained unreadable. "Wandering into my domain without permission is already unacceptable," she said flatly.


    "But still¡­ killing you outright does seem a little cruel."


    She turned to Emery, a knowing smirk on her lips.


    "What do you think? You''re the genius here. What should we do with him?"


    Callum, standing slightly apart from them, barely followed the conversation. His limited grasp of the language left him piecing together what little he understood. He recognized the shift in tone¡ªthe captive''s desperate pleas, Zafira''s amused but unreadable response, and the way Emery''s name was thrown into the mix.


    Great. They''re debating his fate, and I have no clue what''s being said.


    He resisted the urge to ask for a translation, knowing full well that Emery would only roll his eyes and Zafira would make it worse with an exaggerated, overly dramatic version just to mess with him. Instead, he watched warily, waiting for some indication of whether they were about to execute the poor bastard or let him go.


    Emery crossed his arms, eyeing the captive with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "You know martial arts, don''t you?"


    The man hesitated before nodding. "Yes¡­ I''ve trained since childhood."


    Emery scoffed. "Fantastic. Then tell me¡ªhow confident are you in explaining that whole ''Qi'' nonsense to someone who actually uses his brain?"


    The captive looked confused. "What?"


    Zafira raised an eyebrow. "Emery, what are you getting at?"


    Emery exhaled dramatically. "Simple. I want him to start a martial arts school. Not here. In the main city of Russia."


    Emery continued, "Business. If we establish a martial arts school in a major city, we gain local influence. The people will flock to something exotic and ''mystical.'' That''s human nature."


    Zafira nodded in understanding. "And that means profits. New students, high fees, and if the demand grows, we can monopolize martial arts training in this region."


    "Exactly," Emery confirmed. "More than that, it expands our control over what information about Qi and combat is actually spread. Right now, it''s all mythical nonsense¡ª''cultivation this'' and ''spiritual enlightenment that.'' But if we teach it in a beginner-friendly way, it becomes accessible and structured."


    Zafira grinned. "And unlike me trying to teach you, where you failed spectacularly, this guy can actually explain it properly."


    Emery rolled his eyes. "Yes, because your version was essentially throwing me into a fight and saying, ''figure it out.'' Hardly an education."


    He turned back to the captive.


    "So, congratulations. You''re not going to die today. Instead, you''re going to be a teacher."


    The captive hesitated before blurting out, "What about my family?"


    Zafira clicked her tongue. "Oh, now you remember them? Convenient." She crossed her arms, glancing at Emery. "What do you think? Family reunion, or are we keeping this simple?"


    Callum, still trying to catch up, finally interjected.


    "Look, I don''t understand half of what''s going on, but if he has a family, sending him alone could be a problem. What if they come looking for him? Or worse, if someone else uses them against him?"


    Zafira hummed in thought. "That''s a fair point. If his family is still in Regime of Jin, then they''re leverage waiting to happen."


    Emery tapped his fingers against his arm. "Fine. Then the solution is simple. We verify. We find out exactly where his family is, if they''re in any danger, and¡ª" he turned to the captive, "¡ªif they''re worth the effort."


    The captive stiffened as if understanding English screamed. "Of course they are!"


    Zafira smirked. "We''ll see. If they''re in trouble, maybe we help. Maybe we don''t. But if you''re lying to us, well¡­" She gestured vaguely toward the bloodstained floor.


    "I''m sure you can guess what happens next."


    Callum sighed. "Why does every solution around here involve either money, leverage, or threats?"


    Zafira grinned. "Because they work."


    As if on cue, the door swung open again, and Seraphine strode back in, her expression one of barely contained amusement. Behind her, several figures followed¡ªa woman and three younger individuals, two boys and a girl, all looking weary and travel-worn.


    The captive''s head snapped toward them, his eyes widening in shock. "Haoran!"


    The woman gasped, rushing forward, only to be held back by Seraphine''s men. "Husband! Are you hurt? What have they done to you?"


    Emery raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was fast. I see we''re really embracing the ''efficiency'' part of our organization."


    The two boys, aged around fourteen and fifteen, looked worse for wear¡ªbruises littering their arms and faces, evidence of a struggle. The girl, about twenty, held herself with quiet defiance, standing protectively in front of her mother.


    Zafira whistled. "So, this is the family you were so worried about? You''ve got a wife, two sons who clearly don''t know when to back down, and a daughter who looks like she''s ready to stab me. Quite the group."


    Haoran''s breathing was ragged, his earlier bravado completely shattered as he stared at his family, equal parts relieved and terrified.


    "They¡ªthey had nothing to do with this. They didn''t even know I was here!"


    Emery crouched down in front of the man, studying him with renewed curiosity.


    "Interesting. But before we get all sentimental, let''s address the real question here¡ª" He turned to the family. "Do any of you know science, math, martial arts, or, heaven forbid, ''Qi'' bullshit?"


    The family exchanged nervous glances. The two boys, still visibly bruised from whatever ordeal they had endured, shifted uncomfortably under Emery''s stare. The daughter, despite the tension, squared her shoulders and spoke first.


    "I know some math." she said cautiously. "My father taught me basic calculations for trade."


    Emery nodded approvingly. "Not bad. And the boys?"


    The younger one, Chen , hesitated before responding, "We were trained in basic self-defense. Our father didn''t want us to be helpless."


    Haoran gritted his teeth. "I told them not to fight back. But they wouldn''t listen."


    "Obviously," Emery deadpanned, eyeing the bruises. "And you?" he directed at the older boy, Feng.


    Feng lifted his chin. "I know how to use a staff."


    Zafira smirked. "That''s adorable. You planning to swat people away like flies?"


    Feng bristled but held his tongue. Meanwhile, Emery tapped his fingers against his knee, clearly thinking.


    "Alright, so we''ve got a merchant-in-training, two stubborn brats who don''t know when to quit, and a father with just enough skill to get himself captured."


    Haoran clenched his fists. "We are not useless."


    "Good," Emery said, standing up and dusting off his shirt.


    "Because I just decided we''re keeping you."


    The entire family stiffened.


    Callum, who had been watching silently, raised a hand. "Uh, what?"


    "Think about it," Emery said, gesturing toward them.


    "We need an operational legal base in Russia, and what better way to establish control than with a family business? The father''s got martial arts skills¡ªhe can teach. The daughter can handle finances or I can turn her into a new assistant. The boys can be trained further or I can use them. We have everything we need to open a school and control local trade."


    Zafira folded her arms, intrigued.


    "It does solve a lot of logistical problems. No need to bring in outsiders. We train them, we own them."


    Haoran''s wife, Renshu, stepped forward at last, glaring at them all. "And if we refuse?"


    Emery raised an eyebrow. "Then you can go back to whatever life you had before. But considering your situation, I''d say this is the best deal you''re going to get."


    Zafira, the Queen of the Underworld, let out a dramatic sigh and slowly pulled out the firearm. She turned it in her hands, letting the metal gleam in the dim light.


    "This," she said casually, "is what hurt your father."


    The family tensed, their eyes flickering between the weapon and Haoran, whose expression darkened.


    Renshu''s lips pressed into a thin line. "You expect us to believe that? That little thing did what even blades and arrows can''t?"


    Zafira rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone want to keep testing me?"


    Without hesitation, she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the stone floor¡ªinches from Renshu''s feet.


    The sharp crack of the shot echoed through the room, the impact sending dust and shards of rock flying. Renshu and the children staggered back, their bravado cracking instantly.


    The room fell silent.


    Feng, the eldest son, swallowed hard, eyes wide. "That¡­ that wasn''t a normal weapon."


    Zafira smirked, spinning the gun around her finger before holstering it. "Now you''re starting to understand." She gestured toward Haoran. "


    Your father thought he was untouchable. That little ''trinket'' proved otherwise. So, let''s not waste time pretending you have a choice here."


    Renshu pulled her children close, breathing heavily. "What¡­ what do you want from us?"


    Renshu hesitated, looking at her sons, then at her husband. The unspoken truth hung in the air¡ªthis was not a negotiation. It was an ultimatum.


    Finally, Haoran exhaled. "What do you want us to do?"


    Emery grinned. "Glad you asked. We''re going to turn you into something useful."

 The Entity

    Darkness. But not the kind that meant nothingness. This was a deep, shifting void, a place where light should not exist¡ªyet it did, flickering in the distance like dying embers. The weight of something unseen pressed against Layla''s mind, slipping through the cracks of her consciousness.


    A whisper. Faint.


    The voice was neither hers nor someone she knew, neither near nor far. It circled her thoughts, dragging her deeper into the abyss before she even realized she was falling. She felt her own mind unravel, threads of memory pulled and rewoven into something else. Something wrong.


    The voice coiled around her ears, speaking in echoes that faded before she could grasp their meaning.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    Wake up, Layla.


    The void cracked open.


    ¡ª


    Layla awoke in silence. Not the kind of silence that existed in the early hours of the morning, thick with the sound of distant wind and shifting branches. No, this was absolute stillness¡ªthe kind that made the air feel too thin, the world feel too hollow.


    She sat up and immediately knew something was wrong.


    The walls were too pristine, the floors too polished, the scent of burning incense too familiar. A wave of nausea coiled in her stomach as she scanned the chamber. It was not her room in the Silver Lotus Sect.


    It was the royal palace she had died in.


    Her breath quickened as she stumbled to her feet, reaching for a weapon she didn''t have. She turned sharply, catching her reflection in the gold-framed mirror standing at the room''s center.


    And froze.


    The woman in the mirror was not her.


    Layla stared at the figure¡ªidentical to her in every way except for the robes she wore. Heavy, imperial red embroidered with golden threads.


    Jinhai''s robes.


    Layla lurched back from the mirror, but the reflection didn''t move with her. Instead, it smirked, a knowing, infuriating expression that did not belong to her.


    The walls of the room melted away, dissolving like ink in water. The polished floors vanished beneath her feet, leaving her standing on the cold marble of her room.


    She wasn''t alone.


    And at her feet, Shen Jinhai lay dying.


    His breath was ragged, his once-mighty frame slumped against the stone steps. The golden embroidery on his robes was soaked through with red, his lifeblood pooling beneath him. He looked pitiful. Defeated.


    But his gaze still burned.


    Layla knelt beside him, her own body broken, battered. The world around them was crumbling, but her hands, trembling as they were, reached for something soft.


    A pillow.


    She placed it beneath his head. An emperor deserved dignity, even in death.


    A cruel, echoing laughter filled the air.


    The Dark Entity stood at the top, watching with something between amusement and disgust. It stepped forward, the flames behind it warping its form.


    "How poetic." it purred.


    "You, the queen who ruled by fear, the woman who demanded respect, the tyrant who crushed those who defied her¡ªoffering mercy to another emperor."


    Layla''s throat tightened. "I wasn''t¡ª"


    "Wasn''t what?" The Entity grinned, tilting its head. "Wasn''t like him? Wasn''t a ruler of steel and blood? Oh, Layla. You can lie to them, but you can''t lie to me."


    Jinhai''s gaze flickered toward her. His lips moved, but no words came.


    The Entity leaned in, its voice soft, intimate.


    "Tell me, Layla, did he deserve dignity? And if he did, why not you?"


    Layla''s breath hitched.


    "You wanted to be feared," it continued.


    "You demanded unwavering loyalty, carved it into the bones of your people. And yet, here you are, giving him the very thing you would have denied anyone else."


    The flames roared louder, a chorus to her silence.


    "Tell me, Layla¡ªwhy? Why save the man who would have let you die?"


    Her lips parted, but the answer did not come.


    The Entity''s smirk widened. "You don''t know, do you?"


    Layla''s hands curled into fists.


    "You were weak in the end," it whispered. "That''s the truth, isn''t it? You weren''t noble. You weren''t just. You were pathetic. A queen who let herself be reduced to this."


    The pillow under Jinhai''s head burned away, turning to ash between her fingers.


    "I wonder," the Entity mused, circling her, "if your new followers knew how you knelt at the feet of an enemy, if they saw you cradle the man who burned your past to the ground¡ªwould they still bow to you?"


    Layla''s pulse pounded in her ears.


    "Or are you just a hypocrite wearing a dead girl''s face?"


    The weight of the words struck deep, sinking into the marrow of her bones. She opened her mouth to deny it, to refute every accusation, but nothing came.


    The Entity stepped closer, its breath cold against her ear. And entity snapped its finger. Figures knelt before her¡ªdisciples, officials, warriors. The banners of the Silver Lotus Sect hung from the pillars, draped in regal elegance. This was not a rebellion''s stronghold. It was a kingdom''s court.


    A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the vast chamber. Layla turned toward the sound, her heart pounding, her fists clenched.


    The Dark Entity stood at the base of the steps, bathed in shadow, its form shifting like a specter. It had her face, but its presence was wrong¡ªas if something ancient and rotted had wrapped itself in her skin.


    "What are you building, Layla?" The voice was smooth, laced with mockery.


    "This isn''t real." she snapped, stepping back.


    "You''re just a parasite."


    The Entity tilted its head, almost amused.


    "Am I? Then tell me¡ªwhat''s the difference between you and me?"


    Layla gritted her teeth.


    "Ah, but don''t they kneel just the same?" The Entity gestured to the silent figures at her feet. "You demand loyalty. You call for structure. You make decisions for them. Dictate their futures. But tell me¡ªhave you ever asked them if they wanted this?"


    Layla''s nails bit into her palms.


    "How easily you slip into power frankly it suits you. More than you want to admit." the Entity mused.


    She shook her head.


    "I don''t control them. I¡ª"


    "You don''t?" The Entity chuckled. "Then why do they follow? Why do they cling to your every word?"


    Layla''s breath hitched.


    "You are not Meilin.''''


    The Entity whispered, circling her now. "You are not this girl they love. You are a ghost wearing another''s skin. A thief in a life that isn''t yours."


    Layla staggered. The words dug under her skin, peeling at something raw, something she refused to acknowledge.


    "Tell me, Layla¡ªdo you deserve a parent''s love?"


    Her eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat.


    "Your parents in this life hold you, cherish you. Your mother kisses your forehead. Your father teaches you lessons. But you? You were never a daughter. You were a noble. A ruler. A queen."


    The air around her felt tight, suffocating. The weight of unseen hands pressed against her shoulders, her chest.


    "Isn''t it funny? The girl who never had parents in her past life has stolen the love of another child''s. Meilin''s parents love you, not her. Would they still, if they knew who you really were?"


    Layla''s hands trembled.


    "No?" The Entity laughed, dark and rich.


    "Then why do you still pretend?"


    Layla''s vision blurred. Images of Yuxe Wuye warm smile, of her mother''s gentle touch, of Bao''s laughter¡ªall of it flickered like flames in a storm.


    "Your humor, your joy, your friendships¡ªall of it is a lie." the Entity murmured.


    "You are playing pretend. Tell me¡ªwhen did you last feel like yourself?"


    Layla staggered as the room melted away, morphing into a battlefield drenched in blood.


    Shen Mu towered above her, eyes gleaming with sadistic glee. The battlefield was exactly as it had been that night¡ªthe shattered earth, the bodies strewn across the war-torn field, the acrid scent of charred flesh hanging in the air.


    And she was on her knees.


    The Entity''s voice slithered through the carnage, mockingly soft. "Oh, this scene. A true masterpiece of failure, don''t you think?"


    Layla gritted her teeth, struggling to stand, but her body refused to move. Just like that night.


    "Your father saved you." the Entity sighed.


    "You. The brilliant, untouchable queen¡ªreduced to a helpless little girl, waiting for a hero to pull her out of the abyss."


    Shen Mu''s fist gleamed as it came down, and Layla braced for the strike¡ª


    But the moment never came.


    Instead, the scene froze, leaving her trapped in the moment of her greatest weakness. The Entity''s fingers traced the air, almost playful.


    "I wonder," it mused, "how did it feel? Knowing you were going to die? Knowing that all your planning, your wit, your iron will¡ªnone of it mattered in the face of raw power?"


    Layla''s breath came ragged, her pulse thundering in her ears.


    "You are pathetic." the Entity whispered, stepping beside her, its tone almost¡­ pitying.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Tell me, Layla¡ªwhat would have happened if your father hadn''t arrived?"


    Layla tried to answer¡ªbut she couldn''t.


    "Ah. Silence again." the Entity chuckled.


    "You''re consistent, I''ll give you that."


    The frozen battlefield shifted¡ªthe soldiers, the blood, the destruction fading until it was only her and Shen Mu.


    "Let''s change the story, shall we?" The Entity''s smirk widened.


    "This time, there is no father. No savior. Only you. Let''s see what happens."


    Time lurched forward. Shen Mu''s fist came crashing down.


    Layla screamed.


    Pain erupted through her body, sudden and overwhelming, as if the very nerves beneath her skin had caught fire. Her breath hitched, her limbs spasming. But this wasn''t real¡ªit couldn''t be real.


    Yet it felt real.


    The battlefield replayed itself in agonizing detail, but she wasn''t inside her own body anymore. She watched herself from above, as if she were nothing more than a spectator in her own tragedy.


    "You never wondered, did you?" the Entity continued, voice a breath against her ear. "What would have happened if this girl''s father hadn''t arrived? If you had been left to die here, alone?"


    Layla''s heart pounded.


    "Stop."


    But the scene did not stop. It shifted.


    In this twisted, reimagined battlefield, her father was nowhere in sight. The Silver Lotus Sect warriors were dead, their bodies reduced to mere shadows against the blood-soaked ground. And she¡ª


    She was still kneeling before Shen Mu, except this time, he did not hesitate. His fist came down.


    A sickening crack echoed.


    Layla choked on her own breath as she felt it¡ªpain that did not belong to her present self, yet coursed through her like a tidal wave.


    "Ah, do you feel that?" the Entity cooed, tilting its head. "That''s the sensation of reality sinking in. Of truth."


    Her past self crumpled to the ground. Dead.


    "This is what should have happened."


    Layla shook her head frantically. "That''s not¡ª"


    "Oh, but it is." the Entity cut in smoothly. "You should have died here. This should have been the end of you."


    She gasped for air, her lungs burning, her body wracked with tremors.


    The Entity leaned in, whispering, "Tell me, Layla, what did you do to deserve this chance?"


    Layla couldn''t answer.


    "Nothing." the Entity answered for her. "You did nothing."


    The battlefield twisted again, and now she saw her sect, her friends, her people¡ªstanding in the distance, watching her failure.


    Lin Wuye''s eyes were cold. He was not proud of her.


    "Maybe they would have mourned you for a time, yes." the Entity mocked her.


    "But eventually? Someone else would have taken your place. And the world would have kept moving. Your name? A whisper, a fading scar."


    Layla''s breathing came in short, shallow bursts. Her chest ached, her stomach twisted. The guilt was suffocating, overwhelming, a lead weight sinking into her bones.


    "But instead," the Entity continued, drawing out the words with satisfaction


    "you lived. And now, tell me¡ªwhat have you done with this second chance? Sorry third chance after all you died the first time to a mere poison and almost dying again within a day of taking over this poor girl''s body."


    Layla flinched.


    "Oh," the Entity''s smirk deepened. "That''s right. You waste it. You pretend to be something you''re not. You act like you''re just another warrior among them. But we both know the truth, don''t we?"


    Layla''s hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She tried to shut it out. Tried to will herself away. But the words sank into her like poison.


    "You''re not like them. You never were. And deep down, they know it, too."


    Layla''s vision blurred. The battlefield, her lifeless self, her disappointed father¡ªall of it flickered like a nightmare she couldn''t wake from.


    "Tell me, Layla." the Entity''s voice was almost gentle now


    "If you were to disappear tomorrow, do you really think they would grieve you the way you want them to?"


    Layla gasped for air. Lips parted from her mouth but no words came out.


    "Do you really think they love you? Or are they just grateful you''re still useful?"


    Layla''s body collapsed onto the battlefield, her mind splitting between reality and nightmare. The pain was unbearable, the weight of guilt crushing.


    The Entity leaned closer, its voice an intimate whisper against her ear.


    "Say it, and I will leave you alone. Say you are different. Say you deserve to be here."


    Layla opened her mouth again but nothing came out.


    Her throat locked, her mind screaming for her to deny it, to fight back, to do anything¡ªbut she couldn''t say the words.


    Because deep down, she wasn''t sure anymore. She doesn''t know if people loved her or Meilin. She doesn''t know if she is even herself anymore. She doesn''t know if she is doing the right thing.


    Maybe I am a hypocrite..


    The Entity smiled. And then it reached for her.


    --


    Meyu tightened her grip around Layla''s body, the warmth of their shared blanket now overshadowed by the violent convulsions wracking through her body."Meilin?" Meyu whispered at first, her voice hesitant. Then she shook her.


    "Meilin!"Layla''s body twitched uncontrollably, her breathing shallow and rapid, beads of sweat forming along her temples. Her nails dug into her own arms, leaving red crescents behind.


    Meyu felt fear crawl up her spine. She had seen Atlas restless before, but never seen anything like this¡ªnever so utterly trapped in something that couldn''t be.


    Panic surged. "MEILIN!" Meyu cried out, the name slipping from her lips before she even realized it.


    "SOMEBODY HELP!"


    The doors burst open, Lin Wuye stepping in first, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto Layla''s convulsing form. Behind him, Meilin''s mother stumbled inside, eyes wide with terror.


    "Meilin!" Lin Wuye rushed forward, kneeling by the bedside as he grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse.


    ''''What happened?"


    "I¡ªI don''t know! She just¡ªshe won''t wake up!" Meyu''s voice cracked, her grip tightening on Layla as though afraid she would slip away entirely.


    "Meilin, wake up! Please!" Yuxe Wuye''s hands trembled as she hugged Layla''s face, but the girl did not respond.


    She was trapped inside her mind and she was fighting a losing battle.


    ¡ª


    The Entity''s fingers closed around Layla''s throat, its nails digging in with cruel precision. Its form writhed and twisted, shifting between something monstrous and something terrifyingly familiar.It grinned. "You don''t deserve this life."


    Layla choked, clawing at its grip, but her fingers passed through it like smoke, unable to touch the nightmare strangling her.


    The Entity leaned in, its voice suddenly soft, eerily familiar.


    It was her voice now.


    "You shouldn''t be here." it whispered, but this time, it sounded just like Meilin.


    Layla''s breath hitched.


    "You took everything from me!" the Entity growled, its voice rising into a wretched, agonized scream. "You stole MY life! MY family! MY name! YOU TOOK WHAT WAS NEVER YOURS!"


    Layla gasped, her vision blurring, the darkness pressing in from all sides. The Entity''s grip tightened.


    "You were supposed to DIE!" the Entity shrieked, and the darkness collapsed in on her.


    ¡ª


    "Meilin! WAKE UP!"


    Her father''s voice pierced the haze just as his hands grabbed her shoulders, shaking her violently. Layla gasped, her eyes flying open as she lurched forward, choking on nothing but air. Her entire body shook, the remnants of the Entity''s grip still burning on her throat like phantom pain. She was awake, but the world still felt wrong.


    Her mother''s arms wrapped around her, rocking her gently, whispering words she couldn''t hear over the pounding in her skull. Meyu was still holding onto her too, her forehead pressed against her shoulder, her body trembling just as much as Layla''s.


    Layla tried to speak, but no words came.


    The Entity''s last whisper still echoed in her head:


    You were supposed to die!


    Layla sat frozen in place, her breath still uneven. The warmth of her mother''s embrace should have been grounding, but instead, it felt like a weight she didn''t deserve.


    Her mind raced, replaying the nightmare, the suffocating grip of the Entity still lingering around her throat. It had spoken with Meilin''s voice. Had screamed with her voice.


    Do I really deserve to be here? The thought burrowed deep, a question that had no answer.


    Slowly, as if in a trance, Layla''s hand reached toward her neck, fingers brushing against the tender skin¡ª


    And then she felt it.


    A searing sting erupted beneath her fingertips. Her breath hitched, and as she looked down, horror clawed its way up her throat. Deep, reddened scars marred the delicate skin of her neck¡ªidentical to where the Entity had strangled her.


    Meyu, still clutching her, saw it first. Her breath shuddered, her fingers tightening on Layla''s wrist.


    "Meilin¡­ your neck¡ª"


    Lin Wuye and Yuxe Wuye followed her gaze. Their expressions shifted from concern to something close to horrified disbelief.


    "That''s not possible," Lin Wuye muttered under his breath, already reaching forward to inspect the wounds. His voice was calm, logical, but the look in his eyes betrayed his unease.


    "You were just sleeping¡­ so how did¡ª"


    Layla''s throat felt dry. She wanted to tell them. Debated to whether or not to admit everything¡ªthat she was not Meilin, that she had stolen this life, that perhaps¡­ the Entity was right.


    But the words wouldn''t come.


    Instead, her mother cupped her face again, forcing Layla to meet her tear-filled eyes. "You''re here," Yuxe Wuye whispered, almost as if convincing herself.


    "You''re here, my love."


    Layla''s chest ached at those words.


    Lin Wuye sighed, pulling back. "The wounds aren''t fresh, but they shouldn''t be there at all. We need to treat them before they worsen."


    Meyu nodded quickly, already moving to retrieve the medicinal salves. But as she moved away, she hesitated, glancing back at Layla. The look in her eyes was uncertainty.


    She had seen something. Something that terrified her.


    Layla said nothing.


    She only reached up again, fingers lightly tracing the scars on her throat.


    Because deep down, it still felt like the Entity''s hands were there.


    ---


    The soft scratching of charcoal against wood filled the air, broken only by the occasional murmur of instruction.


    Inside the newly built schoolhouse, a group of young disciples sat hunched over their makeshift desks, frowning at the strange symbols drawn before them. Zhao Lihua, her silver hair tied back neatly, squinted down at the numbers scrawled across her paper, tapping her fingers against the surface.


    "I don''t understand," she muttered. "What does ''six times four'' mean? Six what?"


    The instructor, a thin man with ink-stained fingers, let out a patient sigh. "Think of it this way¡ªif you had six baskets, and each one held four peaches, how many peaches would you have in total?"


    Zhao Lihua brows knitted together as she whispered under her breath, tracing invisible patterns on her desk.


    Zhu Fen peeked over her shoulder and said to Elder Jian. "Twenty-four, Elder Jian. It''s easy!"


    Jian Bo huffed, waving her hand dismissively. "Easy for a brat like you. My generation didn''t waste time with numbers¡ªwe settled things with our fists!"


    The class chuckled, though some continued scribbling, their expressions ranging from concentration to frustration. The cold wind rattled the wooden shutters, but inside, the warmth of the stove and the low hum of voices made it bearable.


    ¡ª


    Outside, in the open courtyard, two figures moved in a brutal clash.


    Snow clung to their robes, their breath misting in the freezing air. The rhythmic clash of wooden staves echoed across the training grounds, punctuated by the dull thud of one body hitting the snow-covered ground.


    Bao groaned, rolling onto his back. "You¡ªyou''re enjoying this, aren''t you?"


    Jiang twirled his staff effortlessly, his breath steady despite the cold. "That''s a strong accusation."


    Bao scowled as he pushed himself up, his arms shaking. "This isn''t training. This is torture."


    Jiang didn''t reply immediately. Instead, he lunged forward with merciless precision, his staff a blur of motion. Bao barely had time to react, raising his own weapon to block. The impact reverberated up his arms, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his shoulders.


    "Complaining wastes energy." Jiang said, pressing the attack. His strikes were relentless¡ªsharp, controlled, unforgiving.


    Bao gritted his teeth, forcing himself to counter. "If I freeze to death, I''m haunting you."


    Jiang sidestepped a desperate swing with effortless grace. "You''ll have to catch me first."


    Bao shifted his stance, exhaling sharply before launching forward in a blur of movement. He initiated Step One: Whispering Breeze, his staff striking out in a fluid motion. Jiang met it instantly, matching his speed with his own version of the technique.


    Bao smirked. "Trying to match me now? I can outlast you."


    Jiang''s response was to press harder. His strength was superior, and his experience far greater. The snap of wood against wood cracked through the frozen air, each impact sending vibrations up Bao''s arms.


    What began as a test of agility erupted into a brutal contest of endurance. Jiang''s blows carried raw force, each strike meant to break past defenses rather than simply test them. Bao countered with speed, ducking low and using every ounce of flexibility to avoid being overwhelmed.


    But Jiang was relentless.


    Their staves clashed, sparks of frost flying as they locked into a deadlock. Bao gritted his teeth, his muscles straining. The cold bit into his exposed skin, his breath coming in short bursts of mist.


    "Still think you can match me?"


    Jiang smirked, eyes sharp with focus. Then, without hesitation, he twisted his grip, using his superior strength to wrench Bao''s weapon wide. In the same fluid motion, he brought his staff down¡ªhard¡ªinto Bao''s ribs.


    The breath ripped from Bao''s lungs as he stumbled, feet sliding over the slick, frozen ground. His vision blurred as he landed hard on his back, the snow beneath him crunching sharply.


    For a moment, only the sound of his ragged breathing filled the air.


    Bao wheezed, curling slightly as he coughed. "I hate you."


    Jiang extended a hand, utterly unfazed. "Then stand up and prove it."


    Before Bao could retaliate, a third voice cut through the icy air.


    "Enough." Lin Wuye''s voice was firm but carried a weight behind it. Both Jiang and Bao turned to see him standing at the edge of the courtyard, his expression unreadable.


    Jiang lowered his staff. "What is it?"


    Lin Wuye exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. "It''s Meilin. Something happened."


    Bao immediately sat up, ignoring the ache in his ribs. "What? What do you mean? Is she okay?"


    Jiang narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. "What happened?"


    Lin Wuye''s jaw tightened. "I don''t know how to explain it, but she won''t talk about it. And¡­ there are scars on her throat."


    Silence fell between them, the cold suddenly feeling far less important.


    Bao and Jiang exchanged a glance, their spar forgotten.


    Jiang clenched his fists, but his voice remained calm. "How bad is it?"


    Lin Wuye hesitated, his usual composed expression showing a rare flicker of unease. "Bad enough. She''s awake, but she won''t speak. And the scars... they''re real."


    Bao wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing still uneven. "Real? As in¡ª"


    "As in she woke up with them." Lin Wuye cut in.


    "I don''t know how, but something happened to her in her sleep and she''s not telling us what."


    Jiang exhaled sharply, grabbing his outer robe from the snow and throwing it over his shoulders. "Let''s go."


    Bao grumbled under his breath, rubbing his sore ribs. "You know, I was really hoping for a warm meal after this beating."


    Jiang didn''t respond. His pace was already brisk, his mind elsewhere.


    Lin Wuye turned, leading the way, his footsteps slow but deliberate.


    "She needs to see familiar faces. Maybe she''ll talk to you two."


    The cold no longer mattered. Bao and Jiang followed without another word.


    As they stepped into the dimly lit room, the warmth from the brazier did little to chase away the heavy atmosphere. Bao''s usual smirk faltered as he took in the sight before him.


    Meilin sat propped against the headboard, her shoulders tense, her gaze distant. The usual fire in her eyes had dulled, replaced by something unreadable¡ªsomething broken. Her mother knelt beside her, dabbing herbal salve onto her throat with steady but trembling hands. The dim light made the raw, red scars along her neck look even more pronounced, a brutal contrast against her pale skin.


    Bao swallowed hard. He had seen Meilin injured before, seen her bloodied and bruised from battle. But this? This was different. This wasn''t just a wound¡ªthis was something that had reached into her and taken something away.


    Jiang remained still, his sharp gaze flickering from the scars to her vacant expression. He didn''t speak, but his jaw tightened.


    "Meilin." Bao finally said, forcing his voice to be light, casual.


    "You look like shit, leader."


    She didn''t react. Not even a twitch.


    Yuxe Wuye glanced up, her eyes tired and wet, but she managed a small smile.


    "She woke up not long ago. Her pulse is steady, but¡­"


    "She won''t speak." Lin Wuye finished, arms crossed.


    "She hasn''t said a word since she woke up."


    Bao let out a forced chuckle. "C''mon, you? Not talking? I must be dreaming."


    Still, nothing.


    Jiang stepped forward, his voice measured but firm.


    "Meilin. Look at me."


    For a moment, she didn''t move. Then, slowly, her gaze lifted. Her eyes met Jiang''s, and Bao felt an uneasy shiver crawl down his spine.


    She looked lost.


    Jiang''s voice didn''t waver. "What happened?"


    Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, her hand twitched, moving toward her throat as if to touch the scars.


    The moment her fingers brushed against them, her breath hitched¡ªand she flinched.


    Yuxe Wuye grasped her wrist gently, guiding her hand back down.


    "Shh, sweetheart. It''s okay. You''re safe."


    Meilin swallowed hard, and for the first time since they entered, she whispered¡ªso faint, so hoarse, Bao barely caught it.


    "No¡­ I''m not."

 Warlord

    Far from the tense atmosphere surrounding Layla, the air crackled with a different kind of energy.


    A dimly lit workshop with lanterns in the heart of Russia bustled with the sounds of scribbling chalk, the occasional clatter of equations, and the frustrated sighs of students grappling with unfamiliar concepts. The scent of old paper, burning oil, and damp wood filled the air, mingling with the crisp cold seeping through the stone walls.


    Emery stood at the front of the makeshift classroom, his sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp as he tapped a chalk-covered hand against the board. "Mathematics is the foundation of all technology. If you don''t understand this, you might as well remain farmers."


    Across the room, Haoran''s daughter, Lianfei, stared at the equations scrawled across the board, her brows furrowed as she worked through the logic. Algebra and calculus were unfamiliar, but not incomprehensible¡ªif only she had the right explanations.


    Callum, seated beside her, groaned, rubbing his temples. "Okay, listen, uh¡ªLianfei, right? So, you have a giant bowl of rice, and instead of counting grains, you group them in chunks of ''x''. Now if you have three bowls and each has ''x'' grains of rice, that''s 3x! Easy, yeah?"


    Lianfei''s blank stare was as cold as the Russian winter outside.


    She exhaled through her nose before muttering in flawless Mandarin


    "What is this idiot rambling about?"


    Callum groaned, turning helplessly toward Emery.


    "Why am I even here? She doesn''t understand a lick of English, and I don''t know jack shit about their language."


    Emery sighed, adjusting his spectacles as he effortlessly translated. Lianfei glanced between the two of them before crossing her arms.


    ''''I understand mathematics, not whatever nonsense he''s spewing."


    "Then keep up" Emery replied in Mandarin, writing out a more complex derivative on the board. "This isn''t arithmetic anymore. If you want to grasp how energy transfer works, you need to understand rates of change. No calculus, no progress."


    Lianfei blinked. Then, in Mandarin, she muttered under her breath


    "What is this idiot saying? Calculus? What is that??"


    Chen and Feng, both barely in their teens, scribbled furiously on their slates, struggling to keep pace with the lesson.


    Chen hesitated before raising his hand.


    "Master Emery¡­ why do we need to learn this? I thought we were supposed to be working with metals."


    Emery exhaled sharply. "Because metallurgy requires precision, and precision requires calculations. You think building an engine is the same as hammering a sword?" He rapped his knuckles against the board.


    "No numbers, no electricity. No electricity, no progress. If you want to stay in the dark, be my guest."


    Feng, more eager than Chen, nodded quickly.


    "So¡­ we''re learning this to build your device?"


    Emery smirked. "Exactly. In order to harness electricity, we need a consistent energy source, which means calculations must be flawless. If any of you make a mistake, you could fry yourselves like an overcooked pheasant."


    Callum leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "Lovely. Who doesn''t want to die for science?"


    Emery shot him a look. "Then don''t help."


    "Oh, trust me, prince, I wouldn''t if I had a choice," Callum grumbled before rubbing his forehead again.


    "This is going to be a long lesson."


    Emery ignored them, already moving across the room to a different board, one covered in an increasingly chaotic mess of equations, diagrams, and hastily scribbled notes.


    "And over here, behold!" he declared dramatically, waving a piece of chalk like a conductor''s baton.


    "Emery''s Law of Energy Induction!"


    Callum groaned, sinking further into his chair. "Oh, here we go."


    Emery continued as if he hadn''t heard. "When a conductor¡ªmeaning a wire, for you simpletons¡ªmoves through a magnetic field, electrons get all jittery and start flowing, producing electricity!"


    He underlined his sketch of a coil and magnet with such force the chalk nearly snapped.


    "This is the fundamental principle behind my¡ªahem¡ªthe world''s first practical electromagnetic generator."


    Chen and Feng exchanged a glance. "So¡­ you''re saying we just need to move metal through magnets?"


    Emery whirled around so fast his coat flared out. "Just? Did you just say just?"


    He pointed aggressively at the board. "Do you have any idea how precise this has to be? The rotations, the material conductivity, the field intensity¡ªall of it has to be calculated perfectly! One misstep, and instead of harnessing power, you''ll have a very expensive, very useless hunk of metal."


    Lianfei, still focused on her equations, muttered


    "So this is why you''re making us learn ''''calculus''''."


    "Exactly!" Emery snapped his fingers.


    "Voltage, resistance, current flow¡ªall of it follows predictable patterns, if you know the math. Which, unfortunately for me, none of you do. Yet." He tapped the board again.


    "This is why you''re here¡ªto make sure my machine actually works instead of exploding in a fiery disaster."


    Lianfei, who had been silent until now, suddenly frowned, stepping closer to the board.


    "Your coil placement is inefficient."


    Emery blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"


    She pointed at one of his more complex sketches, her expression unreadable. "If you adjust the angle of rotation here by even a few degrees, you''d reduce energy loss. Right now, you''re generating unnecessary resistance."


    For a moment, the room was silent.


    Then Emery''s eyes gleamed with excitement. "Brilliant!"


    He grabbed a fresh piece of chalk and immediately started adjusting his calculations. "Yes, yes¡ªless drag on the rotational field¡­ better electron flow¡­ I like where your head is at!"


    Emery, still lost in his calculations, nodded approvingly. "You''re officially promoted to ''slightly less incompetent.'' Keep this up, and you might actually be helpful."


    ¡ª


    Elsewhere, in the cold stone corridors of the Russian stronghold, Zafira walked with pride while Haoran and Renshu followed, their expressions cautious and worried. The mighty warlord and underworld Queen has the cards to potentially monopolise a big part of the economy.


    She smirked to herself and talking to herself.


    Strength alone means nothing if it isn''t controlled.


    Zafira crossed her arms, studying them like a merchant appraising goods. "Let''s get one thing straight¡ªyou''re not prisoners. But you''re not free, either. Your loyalty isn''t guaranteed, and until it is, I have to ensure you don''t suddenly decide to slit my throat in my sleep."


    Haoran scoffed, "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"


    Zafira''s smile widened. "By making sure you have more to lose than you could ever gain by betraying me."


    Haoran''s jaw tightened. "You think this makes us your lapdogs?"


    Zafira let out a soft chuckle. "Dogs are loyal. Tools are reliable. I don''t need either¡ªI need assets. And that''s what I intend to make you."


    Renshu, ever the quiet observer, merely adjusted her sleeves. "And what exactly does this¡­ ''investment'' in us entail?"


    Zafira turned on her heel, gesturing for them to follow.


    "You''re both warriors I presume. But war is a tedious business¡ªinfluence is the future. I''m giving you a role in it. Haoran, you''re going to build us a martial arts dojo. A place to train fighters, raise influence, and create something lasting. Once the winter is over, you''ll be at the head of it."


    Haoran narrowed his eyes. "A dojo? You think teaching brats how to fight is a future?"


    Zafira smirked. "Not just fighters¡ªloyalists. A network. A foundation. One that ensures you, your wife, and your children remain valuable. Because the moment you stop being valuable, well¡­"


    She let the silence linger, the implied threat hanging in the air.


    Haoran exhaled sharply, but he said nothing. He wasn''t a fool¡ªhe understood exactly what she was doing. But he also knew that, for now, playing along was the only move he had.


    Zafira''s smile didn''t waver. "Good. You''re learning."


    She motioned forward. "Now, let''s talk business. Your future starts today."


    Zafira led them into a dimly lit chamber, a stark contrast to the cold halls outside. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, distorting their figures. She gestured for them to sit at a modest wooden table, where a carefully arranged set of documents awaited them.


    Haoran and Renshu exchanged a glance before cautiously taking their seats. Zafira, however, remained standing, circling them like a predator assessing its prey.


    "Loyalty is not given freely." she said, her tone almost conversational.


    "It is built, tested, reinforced. And in your case? It will be ensured."


    She placed a single sheet of parchment in front of Haoran. It was blank, save for one word at the top: Oath.


    "I don''t believe in blind trust." she continued.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Which is why this agreement ensures your cooperation¡ªnot just with words, but with consequences."


    Haoran''s eyes flicked over the parchment before meeting hers. "A contract? You expect me to sign away my life?"


    Zafira chuckled. "Not your life, Haoran. Your future. The dojo, your wife, your children¡ªit all thrives under my protection. But the moment you step out of line, it all crumbles."


    Renshu, silent until now, spoke up. "And if we refuse?"


    Zafira leaned in, her fingers lightly tapping against the table¡ªthen, with a smooth motion, she reached into her coat and pulled out the gun. The cold metal glinted in the dim candlelight as she placed it gently on the table between them, her expression never shifting from that calculated smirk.


    "You won''t refuse." she said, her voice low, almost amused.


    "Because you''re not stupid. Because you know that without a place in my vision, your entire bloodline seize to exist. And because, Haoran¡ª" she slid the gun forward an inch "¡ªI don''t make idle threats."


    Haoran''s eyes flicked to the weapon, his jaw clenching. Renshu remained eerily still, though her fingers were shivering


    "Do you really want your legacy to be that of a man who once was?" Zafira continued, voice smooth as silk. "Or do you want to leave this room as a man who still has something left to build?"


    The weight of her words settled between them. Haoran clenched his fists, but he didn''t argue.


    She smiled, sensing his wavering resolve. "I won''t break you, Haoran. I''ll reshape you. You will still be a warrior, still be strong. But you will belong to something greater than yourself."


    Haoran stared at the parchment, then at the gun, then back at Zafira, before exhaling a slow, measured breath. "How about a different kind of deal?"


    Zafira arched a brow, intrigued. "Oh? Do entertain me."


    Haoran leaned back slightly, his muscles relaxing, but his eyes gleamed with a sharpness that hadn''t dulled despite their captivity.


    "You say you want loyalty, but trust built on fear never lasts. If you''re so sure of your control, fight me. No guns. No tricks. Just you and me. If I win, you let my family go. If you win, I''ll sign your damn contract."


    For the first time since the conversation began, Zafira blinked in mild surprise before tilting her head. Then, she chuckled. "A physical challenge? You do realize I''m not some frail merchant woman, don''t you?"


    "And I''m not just some warrior who only knows how to swing a sword," Haoran countered.


    "Or are you afraid you''ll lose?"


    Zafira''s smirk widened. "You really think taunting me will work? Cute." She slid the gun back into her coat, standing straight.


    "Fine. Let''s play your little game. But when I win, I expect you to be a man of your word."


    Haoran cracked his knuckles, rising to his feet. "Oh, I always am. The real question is¡ªare you?"


    Zafira simply gestured toward the open space at the center of the chamber.


    "Let''s find out."


    Before Haoran could move, a slow, deliberate clap echoed from the doorway. A woman stepped inside, her presence a silent but commanding force. She was dressed in sleek, dark attire, a stark contrast to Zafira''s more refined look. Her hair was tied back neatly, sharp brown eyes glinting with amusement as she observed the two opponents.


    "Oh Haoran" she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an edge of cold amusement.


    "Do you even know who you just challenged?"


    Haoran narrowed his eyes. "And you are?"


    The woman smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the doorframe. "Jun." she said. "Ezra''s personal blade. Her most trusted assassin. The one who makes problems disappear. And you, my dear dumbass, have just issued a challenge to Ezra, the Queen of the Underworld."


    Haoran''s breath hitched. His mind scrambled through every name, every legend, every whispered rumour from the darker corners of the world. And then it clicked.


    His jaw tightened. He had made a mistake.


    His mind raced for a way out. "You know, on second thought," Haoran started, raising a hand, "maybe we were too hasty with this whole ''fight'' idea. Honey, back me up here."


    Renshu, who had been quietly calculating their survival rate, nodded sagely. "Yes, yes. It would be unwise to damage such an important business relationship. Perhaps¡­ a different kind of negotiation is in order?"


    Zafira''s smirk deepened as she tilted her head. "Oh? Are you saying you suddenly don''t want to fight me? That''s disappointing. I was looking forward to it."


    Haoran coughed. "No, no, it''s not that. It''s just that¡ªuh, well, I wouldn''t want to accidentally hurt someone as important as you. Bad optics, you know? Wouldn''t want to ruin your reputation."


    Jun snorted from the doorway. "That''s cute. You actually think you''d land a hit?"


    Haoran ignored her, pressing forward. "So let''s say we restructure the terms¡ªmaybe an arm-wrestling contest instead? Or, hear me out, what if we test loyalty through a cooking competition? I make an excellent stir-fry."


    Zafira raised an eyebrow. "You''re stalling."


    "I absolutely am," Haoran admitted. "Is it working?"


    "No."


    And with that, Zafira casually rolled up her sleeves, stepping onto the sparring floor. It was only then that Haoran realized, in their back-and-forth, they had already walked into the open space.


    Renshu sighed. "Well. That failed spectacularly."


    Haoran exhaled. "Yeah. I was really hoping she''d go for the cooking contest."


    Zafira rolled her shoulders, then unfastened her coat, tossing it to the side.


    "Since I''m such a generous person, I''ll even give you an advantage."


    She raised her hand, signalling towards Jun without looking. Jun bowed and stepped toward the far end of the chamber, pushing multiple boxes and revealing an impressive arsenal of weapons¡ªeach one polished, sharpened, and very much real.


    Heavy swords, longswords, spears, staffs, daggers, throwing knives, chain whips, and even a massive battle-axe gleamed under the dim candlelight. The sheer variety of lethal instruments could outfit a small army.


    Renshu let out a long, slow whistle. "That''s¡­ an excessive amount of murder options."


    Haoran tensed. "Why do you have all this?"


    Zafira smirked. "For moments like this."


    Jun crossed her arms, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Pick your poison, become a warlord."


    Haoran eyed the selection carefully. The weapons weren''t for show¡ªeach one was made for actual combat. He reached out, testing the weight of a broadsword, then glanced toward Zafira.


    "And what will you be using?"


    Zafira shrugged, showing her fist. "This."


    Haoran frowned. "Your hand?"


    Jun chuckled. "She doesn''t need anything else."


    Renshu leaned stood beside Jun now and said "I feel like we''ve walked into an elaborate execution."


    Haoran gritted his teeth and took a stance. "No turning back now."


    Jun leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with clear amusement. "Try not to die too fast."


    The fight began in an instant.


    Haoran surged forward, his broadsword slicing through the air with deadly force. The sheer weight behind his first swing alone would have cleaved through flesh and bone¡ªhad it connected.


    But Zafira was already gone.


    She moved with ghostlike precision, sidestepping at the last possible moment. The wind of Haoran''s missed strike rippled through her coat, but she was untouched.


    Haoran barely had time to reset before she closed the distance, launching a brutal palm strike aimed straight for his ribs. He barely twisted in time, her knuckles grazing his side¡ªyet even that slight touch sent a jarring shockwave through his torso.


    She''s fast.


    He ground his heels into the floor, stabilizing himself, and swung again¡ªthis time using the momentum of his first failed strike to feint before shifting his stance. The blade came down in a calculated arc, aimed at where she should have dodged.


    Except she didn''t dodge.


    Instead, Zafira stepped in¡ªright into his guard¡ªand caught his wrist mid-swing.


    The impact sent a crack through the chamber as their strength clashed. Haoran''s eyes widened as he felt the iron grip locking his sword arm in place.


    "Too slow!" she murmured before twisting his wrist just enough to throw his balance off. He had no choice but to step back to regain footing.


    And that was all she needed.


    Zafira struck. A knee to the gut¡ªsharp, precise, devastating. The force sent Haoran skidding backward, boots scraping against the stone.


    Renshu winced. "Yeah, this was a bad idea."


    Haoran coughed, shaking off the pain. "That all you got?"


    Zafira rolled her shoulders, smirking. "Not even close."


    She lunged.


    Haoran raised his sword just in time to intercept her first strike¡ªa barehanded blow against the flat of his blade¡ªbut the moment of relief was short-lived. Zafira''s other fist slammed into his shoulder, sending a shockwave of pain down his arm. His grip faltered for just a second.


    And in that second, she ripped the broadsword from his grasp.


    The heavy weapon clattered to the floor as Haoran barely managed to roll away, heart pounding.


    Jun let out a low whistle. "Oof. That''s embarrassing."


    Haoran scowled. "Shut up."


    Zafira twirled her fingers, motioning for him to get up. "Come now, warlord. You made the challenge. Try to make this worth my time."


    Haoran clenched his jaw. If brute strength wasn''t enough, then he''d simply push his limits. He took a deep breath, focusing his Qi into his arms, his legs¡ªhis sword. The air around him shifted, a subtle hum of power resonating through the steel as he gripped the hilt. His next strike would be faster, stronger, deadlier.


    Jun''s smirk faded slightly. "Oh? He''s actually using Qi now."


    Renshu exhaled sharply. "Good. Maybe this won''t be so one-sided."


    Haoran didn''t waste another second. He launched forward, his Qi-infused broadsword slicing through the air with enough force to split a big stone. The ground beneath him cracked as he pushed off, his speed nearly double what it had been before.


    But Zafira didn''t flinch.


    The instant his sword came down, she moved.


    Not to dodge. To meet it.


    With nothing but her fist.


    The moment of impact was deafening.


    Zafira''s Qi-reinforced fist collided with the edge of Haoran''s Qi-empowered broadsword. A shockwave exploded outward, sending dust and debris flying. Renshu had to brace herself, her hair whipping violently from the force, while Jun merely stood and amazed, her eyes reflecting the chaos.


    For a split second, it seemed like a deadlock.


    Then, the sword shattered.


    Not just cracked¡ªshattered. Fragments of metal burst outward, glowing briefly before embedding themselves into the surrounding stone walls.


    The next thing anyone registered was Haoran himself.


    His entire body launched backward, as if struck by an elephant. He slammed into the chamber wall with enough force to cave it inward, stone crumbling around him as cracks splintered out like a spiderweb.


    Silence followed, save for the settling debris.


    Renshu''s lips parted slightly. "...That''s not possible."


    Jun crossed her arms, looking far too entertained.


    "Oh, it''s very possible. You just underestimated how powerful she is. She has trained with master martial artists, mastered about 100 techniques and trained under Qi Masters as well"


    Haoran groaned from the crater he had made, barely managing to pry himself out of the rubble. His vision was swimming, his body aching, but the worst part?


    Zafira hadn''t even broken a sweat.


    She sighed, tilting her head as she approached the rubble where Haoran struggled to get up. "Disappointing." she mused, her tone devoid of sympathy.


    "I expected more from a so-called warlord."


    Haoran spat blood onto the cracked floor, his breath laboured but defiant.


    "Go to hell."


    Zafira''s boot slammed down on his chest, pinning him against the wreckage with unrelenting force. He gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain shot through his ribs.


    She crouched slightly, her gaze sharp and piercing. "You want to know the difference between us, Haoran? You think strength is swinging a sword harder, pushing yourself past your limits. But true power..." Her fingers dug into his jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes. "...is making others submit before the fight even begins."


    She let go abruptly, standing tall. "Get up."


    Haoran wheezed, trying to push himself up, but the moment he moved, Zafira''s fist crashed into his stomach, the force from it alone would''ve knock anyone. A sickening thud echoed through the chamber as Haoran doubled over, coughing violently.


    "Get up." she ordered again, stepping back just enough to give him space.


    Haoran''s arms trembled as he forced himself to his feet. His body screamed for him to stay down, but he refused. He had faced death before¡ªhe would not kneel.


    Zafira watched him with a glint of amusement. ''''I like that. Let''s see how long that lasts."


    Before he could react, she moved again¡ªa blur of precision and force. Her palm slammed into his ribs, a strike so perfectly placed that it sent a shockwave through his body. Haoran barely stayed on his feet, his vision flickering, his balance unsteady.


    Renshu, who had been silent until now, took a small step forward. "Lady Ezra, he''s had enough¡ª"


    Zafira didn''t even glance at her. "No. He hasn''t learned yet."


    Jun smiled like a pyscho from her spot by the doorway. "This is fun!"


    Zafira grabbed Haoran by the collar, pulling him forward until their faces were inches apart.


    "You''re not walking away from this fight as a warrior. You''re walking away as my soldier. My weapon. My asset."


    She released him, only to deliver a final, devastating strike to his sternum. The impact rattled his bones, and this time, Haoran couldn''t stop himself from crumbling to his knees.


    Zafira exhaled, shaking her wrist as if shaking off dust. "Now. Have I made myself clear?"


    Haoran coughed, his breath ragged. He wanted to curse her, to fight back¡ªbut his body refused.


    Renshu rushed towards her beat up husband, looking between them, then slowly lowered her gaze. "...Crystal."


    Zafira gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Then let''s talk about your obedience."


    Before Haoran could even process his defeat, Jun casually strolled forward, pulling a rolled parchment from her coat. With a flourish, she unfurled the contract on a nearby table, the inked letters gleaming under the dim candlelight.


    "Right on schedule." Jun said cheerfully, setting an ornate quill beside it.


    "Sign here, ''''warlord''''. Your wife can co-sign if she likes."


    Renshu, still kneeling beside her battered husband, let out a long sigh before standing. She snatched the quill without hesitation, dipped it in ink, and signed the contract with a single, fluid stroke.


    Haoran groaned. "Betrayed by my own wife."


    Renshu patted his head gently, with sympathy in her voice. "You picked this fight."


    Zafira smirked, arms crossed. "Your wife is a smart woman."


    Just then, the heavy doors swung open with a loud creak, revealing an exasperated Emery storming in, his coat slightly dishevelled. He held bandages, salves, and a medicinal herbs under one arm, his glasses slightly askew.


    "What in the name of logic and reason is going on here?" Emery snapped.


    "I heard a damn explosion from upstairs! I leave for one hour, and you''re breaking people?"


    He stomped over to Haoran, already inspecting his injuries with sharp, clinical efficiency. "Damaged ribs, heavy bruising, possible internal damage¡ªhonestly, Zafira, must you destroy everything?"


    Jun smirked. "I think it builds character."


    "It builds my workload!" Emery grumbled, already pulling out salves.


    "Now, stay still, Haoran, or I''ll make sure the treatment hurts more than the fight."


    His sharp gaze flickered to Haoran''s other injury¡ªthe gunshot wound on his thigh that had been patched up by Emery "At least it''s healing or was since, I don''t know before you went and got yourself slammed through a wall?"


    Haoran groaned. "I was a bit preoccupied."


    Emery''s glare shifted to Zafira. "And you. Did you really have to go this hard on him?"


    Zafira blinked, feigning innocence. "He wanted it."

 Adapting to the Cold

    The first snowfall of the season blanketed the Silver Lotus grounds, coating the training fields in 2 inches of snow. The morning air was sharp, each breath curling in the cold like smoke. Despite the unforgiving chill, the sound of sparring echoed across the courtyard.


    Layla sat on the temple steps, staring at the frost-covered trees. The last few days had been¡­ difficult. Ever since the nightmare, ever since it whispered to her, she had been forcing herself to move forward. She debated telling the truth¡ªtelling them she wasn''t really Meilin. But every time the words crept to her lips, she swallowed them back down.


    She wasn''t ready.


    Yuxe Wuye sat gracefully with a cup of steaming tea resting on her lap, her gaze settling on Layla as she took a quiet sip. The room was warm, the scent of herbal tea lingering in the air, a stark contrast to the icy wind outside.


    "How are you feeling?" Yuxe finally asked, her voice calm but knowing.


    Layla hesitated, fingers grazing the edge of the low wooden table between them.


    "I''m fine."


    Her mother gave her a concerned look.


    Layla exhaled. "My neck is healing."


    She reached up unconsciously, fingers brushing over the faint scratches. "I... I''m sorry. For the past few days. I know I haven''t been speaking much. Or leaving my room. That''s not very fitting for a sect leader, is it?"


    Yuxe set her teacup down with a gentle clink. "A title means nothing if the person carrying it is barely standing. Taking time to recover isn''t weakness, Meilin."


    Layla lowered her gaze, swallowing back the tightness in her throat. "It just feels like everything keeps moving forward, and I can''t catch up."


    Yuxe''s expression softened. "Then let yourself breathe. Just for a little while. The sect will still be here when you''re ready."


    Before Layla could respond, a weight suddenly dropped onto her head.


    With all the casual arrogance of an older sister, Meyu rested her chest atop Layla''s head, using her as an armrest.


    "Aww, look at this. Bonding time. Should I go fetch a blanket? Maybe some hairpins?"


    Layla groaned. "Meyu, get off me."


    "Nah, I think I like this." Meyu smirked, tilting her head toward Yuxe.


    "So, what are we talking about? The fact that she somehow looks even more muscular despite being depressed?


    Layla shot her a glare, but Yuxe only chuckled. "I was simply reminding her that she doesn''t have to bear everything alone."


    Meyu hummed. "Good advice. But knowing her, she''s going to ignore it until she collapses dramatically in a training field somewhere."


    Layla sighed, shaking her head. "Why do I even talk to you two?"


    "Because you love us" Meyu answered instantly, flashing a smile.


    Yuxe smiled into her tea. "And because deep down, you know we''re right."


    Layla''s expression faltered for just a fraction of a second. The warmth of the room, the laughter, the affection in their voices¡ªit should have been comforting. But instead, it twisted inside her, a quiet reminder that she was not Meilin.


    That this love, this family, this acceptance, was never meant for her.


    She lowered her gaze, gripping the edge of her sleeve as guilt curled in her chest.


    How much of a fraud was she? How long could she keep pretending?


    Meyu, still draped lazily over her, didn''t seem to notice. Or maybe she did and chose not to say anything. Instead, she just shifted, resting her chin atop Layla''s head now.


    "Hmm? You went quiet all of a sudden. Don''t tell me you''re getting emotional."


    Layla forced a smirk. "I''m emotional about the fact that you''re crushing my skull."


    Meyu grinned. "Good. That means you''re still alive."


    Before Layla could respond, a knock sounded at the door. Jiang''s voice followed.


    "Meilin, if you''re feeling better, your father and I would like you to come down and train."


    Layla stiffened slightly at the name, at the ease with which it left his lips. She hesitated, but Yuxe set down her tea and looked at her thoughtfully. "Are you ready?"


    Layla took a slow breath. No hesitation. She had once walked into war, stood before crowds that feared and revered her. The past and present collided in her mind, but she pushed it down. Whatever she felt now, she had to move forward. Just like before.


    Yuxe watched her daughter closely, the way her shoulders squared, the way she forced herself to appear steady. She had seen that same posture before¡ªon war generals, on rulers, on people who had learned to wear strength like armour.


    "Are you ready, Meilin?" she asked, her voice softer now.


    Layla hesitated only for a moment before nodding. "Yes. I rested long enough."


    Meyu, lounging nearby, let out a low hum.


    "She says that now, but give it an hour, and we''ll find her face-first in the snow."


    Yuxe smiled faintly but didn''t look away from Layla. "You''ve been distant lately.." she murmured. "More than usual."


    Layla stiffened slightly. "I just¡­ needed time."


    Yuxe took a slow sip of her tea. "And now?"


    Layla exhaled, fingers curling at her sides. "Now, I need to move forward."


    Meyu straightened, resting her elbow on Layla''s shoulder.


    "That''s a fancy way of saying you don''t want to talk about it."


    Layla shot her a flat look. "And?"


    Meyu smirked. "And that''s fine. As long as you know we''re here when you do." She tapped Layla''s forehead lightly before pulling away. "Now, go. Show them you''re still alive and kicking."


    Yuxe nodded approvingly, watching as Layla turned toward the door, shoulders squared once more. "Stay warm, Meilin."


    Layla hesitated just briefly before stepping out, letting the cold air hit her full force. It was time to move forward, no matter how much her heart resisted.


    --


    The training ground was filled with the rhythmic clash of wooden weapons, the cold air carrying each sharp impact as Layla squared off against Lin Wuye. Her breath curled in the air like smoke, her muscles tense, her stance grounded. This wasn''t like before. Something has changed.


    Lin Wuye moved first, his strikes fluid and relentless. Layla countered, her movements sharper than they had ever been. She wasn''t just using her footwork¡ªshe was instinctively weaving the first step of the **Gale techniques--Whispering Breeze, her speed heightened, her strikes carrying precision.


    Then it happened.


    As their weapons connected, a faint distortion rippled through the air. Lin Wuye''s brows furrowed as he felt a strange force push back against him, something more than just the Gale''s movement. He stepped away, assessing the subtle dark etchings left along his weapon''s surface.


    Layla''s chest rose and fell sharply. She could feel it too¡ªthe tingling, the pull, the underlying presence of Qi Rot swirling within her techniques. Her body had suppressed it for so long albeit passively, and yet, here it was.


    "Again!" Lin Wuye commanded.


    Layla hesitated but nodded. They clashed once more, and this time, the effect was clearer. With every strike, the wind carried something unnatural¡ªnot decay in the traditional sense, but a fleeting, erupting force, like a corrosive burst that dissipated too quickly to spread.


    Jiang and Bao, previously engaged in their own sparring, had stopped to watch.


    Bao squinted. "Uh¡­ is her Qi supposed to do that?"


    Jiang folded his arms. "I don''t think so."


    Lin Wuye lowered his weapon and studied her carefully. "Your Qi... it''s changing or rather, adapting."


    Layla swallowed with fear and contemplation but seeing it now¡ªseeing it reflected in her father''s expression¡ªmade it real.


    "The Rot and Gale are merging is what I think." Lin Wuye continued, his tone thoughtful rather than concerned.


    "But unlike before, the decay doesn''t settle. It bursts on impact, then vanishes. It''s forced balance, not natural equilibrium."


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    Jiang blinked. "So¡­ she has exploding death wind now?"


    Bao raised a brow. "Kinda unfair, don''t you think?"


    Lin Wuye ignored them, still watching Layla. "How long have you been suppressing this?"


    Layla''s grip on her weapon tightened. "I don''t know but it''s probably since¡­ the nightmare."


    Lin Wuye''s eyes sharpened. "I see. We will need to study this further. You''ll be training under me more directly from now on. No more holding back. I will need to know how your body adapts to this"


    Layla exhaled, nodding. Whatever was happening to her Qi, it wasn''t going away. She could either fear it¡ªor learn to control it..


    --


    With the cold biting at their skin, Jiang and Bao resumed their sparring. Their wooden weapons clashed, sending sharp echoes through the frozen air. Each strike was heavier than the last, the tension between them building. Bao had been improving steadily, his power increasing with each session, but Jiang had always remained one step ahead.


    Until now.


    With a sharp inhale, Bao shifted his stance, planting his feet firmly against the icy ground. He felt his Qi surge through his limbs, a new force bubbling within him. His next strike was different¡ªhe moved faster, struck harder, and for the first time ever, Jiang was pushed back.


    Jiang''s feet slid slightly against the frost-covered dirt. His eyes narrowed.


    Bao didn''t hesitate. He pressed forward, something surging within him¡ªhis Qi burned hotter, filling his limbs, expanding, demanding release. The moment his foot slammed into the frost-covered ground, the air around him shifted.


    Then, it happened.


    A deep, howling wind erupted from his body, rippling through the training grounds like the first signs of a coming storm. The frost beneath his feet fractured, thin cracks spiderwebbing outward as the pressure of his movements warped the air itself. His strikes, once powerful, now carried something far greater¡ªsomething unshackled.


    Lin Wuye''s voice carried over the roaring wind, his tone sharp. "Roaring Tempest."


    Bao had unlocked the Fourth Step.


    His muscles tensed, Qi surging through every fiber of his being. The moment his next strike landed, it was no longer just a clash of weapons¡ªit was an impact that sent a shockwave bursting outward, kicking up a spray of loose ice and dirt. Jiang, for the first time, felt himself forced backward.


    The winter air, once still, now raged around them. Snow and dust spiralled wildly, carried by the sheer force of Bao''s movements. Each swing of his blade felt like a storm descending, pressure folding in on itself before exploding outward. This was no longer just raw strength¡ªit was power given form.


    And for the first time, Jiang had to truly meet him head-on. Each impact forced Jiang to adjust, forced him to meet Bao''s strength head-on. But Jiang was not one to be overwhelmed.


    Something shifted in him as well.


    Jiang adjusted his footing instinctively, his body moving without thought. The biting wind howled around them, but Jiang''s strikes became sharper, denser, heavier. The moment Bao forced him to retreat, Jiang''s Gale techniques changed.


    It wasn''t just precision anymore¡ªit was force, pure and devastating. The Gale was no longer just about fluidity; it had become a storm contained within each step.


    Lin Wuye''s sharp eyes caught it instantly. "Jiang isn''t just using the Gale anymore. He''s reshaping it!?''''


    Bao didn''t recognize what was happening¡ªuntil their weapons met again, and he felt the impact tear through his stance.


    Jiang''s blade struck like a winter gale¡ªsharp, unstoppable, and utterly destructive. The force of the clash shattered the frozen layer of earth beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing outward in jagged lines. The very air around him twisted with pressure, forming violent gusts that carried raw force rather than just speed.


    Bao stumbled back, his arms trembling. "What... the hell was that?"


    Jiang rolled his shoulders, exhaling steadily. "I think I just figured something out."


    Lin Wuye stepped forward, his gaze filled with amazement. "Your Gale isn''t just movement anymore¡ªit''s weighted. Condensed power. If before, your Step 1- Whispering Breeze was just step 1 but now the same step is equivalent to the Step 3-Gale''s Kiss, if we follow by this understanding what you could do with the Step 3¡ª"


    Jiang gripped his practice sword, testing its weight. "Would hit like Step 6- Tornado''s Edge."


    The realization hit Bao like a brick. "That''s basically cheating."


    Jiang smirked. "No, that''s adaptation."


    Lin Wuye nodded, impressed. "This is an entirely new path within the Gale. Your strikes aren''t just fast anymore¡ªthey land with enough force to break the ground beneath you. If this continues to develop¡­" His gaze flickered with intrigue.


    "It may become something even greater than the original technique."


    Bao, catching his breath, pointed his sword at Jiang. "Alright, alright. But just because I pushed you back once doesn''t mean I''m done!" He steadied his stance, Qi flowing through his limbs.


    "I just unlocked Gale''s Kiss. Let''s see if I can do it again."


    Jiang grinned. "Then let''s find out."


    -- 3 days has passed since --


    If the previous week had been cold, then today was merciless. The wind cut through the courtyard like a blade, and the frost beneath their feet had hardened into a near-solid sheet of ice. The cold didn''t just bite¡ªit seeped into their bones, slowing their movements and making even the simplest actions feel strained.


    Qi flowed like water, but in conditions like these, that water turned sluggish, unresponsive. If left unchecked, the disruption in flow could be dangerous¡ªQi blockages could weaken the body, lead to severe exhaustion, or even cause internal damage if forced too recklessly.


    Lin Wuye stood at the center of the training ground, his arms crossed as his students trembled in the freezing air.


    "This is reality." he stated firmly.


    "The battlefield is not flat, nor gracious. You will not always fight in perfect conditions. If you cannot adapt, you will fall."


    Bao exhaled, his breath curling in the air. "So what do we do?"


    Lin Wuye knelt, running his fingers lightly over the frost-covered ground. "First, you learn to breathe properly."


    He then demonstrated a new breathing technique, Lotus Veil Breathing, one that slowed the exhale and distributed warmth through the meridians, preventing Qi stagnation. "Control the breath, and your Qi will follow."


    Bao picked it up instantly, his body adjusting to the flow naturally. He stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Oh yeah, this feels nice. Meilin, you getting this?"


    Layla, however, was not getting it.


    "I am breathing from my core!'''' she wheezed, her Qi still sluggish despite her best efforts.


    Jiang, surprisingly, was struggling too. "It''s like trying to push through mud." he muttered.


    A small voice cut through their complaints. "I-I think I''m doing it!"


    All eyes turned to Zhu Fen, the youngest disciple, who was visibly shaking from the cold but still maintaining the breathing rhythm. His face was red, and his hands trembled, but his Qi flow remained stable.


    Jiang blinked. "Wait, how¡ª"


    "I''m just¡­ following what you did, Senior Jiang." Zhu Fen admitted.


    "But slower. And¡­ I tried imagining warmth instead of forcing it."


    Lin Wuye nodded approvingly. "A good method. Perhaps you should take notes, Jiang."


    Jiang groaned. "I just got lectured by an eleven-year-old."


    Bao laughed. "Nah, you got outperformed by an eleven-year-old."


    Layla sighed, watching Zhu Fen continue his breathing. "Alright, fine. Let''s try this again."


    With their Qi circulation improving, Lin Wuye moved onto the next phase of training.


    Adapting to the Terrain


    "The battlefield is never still," he reminded them. "Ice, mud, rain, unstable ground¡ªyour movements must adapt to whatever is beneath you. Otherwise, your enemy won''t need to defeat you. The terrain will do it for them."


    They started with footwork drills on the icy surface, and within minutes, it became very clear who was struggling.


    Jiang adapted instantly, his low stances and precise weight distribution keeping him balanced.


    Bao, on the other hand, confidently rushed forward¡ª


    And immediately skidded into a tree.


    Meyu winced. "Oof."


    Bao groaned from the snow. "I hate this training."


    Zhu Fen, meanwhile, was taking slow, careful steps, copying Jiang''s movements with unwavering focus.


    Layla, despite herself, was impressed.


    The kid was stubborn.


    Lin Wuye continued pushing them, forcing them to adjust their stances, their weight distribution, their footing. By the time they were done, even Bao could admit the lesson was necessary.


    "Fine." he grumbled. "I see the value in not falling on my ass."


    Jiang patted his shoulder. "You''re growing. I''m so proud of you."


    Bao shoved him. "Shut up."


    The freezing temperatures weakened metal, making their weapons brittle. The issue became glaringly obvious when Meyu, who had been assisting with supplies, called out in frustration, holding up a snapped sword. "


    We keep losing weapons to this damn cold!"


    Hearing the commotion, Layla, Jiang, and Lin Wuye approached the gathered workers, all of whom were frowning at a pile of cracked and chipped blades. Layla''s expression mirrored theirs¡ªthis was a major problem. Swords that couldn''t hold an edge, staffs that risked splintering in mid-strike¡ªin real combat, this could mean death.


    Jiang crossed his arms. "We can''t just coat everything in Qi nonstop. That''ll drain anyone too fast."


    Layla thought for a moment. "Maybe there''s a way to reinforce the weapons? Like a protective layer¡ªsomething to keep the metal from becoming too brittle."


    The workers exchanged looks, clearly considering it.


    "Or..." Meyu suddenly cut in, her tone far too nonchalant. "We could just heat the weapons before use and store them properly. You know. Like normal people."


    Layla blinked. "...What?"


    One of the workers sighed. "Yeah, we already figured that out, Sect Leader. We built insulated storage racks and keep them near the forge. We just called you guys over ''cause it was funny watching you frown so hard."


    Layla stared at them. Jiang exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. Lin Wuye, ever the composed master, simply nodded in approval. "A simple yet effective solution."


    Meyu slapped Layla''s back with a grin. "Look at that. You overcomplicated things again."


    Layla groaned, muttering, "I''m never living this down, am I?"


    Meyu smirked. "Nope."


    Before Layla could complain further, she turned to her father. "How long until this brutal cold settles down?"


    Lin Wuye, arms crossed, eyed the frost-covered courtyard. "A few more weeks at most. This is the harshest part of the season. After that, the worst should pass."


    Layla exhaled, watching her breath curl into the air. "We''re lucky to have Master Daokan and Atlas make that deal for the sect. And Meyu, with her oversight." She glanced at her friend.


    "What''s the next step, then?"


    Meyu''s grin widened in an all-too-familiar way. "Oh, I''m glad you asked!" She dramatically pulled out the contract, flipping through the parchment before slamming a finger onto a tiny clause at the bottom. "We''re going to turn the Silver Lotus Sect into an attraction spot and commercialize our martial arts style!"


    Layla, Jiang, and Lin Wuye visibly recoiled.


    "Absolutely not!" Lin Wuye said flatly.


    "Over my dead body." Jiang added.


    "I refuse to turn the sect into some tourist gimmick!" Layla snapped.


    Meyu, unfazed, tapped the contract again. "Ah, but behold! This tiny little clause here says the Ryl Trading Company reserves the right to monetize the sect if needed for survivability."


    Jiang squinted. "That''s barely readable. How small is that writing?"


    Meyu grinned, holding up her fingers. "Size 4 script. Just enough to be legal!"


    Layla groaned. "Meyu, I swear¡ª"


    Meyu clapped her hands together. "Don''t worry! It''s just a minor adjustment. A little training hall here, a demonstration there¡ªmaybe a few guided tours! Just imagine: ''Come witness the legendary Silver Lotus Sect! Live battles! Exclusive lessons! And a chance to dine with the sect leader!''"


    Layla buried her face in her hands. "This is a nightmare."


    Lin Wuye''s expression darkened. "We cannot simply give away the sect''s techniques. They have been passed down for generations."


    Jiang nodded firmly. "Yeah, this is our legacy. We''re not selling it."


    Meyu gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if personally offended. "Do I look like some money-hungry fraud to you?" She then blinked.


    "Wait¡ªdon''t answer that."


    Layla, arms crossed, eyed her warily. "Then what exactly are you suggesting?"


    Meyu''s grin stretched wider. "We don''t give away the techniques. We just¡­ train people with our martial arts."


    Jiang frowned. "Isn''t that the same thing?"


    Meyu clicked her tongue. "Of course not. Think about it! We make them pay for exclusive training sessions¡ªbut, and here''s the genius part, we only teach them the basics. Just enough for them to want more but not enough to actually learn the full techniques."


    Lin Wuye rubbed his forehead. "This is ridiculous. It''s basically a scam but legal"


    Jiang sighed. "I don''t like this."


    Meyu, completely ignoring them, unfurled the contract dramatically, pointing to a specific section in exaggerated fashion. "Behold! The tiny clause that says, and I quote, ''Ryl Trading reserves the right to ensure the sect survivability by any means''''''


    Layla squinted. "That''s¡­ really tiny."


    Jiang leaned in. "That''s basically microscopic."


    Meyu wagged her finger. "Legally binding microscopic."


    Lin Wuye exhaled. "This is foolishness."


    Layla sighed. "You''re just like Atlas."


    Meyu threw an arm around Layla, grinning. "Ah, you understand me so well. So, we all agree, right?"


    The three of them exchanged glances before collectively groaning.


    "Fine." Layla muttered. "But if this turns into a disaster¡ª"


    "It won''t!" Meyu interrupted cheerfully, clapping her hands. "Now, let''s talk pricing!"

 Fire in the Ice

    The winter air bit deep, crisp and unforgiving. A thin layer of frost coated the training grounds, and each breath curled into the air like ghostly tendrils. Despite the frigid conditions, the Silver Lotus Sect bustled with activity.


    For the first time in years, winter was not a season of suffering. The disciples were warm, well-fed, and rested¡ªthanks to Ryl Trading¡¯s generous supplies.


    In the school area, young disciples huddled around low tables, scratching characters onto paper with frozen fingers. Shen Guang, one of the older students, helped guide the younger ones through their lessons, occasionally glancing at the Ryl Trading workers who had brought parchment and ink from the city.


    "You¡¯re lucky," one of the traders joked "back home, we don¡¯t give ink to kids until they stop eating it."


    Near the food storage, Liu Ren, a stocky disciple assigned to oversee the supplies, meticulously counted sacks of rice and dried meat. "We haven¡¯t had stores this full in years" he muttered.


    "It feels like a cheat." A nearby Ryl Trading merchant, Gan Xiu, grinned and slapped him on the back. "That¡¯s what a good trade deal does¡ªmakes life easier."


    Meanwhile, in the weapon maintenance area, Tao Shen, the blacksmith¡¯s apprentice, worked tirelessly to keep the weapons from becoming brittle in the cold. "Damn frost cracks the steel." he muttered, rubbing his hands together. A Ryl Trading artisan, Wei Han, inspected a blade before nodding approvingly.


    "Try heating the hilts before practice¡ªit keeps the Qi circulation steady."


    Nearby, Jian Bo, the eldest sect member, stood with arms crossed, listening to Meyu explain trade principles. "So you¡¯re saying supply and demand dictate pricing? Sounds like a fancy way of saying ¡®charge people more when they¡¯re desperate.¡¯"


    Meyu sighed dramatically. "It¡¯s called ¡®market value,¡¯ Uncle Bo. You can¡¯t just give things away for free¡ªunless you enjoy watching the sect starve."


    Jian Bo rubbed his chin. "Still feels underhanded."


    Meyu grinned. "That¡¯s why you¡¯re learning. One day, you might even enjoy making a profit."


    Jian Bo snorted. "Unlikely."


    Wei Han, still inspecting weapons, chuckled. "Better start now. She¡¯s relentless."


    While all of this was happening, sparring never took a day off with Layla squaring off against her father in the training yard. Her breath steady despite the chill thanks to the Lotus Veil Breathing. The occasional flicker of Qi Rot intertwined with Gale energy swirled around her like darkened wind thanks to the weeks of training with her father.


    ¡°Again!¡± Lin Wuye commanded, stepping into a stance.


    She lunged, the air twisting unnaturally as her Qi surged. Their weapons clashed, and a shockwave rippled outward. Layla felt her strength increasing, her control tightening, but¡ª


    CRACK.


    The wooden staff in her hands shattered upon impact, splintering into fragments.


    Silence.


    Jiang whistled. ¡°That¡¯s a new one.¡±


    Bao snorted. ¡°Didn¡¯t even last five minutes.¡±


    Layla sighed and was visibly upset looking at the broken weapon. ¡°I need something sturdier.¡±


    Meyu, who had been watching this unfold, sighed dramatically and reached into a silk-wrapped package. ¡°Lucky for you, I anticipated your incompetence.¡± She held up a custom-forged weapon made from blackened steel infused with a core to withstand Qi bursts.


    Layla raised a brow. ¡°How much?¡±


    Meyu grinned. ¡°For you? A very fair, life-destroying amount.¡±


    Jiang muttered ¡°Why does doing business with you feel like making a deal with the underworld?¡±


    Meyu waved a hand dismissively. "Oh please, dear Meilin gets this one for free."


    Layla narrowed her eyes. "Really?"


    Meyu smirked. "Of course. The catch is¡ªevery time you break it, you owe me a favour."


    Layla¡¯s stomach dropped. "Define favour."


    "Oh, you¡¯ll know when the time comes." Meyu¡¯s grin widened like a predator setting a trap.


    Lin Wuye just took a sip of tea and let them argue.


    The sparring sessions continued, and Lin Wuye called forth his wife to train with the disciples. Most had never seen her fight, assuming she was only the sect¡¯s matriarch.


    Then she moved.


    A sharp whirl of wind surrounded her as she seamlessly executed Step 2¡ªRushing Wind. Her strikes were swift, controlled, and precise.


    Jiang blinked. ¡°Wait, we just got schooled by a mom.¡±


    Bao nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should be impressed or embarrassed.¡±


    Amidst the chaos, Zhu Fen, the youngest disciple, stepped forward.


    He took a slow breath.


    Then, with perfect footwork, he executed Step 1¡ªWhispering Breeze.


    Jiang and Bao stared at him.


    Lin Wuye nodded in approval. "He¡¯s the youngest in sect history to achieve this."


    Yuxe Wuye, however, stepped forward, adjusting Zhu Fen¡¯s stance slightly. "You did well, but your breathing is uneven. Try again, and this time, let the motion flow naturally."


    Jiang folded his arms. "I refuse to accept this."


    Bao sighed dramatically. "We¡¯re getting old, Jiang. The kid¡¯s already surpassing us."


    Bao patted Zhu Fen¡¯s shoulder. "Congrats, kid. Now, let me teach you the most important lesson."


    Jiang raised a brow. "Are you actually going to teach him something useful for once?"


    Zhu Fen looked up. ¡°What is it?¡±


    Bao smiled. ¡°Always look cool when you fight.¡±


    Lin Wuye, watching, smiled. ¡°If she had trained more consistently, she would have reached Step 3 by now.¡±


    Yuxe Wuye arched a brow at him. ¡°Are you saying I¡¯ve been lazy?¡±


    Lin Wuye took a deliberate sip of his tea, clearly choosing his next words carefully. ¡°I¡¯m saying that had you dedicated more time to training¡ª¡±


    Yuxe cut him off, her smile deceptively sweet. ¡°So you¡¯re saying I¡¯ve been lazy.¡±


    Bao and Jiang exchanged looks, stepping a few paces back as if avoiding an impending disaster.


    Lin Wuye cleared his throat. ¡°I would never use such a word, my dear wife.¡±


    Yuxe tapped a finger against her chin and smiled, dangerously. ¡°I see. Then tonight, perhaps you should make dinner.¡±


    Lin Wuye froze. ¡°That seems¡­ unnecessary.¡±


    She simply hummed, turning her attention back to Zhu Fen. Lin Wuye, defeated, sighed in defeat knowing he has to eat roasted potato tonight.


    Jiang whispered to Bao like two girls gossiping about their love life ¡°Master Wuye might be strong, but against his wife? No chance.¡±


    Meanwhile, Meyu was ¡°forced¡± into training alongside the youngest disciples. Layla had personally insisted, much to Meyu¡¯s despair. What started as a simple warm-up quickly turned into chaos.


    Meyu, with zero martial arts experience but absurd raw strength, accidentally obliterated two training dummies with a single punch.


    Jiang and Bao stared.


    ¡°I¡ªwhat?¡± Jiang sputtered.


    Bao looked at the broken remains. ¡°Those dummies are reinforced.¡±


    Lin Wuye rubbed his forehead. ¡°This is beyond natural.¡±


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    The younger disciples, witnessing this, thought it was a fluke. Several challenged her to sparring matches.


    She wiped the floor with them.


    No technique. No footwork. Just pure brute force.


    She shrugged after launching another disciple several feet back. ¡°Atlas made me carry crates twice this size for hours.¡±


    Lin Wuye observed her carefully. ¡°If you trained properly, you could become truly formidable.¡±


    Meyu dramatically placed a hand over her heart. ¡°And yet, I choose wealth.¡±


    Lin Wuye sighed. ¡°Of course you do.¡±


    Bao, feeling slightly competitive, challenged her to an arm-wrestling match.


    She won. Instantly.


    Bao stared at his hand in betrayal. ¡°I¡ªWHAT?!¡±


    Meyu smirked. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re not the strongest, Bao.¡±


    Jiang, barely holding in his laughter, patted Bao¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Maybe we should start selling your humility.¡±


    Jiang cracked his knuckles and smirked. "Alright, let me show you how it¡¯s done."


    Meyu arched a brow. "Oh? You want to lose that badly?"


    A group quickly gathered around as Jiang and Meyu sat across from each other, placing their elbows firmly on the trunk of a thick training tree. Disciples whispered among themselves, some placing bets, others just watching in disbelief.


    "This won¡¯t take long." Jiang said confidently.


    "Agreed." Meyu replied with a shark-like grin.


    Lin Wuye raised a hand. "Begin."


    For a few seconds, nothing happened.


    Then, everything happened.


    The air tensed as neither moved an inch, their locked hands trembling slightly. The bark under their elbows splintered. A thick trunk should not be reacting this way to an arm wrestle.


    Jiang¡¯s smirk faltered as he realized something horrifying¡ªhe wasn¡¯t winning. His physical prowess reached his peak limit and yet it was being rivalled by Meyu.


    The disciples watching were frozen in shock.


    "They¡¯re... even?" Bao mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.


    "Impossible!" Lin Wuye muttered.


    Zhu Fen, wide-eyed, asked, "Are they breaking it?"


    A sharp CRACK echoed as a part of the trunk snapped under the force of their struggle. Jiang¡¯s eyes widened. "Alright. Respect."


    Meyu grinned. "Likewise."


    Then, they both let go at the same time and shake hands as if they had a new found of respect for each other.


    The remaining chunk of the splintered trunk collapsed, sending a dull thud through the courtyard and the dust settled.


    Bao, still staring at the trunk, whispered, "What the hell just happened?"


    Layla sighed in disbelief. "I give up."


    A couple days later, we would witness Jiang & Bao¡¯s Breakthroughs.


    The training intensified, and Jiang faced off against Bao.


    Bao, eager to prove himself, channelled Qi into his strikes, increasing his strength. He moved faster, his blows heavier.


    Jiang smirked. ¡°Not bad.¡±


    Bao lunged, unleashing Roaring Tempest¡ªStep 4.


    BOOM.


    The ground beneath them cracked as the force sent shockwaves across the courtyard.


    For the first time, Jiang stumbled back.


    Lin Wuye¡¯s eyes flickered with interest. ¡°He actually¡ª¡±


    Jiang rolled his shoulders. ¡°Alright, my turn.¡±


    Then he moved.


    Bao barely had time to react before a single step sent a force equivalent to Step 3¡ªGale¡¯s Kiss. Jiang used the Step 1 - Whispering Breeze.


    Bao was sent flying.


    Jiang dusted off his sleeves. ¡°Adaptation. Keep up.¡±


    Lin Wuye folded his arms. ¡°You¡¯ve changed the Gale¡¯s form.¡±


    Meyu, watching, grinned. ¡°How about we call it ¡®Gale¡¯s Bitchslap?¡¯¡±


    Jiang glared. ¡°I will end you.¡±


    Ignoring the banter, Layla tightened her grip around her new weapon, feeling its weight settle in her hands. This time, when she stepped forward, there was no hesitation¡ªonly focus.


    She lunged at Lin Wuye, her blade slicing through the air with a controlled whoosh. Their weapons clashed, but instead of breaking apart like before, her sword absorbed the Qi flow effortlessly. The fusion of Gale and Qi Rot no longer sputtered unpredictably but instead flowed in sync.


    Lin Wuye nodded approvingly. ¡°Much better.¡±


    Layla could feel it¡ªher balance between power and control was stabilizing. She adjusted her stance, testing the footwork of Step 2¡ªRushing Wind. The movement came naturally, almost as if her body had been waiting for this breakthrough.


    Jiang, watching from the sidelines, muttered, ¡°She¡¯s catching up too fast.¡±


    Bao, still sore from earlier, crossed his arms. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±


    Meyu, ever opportunistic, chimed in. ¡°If she unlocks Step 2, I¡¯m raising the price on her next weapon upgrade.¡±


    Layla shot her a glare mid-swing. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±


    Meyu smug back in retaliation. ¡°Oh, I definitely would.¡±


    Lin Wuye, sensing her growing control, took a step back and gestured toward Bao. ¡°Enough sparring with me. Face Bao next.¡±


    Layla¡¯s grip tightened slightly. Bao¡¯s raw strength and deep Qi reserves had always made him a formidable opponent. But she wasn¡¯t the same as before¡ªshe had survived Shen Mu, endured near death, clawed her way back stronger with weeks of hard dedicated training and hard labour.


    She exhaled, nodding. ¡°Alright.¡±


    Bao grinned, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Try to last more than a few minutes.¡±


    The match began with Bao launching forward, his strikes heavy, deliberate. Layla, adapting quickly, dodged with newfound agility, weaving between his attacks. Her Qi Rot and Gale fusion surged, letting her strikes land with an intensity that caught even Bao off guard.


    The ground beneath them cracked with every clash. Layla met Bao¡¯s blows, not just blocking but countering, redirecting force where she could. Every dodge, every strike¡ªit was controlled, measured, nothing like the desperate fight she had fought against Shen Mu.


    Bao huffed, smirking as he rubbed a faint bruise forming on his arm. ¡°Not bad.¡±


    Layla smirked back. ¡°I¡¯m not done.¡±


    She pushed forward, the air around them swirling violently. Her footwork mirrored Step 2¡ªRushing Wind, her body reacting instinctively. For a moment, she was keeping up, their blows even.


    But Bao had more experience. More Qi reserves. More techniques.


    He caught her blade mid-swing, pivoted, and with a well-placed sweep, sent her tumbling onto the frozen ground.


    Layla coughed, propped herself up, and let out a breathless laugh. ¡°Alright, alright. You win.¡±


    Bao extended a hand, pulling her up with a grin. ¡°You did better than I expected.¡±


    Jiang whistled. ¡°That was almost an upset.¡±


    Lin Wuye folded his arms, nodding in approval. ¡°You¡¯re close. Keep refining it, and Step 2 will be yours soon.¡±


    Layla wiped the sweat from her brow, heart still pounding. She had lost, but she wasn¡¯t frustrated. She was getting there.


    Meyu, watching from the sidelines, crossed her arms and gave an exaggerated nod of approval, followed by an even more exaggerated double-handed clap. "Magnificent. Brilliant. Truly a performance worthy of second place."


    Layla groaned. "I swear to the heavens, Meyu¡ª"


    Bao, still catching his breath, chuckled. "Hey, I think that was a genuine compliment."


    Jiang smirked. "Doubt it. She probably just saw another business opportunity."


    A couple days has passed and the routine stayed the same but this nightfall was different.


    The entire sect¡ªabout 40 Silver Lotus members and 60 Ryl Trading workers¡ªgathered for a rare occasion: a winter feast.


    Large iron pots of thick stew bubbled over roaring fires, filled with dried venison, root vegetables, and grains. Flatbreads and dumplings steamed beside them, a luxury even during easier times. The food was simple but hearty, meant to sustain them through the cold. Barrels of warmed spiced wine and tea were passed around, keeping spirits high.


    The scent of well-earned abundance filled the air, mingling with the sounds of chatter and laughter.Jiang, tearing into a dumpling, sighed in satisfaction. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever eaten this well for so long in winter.''''


    Bao, gulping down a bowl of stew, smirked. ¡°Makes me wonder what all those past years were for.¡±


    Zhu Fen, barely able to sit still, leaned forward. ¡°Senior Jiang, do you think if I train hard enough, I¡¯ll be able to eat like this every winter?¡±


    Jiang gave him a solemn nod. ¡°Kid, that¡¯s the true martial arts dream.¡±


    Zhao Lihua, one of the elders and senior disciples, chuckled as she refilled her tea. ¡°It¡¯s strange, isn¡¯t it? We¡¯ve spent years thinking winter had to be endured. Now, it feels almost¡­ easy.¡±


    Elden Jian Bo, the eldest sect member, sighed, stirring his drink. ¡°That¡¯s the power of a well-placed deal. Hard work alone doesn¡¯t always cut it¡ªsometimes, you have to be smart.¡±


    Gan Xiu, a Ryl Trading merchant, grinned. ¡°And you lot are finally learning that.¡±


    As the night deepened, the conversation shifted towards training progress.


    Jiang leaned back, glancing at the disciples. ¡°Honestly? The sect¡¯s never been stronger. Even the younger ones are catching up.¡±


    Bao nodded. ¡°Yeah, have you seen them? The new batch of disciples are almost as toned as I was a year ago.¡±


    Zhao Lihua smirked. ¡°Which means, compared to Jiang, they¡¯re still years behind.¡±


    Jiang took a sip of his drink and let out a sass in his tone. ¡°Naturally.¡±


    Zhu Fen, still energetic, beamed. ¡°And I learned Step 1!¡±


    Yuxe Wuye, amused, ruffled the boy¡¯s hair. ¡°Yes, and if you keep up, you¡¯ll surpass these two before they know it.¡±


    Bao scowled. ¡°I refuse to be surpassed by an eleven-year-old.¡±


    Meyu, lounging beside them, tilted her head. ¡°That reminds me. Since you¡¯re all so strong now, surely you won¡¯t mind putting that strength to good use?¡± she says as she rubs her hands, which reminds them of Atlas antics.


    Jiang sighed. ¡°Here we go.¡±


    Meyu dramatically stood, clearing her throat. ¡°Ladies. Gentlemen. Disciples. Business partners. I have a vision.¡±


    Everyone looked at her at once.


    Undeterred, she unfurled a large parchment, revealing detailed plans for monetizing the sect.


    ¡°Now that our disciples are educated in both martial arts and mathematics, we are uniquely positioned to open the sect to outsiders¡ªfor a reasonable fee, of course.¡±


    Jiang pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°We¡¯re not selling our techniques. I told you this Meyu¡±


    Meyu waved a hand. ¡°Obviously. We teach visitors a ¡®simplified¡¯ version, call it something fancy like ¡®Warrior¡¯s Breathing Method,¡¯ and boom¡ªinstant revenue stream.¡±


    Lin Wuye frowned. ¡°The sect¡¯s history¡ª¡±


    ¡°Will remain intact.¡± Meyu interrupted smoothly. ¡°We just package it better.¡±


    Bao snorted. ¡°Sounds like a scam.¡±


    Meyu gasped. ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®marketing,¡¯ Bao. Think about it.¡±


    Jian Bo, ever the practical one since learning under Meyu, rubbed his chin. ¡°And what about trade?¡±


    Meyu smirked. ¡°Well, now that you mention it¡ªpremium sect weapons, hand-forged by our best blacksmiths, inscribed with a fancy Silver Lotus emblem. Exclusive, powerful, expensive.¡±


    Jiang shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t have an emblem.¡±


    Meyu immediately pulled out a sketch. ¡°We do now.¡±


    The parchment revealed an intricate emblem¡ªa stylized silver lotus in full bloom, its petals edged with fine calligraphy strokes resembling flowing wind. Behind it, a curving blade intertwined with a gust of air, symbolizing both the sect¡¯s martial prowess and its connection to the elements. At the bottom, in elegant script, was the motto: ''Strength in Flow, Wisdom in Balance.''


    Jiang narrowed his eyes. "Did you just design this?"


    Meyu smirked. "I designed it weeks ago in preparation for your eventual surrender to us."


    Layla, sipping her tea, sighed. ¡°You already planned this, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Meyu grinned. ¡°I had backups in case you refused.¡±


    Gan Xiu, impressed, raised a drink. ¡°I like this one.¡±


    Zhao Lihua crossed her arms. ¡°So let me get this straight. You want us to turn Silver Lotus into an attraction, train outsiders just enough to make them feel accomplished, and sell our name for profit?¡±


    Meyu smiled. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Silence for a few agonizing moments.


    Then, to Meyu¡¯s absolute delight, the disciples¡ªwho had been learning math and business¡ªactually understood the value.


    One disciple hesitantly raised a hand. ¡°If we do this¡­ does that mean we¡¯ll have extra funding for repairs and new training grounds?¡±


    Meyu beamed. ¡°Yes, my dear, intelligent student.¡±


    Another disciple nodded. ¡°And better food supplies?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    A third asked, ¡°And we¡­ wouldn¡¯t have to rely on donations?¡±


    ¡°Bingo.¡±


    Lin Wuye, realizing he was losing this battle, rubbed his forehead. ¡°I can¡¯t believe they¡¯re agreeing.¡±


    Meyu threw her arms wide. ¡°It¡¯s called progress, Master Lin!¡±


    Jiang groaned, slumping into his seat. ¡°I need another drink.¡±


    Layla exhaled. ¡°Fine. Fine! But if we do this, we do it right.¡±


    Meyu raised her cup in victory. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll love it. Trust me.¡±


    Yuxe Wuye sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    Zhao Lihua muttered, ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±


    Bao stared at Meyu. ¡°Why do I feel like we just made a deal with Atlas himself?¡±


    Meyu¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Because you did.¡±

 The Weight of the Past

    The fire crackled low in the Silver Lotus Sect''s great hall, throwing flickering shadows along the walls. The others had gone to sleep, leaving only Layla and Meyu seated on the floor, a bottle of warmed rice wine between them. Outside, the winter wind howled through the trees, but inside, the silence stretched thick between them.


    Meyu swirled her drink lazily, side-eyeing Layla. "Alright. Out with it. And before you lie, let me tell you something first."


    She leaned forward, voice dropping.


    "You don''t sleep well. Every night, you''re gasping, panting like you just ran for miles. You sweat so much, I have to wipe you down so you don''t freeze. And when you wake up, you pretend like nothing happened." Her eyes sharpened.


    "So don''t tell me it''s nothing. Just tell me the truth."


    Layla didn''t respond immediately. Instead, she watched the flames dance, trying to find the words. How could she explain the nightmare without unravelling herself completely?


    After a long pause, she spoke. "Something attacked me in my sleep."


    Meyu sat up straighter, sharp eyes locking onto her. "Attacked you? Physically?"


    Layla hesitated. "Not exactly. It¡ªdragged me somewhere else. A place that wasn''t real, but felt real. It¡ª" she exhaled sharply. "It showed me things. Told me things I didn''t want to hear."


    Meyu''s expression didn''t change, but her fingers tightened slightly around her cup.


    "What did it say?"


    Layla''s throat felt dry.


    That I shouldn''t exist. That I stole a life that wasn''t mine. That if I disappeared, no one would mourn me.


    She couldn''t say those words. Not yet.


    Instead, she settled for "That I was weak. That I wasn''t enough. It showed me a world where Shen Mu killed me that night. My father never came. The sect was slaughtered. I saw another where we lost, where I survived, but the looks on their faces¡ªon my father''s face¡ªwere worse than death. It felt real, Meyu. Too real."


    Meyu studied her carefully. Then, to Layla''s surprise, she leaned back against the pillar, head tilting toward the ceiling. "You''re not the only one who''s heard that before."


    Silence. Then, softly "You know how I was a slave before Atlas found me."


    Layla turned her head sharply. She knew Meyu had been through hell, but the details had always been vague, hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and deflection.


    Meyu exhaled, eyes distant, as if seeing a different time. "I don''t even remember my parents'' faces. All I know is that I was sold young. By the time I was ten, I had been traded three times, ending up in a noble''s estate in the Western territories." She traced a finger along the rim of her cup.


    "They weren''t the worst owners. At least, not compared to what came after."


    Layla said nothing, letting the words come at their own pace.


    "I got too old for them" Meyu continued.


    "Or maybe I got too sharp. Either way, they sold me off to a traveling merchant, and I ended up in a place where I saw what happens to people who aren''t useful. The broken ones. The ones who can''t smile when their master demands it."


    Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They disappeared. Or worse."


    Meyu swallowed hard. "Sometimes, they were made examples of. A girl who tried to run had her legs shattered, left to crawl until they decided she was too slow to be worth keeping. Others were given to the guards for sport. If you fought back, they''d take you to the courtyard and beat you until you forgot why you ever resisted in the first place. Some didn''t even make it that far."


    She let out a slow breath, forcing a smirk that didn''t reach her eyes. "I learned fast. Smile when they tell you to. Lower your eyes. Move like a ghost. Don''t get noticed. Because if they saw you, you''d end up like the others."


    Meyu''s fingers curled slightly around the fabric of her sleeve. "But sometimes, it didn''t matter if you did everything right. I was pretty, and that made me valuable in ways I never wanted to be. They sold me to those who wanted entertainment. Not just in the usual way but also in the ''service'' way." Her voice wavered, but she kept going.


    "They had healers¡ªones who could stitch up flesh and mend bones. They experimented, seeing how much pain a person could take before they broke. How many times you could cut someone open and put them back together before they stopped screaming." She swallowed.


    "Turns out, people can last a long time."


    Layla felt something inside her tighten, a boiling mix of rage and horror burning her chest. Without thinking, she reached forward and pulled Meyu into a tight embrace.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Meyu tensed at first, then slowly relaxed, her breath unsteady against Layla''s shoulder.


    Layla''s grip tightened as memories of her past life surfaced¡ªof laws she had written, of battles she had fought to protect women from this very fate. But those victories meant nothing here. Nothing to Meyu, who had endured what she had only ever seen from a throne.


    She whispered, voice raw "You''re not there anymore. They can''t hurt you now."


    Meyu let out a shaky exhale, pressing her forehead against Layla''s shoulder.


    "I know. But sometimes, it still feels like they can."


    Layla''s hand clenched. "And Atlas?"


    Meyu let out a short, humourless laugh. "Atlas was an idiot. He saw me in an auction and spent every coin he had to buy me. He had nothing after that. No food, no shelter. He couldn''t even afford the papers to keep us safe from bounty hunters."


    She looked down at her hands. "We suffered together. Starved together. Ran together. From Europe to Jin, scraping by, building his business piece by piece. The world tried to break him. But he never let it."


    She exhaled, voice quieter. "He should have left me behind. I would''ve understood. But he didn''t. He kept moving forward, kept talking like everything was just another game to win, even when we were on the verge of collapsing. I didn''t get it at first¡ªI thought he was just too stupid to feel fear."


    She paused. "But then I saw it. He was afraid. Just like me. But the moment he let it show, the world would have eaten him alive. So he smiled. He laughed. He played the fool and I followed him, because it was easier that way. Easier than being vulnerable."


    She ran a hand through her hair. "I knew¡ªI knew¡ªhe had been through something just as bad. Maybe worse. But he never told me. And I never asked. Because if we didn''t talk about it, then it wasn''t real."


    Layla stared at the flames, heart heavy. "So why do you follow him?"


    Meyu turned, and for the first time that night, her usual smirk was gone. "Because he gave me a choice."


    Her mind drifted back to that day¡ªthe day her chains were broken. She remembered the scent of damp wood and sweat, the suffocating heat of the auction house, the way the men leered as they shouted their bids. Then, a voice rang out above the others, sharp and confident.


    "I''ll take her."


    The gavel slammed. Sold.


    She expected the worst¡ªanother master, another prison. But instead of dragging her away like the others, her new ''owner'' knelt before her and, without hesitation, cut the bindings from her wrists.


    Atlas grinned, offering his hand like they were about to strike a business deal. "You''re free. Do what you want."


    Meyu had stared, too stunned to move. "What?"


    He stood up, hands in his pockets, like buying a person was no more significant than purchasing a sack of rice. "I don''t own you. I just hated the way they looked at you. You can leave, stay, stab me¡ªit''s up to you."


    She didn''t leave. Not that day, not the next. She demanded answers, demanded to know why he did it. But all he ever gave her was that same irritating smirk, same answer and the same shrug.


    "Did what felt right. No deeper meaning, sorry."


    But she saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he flinched at loud voices, the nights he didn''t sleep. He had been there too. He had suffered too.


    And like her, he had chosen to wear a mask instead of scars.


    For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Meyu reached for the bottle and poured Layla another drink. Meyu scoffed, but there was no bite to it.


    "You think you''re the only one who''s suffered? You think you get to wallow in this alone?"


    Her voice wavered, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "You keep everything in, act like you''re fine, like none of this is clawing at you. Do you know how exhausting it is to watch someone you care about pretend they''re not drowning? I see you, Meilin. I see you breaking. And it pisses me off that you won''t let anyone help."


    Layla flinched at the rawness in Meyu''s words, but before she could respond, Meyu shoved at her shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to shake her.


    "I fought Atlas too, you know? When I was too weak to walk, too angry to listen. I screamed at him, hit him, told him to leave me to rot because I thought that was all I was good for. You know what that bastard did? He stood there and took it. And when I was too tired to fight anymore, he just... sat next to me and waited."


    Her breathing was uneven now, hands clenched into fists. "So you don''t get to shut me out, Meilin. You don''t get to pretend you''re fine when you''re not. Because I will fight you too, and I will win."


    Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. And then, without a word, Layla reached forward and pulled Meyu into a fierce embrace.


    Meyu feeling Layla''s arms around her, the warmth of the embrace anchoring her. She exhaled slowly. "Now do you get it?" she whispered.


    "Why I follow him? Why I''ll always follow him?"


    Layla tightened her grip. And for the first time, she did.


    Meyu shifted slightly, voice quieter now. "Meilin... don''t be so hard on Atlas. You don''t see it, but I do. He''s just masking his pain. His humor, his bullshittery¡ªit''s all just a way to cope. You yell at him, call him a scammer, but that man¡ª" she exhaled, shaking her head.


    "That man has never raised his voice at me. Never asked for anything in return. Never treated me like I owed him a damn thing."


    Layla remained silent, absorbing the words.


    Meyu''s grip on her cup tightened. "I''ve seen emperors, masters, leaders¡ªmen who had everything but still took more. Atlas? He had nothing. And yet, he gave me my life back. That''s why I follow him. That''s why I always will."


    Meyu exhaled softly, resting her chin on Layla''s shoulder. "You don''t have to fight alone, you know. I don''t care how strong you think you need to be. You can always confide in me."


    Layla stiffened slightly, but something in those words struck deep.


    Confide.


    When was the last time she had done that? In her past life, there had been no one. Her siblings treated her like an afterthought, if not outright mockery. She had grown up surrounded by people yet utterly alone.


    And yet here was Meyu¡ªa stranger, once. Now a presence that felt just as steady, just as warm, as Yuxe Wuye, her mother.


    A lump formed in her throat. "You really see me as someone worth protecting?"


    Meyu scoffed. "Obviously. You''re like the little sister I never asked for but got stuck with anyway."


    Layla huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Older sister, you mean."


    Meyu smirked. "You wish."


    Unbeknownst to them, Lin Wuye stood outside the doorway, listening. His hands trembled at his sides, his usually composed face glistening with silent tears.


    Later that night, he sat beside Yuxe Wuye and told the conversation between their daughter and Meyu, his voice hushed but heavy. "She and Meyu¡­ they''ve found something in each other, something that we weren''t able to, and I¡ª"


    His voice broke for a moment. "I failed her, Yuxe. I let our daughter suffer alone and she talked to Meyu instead of us."


    Yuxe Wuye placed her hand over his, her eyes full of understanding. "Then let them have it, Lin. Let them be what we couldn''t be and strive to be better for her, enough that she too will tell her problems as well."


    Lin Wuye nodded, staring at the moonlit courtyard. "I only hope it''s not too late."

 Make money

    The next morning, the first rays of sunlight crept through the wooden screens of the Silver Lotus Sect, casting soft golden hues over the sleeping quarters. Jiang and Bao stood at the entrance, their usual energetic banter muted by the sight before them.


    Layla and Meyu lay curled up on the sleeping mat, wrapped in a shared blanket, their faces relaxed in deep slumber. For once, there was no tension in Layla''s features, no signs of the torment she usually carried. Her breathing was steady, her expression peaceful in a way that neither of them had ever seen before.


    Meyu, despite her usual sharpness, had an arm draped protectively over Layla, her face turned slightly toward her as if keeping watch even in sleep. There was something strangely soft about it¡ªlike a bond neither of them had intended to form, but had settled into naturally.


    Jiang raised an eyebrow, nudging Bao lightly. "They look... comfortable."


    Bao crossed his arms, staring at them with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "More like exhausted. Guess they talked all night."


    Jiang smirked. "Yeah, but look at them. If we wake them up now, I feel like we''re going to ruin something."


    Bao sighed. "True. But we also kind of need them awake. We could wake them gently, though."


    Jiang gave him a flat look. "Do you even know how to wake someone gently?"


    Bao paused, then grinned sheepishly. "Not really."


    The two boys stood there for a moment longer, neither willing to disturb the rare tranquility before them. Layla and Meyu, despite everything they had endured, had found solace in each other.


    Jiang finally huffed. "Fine. Five more minutes. Then we wake them."


    Bao smirked. "Agreed."


    Just as they were about to turn away, soft footsteps echoed behind them. Zhu Fen and Zhao Lihua approached, their eyes landing on the sleeping pair with mild curiosity.


    "Wow" Zhu Fen murmured, crossing his arms.


    Zhao Lihua nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Meyu is always so sharp, so on edge. But right now... she almost looks normal."


    A worker from Ryl Trading, who had tagged along out of curiosity, let out a surprised chuckle. "That''s rare. The only time she ever looks that relaxed is when she''s with Master Atlas."


    Jiang and Bao exchanged glances. Atlas. It made sense¡ªhe was the one who had given her a new life, after all. But seeing her like this, wrapped up with Layla, was something else entirely.


    Bao scratched the back of his head. "Guess that means Meilin is special to her, too."


    Zhao Lihua smiled faintly. "Looks like it."


    The group stood there for a few moments, simply watching the quiet scene before them. For all the chaos, for all the battles and burdens these two carried, right now, they were just two people finding comfort in each other.


    Jiang sighed. "Alright, seven minutes. Then we wake them."


    Bao laughed. "We just keep adding time, don''t we?"


    Before they could act, a loud clash echoed from the training grounds, followed by a sharp gust of wind. The familiar, rhythmic sound of clashing wood and grunts filled the morning air.


    Jiang glanced at Bao. "Sounds like Master Lin is already up.


    Bao grinned. "And it sounds like he''s already beating someone up."


    Sure enough, as the two turned their attention toward the training grounds, they spotted Lin Wuye engaged in a fierce spar with both of them¡ªJiang and Bao, or rather, their future selves in an inevitable morning session. The older man moved with the precision of a seasoned warrior, easily parrying their strikes while countering with smooth, effortless movements.


    Back inside, the distant sounds of battle stirred Layla from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim morning light. The warmth against her side made her pause¡ªMeyu was still there, curled up beside her, breathing evenly.


    For a brief moment, Layla hesitated. She hadn''t woken up like this with someone in a long time.


    It felt... safe.


    Then, another loud thud from the training grounds snapped her fully awake. With a small groan, she rubbed her eyes, stretching as she listened to the ongoing fight just outside.


    "Morning already?" she mumbled.


    Meyu stirred slightly but didn''t wake, her hand instinctively gripping the fabric of Layla''s sleeve as if holding onto something in a dream. Layla stared at the hand for a moment before shaking her head with a small smirk.


    "Looks like Jiang and Bao are getting their asses kicked early today" she murmured to herself before sitting up, stretching her arms.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    After the morning training, the doors to the training hall slid open with a loud clack.


    Meyu stood at the entrance, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. "Alright, everyone up. Time for a very important business discussion."


    Jiang, now sporting a fresh bruise from his spar with Lin Wuye, groaned. "Can''t this wait? Some of us just got our asses handed to us."


    "Nope." Meyu''s smirk widened.


    "Because today, we''re talking about money."


    That got everyone''s attention.


    A short while later, the group gathered in the hall. Meyu stood at the front, holding a wooden board where she had scribbled down some rather questionable pricing.


    She clapped her hands together. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the grand monetization of Silver Lotus Martial Arts!"


    Everyone stared.


    Lin Wuye raised an eyebrow. "You sound way too much like Atlas right now."


    Meyu ignored him and pointed at the pricing breakdown.


    She tapped the board again. "We''ll offer three tiers. The Copper Tier is for standard classes¡ªgroup lessons, basic forms, and conditioning. Affordable, accessible, keeps the masses coming in. But Silver? That''s where things get interesting. Tailored training, in-depth instruction, access to specialized techniques. That''s where the real profit starts."


    Zhao Lihua narrowed her eyes. "And Gold?"


    Meyu smirked. "Gold is exclusive. Private mentorship, advanced martial techniques passed down only to the most dedicated. Limited slots, high prestige, and most importantly¡ªoutrageous prices."


    She tapped the board and listed the breakdown:


    Copper Tier (5 copper per session): Basic group lessons, conditioning, and fundamental forms. Accessible to commoners and entry-level students.


    Silver Tier (10 silver per month): Personalized training, specialized techniques, one-on-one feedback. Designed for serious practitioners who want real progress.


    Gold Tier (1 gold per month): Private mentorship with masters, access to hidden techniques, and a prestigious ranking within the sect. Only for the wealthiest and most dedicated.


    A long silence followed.


    "What the hell are these prices?!" Bao nearly choked.


    "Who''s going to pay gold pieces for a lesson?!"


    Elder Jian Bo and Zhao Lihua, the most numbers-savvy among them, stared at the pricing board like it was some kind of dark sorcery.


    "This is daylight robbery." Elder Jian Bo muttered.


    Layla, arms crossed, smirked. "And yet, someone will pay."


    Yuxe Wuye shook her head, looking almost impressed. "This really is something Atlas would come up with."


    Meyu grinned, her expression full of mischief.


    "Oh, it''ll work. Trust me. Nobles will beg to throw money at us just to feel superior."


    Elder Jian Bo crossed his arms. "So the rich get better training while the poor scrape by?"


    Meyu rolled her eyes. "No, old man, the rich get convinced they''re getting something better. The real talent? That still comes from the ones who dedicate themselves to the craft. But if nobles and high-status merchants want to throw gold at us for lessons they won''t even master, why should we stop them?"


    Lin Wuye exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "I can''t believe I''m saying this, but this plan¡­ it actually makes sense."


    Layla, arms crossed, smirked. "Someone will always pay. They have a problem and we sell the solution."


    Jiang, still staring at the price breakdown, shook his head. "This is insane."


    Meyu grinned wider. "No, this is business."


    Elder Jian Bo stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Then tell me, Meyu, how exactly do you plan to market this to the general public? Martial arts sects have existed for generations, and yet very few have ever if ever, successfully monetized their teachings beyond taking in disciples."


    Meyu smirked, pleased that he was catching on. "Simple, Elder. We create demand where none exists. Right now, only warriors, nobles, and mercenaries actively seek martial training. But what if we made it desirable for everyone?" She gestured to the board.


    "The Copper Tier ensures accessibility. Farmers, merchants, even low-ranked soldiers¡ªthey can afford five copper per session. The key is to make them believe that even basic training gives them an edge which will since anyone who has at least martial arts will do better than someone who does not. That alone will draw in crowds."


    Jian Bo nodded slowly. "And the Silver Tier?"


    "That''s where we trap the ambitious ones," Meyu said smoothly.


    "Once someone starts at Copper, they''ll want to improve. So we introduce selective admissions for Silver¡ªmake it seem elite enough that they feel compelled to climb higher. Restricting access while making it just affordable enough keeps them chasing."


    Zhao Lihua hummed in understanding. "And Gold?"


    Meyu''s smirk widened. "Gold is the illusion of power. Nobles will throw gold at us just to say they are trained by the Silver Lotus Sect, even if half of them can''t land a proper punch. Most of them only want the bragging rights. Prestige sells itself."


    By the time the discussion ended, a strange energy filled the hall. For the first time, the entire sect wasn''t just thinking like warriors¡ªthey were thinking like businesspeople. They had spent months learning math, science, and commerce under Meyu''s teachings, but now they were applying it.


    Meyu stood tall, hands on her hips.


    "Starting tomorrow, we begin spreading the word. We''ll send envoys to major towns, set up exclusive training halls just for outsiders, and have our name reach even the ears of royalty. This isn''t just about money¡ªthis is about making the Silver Lotus Sect untouchable."


    Lin Wuye exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "It''s bold. I''ll give you that. But let''s see if this actually works."


    That night, long after most of the sect had gone to sleep, a private meeting was held in the great hall. Only the top-ranking members were present¡ªLayla, Lin Wuye, Yuxe Wuye, Jiang, Bao, and Zhao Lihua.


    Elder Jian Bo, arms crossed. "Let''s assume Meyu''s plan works, and we actually get outsiders willing to pay these insane fees. Who''s going to train them?"


    Lin Wuye leaned forward, fingers tapping against the wooden table. "Most of our skilled fighters are already committed to training our own disciples. If we assign too many to outsiders, our sect might weaken."


    Bao frowned. "Do we even know if anyone will actually come? It''s a great plan, but let''s be real¡ªwho''s going to pay gold for training when most sects offer lessons for free to their disciples?"


    Zhao Lihua sighed. "People will pay for status, not just skill. Meyu is right about that. But I admit, I''m skeptical."


    Layla, who had been quiet, finally spoke. "They will come."


    Everyone turned to her.


    She met their gazes evenly. "The world is changing. People don''t just want strength; they want security. The war, the shifting power in the regime¡ªpeople are afraid. And fear makes people desperate. If we position ourselves as the solution, they will come. As you said Bao, most sects trains their disciples, keyword ''''their'''' while we train anyone who coughs up money and in exchange they learn how to protect themselves while we keep our techniques."


    Lin Wuye studied her for a long moment, then exhaled. "Then we prepare. If this truly works, we will need a plan."


    Elder Jian Bo nodded. "We will. But first, let''s see how many show up. If this succeeds the Silver Lotus Sect may just be able to regain its lost status."

 Qi vs Science (1)

    The wind cut through the valley with a brutal sharpness, carrying flecks of snow across the barren landscape of Russia. In the dimly lit outpost, Zafira stood with arms crossed, watching her men prepare the next shipment.


    "Secure the iron first" she ordered. "And... whatever the hell else Emery asked for. The weird coils and... copper plates? Whatever. Just get it all."


    Her third-in-command, Jun, stifled a chuckle. "You don''t even know what you''re gathering, do you?"


    Zafira scowled. "If it makes lightning or whatever, I don''t need to know. I will support Emery to build it."


    Despite her irritation, her thoughts drifted. Jinhai knows my real name. But he''ll never find me. I know exactly where he is¡ªbecause he''s the Emperor.


    Her plan to ignite the war was coming together, but then¡ª


    Emery''s words echoed in her head.


    "Layla''s vision wasn''t to wage war. It was to change the world."


    She clenched her jaw.


    Was I really doing this for revenge? Was I abusing Emery''s technology as a weapon, rather than the progress he intended?


    Torn between instinct and doubt, she stormed into Emery''s workshop, interrupting his lesson with Haoran''s children.


    "The materials will be here by January" she announced.


    "Now fight me."


    Emery sighed. "No."


    "Why?"


    "Because I might kill you." Emery said flatly, crossing his arms.


    "Zafira, let me explain this in simple terms. You''re built like a fortress, sure, but Qi is still a biological force. My weapons bypass that completely. You reinforce your body with energy¡ªI use something that tears through it like paper. If I hit the wrong spot, I don''t care how strong you are, your organs will still rupture, and you will die. Not because I want you to, but because physics does not care about cultivation."


    Zafira rolled her shoulders, unimpressed. "So what? You think I can''t dodge?"


    Emery sighed, making a facepalm "I know you can dodge. But what happens when I create weapons you can''t? When I build something that fires faster than human reflexes? Qi is not magic. It''s an extension of biological function. And biology loses to science. Always."


    Zafira narrowed her eyes. "You''re scared of the power you''re creating."


    "No, I''m scared of what happens when people like you try to use it for things it was never meant for" Emery snapped back.


    "Layla''s vision was for change, not war. This? This is escalation. And if you push too hard, too fast, we''ll all regret it."


    Zafira exhaled, folding her arms. "Then trust me. If you believe in your science, then believe in me, too."


    Zafira smirked. "Trust me to survive."


    Emery didn''t answer immediately. Instead, his mind spun, running calculations, modelling outcomes, predicting failure points.


    How do I fight her without killing her?


    Gunfire wasn''t like Qi. There was no half-measure, no pulling back at the last second. The second a bullet left the chamber, it followed the laws of physics, not the will of a fighter. The difference between a warning shot and a fatal wound was a matter of degrees and milliseconds. And Zafira¡ªshe wouldn''t hesitate. She trusted herself to survive. But do I?


    She moves at an estimated speed of 30 meters per second in combat. At least, that''s what I deduced. If I fire at her torso, she''ll instinctively sidestep at a 30-degree angle, meaning the bullet will miss¡ªbut what if she reacts too slow? What if the shockwave from a near-miss disrupts her footing?


    His fingers twitched.


    If I aim for the limbs, I could disable without lethal damage. But if she deflects the shot using Qi reinforcement at the wrong angle, the kinetic force alone could break something internally.


    His mind flicked through alternatives.


    Blunt force? Rubber rounds? No, impact trauma is still too unpredictable. Sedation? No, too slow.


    No. Too many variables. Too many risks.


    Emery clenched his jaw. "Fine. But don''t say I didn''t warn you."


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    Before Zafira could respond, Jun and Seraphine appeared at the doorway, both with knowing smirks.


    "If you two are going to try and kill each other," Jun said, crossing her arms, "at least do it somewhere entertaining."


    Seraphine nodded. "The arena is prepared. Everyone''s gathering already. You wouldn''t want to deprive them of a show, would you?"


    Zafira scoffed. "Tch. Of course not. Let''s go."


    Emery sighed, rubbing his forehead. ''''I don''t recall agreeing to a public execution."


    "Relax, professor" Jun said.


    "You might actually win."


    Meanwhile, Callum, who had been in the middle of instructing Haoran and Renshu on dojo management, was also summoned.


    "What''s going on?" he asked as he was dragged along.


    "Oh, nothing much" Seraphine said, grinning.


    "Just a battle between science and martial arts."


    Haoran''s children were brought along as well, their eyes wide with excitement as they followed. Soon, the entire settlement gathered in the arena, anticipation crackling in the air.


    Zafira rolled her shoulders, stepping into position.


    Emery''s gaze swept over her, analyzing every detail. She was dressed for battle, clad in reinforced black combat attire that clung to her frame yet allowed free movement. The light armor was supposedly Qi-treated, meant to absorb shock and reduce damage¡ªbut it wouldn''t stop his bullet. Her twin swords, sleek and deadly, rested at her sides. He had seen her use them before¡ªprecision and efficiency, every movement calculated for the kill. The blades gleamed under the arena lights, curved just enough to allow both slashes and precise thrusts.


    Those swords have cut through Qi-enhanced bullshit steel before. They will not be easy to counter.


    Her stance was aggressive but composed, weight evenly distributed, her fingers lightly gripping the hilts. She looked every bit the warrior she was¡ªpowerful, unshakable. But Emery knew better. He knew the conflicted thoughts running beneath that hardened exterior.


    Zafira, in turn, studied him.


    Emery stood with an unsettling calm, his usual coat replaced by something more fitted¡ªlighter, tailored for movement. The holster on his thigh carried a sleek revolver, the same one she had seen him modify tirelessly in his workshop.


    That gun isn''t like the ones before. He''s changed it.


    His hands rested lightly at his sides, but there was no mistaking the precision in his fingers¡ªready to move in a fraction of a second. His eyes were sharp, calculating, scanning her for any weaknesses she could have.


    She exhaled. "Ready or not, Emery, this is happening."


    Emery exhaled, adjusting his weapon. "This is a mistake."


    His fingers twitched against the grip of his revolver, but his mind wasn''t in the arena anymore. Instead, it was adrift in memories¡ªyears of knowing Zafira, years of sailing through storms, fighting off raiders, and watching her make the worst business decisions possible with full confidence.


    He could still hear her voice from months ago, standing at the edge of a dock, arms crossed, proudly declaring:


    "I bought an entire warehouse of stolen tea leaves for half price!"


    "Zafira, that means you just got conned."


    "No, it means I have a lifetime supply of tea."


    He could still remember the look on her face when she realized they had to throw half of it away because it had been soaked in seawater.


    Then there were the quiet moments. The rare dinners where she actually sat down to eat instead of barking orders. The times she leaned back in her chair, exhaustion in her eyes, but still smirked at his complaints like she had all the answers in the world.


    And now, here she was, standing across from him, asking him to shoot her.


    He swallowed hard. "This is a mistake" he repeated, softer this time.


    His hand hovered over his gun, not because he wasn''t ready to draw¡ªbut because for the first time, he wasn''t sure he wanted to.


    Then Zafira moved.


    She dashed forward, covering the distance in an instant¡ªthirty meters per second, at least. To Emery''s eyes, it was nearly imperceptible, a blur of motion that made his heart lurch. His body tensed, instincts screaming at him to react.


    But amidst the rush of movement, her voice reached him¡ªsteady, calm, and strangely sincere.


    "Fight me with your weapon, Emery. Not your fear."


    The words struck deeper than he expected. His mind snapped into calculation mode.


    If I move now¡ªthirty-degree pivot to the left, let her momentum carry her past me¡ªI can counter without direct engagement. But if she anticipates it? A feint to mislead? No, too risky. Timing is critical.


    His hazel eyes tracked every minute shift in her form, analyzing the way her weight adjusted, the micro-twitch of her muscles as she prepared to strike. She wasn''t holding back.


    Emery inhaled sharply, his decision made in milliseconds.


    Step back. Twist left. Redirect the angle.


    His body responded before his mind fully caught up, his foot barely grazing the ground as he executed the most optimal dodge¡ªone that kept him just out of her blade''s range, but close enough to retaliate.


    Emery didn''t hesitate. His gun was already raised, his finger squeezing the trigger before his conscious mind could second-guess the action.


    The gunshot rang out, deafening in the arena.


    And then¡ªa flash of steel.


    Zafira''s twin swords moved so fast they blurred. A metallic clang echoed as something split in midair.


    The bullet¡ªthe one he had calculated at a speed no human should be able to track¡ªwas cleaved cleanly in half.


    Time seemed to slow for Emery. He watched, stunned, as the two halves of the bullet spiralled off-course, embedding themselves harmlessly into the dirt.


    That''s¡­ impossible.


    His grip on the gun tightened.


    Even with Qi, even with enhanced reflexes¡ªcutting a bullet? That wasn''t just skill. That was something beyond reason.


    Zafira rolled her shoulders, spinning one of her swords before levelling it at him again. She smirked.


    Emery exhaled sharply, heart hammering. "That shouldn''t have been possible."


    The moment the bullet split in half, the arena erupted.


    A deafening roar of cheers and shouts filled the air as the gathered warriors, merchants, and disciples exploded with excitement.


    "Commander Ezra!"


    "She cut the bullet in half¡ªIN HALF!"


    Callum stood frozen, his mouth slightly open. "That... that shouldn''t be possible."


    Lianfei, Chen, and Feng¡ªEmery''s students who had been rigorously studying science and physics¡ªwere equally stunned. Everything they had learned told them this was beyond human capability.


    "Even Qi shouldn''t allow for something like that..." Lianfei muttered.


    "It defies every principle of reaction time."


    Seraphine, Zafira''s best informant, narrowed her eyes. "I knew she was fast. But that... even I didn''t expect that."


    Jun, the assassin and Zafira''s third-in-command, crossed her arms, her brows furrowing. "I''ve fought alongside her for years, but even I wouldn''t be able to do that. Cutting an arrow? Maybe. But a bullet? That''s not normal."


    Meanwhile, Haoran and Renshu exchanged uneasy glances. Haoran clenched his fists. "This is why she''s dangerous. This is why she must be feared."


    Renshu nodded slowly. "No warrior should be able to do what she just did. Ezra isn''t just strong¡ªshe''s something else entirely."

 Qi Vs Science (2)

    Emery barely heard them. His grip tightened around his revolver.


    I calculated everything. I accounted for Qi reinforcement. But this?


    His mind raced, grasping for an explanation, but nothing fit.


    Across from him, Zafira smirked. "Told you I''d be fine."


    The fight wasn''t over. But something told Emery¡ªhe had already lost.


    Zafira exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as the vibrations from the gunshot faded into the night. She could still feel the slight recoil in her wrists, the heat of the bullet''s trajectory slicing against the air just before her blade severed it.


    How did I do that?


    She hadn''t thought about cutting the bullet. She had just done it. Her body had moved before her mind registered the danger, before logic could tell her it was impossible.


    But was it impossible? Or had she simply reached a level where instinct overrode reality?


    Qi had always been described as an extension of the body, an amplification of what already existed within. But to move fast enough to intercept a bullet¡ªto predict the bullet¡ªthat wasn''t just speed. That was something else.


    Her fingers tightened around the hilts of her swords.


    I didn''t see the bullet. I felt it. Like the air itself was speaking to me.


    She recalled the hours, the years spent honing her swordplay¡ªfaster, sharper, deadlier. To outsiders, it was just strength, just skill. But to her, it was calculation at the speed of instinct.


    She had trained her body to read movement, to react before an attack even happened. In duels, she could predict an opponent''s next step based on the way their muscles tensed, the way their breath hitched, the way the ground beneath them shifted.


    Was this any different?


    Her opponent wasn''t a swordsman. Her opponent was a weapon¡ªan unfeeling machine firing at speeds no human should be able to counter. But she had countered it.


    Not by chasing the bullet.


    By feeling its intent before it was even fired.


    She breathed in. This is what I have become.


    Emery gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. That had to be a mix of luck and skill. No one can consistently do that.


    He adjusted his stance, recalculating.


    If she could cut a bullet once, that doesn''t mean she could do it again. But if she could...


    His gun snapped up, three shots fired in rapid succession. Each one was calculated based on her first reaction, testing her limits, pushing her reflexes.


    And yet¡ª


    She either dodged entirely or parried the bullets with her swords.


    The first shot¡ªshe sidestepped cleanly, her movements so fluid it was like she had known where the bullet would land before he even pulled the trigger.


    The second¡ªshe twisted her blade in a tight arc, striking the bullet at just the right angle to deflect it harmlessly into the floor.


    The third¡ªa flash of silver, a clean slice. The bullet was cut in half again.


    Emery''s heart pounded.


    Impossible. Even with Qi reinforcement, this reaction time shouldn''t be feasible.


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    Zafira landed softly, rolling her shoulders. "You''re thinking too much, scientist. You always do."


    Emery''s grip tightened around his revolver.


    She wasn''t just reacting. She was predicting.


    He had gone into this fight expecting to test science against Qi. Expecting to prove that calculated precision would always overcome brute force.


    Instead, he was staring at someone who was adapting faster than his equations could keep up.


    Zafira smirked, raising her swords again. "Come on, Emery. Keep up."


    His hazel eyes sharpened. Then I''ll make sure she does exactly what I need her to do.


    His gun snapped up¡ªbut this time, he accounted for everything.


    The exact angle of her dodge. The split-second window of her parry. The minuscule delay between her reactions.


    Fire.


    The bullet left the chamber, spiraling toward her in a perfect arc. As expected¡ªZafira moved.


    She twisted, sword flashing, prepared to deflect it like before¡ª


    But this time, Emery had already fired a second shot. He calculated the microseconds of movement and adjustments of what Zafira would do. He predicted this scenario, running a simulation in his head. He was moving his brain with calculations faster than his mental state allows him.


    And this time¡ªit hit.


    The impact struck her shoulder, and for a split second, the sound of metal and flesh rupturing was drowned out by something far greater¡ªa concussive shockwave exploded from the point of impact.


    The arena floor cracked beneath them, deep fractures spider-webbing outward. The cold wind that had been pressing against them was suddenly redirected, blasting outward into the audience. Spectators shielded their faces as dust and icy air surged through the stands, momentarily blinding them.


    And when it settled¡ª


    Zafira stood still, blood dripping from her shoulder. Her defense had been shattered.


    Emery staggered, blood dripping from his nose. His entire body screamed in protest¡ªthe mental strain of his calculations, the recoil from his shot, the sheer exertion his scrawny frame wasn''t built to endure.


    But he didn''t fall yet. He met Zafira''s gaze and managed a smirk. "Told you."


    The crowd was silent for a moment. Then¡ª


    The entire arena erupted.


    "HOLY SHIT!"


    "Commander Ezra actually took a hit!"


    "Did you SEE that shot?!"


    Callum, who had been in utter disbelief the entire fight, finally found his voice. "WHAT DID I JUST WATCH?!"


    Chen and Feng were pale, looking like they had just witnessed reality collapse. "That''s not¡­ that''s not possible. Qi shouldn''t lose to science like that¡­ should it?"


    Lianfei, still gripping her notes from her studies under Emery, muttered under his breath. "He didn''t just shoot randomly. He accounted for EVERYTHING. He¡­ planned that entire sequence."


    Jun crossed her arms, her sharp assassin''s eyes narrowing. "That level of prediction isn''t normal. Even for someone like him."


    Seraphine, usually composed, actually blinked in shock. "I''ve seen many fights, but I''ve never seen someone force Zafira into a position she couldn''t immediately counter."


    Meanwhile, Haoran and Renshu¡ªwho had spent years honing their martial skills¡ªlooked genuinely unsettled.


    Haoran swallowed hard. "He made Qi look¡­ vulnerable."


    Renshu nodded slowly. "That wasn''t luck. That wasn''t a fluke. He PROVED it. Qi can be fought with his science."


    Zafira, still standing despite her injury, walked toward Emery. She glanced down at her bleeding arm, then back up at him with something unreadable in her expression.


    She reached out, lightly flicking his forehead. "You look like you''re about to fall over."


    Emery wiped the blood from his nose, his smirk not fading. "And yet, I still managed to do it."


    He took a slow, deep breath. Saying with pure confidence to her.


    "Qi can be fought with science. You''re just stupidly strong."


    Then, it hit him.


    His knees buckled, his body finally giving in to the overwhelming strain of his calculations, simulations and predictions. He is a genius and inventor by all accounts but the sheer exertion of moving in ways his untrained frame wasn''t meant to. The mental strain from calculating far into the future was something most human couldn''t do at a perfect level. His vision blurred, and before he could process it¡ª


    Darkness.


    Zafira''s eyes widened just slightly before she moved, catching him effortlessly before he could collapse to the ground. "Tch" she clicked her tongue, shaking her head.


    "Idiot."


    She looked over her shoulder, sharp eyes landing on Jun. "Get the medical supplies. Now."


    Jun, still visibly stunned by the fight, blinked before quickly nodding and disappearing to fetch them.


    The crowd''s deafening cheers slowly morphed into murmurs, a wave of awe and confusion sweeping through the arena. Their Commander vs. their Second-in-Command. And somehow, the one who had forced the decisive moment wasn''t Zafira.


    "Did that really just happen?"


    "Commander Ezra... lost? No, wait¡ªdid she really lose?"


    "But she was still standing... but he... he broke her defenses..."


    Seraphine, arms crossed, exhaled deeply, still processing what she had witnessed. "That wasn''t just a fight. That was a statement."


    Callum ran a hand through his hair, still looking completely baffled. "I don''t even know what I just watched."


    Chen and Feng exchanged uncertain looks, their scientific minds struggling to process what had unfolded. "Science actually worked. But how far can it go?"


    Lianfei scribbled furiously in her notes, muttering, "He pushed himself beyond his limits. But was it enough? If he had her training and body... then what?"


    Haoran and Renshu, both martial artists through and through, could only stare in silent contemplation. Haoran clenched his fists. "He fought against Qi itself. And he didn''t die. That means¡ª"


    Renshu finished the thought, voice hushed. "That means the world knew is about to change."

 Avenge

    The brutal winter had begun to fade, though the icy grip of January still held strong. Trade routes, once frozen and lifeless, had started to open, signalling the slow arrival of spring. Yet in the heart of the Shrouded Peaks, a battle raged¡ªone unseen, one unspoken.


    A Body Fighting Without Qi


    Atlas lay in silence, yet his body told another story. His muscles tensed, his fingers twitched, and at times, his breath came in ragged gasps. There was no Qi disturbance, no external force acting upon him¡ªyet it was clear he was fighting something. Something unseen. Something deep within.


    Shen Xue sat beside him, arms crossed, her gaze dark. "This isn''t normal. He should be healing, but instead, his body looks like it''s suffering through a war we can''t see."


    The young slave girl¡ªstill unnamed¡ªknelt beside Atlas, her small hands gripping his sleeve. She had rarely spoken since arriving, but she watched him constantly, as if waiting for him to wake up. When his body convulsed, she flinched but did not move away. Instead, she placed a careful hand on his forehead, as if that alone could calm him.


    Shen Xue sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "It''s not helping. But¡­"


    She glanced at her. "You''re not afraid anymore, are you?"


    She hesitated before shaking her head. No words. Just a simple refusal.


    "Hmph. You''ve gotten stronger."


    Shen Xue leaned forward slightly, observing Atlas''s pained expression. She exhaled, deep in thought.


    "There are two possibilities. First, his body is suffering because it''s trying to heal, but the damage is too great, so it''s stuck in a cycle of collapse and repair. Without Qi, his body has no external force to guide its recovery, meaning it''s breaking itself apart while trying to stay alive."


    She hesitated before continuing. "The second theory¡­ it''s not just his body fighting, but his mind. Maybe he''s stuck in a dream or a memory so vivid that his body is reacting in real-time. If he''s reliving something traumatic, his body is responding as if it''s happening all over again."


    Just as she finished, a heavy presence entered the room.


    Master Daokan.


    He strode forward, his footsteps slow but deliberate. Without a word, he reached out and ruffled Shen Xue''s hair, something he hadn''t done in years.


    "You''re sharp. Both theories have truth to them. His body is caught in a cycle of trying to repair itself, but without Qi, it lacks the energy to complete the process. It''s as if his body is tearing itself apart while barely holding on."


    Shen Xue frowned. "And the second theory? The one about his mind?"


    Daokan exhaled, his gaze lingering on Atlas. "That''s the real reason. His body isn''t healing because his mind is still fighting. He''s reliving something¡ªsomething so real and consuming that his body believes it''s happening all over again. Until he wins that battle, until he finds a reason to wake up, his body will keep suffering."


    Shen Xue''s hands clenched into fists as a shadow of guilt flickered across her face.


    "Then... we can''t do anything? We just have to watch him suffer?"


    Daokan sighed, stepping closer and placing a firm but gentle hand on her head. "It''s not your fault, girl. You''re not the reason he''s like this. If anything, you''re one of the few people who still care enough to sit by his side. That counts for something."


    She swallowed hard, her shoulders stiff, but she didn''t pull away from his touch. "Then what will bring him back?"


    Daokan''s eyes softened slightly, yet his voice remained steady. "That''s something only he can decide. But when he does wake up, he''ll need people here¡ªpeople he can trust."


    A small voice broke the silence. "Then¡­ he will wake up?"


    Both Shen Xue and Daokan turned to see the child staring at Atlas, her tiny hands still gripping his sleeve. Her voice was quiet, uncertain, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes¡ªhope.


    Daokan nodded. "Of course he will. He''s stubborn like that."


    Lianhua hesitated, then looked up at him. "Then¡­ what can I do? To help?"


    Daokan simply gave a smile and said "Just stay here. That''s more than enough."


    A couple days passed and Shen Xue and Physician Ming takes care of Atlas while the child is learning how to use her body again with Ren.


    Master Daokan watched the child from the training grounds, arms folded as Ren gently guided her through a series of basic stances.


    She was small, fragile, but she no longer looked lifeless. Emotion is slowing returning to her eyes.


    Daokan approached, his presence causing her to tense.


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    She was still wary of men.


    "You need a name" he said bluntly.


    "Not just ''child'' or ''girl.'' A real one."


    She looked up at him, uncertainty flickering across her face. "A¡­ name?"


    Daokan nodded. "You''re starting over. A name marks that. How about... Lianhua?" He smirked. "Lotus. A flower that survives even in the worst conditions. Seems fitting."


    She looked at Ren, searching for reassurance. He smiled and ruffled her hair.


    "Lianhua, huh? Sounds good to me."


    She hesitated before whispering "Lianhua."


    The name felt foreign on her tongue, but for the first time, she had something that was hers.


    Ren grinned and crouched beside her, his tone playful yet reassuring. "Lianhua, huh? Sounds pretty strong to me. I think it suits you."


    She glanced at him uncertainly. "Strong?"


    Ren ruffles her hair, laughing. "Of course! A lotus isn''t just beautiful, you know. It grows through mud, through the hardest conditions, but still rises above the water. Just like you."


    Her fingers curled slightly, as if holding onto the words. Then, for the first time, she smiled¡ªsmall, hesitant, but real.


    The courtyard fell into a stunned silence.


    Master Daokan, arms still crossed, let out a deep chuckle. "Well, would you look at that. The little lotus finally bloomed."


    Ren beamed with pride, nudging her playfully. "Told you, Lianhua. You''re stronger than you think."


    Yan Shuren, usually reserved, observed with a small nod of approval. "She''s recovering faster than expected. That''s good."


    Physician Ming, who had been quietly watching from the side, adjusted his robes and sighed. "Smiling is the best medicine, after all."


    The disciples whispered amongst themselves, some in awe, others simply touched by the moment.


    Elder Feng exhaled deeply. "A true testament to resilience."


    Xian Yue, the head of servants, clapped her hands together. "That''s the first time I''ve seen her smile! Look at that face¡ªso precious!"


    The servants, who had once only seen Lianhua as a silent shadow, exchanged glances before joining in the warmth of the moment.


    For the first time, Lianhua wasn''t just a child recovering from the past.


    She is now a part of them.


    But before the moment could fully settle, a familiar voice cut through the air.


    "Master Daokan! Master Yan! I need to talk to you alone."


    A lean, battle-worn man approached, his breathing heavy from the long journey. His name was Guan Fei, Daokan''s most trusted informant. His presence alone was enough to wipe away any lingering sense of victory.


    Daokan turned, his expression darkening. "What is it?"


    Guan Fei wasted no time. "I found it. The place where the child was originally kept. It''s worse than we thought. She wasn''t just a slave¡ªshe was being trained."


    Yan Shuren''s sharp gaze narrowed. "Trained by who?"


    Guan Fei hesitated before delivering the answer. "Wu Long. A direct descendant of Wu Xun."


    Daokan''s fingers twitched slightly, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. "Wu Long¡­?"


    Guan Fei nodded grimly. "The description matches exactly. Silver hair, the restless hands, the seal on his wrist. He''s the one who ran that place. If Lianhua was under his control, then she wasn''t just another captive¡ªshe was meant to become a weapon."


    A heavy silence fell between them.


    Yan Shuren exhaled through his nose. "Then we can''t ignore this."


    Daokan''s jaw tightened before he made his decision. "No. We go after him. Just us."


    Yan Shuren glanced at him but didn''t argue. They both knew what had to be done.


    Daokan continued "Lianhua is just now recovering. Ren has become like an older brother to her. Shen is too busy taking care of Atlas because of her own guilt. We tell no one else. We finish this ourselves."


    Guan Fei explained grimly "The compound is located deep in the western mountain range, hidden between two valleys. The terrain is rough, and the only proper entrance is through a guarded pass. It''ll take three days of hard travel to get there. The camp is large, housing at least fifty slavers and nearly a hundred captives¡ªsome of them fighters forced into servitude."


    Yan Shuren exhaled sharply. "Fifty armed men, plus captives who might not even be in a condition to fight back. Two of us against all that?"


    Daokan''s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "We don''t fight them head-on. We burn them down from the inside."


    He crouched, dragging a stick through the dirt to outline a crude map.


    "We approach under the cover of night, eliminating the outer guards first. Guan Fei, you''ll scout ahead and confirm the layout. The main barracks and armory should be separate from the slave quarters. We set small, controlled fires in the supply caches to spread panic."


    Yan Shuren nodded, catching on. "By the time they realize what''s happening, their forces will be scattered."


    Daokan smirked. "Exactly. That Wu Long will respond first. That''s where we go in. I''ll take the leader, Wu Long. You handle their second-in-command. Once they''re down, the rest of the camp falls into chaos. We free as many captives as we can, arm those willing to fight, and wipe out the remaining slavers."


    Guan Fei crossed his arms. "And if things go wrong?"


    He hesitated for a moment before adding "Master Daokan¡­ this place isn''t just some backwater slaver pit. It''s heavily funded by nobles. If we burn it down, there will be consequences. Powerful people won''t take this lightly."


    Daokan scoffed, rolling his shoulders as if the weight of that information was nothing. "Let them whine. They can cry into their gold while I wipe their filth off the map."


    He smirked, cracking his knuckles again. "Besides, they wouldn''t dare come for me. They know better."


    Yan Shuren, arms crossed, let out a thoughtful hum. "By logic, if nobles are investing in this, then surely the emperor himself knows of its existence. What if he decides to intervene?"


    Daokan let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly.


    "Then let him. If the emperor wants to waste his time chasing me instead of dealing with his collapsing foundation, that''s his problem. But I doubt he''ll move. He''s too tangled in his own web of politics to act swiftly. Besides."


    His smirk widened¡ª "We both know he has bigger problems to worry about."


    Three nights later, Daokan and Yan Shuren stood at the crest of a cliff overlooking the slaver compound. Beneath them, torchlight flickered against the snowy terrain, illuminating dozens of guards, supply crates, and holding pens filled with captives.


    Guan Fei had provided them with precise details¡ªfifty armed slavers, nearly a hundred captives, and one man at the top: Wu Long.


    Daokan stretched his arms lazily. "It''s a bit smaller than I expected."


    Yan Shuren gave him a flat look. "You say that like we aren''t outnumbered twenty-five to one."


    Daokan smirked. "Numbers are only a problem if we''re planning on fighting fair."


    Yan Shuren sighed. "You never do."


    Daokan crouched, surveying the compound one last time. "Stick to the plan. We spread chaos first. Controlled fires in their supply caches will scatter the guards. Once that happens, you and I go straight for Wu Long and his right-hand man. Take them out, and the rest will crumble."


    Yan Shuren nodded. "And the captives?"


    "Once the camp is in chaos, we unlock their chains and let them choose. Those who can fight, fight. The rest, we send to safety."


    Yan Shuren exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Let''s get this over with."

 Three Strikes

    Daokan moved like a shadow, slipping into the camp''s outskirts unnoticed. The first guard barely had time to register the slight shift in the wind before Daokan''s fingers clamped around his mouth, yanking him backward into the darkness. A silent snap, and he was gone.


    Yan Shuren, methodical as ever, dispatched his target with a single precise strike to the throat before dragging the body into the snow.


    Two down. Forty-eight to go.


    They worked quickly, planting fires near the supply caches and barracks. Minutes later, the first explosion roared through the camp as an oil barrel ignited, sending flames licking toward the sky.


    Shouts erupted. Slavers ran for water, their formation breaking as panic took hold.


    Daokan grinned. "That''s our cue."


    Amidst the chaos, Guan Fei moved swiftly through the holding pens, breaking locks and cutting restraints. "Listen up!" he called out, his voice sharp and commanding.


    "If you can still stand, if you still have the strength to fight, there are weapons stashed behind the northern supply crates. Take them and take back your freedom!"


    A few captives hesitated, but others, eyes burning with long-suppressed rage, surged forward. Shackles hit the ground as they armed themselves with whatever they could find¡ªdiscarded blades, spears, even broken chains.


    "For those who can''t fight" Guan Fei continued, "head east to the treeline. Stay together, and move fast. You''re free now. Don''t waste it."


    With that, the battle inside the compound shifted. No longer just an ambush, it became an uprising. The former captives, now warriors once more, turned on their oppressors with a fury that could not be contained.


    The largest tent, adorned with expensive silk and fine embroidery, belonged to Wu Long. The bastard was living in luxury while the captives starved.


    Daokan and Yan Shuren walked through the entrance like executioners. Inside, Wu Long sat casually, sipping wine, while his second-in-command, a towering brute of a man, cracked his knuckles.


    Wu Long smirked. "So, the legend himself, Daokan finally came to play. Took you long enough."


    Wu Long chuckled, setting his cup down. "You think you can kill me? I was trained in the same techniques as my ancestor, Wu Xun. Do you even know who you''re dealing with?''''


    Daokan tilted his head, his gaze turning cold. "It''s personal. You took something that wasn''t yours to take. You turned children into weapons, into tools. You did it to her."


    Wu Long''s expression flickered, the first sign of unease creeping into his smirk.


    "Who?"


    Daokan''s knuckles cracked as his red aura darkened. "Lianhua. The girl you tried to break. The girl who should have never survived you."


    Wu Long exhaled sharply, realization dawning. Then, he chuckled. "So, that''s what this is about? Some sentimental revenge? She was nothing when I found her. Weak. A tool to be reforged or discarded. You should be thanking me for¡ª"


    He never finished his sentence. Daokan thrust his palm forward.


    First Strike: Sundering Summit.


    A force so immense erupted from his palm that the very air cracked. The ground trembled as the shockwave blasted forward, splitting the floor of the tent and sending a deep fissure rippling through the compound. Even the distant mountains seemed to groan in response.


    Wu Long''s smirk vanished as he was sent hurtling through three walls, blood spraying from his mouth. His second-in-command barely had time to blink before Yan Shuren ended him in a single, effortless strike.


    Wu Long gasped, staggering to his feet, only to see Daokan walking toward him, completely in rage.


    Daokan''s expression darkened. His fist clenched, and without warning, he struck Wu Long in the face with a force that sent him sprawling. Before Wu Long could react, Daokan moves so fast as if teleportation and grabs him by the collar and punch him again.


    "Why?!" Another punch. Wu Long''s nose shattered, blood spraying across the dirt.


    "Why did you do it?!" A third punch. His cheekbone cracked, swelling instantly.


    Wu Long coughed, spitting blood, yet somehow, he chuckled through the pain.


    "Why?" he rasped.


    "Because she was nothing. Just another tool to be shaped. It was fun."


    Daokan''s grip tightened, fury radiating from his very being. "Say it. Say what you did."


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    Wu Long smirked despite the blood dripping from his lips. "I broke her. Starved her. Trained her like an animal. Every day, we pushed her to the brink¡ªno food unless she won her fights, no rest unless she pleased her masters. And when she failed¡ª" he grinned wider like a mad dog "¡ªwe reminded her that failure had a price."


    Daokan''s fist crashed into Wu Long''s gut, lifting him off the ground and breaking the ground beneath before slamming him back down and cracks like spider-webs was shaped.


    "You turned a child into a slave and called it training!?''''


    Wu Long coughed violently. "Oh, but she was special. Unlike the others, she never truly broke. Always looking for a way out. So we got creative. Isolation, beatings, forced fights... but what really crushed her spirit? We made her believe there was no escape. That even if she ran, we would always find her. And when she cried? Oh, that was the best part." ending it with a sadistic smile.


    Daokan''s aura flared, the air itself trembling as the ground beneath them cracked.


    "You''re filth." His voice was ice.


    "You don''t deserve a quick death."


    Wu Long tried to laugh, but blood clogged his throat.


    "Then take your time, Master Daokan. Show me just how righteous you think you are."


    Daokan thrust his palm forward.


    Second Strike: Avalanche Collapse.


    He stomped his foot, and the world responded.


    The entire left side of the compound exploded outward. Trees bent and shattered like twigs, rocks splintered, and tents were sent flying as if caught in a hurricane. Wu Long''s body twisted mid-air, his left arm severed instantly from the sheer force of the impact.


    Yan Shuren observed from the wreckage, shaking his head. "You''re overdoing it."


    Yet, to their surprise, Wu Long still stood. Barely, but he stood.


    Wu Long coughed blood, but his eyes still burned with defiance. "You¡­ bastard¡­"


    Yan Shuren stepped forward, his usual composed expression unreadable. He looked down at Wu Long, then exhaled through his nose.


    "Tell me, Wu Long. What was the point of all this? The suffering, the cruelty¡ªdid you ever think it would end well for you?"


    Wu Long spat blood onto the scorched earth, laughing hoarsely. "Power. Survival. I did what needed to be done. And you? You think you''re righteous? That this makes you better than me?"


    Yan Shuren''s gaze sharpened. "No. It makes me responsible."


    Without another word, he thrust his palm forward, his Qi coiling like a gathering storm.


    Third step: Judgment of the Summit.


    A shockwave rippled outward, erasing the last remnants of Wu Long, leaving behind only dust and silence.


    Yet his final words lingered in the air¡ª "That this makes you better than me?"


    For a moment, neither Daokan nor Yan Shuren spoke. The weight of those words settled in their minds like an uncomfortable truth.


    Daokan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. "Sooner or later, we will face the emperor himself. The world is changing, and we can''t just burn away its rot¡ªwe have to replace it. Reform it."


    Yan Shuren glanced at him. "And if the emperor resists?"


    Daokan''s gaze burned with quiet certainty. "Then we do what we must."


    Yan Shuren was silent for a moment before asking, "Do you even think Jinhai is as strong as Lin Wuye? If it comes down to it, can he even fight us?"


    Daokan smirked. "Jinhai is not weak, but he''s no Lin Wuye. Lin fights because he must. Jinhai fights only when he has no other choice. And that is why, if the time comes, he will lose."


    Before Yan Shuren could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted them.


    Guan Fei approached, his face grim, but he was not alone. Beside him stood a woman, her body battered and bruised from years of suffering. Her clothes were torn, her face hollow, and yet, despite everything, her eyes held no fear¡ªonly emptiness.


    "Master Daokan" Guan Fei spoke hesitantly.


    "The captives have been freed. Every slaver is dead. But... she insisted on speaking to you personally."


    The woman took a step forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have nothing left. Kill me."


    Daokan frowned, studying her. "Why? You''re free now. Why throw it away?"


    The woman lifted her gaze, eyes distant. "Because there is nothing to return to. My child was slaughtered before my eyes. My family no longer exists. My purpose was stolen from me long ago. What reason is there to keep going?"


    Daokan''s expression, usually unwavering, darkened. His fists clenched as he stared at the woman, his heart weighed down by the sheer emptiness in her voice.


    "What happened to you?" he asked, his tone softer than before.


    The woman inhaled sharply, as if gathering the strength to recount her pain. "I had a son" she whispered.


    "Barely old enough to walk. They took him from me, right in front of my eyes. I screamed, I begged, but they only laughed. They... they made me watch as they killed him. Slowly. To break me."


    Her voice trembled, but she did not cry. It was as if there were no tears left in her. "After that, they told me I had no family, no past. They beat it out of me. I forgot my own name. I became what they wanted¡ªa body that moved when ordered, but nothing more. Now, even with my chains gone, there''s nothing left."


    Daokan''s grip tightened, his nails digging into his palm. His throat felt dry. "You were never nothing" he said, voice rough with emotion.


    "They tried to strip you of everything, but they failed. You''re still here."


    The woman shook her head, her hollow gaze searching his face.


    "For what? There is no vengeance to take, no home to return to. There is nothing. Kill me, Master. Let me rest."


    For the first time in a long while, Daokan felt at a loss. The battlefield had never been this complicated. Slaying an enemy was easy¡ªbut how do you fight despair itself?


    Yan Shuren, who had been silent until now, took a step forward. His gaze was steady as he studied the woman, then he spoke. "What if you had another purpose? Someone just like you¡ªsomeone who has lost everything. What would you do then?"


    The woman blinked, her hollow stare shifting slightly as if a long-dead ember in her soul had been disturbed. "Someone like me?"


    Yan Shuren nodded. "A girl. Young. Scarred by the same people who hurt you. Someone who needs guidance, who needs someone that understands that pain. If such a person existed, would you still ask for death?"


    A flicker of something¡ªdoubt, hesitation¡ªcrossed the woman''s face. For the first time, her absolute resignation wavered.


    The woman frowned, her voice barely a whisper. "Who is she? And how is she like me?"


    Daokan''s gaze softened slightly. "Her name is Lianhua. She was a slave, just like you. She was beaten, trained to fight, stripped of everything that made her a person. It took weeks for her to even speak a single word."


    He exhaled, crossing his arms. "But she did speak. She held on. And now, she''s starting to heal. You both suffered at the hands of monsters, but she is still here, still fighting. If you can''t find a reason to keep going for yourself, then maybe you can find one in her."


    He let out a slow breath before meeting her gaze again. "And if, after all this, you still can''t find a reason¡ªif nothing I say can change that¡ªthen I will bear that sin. I will not force you to suffer any longer. I will kill you myself."

 Special Chapter: War in Mind (1)

    Atlas was drowning.


    Not in water, nor in darkness, but in something far worse¡ªhis own mind.


    A thick void surrounded him, stretching infinitely in all directions. Silence reigned. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that suffocated, that pressed against his skin like an unbearable weight.


    He blinked, and suddenly, he was sitting at a lavish dining table, dressed in ridiculous noble attire. A golden goblet rested in his hand, filled to the brim with the finest wine money could buy. Before him sat a feast so extravagant it could feed an army. Atlas leaned back in his chair, sighing dramatically.


    "Ah, finally" he drawled, swirling his drink lazily.


    "A reward for all my hard work. All those sleepless nights, all the suffering¡ªit was worth it. Now, if only Meyu were here to feed me grapes."


    "You''re stalling."


    Atlas froze mid-sip. His golden eyes looking across the table and saw a figure.


    A figure sat across from him. Featureless, except for a mask with a painted smile.


    Atlas groaned, setting his goblet down. "Oh, great. And here I thought I''d finally get a vacation. But nooo, I have to deal with whatever existential or internal crisis this is."


    The masked figure tilted its head, the eerie grin never wavering. "Still hiding behind humour, I see. Still pretending."


    The illusion of the grand feast shattered. The golden goblet in Atlas''s hand rotted into a rusted tin cup. The table before him crumbled to ash, and the lavish hall melted into shadows.


    Atlas was left standing in nothingness, face to face with Masked Atlas.


    "Hey! That was rude" Atlas muttered, crossing his arms.


    "I was about to eat."


    "Were you?" Masked Atlas mused. "Or were you just delaying the inevitable?"


    Atlas scoffed. "If you''re here to monologue about my sins or whatever, can we at least make this quick? I''ve got places to be."


    Masked Atlas chuckled, a sound like splintering glass. "No. You don''t."


    The world lurched.


    Suddenly, Atlas wasn''t standing anymore. He was on the ground, a child once more¡ªcold, hungry, dying.


    His body trembled violently. The bitter sting of winter gnawed at his tiny frame, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The once-warm home he had known¡ªgone. His family¡ªgone. All that was left was the aching void in his stomach and the weight of loneliness pressing down on his tiny frame.


    A shadow loomed over him.


    The masked figure towered above, its grin seeming to stretch wider. "Do you remember, Atlas? The cold that sank into your bones, the hunger that gnawed at you like a rabid beast? The way people passed by without a second glance, as if you were already dead?"


    Atlas curled up, his tiny fingers gripping the tattered remains of his clothes, trying to shield himself from the memory. But the cold wasn''t just in his mind¡ªit was real. He could feel it creeping back into his limbs, just like before.


    "You cried that day" Masked Atlas whispered, crouching beside him.


    "You begged. But no one came. No one ever does."


    Atlas squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn''t stop the onslaught. The world around him shifted again, dragging him through a whirlpool of memories.


    The nights spent scavenging for scraps like a starving rat.


    The jeers and kicks from those who thought a homeless child was entertainment.


    The pain. The despair. The overwhelming certainty that he would die alone.


    "That''s who you really are" Masked Atlas said, voice soft, almost comforting.


    "Not the trickster. Not the businessman. Not the strategist. Just a boy no one wanted. A boy who should''ve died on that street."


    Atlas trembled, his breathing shallow.


    No. No, that''s not¡ª


    "That''s not it? Really?" Masked Atlas scoffed, its grin stretching wider, impossibly wide. "


    You think this is where your suffering started? That the hunger and cold were the worst of it? Oh, Atlas¡­ let me remind you."


    The world lurched violently again. Changing the scene effortlessly, reconstructing the scene brick by brick.


    Atlas''s surroundings shifted, and suddenly, he was somewhere else.


    The streets of Prussia stretched before him, bustling with life. The air smelled of fresh bread, the distant laughter of children rang in the alleys, and the warmth of a setting sun bathed everything in gold. Atlas blinked, confused, and then¡ª


    He saw them.


    His father, tall and strong, his booming voice full of warmth as he lifted him into the air. His mother, radiant and gentle, shaking her head fondly as she scolded him for climbing onto the kitchen counters again. His older siblings, playful and teasing, their bickering nothing but love in disguise.


    Atlas was five again. Whole. Happy. Safe.


    He ran into his mother''s embrace, feeling her warmth, the steady rise and fall of her breath. "Mama!" he laughed.


    His father ruffled his hair, chuckling. "Look at you, my little troublemaker!"


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    Atlas wanted to stay here. Wanted to hold on. But deep down, he knew¡ª


    This memory has an ending. The sun darkened. The laughter stopped.


    A piercing scream split the air.


    The front door crashed open, and armed men in noble attire stormed inside. His father barely had time to react before a blade tore through his chest. Blood splattered across the walls, the warmth of home turning into horror in an instant.


    His mother screamed as hands ripped her away, her nails clawing at the floor, desperate to hold onto her children. "RUN!" she shrieked.


    "ATLAS, RUN!"


    Atlas tried. He tried so hard.


    But they were faster.


    They dragged him back, forced him to watch as his mother and siblings were hauled away, their cries vanishing into the night. His father''s lifeless eyes stared at nothing, his strong hands¡ªonce so protective¡ªnow limp and cold.


    "No¡­" Atlas whimpered, his small hands shaking. "No, no, no¡ª"


    Masked Atlas''s voice echoed around him. "There it is. The truth. Your happy life was stolen. Your family was taken. And you? You were left to rot."


    Atlas fell to his knees, his vision blurred with unshed tears. The weight of his past crashed down on him.


    A slow clap echoed through the empty streets.


    "And there it is! The grand reveal" Masked Atlas mocked, his voice dripping with theatrical delight. "Took you long enough to remember. You know, for someone who prides himself on intelligence, you sure are slow."


    Atlas didn''t respond. He couldn''t. His throat felt tight, his chest heaving from the raw flood of emotions crashing into him.


    "What''s wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Masked Atlas crouched before him, tapping the side of his head.


    "Oh, right! You locked this away, didn''t you? Sealed it up tight and threw it into the deepest, darkest part of your mind. Thought if you buried it deep enough, it wouldn''t hurt anymore?" The masked Atlas let out a laugh, shaking his head. "


    Tsk, tsk, tsk. And who do you think carried that burden for you all these years? Who do you think lived through the pain while you played pretend? Me."


    Atlas shuddered, gripping the fabric of his ragged clothes. His five-year-old self, frozen in time, helpless against the cruel weight of fate.


    "And now, look where we are."


    Masked Atlas gestured around them. The street was empty. His home was in flames. His family¡ªgone.


    Then, something changed. A figure emerged through the smoke and ash. A woman. Logically this was impossible and it couldn''t have been real. A mix of distortion and reality in his memories, as if to forget pieces and only attached what he wanted.


    Atlas''s breath hitched. She was coming toward him. Her movements slow, deliberate. She knelt down beside him, reaching out a hand. There was something familiar¡ªachingly familiar¡ªabout the way she moved, the warmth in her presence. But¡ª


    Her face was blurred.


    Atlas struggled to see her clearly, but no matter how hard he tried, the details of her features remained out of reach, like a dream slipping through his fingers.


    "Oh, that''s rich" Masked Atlas cackled. "Even now, you can''t see her face? How tragic. Is it guilt? Regret? Or maybe¡­"


    His voice dropped into a cruel whisper. "Maybe you just don''t deserve to remember her."


    Atlas gritted his teeth, fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms.


    Who was she? Why did it feel like she mattered?


    Masked Atlas sighed dramatically, standing up. "Honestly, this is painful to watch. But don''t worry, I''ll help you out!"


    He leaned in, voice dropping into a taunting whisper. "She picked you up, didn''t she? Took pity on the pathetic little street rat. But guess what? That didn''t fix anything, did it? No, because in the end¡­ you''re still broken."


    Atlas shook, his mind fracturing further, but something¡ªsomething about that blurred woman¡ªkept him from sinking completely. He clenched his fists, his heart pounding against the chains that bound him. He couldn''t see her face, couldn''t grasp her name, but he knew¡ªshe had saved him.


    "Why did you forget?" Masked Atlas sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed teacher.


    "Come on, you don''t just misplace something like this. You locked it away. Buried it. Left me to deal with the mess while you pranced around playing businessman."


    The world twisted again, and suddenly, the memory shifted.


    Atlas was no longer on the cold streets. Instead, he was inside a small, modest home, sitting near a fireplace. The warmth wrapped around him like a protective embrace. A soft blanket covered his small frame, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air.


    The woman sat beside him, humming gently as she brushed his hair. Her face remained blurred, frustratingly out of reach, but her touch was gentle, soothing. Motherly.


    Across from him, a young girl giggled, playfully nudging him. She looked about his age, maybe a little older. Her face, too, was lost in the haze of his fractured memory, but her laughter was light, carefree¡ªgenuine.


    Atlas''s small hands reached out, trying to hold onto the moment, trying to keep this warmth from slipping away.


    "Oh-ho!" Masked Atlas leaned back dramatically, clasping his hands.


    "Would you look at that? A picture-perfect moment! Too bad you don''t even remember their faces. Wonder what that says about you."


    Atlas flinched. "I¡­ I didn''t forget. I¡ª"


    "Didn''t you?" Masked Atlas cut him off, grinning.


    "If they were so important, why can''t you even remember what they looked like? Seems like a classic case of selective memory to me." He wagged a finger mockingly.


    "I mean, come on, you remembered all the suffering just fine. But the kindness? The people who actually gave a damn? Nah. Too painful, so you erased them."


    He wagged a finger mockingly. "Classic Atlas move."


    Masked Atlas leaned in closer, lowering his voice into a dramatic whisper. "But you see, I remember them. Since I am you, I kept it all. Every moment, every warmth, every touch. And yet, you? You can''t even recall their faces."


    Atlas''s breath hitched, his hands curling into fists. The firelight flickered in the small home, the warmth wrapping around his younger self like a gentle embrace. The woman''s soft humming filled the space, and the girl beside him giggled, nudging him playfully again. This wasn''t just some fleeting memory¡ªthis was years.


    Masked Atlas tilted his head. "You lived with them for ten whole years. From the moment she picked you up on that frozen street to the day you turned fifteen. You were safe, weren''t you? Cared for. Happy. And yet, somehow, you locked all of this away."


    The world flickered. The warmth of the fire began to dim. Something was coming.


    Masked Atlas sighed dramatically, stretching his arms. "But I also realize, right now, you can''t take this for jack shit. So, let''s move on, shall we? Let''s see how it all came crashing down¡ªagain."


    The warmth of the memory flickered. Then, it shattered.


    The small home that had become Atlas''s sanctuary erupted into flames.


    Screams tore through the air. The woman¡ªthe one who had taken him in¡ªwas desperately trying to hold the door shut as men in dark uniforms battered it down. The girl, the one who had always been at his side, was crying, clutching his arm, refusing to let go.


    "Atlas, don''t move!" she pleaded. "Stay here!"


    But he was frozen.


    The door gave way with a sickening crack. Shadows flooded in, men in dark uniforms flooded the room. Atlas saw their blades. The flash of torchlight against cruel faces. The insignia stitched onto their coats¡ªthe crest of the same nobles who had destroyed his first home.


    "No¡­ No, not again!" Atlas''s voice broke, his younger self stumbling back as he watched the nightmare unfold.


    The woman, his saviour, was struck down first. The blade pierced her abdomen, her gasp one of shock more than pain. Blood spilled onto the wooden floor, staining the home that had once smelled of bread and laughter. She reached for him with her shaky hands, dying with each breath.


    "Atlas¡­ run¡ª"


    A second blade silenced her.


    The girl screamed. Atlas screamed.


    The soldiers grabbed the girl next, prying her away from him. She kicked, fought, bit, but she was too small, too weak. "Let go of me! LET GO!" she shrieked.


    Atlas lunged forward, his instincts screaming at him to fight, to do something¡ª


    A boot to his stomach sent him crashing into the floor. The wind left his lungs, his vision blurring. He saw her reaching for him, her fingers stretching toward his¡ª


    And then she was gone.


    They dragged her away.


    Atlas, barely conscious, watched her silhouette disappear into the smoke and fire.


    "NO!"


    His younger self choked, clawing at the floor, trying to get up. But his body wouldn''t move.


    He was alone again. And then¡ª


    The memory froze.

 Special Chapter: War in Mind (2)

    Atlas staggered back, his breathing wild. His older self¡ª the one trapped in this nightmare¡ªwas watching it all unfold, shaking, his hands clutching his ears.


    "Nein! Genug! H?r auf! H?r auf!" (No! Enough! Stop! Stop!) he screamed, shaking his head violently.


    But the memory didn''t stop.


    The dying breaths of the woman echoed in his ears. The girl''s cries of terror rang endlessly, looping over and over and over and over and over and over again. The fire burned without end, consuming everything¡ª


    And Masked Atlas just stood there, grinning.


    "Ohhh, there it is! That''s the reaction I was waiting for!" he clapped his hands, delighted.


    "Look at you! The great Atlas, broken and screaming like a child! Just like back then. Just like always."


    Atlas squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling violently.


    "Make it stop.." he whimpered like a child.


    Masked Atlas leaned in, his grin pressing dangerously close. "Why should I? This is who you are. You think you buried it, locked it away, erased it like it never happened? Guess what? I kept it all for you."


    He grinned wider. "And I''m going to make sure you feel every. Last. Second."


    Atlas let out a raw, pained scream.


    The flames around him roared higher, devouring everything. He was no longer standing as his older self¡ªhe was back in his fifteen-year-old body, curled over the lifeless form of the woman who had saved him, his second mother.


    His arms wrapped around her tightly, refusing to let go. The warmth was already leaving her body but the blood remained¡ªthick, sticky, seeping into his clothes. He didn''t care. He couldn''t care. She was slipping away.


    "Bitte... Bitte komm zur¨¹ck!" (Please... Please come back!) he sobbed, rocking back and forth, his trembling fingers clinging to the fabric of her dress. "Nicht noch einmal... bitte nicht noch einmal...!" (Not again... please, not again...!)


    The girl¡ªhis sister in all but blood¡ªwas gone, dragged away screaming just like before. And now, his second mother, the only warmth he had left in this world, was silent.


    The house groaned as it began to collapse around him. Burning beams crashed down. Sparks flew. Cinders choked the air. The fire raged, but Atlas didn''t move.


    He held onto her like a drowning man clinging to a sinking ship, as if sheer desperation could bring her back.


    "Ohhh, would you look at that?" Masked Atlas whistled, standing off to the side, arms crossed. "Clinging to a corpse like a lost puppy. How pathetic."


    Atlas shook his head violently, his fingers tightening around her. "Halt die Fresse! Halt die Fresse! Halt die Fresse!" (Shut up! Shut up Shut up!)


    Masked Atlas leaned in, voice dripping with exaggerated pity. "Didn''t learn the first time, did you? You get attached, you lose them. Over, and over, and over again. And here you are, sobbing like it was ever going to end differently."


    Atlas''s body shivered. His screams were raw, grief strangling the breath from his lungs. His throat burned from the smoke, his chest heaving with the weight of loss, of helplessness, of rage. It was too much.


    And then¡ª


    A hand grabbed the back of his collar.


    He barely had time to react before he was yanked backward, dragged away from the inferno. The woman''s body slipped from his grasp, vanishing into the fire as he thrashed weakly against the iron grip of whoever had taken hold of him.


    "Nein!" (No) Atlas fought, kicked, screamed. "LASS MICH!" (LET ME GO!)


    "Stop struggling, boy" a deep, steady voice commanded. Firm. Absolute.


    "If you stay, you die."


    Atlas turned, his tear-streaked face looking up at the man who had pulled him from the fire. He was tall, imposing, in his early 40s and dressed in a long dark coat. His features were sharp, his expression unreadable. But what stood out the most¡ª


    His eyes. Cold, calculating. The kind of eyes that had seen too much, yet revealed nothing.


    "You have a choice" the man said, dragging Atlas away even as the younger boy tried to claw his way back. "Die here, or learn how to survive."


    The flames roared louder. The world around him crumbled.


    And for the second time in his life¡ª


    Atlas was alone.


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    A slow, mocking clap echoed through the ruins of his mind.


    "Now this¡ªthis is priceless!" Masked Atlas doubled over in laughter.


    "You don''t remember their faces, the ones who loved you, who cared for you, but him?


    He gestured dramatically. "Ohhh, you remember him in perfect, flawless detail. What does that say about you?"


    Atlas didn''t move. His breath was ragged, his body shaking as the flames behind him burned away the last remnants of the only home he had ever known.


    Masked Atlas stepped forward, and the scenery shifted again.


    Now, they stood in a dimly lit room, the air thick with the scent of ink and aged parchment. A grand mahogany desk sat at the center, stacks of books meticulously arranged on its surface. The walls were lined with shelves, filled with knowledge, strategy, power.


    Behind the desk sat him.


    The man who saved Atlas that night.


    The flickering candlelight cast deep shadows over his chiseled features, his sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes reflecting nothing but calculation. His jet-black hair was combed back, not a strand out of place, and the crisp tailoring of his dark coat hinted at discipline, power, and absolute control.


    "Go on, say it" Masked Atlas whispered, nudging him.


    "Say his name. You remember it."


    Atlas swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. "Gregor Faust."


    Masked Atlas smirked. "That''s right. The man who picked up a shattered, pathetic orphan and turned him into something... useful.


    He leaned in, his voice low, taunting. "He didn''t coddle you. Didn''t comfort you. Didn''t treat you like some lost child¡ª"


    "He trained you, molded you and you ate it all up, didn''t you?"


    Masked Atlas grinned, his voice laced with something almost like admiration.


    "Because it was better than being weak."


    Atlas''s younger self sat at the desk across from Gregor, his small hands folded neatly as he listened intently.


    "People are predictable, boy." Gregor said, tapping a gloved finger against the polished wood of the desk.


    "They think they are rational, but they act on impulse, emotion, desire. Learn to see it. Read their fears, their ambitions, and you will own them before they even realize it."


    Atlas nodded, his face far too serious for a child his age. "And if they resist?"


    Gregor smirked. "Then you make them think it was their idea all along."


    He leaned forward slightly, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with something almost amused. "Influence is an art, Atlas. Not brute force. Not fear. Control."


    The memory played on. Scene after scene. Lessons upon lessons.


    Gregor teaching him how to read the smallest of gestures¡ªhow a slight twitch of the lips could betray a lie, how a clenched fist could reveal suppressed anger. How words, when wielded correctly, could be sharper than any blade.


    Atlas absorbed it all. Every lesson. Every manipulation. Every tactic.


    "And you wonder why you ended up the way you did" Masked Atlas mused, gesturing to the scene before them.


    "The man who loved you? Forgotten. The girl who called you family? Lost in a haze. But this bastard? Oh, you remember every single thing he taught you, don''t you?"


    The memory twisted. The boy at the desk became older. Atlas was no longer a child. He was 18 now.


    He sat across from Gregor, the same desk between them¡ªbut this time, it was different.


    Gregor. His mentor''s piercing blue eyes locked onto him, cold and calculating. "You''re finally ready, Atlas."


    Atlas''s heart pounded. "For what?"


    "I know where your siblings are" Gregor said smoothly, tapping his fingers against the desk.


    "I''ve always known."


    Something cold slithered down Atlas''s spine.


    Atlas felt his world tilt. "You¡­ knew?" His voice cracked.


    Gregor smirked. "Did you really think I wouldn''t? I trained you, molded you¡ªI taught you everything."


    Atlas''s hands clenched. The weight of years of training, of learning to manipulate, to deceive, to survive, all culminated in that moment.


    "Where are they?" He forced his voice to stay steady.


    Gregor''s smirk widened. "Find them yourself."


    Atlas stilled.


    Gregor tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "If you''re truly as capable as I made you, you''ll figure it out."


    And so, Atlas did. It took months of planning, deceit, and calculated murder.


    Gregor died by his hand. It was a perfect accident. The perfect murder.


    But by the time Atlas found his siblings¡­ they were dead.


    Eighteen years old. Alone. Devoid of purpose.


    "And that." Masked Atlas whispered, his voice dripping with mockery, pointing at the cheek of his dead siblings.


    "That was the moment you truly broke. You killed the only other father figure you had, thinking it would set you free."


    Masked Atlas let out a breathy laugh. "But in the end, you lost everything anyway."


    Atlas stood, silent. Numb.


    "Say it" Masked Atlas taunted. "Say you regret it. Say you wish you had never learned his lessons. Say you want to forget him."


    Atlas couldn''t. The past was who he was. And that was the true curse.


    Masked Atlas''s grin twitched.


    Then¡ª


    A fist slammed into Atlas''s face with bone-crushing force.


    He staggered, pain exploding through his jaw as he barely caught himself before collapsing. Blood dripped from his split lip. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, glaring up¡ª


    Only to see something different.


    To see Masked Atlas''s expression shift.


    The usual taunting smirk was gone, replaced by something darker. Frustration. Rage. His hands trembled at his sides, his breath coming fast, his fingers twitching¡ªlike he wanted to hit him again.


    "Why¡­" Masked Atlas''s voice was low, almost guttural. "Why won''t you just break already?!"


    Atlas panted, his ears ringing. "Because you don''t get to win."


    The world lurched violently.


    Atlas barely had a second to react before the scene around him changed again.


    He was older now¡ªtwenty.


    He sat alone in a dimly lit room, his back hunched, his arms resting limply against the desk. An empty bottle of something strong rolled across the wooden floor. The air was thick with the stench of alcohol and exhaustion. Papers were strewn across the desk¡ªdocuments, ledgers, business plans, contracts.


    But he wasn''t looking at them.


    He was staring at a knife.


    His fingers traced the handle absently, his expression void of emotion.


    The blade was clean. Sharp. Unused. Because he had tried.


    So many times. And every time, he had stopped.


    Coward.


    He had grown his business, built an empire from nothing, climbed from the depths of despair with only his mind, turned pain into strategy, survival into power¡ª


    And yet. None of it mattered.


    Not really..


    "Ahhh, this part''s my favourite!" Masked Atlas''s voice echoed in mock delight as he sauntered around the memory.


    "Atlas Fucking Faust, the brilliant, manipulative genius¡ªreduced to a miserable wreck, failing at the one thing he actually wanted to do."


    Atlas flinched.


    "So." Masked Atlas continued, voice brimming with fake sympathy


    "You did what you do best, didn''t you? You distracted yourself. You turned your pain into numbers, investments, strategies.


    His voice dropped into a whisper, curling around Atlas like smoke.


    "You became so consumed with building an empire¡­ that you forgot how to feel."


    Atlas''s hands clenched into fists. The memory twisted again.


    This time, he wasn''t alone.

 Special Chapter: War in Mind (3)

    A filthy warehouse. The air thick with the stench of damp wood, sweat, and something far worse¡ªhopelessness. A sea of slaves stood in silence, their eyes dull, their bodies unmoving. They weren''t people here. They were inventory. His younger self stood among them, expression unreadable, observing.


    Then¡ªhis gaze landed on her.


    Meyu.


    She didn''t flinch like the others. Didn''t cower. Her body was battered, starved, but her eyes? Dead.


    Atlas tilted his head, watching as his younger self scrutinized her¡ªnot as a person, but as a variable. An object. A piece in his chess board mind.


    Masked Atlas let out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking his head. "And then you did the one thing I never expected. You saved her. Why? Because of some grand moral code? Because you suddenly developed a conscience?"


    He scoffed. "Oh, please. Let''s not rewrite history."


    Atlas''s younger self wasn''t moved by pity. He was calculating.


    Measuring the weight of every soul in that room.


    Who would break? Who would serve? Who would fight?


    And yet¡ª


    He chose her.


    "Why?" Masked Atlas leaned down, sneering.


    "Why her, Atlas? Was it really kindness? Or was it because you saw yourself in her? A reflection of what you could have been? Or¡ªworse¡ªwhat you already were?"


    Atlas stared at the scene, silent. For once, he had no answer. No sarcasm. No clever retort. No joke.


    Just silence. The memory shifted.


    The warehouse doors stood open, the cold night air pouring in, a sharp contrast to the suffocating heat inside. Behind him, murmurs filled the space¡ªthe hesitant, disbelieving whispers of those who had been freed.


    Meyu stood in front of him, her posture rigid. She wasn''t trembling. Not like the others. She wasn''t crying. Just staring at him, waiting. Atlas had bought her for 5 gold. Using every bit of his wealth into freeing this broken girl.


    Atlas exhaled sharply and looked at her, really looked at her.


    She was just a kid, barely a teenager, maybe 16 at best. Battered, starving, yet standing like nothing in this world could break her if it didn''t already.


    "You''re free" he said, voice flat, as if stating the weather.


    "Go."


    Meyu blinked once, her expression blank. Then, a flicker of something¡ªconfusion.


    "...What?" her voice, hoarse from disuse, cracked slightly.


    Atlas crossed his arms, irritated that he even had to repeat himself. "You heard me. I bought you, and now I''m letting you go. Congratulations. You''re no longer property."


    Silence stretched between them. She didn''t move.


    "I don''t understand?" she finally said, her tone almost accusatory. "Why?"


    Atlas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don''t own you. I just hated the way they looked at you. You can leave, stay, stab me¡ªit''s up to you. I also just felt like it. Because I can. Did what felt right. No deeper meaning, sorry. Because I don''t particularly enjoy the concept of human ownership. Pick whichever reason that helps you sleep at night."


    Meyu''s fists clenched. "That''s not an answer!"


    "It is if you stop thinking about it. Now go along, you''re free." Atlas turned on his heel, walking away, dismissing the conversation entirely.


    But she followed.


    "Then why buy me at all?" she demanded, her voice gaining strength.


    "Oh, for fu¡ª" Atlas groaned, turning back.


    "What do you want, a receipt? A contract with the fine print? Would that satisfy you? Would it make you feel better if I said I did it out of the kindness of my heart?"


    Meyu didn''t react. She just stared. As if searching for something in him, something he wasn''t willing to show.


    Atlas clicked his tongue, exasperated. "You don''t owe me anything. You''re free. End of story. Leave."


    Meyu opened her mouth, hesitated¡ªthen closed it. She lowered her gaze, staring at the worn floorboards beneath her feet, the gears in her mind turning.


    Atlas didn''t wait to see what she chose. He walked away, vanishing into the cold, indifferent night.


    "And that was something wasn''t it. " Masked Atlas clapped his hands together, snapping Atlas back into the present


    "This was our main event, folks! What a show!" He whistled.


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    "Truly, what a touching scene! A man, so benevolent, so generous, letting a poor slave girl go, expecting nothing in return! You''re just so noble, Atlas."


    Atlas remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.


    "Except, wait¡ªhold on!" Masked Atlas gasped, feigning shock.


    "You don''t actually believe that load of crap, do you?" He leaned in, voice dropping into something sharp, almost venomous.


    "You were reading her. Studying her, just like you do with everyone else. She wasn''t some exception. She was just another equation to solve, another pattern to break."


    Atlas''s fists clenched. Wanting to say back something but knew this was the truth. This is him.


    Masked Atlas grinned wider. "Come on. You didn''t set her free because you were a good person. That''s adorable, but let''s be real¡ªyou did it because you saw something interesting. A gamble. A test. A question. ''What happens if I let her go?'' That''s what you really wanted to know, isn''t it?"


    Atlas''s breathing slowed, but the weight in his chest grew heavier.


    Masked Atlas''s voice turned into a low chuckle. "And ohhh, look at the results. She came back. She devoted herself to you. So tell me, Atlas¡ªwas she truly free in the end?"


    Atlas lifted his head, eyes burning with defiance. "She was."


    Masked Atlas froze for a split second before his grin twitched. "Oh?"


    Atlas pushed himself up, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You''re right. I read her. I studied her. I calculated every variable. And I still let her go. Not because of pity, not because of weakness¡ªbut because I wanted her to have a choice."


    Masked Atlas''s fingers twitched, his stance shifting slightly. "You¡ª"


    "I could have controlled her" Atlas continued, gaining ground.


    "Gregor taught me how. I could have broken her down, built her back up into something loyal, something useful. But I didn''t. Because for the first time in my life, I saw someone who was just as ruined as I was. And I gave her something no one ever gave me. A chance to decide for herself."


    Silence.


    Then¡ª


    A fist slammed into Atlas''s face again.


    He barely had time to react before the force drove him into the ground, the impact cracking the void beneath them. His ears rang, his head spinning, and before he could move¡ª


    Masked Atlas was on top of him. Gripping his collar, his voice was no longer mocking. No longer amused.


    It was furious.


    "Why!?" Masked Atlas snarled, his painted smile warping into something almost twisted.


    "You had the perfect opportunity. The perfect test subject. You had control. And you threw it away? After everything Gregor taught you? After everything you became? Why?!" punching him as he kept asking, each punch becoming heavier and heavier.


    Atlas coughed, blood pooling at the corner of his lips. His body ached, but his mind was clear.


    He met Masked Atlas''s burning gaze with cold certainty.


    Masked Atlas let out a breathless laugh, his grip tightening on Atlas''s collar. "You do realize, don''t you? Every hit, every word, every torment¡ªthis is all you. I''m not some external demon haunting you. I''m you, Atlas. Your deepest, most repressed thoughts. The things you wish you could forget, but can''t." He leaned in, pulling his collar upwards and bringing atlas ears closer. His voice dripping with venom.


    "You''re the one doing this to yourself. Because deep down, no matter how much you pretend otherwise¡ªyou believe you deserve it."


    Atlas''s breath hitched. But before he could say anything, the world lurched violently once more.


    Atlas was with a noble. Sitting across from a trembling noble, the very man responsible for ordering the massacre of his family.


    The man was sweating through his silks, his hands clutching a goblet of wine too tightly. His rings glinted under the chandelier light, gaudy and excessive¡ªremnants of the wealth built upon the suffering of others.


    Atlas smiled, pleasant, polite. Deceptive.


    "You seem tense, Lord Reinhardt" he said smoothly, pouring himself another glass of wine.


    "Is something wrong?"


    The noble swallowed hard. "I... I just find it difficult to believe that someone of your, ah, status wishes to invest in my business. You''re¡ª"


    "Young? Unproven? A foreigner?" Atlas arched a brow, swirling the wine in his glass.


    "All valid concerns. But I assure you, my wealth is very real. My influence, even more so."


    Reinhardt forced a chuckle, attempting to regain some composure. "Of course, of course. It''s just... unexpected."


    Atlas leaned forward slightly, the dim candlelight casting shadows across his sharp features. "The world is full of unexpected things, Lord Reinhardt. Some more pleasant than others."


    The noble shifted in his seat. "Well, if you are serious, then we can finalize the agreements."


    Atlas smiled wider. Hook, line, and sinker.


    The next scene shifted abruptly.


    Blood. So much blood.


    The lavish estate was in ruins, its marble floors stained red. Servants, guards, even the noble''s family¡ªall dead. The estate was burning in flames.


    Atlas stood amidst the carnage, rolling his wrists, calm. Unshaken.


    Meyu was beside him, silent. She didn''t question why he had asked her to accompany him. She never did. If Atlas told her they needed to be here, she followed. If he told her they needed to be killed, he would order assassins or kill them himself.


    But she wasn''t looking at the bodies. She was looking at him.


    "You got what you wanted" she said simply.


    Atlas exhaled, tilting his head slightly. "That depends. Do you think it was worth it?"


    Meyu didn''t answer. She didn''t have to.


    She had seen what he did. How he manipulated Reinhardt into handing over everything¡ªhis wealth, his assets, his power¡ªbefore silencing every last witness.


    And she never once questioned him.


    "So tell me, Atlas" Masked Atlas''s voice coiled around him like a serpent, pulling him back into the void.


    "Are you so different? You talk about giving Meyu a choice, about not being Gregor, about not controlling people. But you knew. You always knew she''d follow you to the ends of the earth."


    Atlas''s breathing was steady, his expression unreadable. "And if I am?"


    Masked Atlas let out a mocking laugh. "That''s the best part! You don''t even need me to answer. You already know the truth. You''re not different at all."


    The world lurched again, shifting violently, and suddenly, Atlas was 21.


    Meyu stood in front of him, her expression unreadable, but something dark burned in her gaze. The dim glow of the lanterns in his study flickered against the storm raging outside. She was tense, arms folded, yet her voice was steady.


    "Why don''t you order me?" she asked.


    Atlas, sitting behind his desk, barely looked up from the documents he was reviewing. "What?"


    "Why don''t you order me?" Meyu repeated, stepping closer.


    "You own me, don''t you? That''s how this works. You could tell me to serve you, to amuse you¡ªhell, you could force me into your bed like any other noble did, pleasure you and I wouldn''t have the right to resist." Her voice was sharp, but her fists trembled at her sides.


    "So why don''t you?"


    Atlas finally set his quill down, exhaling as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You''re overthinking things again."


    Meyu''s eyes narrowed. "Am I? Or are you the one pretending you don''t know what I''m talking about?"


    Atlas tilted his head, watching her carefully. She was angry. But underneath that anger¡ªthere was fear. Wounds too deep to be seen.


    "Plenty of people did that to you, didn''t they?" His voice was quiet, but the weight of his words made her flinch.


    Her nails dug into her palms. "That''s not the point. I want to know why you don''t do it. Why you don''t take what you could?"


    Atlas leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the desk. "Because it''s not who I am."


    Silence stretched between them.

 Special Chapter: War in Mind (4)

    A slow, sarcastic chuckle echoed through the void.


    The world snapped back, and Masked Atlas loomed over him, his grin twisted in disbelief.


    "Not who you are?" Masked Atlas scoffed.


    "Are you serious? After everything you''ve done, that''s the line you won''t cross? You manipulate. You deceive. You kill without hesitation. And yet¡ªthat is what you claim isn''t in your nature?"


    Atlas met his gaze without wavering. "That''s right."


    For a moment, Masked Atlas said nothing.


    Then¡ª


    Laughter. A loud, mocking, hysterical laughter that made the void tremble.


    "Oh, that''s rich!" Masked Atlas wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.


    "So let me get this straight¡ªyou''ll scam, you''ll lie, you''ll execute an entire noble bloodline without blinking, but the idea of taking what was already ''yours'' disgusts you?" He clapped his hands, shaking his head in disbelief.


    "Wow. Even I didn''t expect this level of hypocrisy."


    Atlas remained silent, his jaw tightening.


    Masked Atlas''s grin stretched wider. "Tell me then¡ªif you''re not like them, why did you run? Why did you abandon your empire and flee to the Regime of Jin? What exactly are you running from, Atlas?"


    The world lurched again, and the memory continued to unfold.


    Atlas was running.


    His vision blurred, blood trickling down from a deep cut on his forehead, staining his already tattered clothes. His lungs burned with every breath, his ribs screaming in protest, but he couldn''t-wouldn''t stop.


    Because in his arms, Meyu hung limp, unconscious.


    The forest around them was pitch black, the only light coming from the distant glow of torches carried by the bandits who had ambushed them. Atlas could still hear their voices in the distance, searching, hunting. They wanted them dead.


    His body screamed at him to collapse, to give in. He was half-dead already.


    But he forced himself forward, every step fuelled by sheer desperation.


    "You''re not dying" he muttered, his voice hoarse. His grip on Meyu tightened as he trudged through the thick mud, his legs barely responding.


    "You hear me? You''re not dying. I don''t care how stubborn you are¡ªyou''re going to survive this."


    Meyu didn''t respond. Didn''t stir.


    A flicker of panic lodged itself in Atlas''s throat, but he swallowed it down. Not now. Not yet.


    Then¡ª


    A break in the trees.


    Through the gaps, the faint outline of a dock. A ship.


    Atlas stumbled forward, his vision swimming. If he could just make it there¡ª


    "There! I see him!"


    Atlas gritted his teeth and ran.


    His legs barely functioned, his body on the verge of collapse, but the moment he reached the dock, he didn''t hesitate¡ª


    He leapt.


    His feet hit the ship''s deck just as the crew began pulling up the gangplank. The voices of the bandits roared behind him, but he didn''t turn back.


    He didn''t care where this ship was going. Didn''t care what awaited him next.


    All that mattered was that Meyu was still breathing.


    And that, for now, they had survived.


    Masked Atlas scoffed, arms crossed. "Oh, look at that. How noble of you. Running for your life, clutching onto some half-dead girl like a tragic hero."


    He let out a low chuckle. "Tell me, Atlas¡ªwas that desperation? Or guilt?"


    Atlas, still breathless from reliving the moment, said nothing.


    Masked Atlas leaned in. "Because if you had never saved her in the first place, she wouldn''t have been in that situation to begin with, would she?"


    Then he paused.


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    His grin twitched, his head tilting as if seeing Atlas for the first time. There was more to him than even he realized.


    "Oh?" Masked Atlas mused, his painted smile stretching.


    "Wait a damn second¡­ you''re becoming soft, aren''t you? If it''s Meyu, you get soft. That''s interesting."


    Atlas didn''t respond, but the way his fists clenched told Masked Atlas everything he needed to know.


    "Hahahaha! You¡ªyou absolute fool!" Masked Atlas burst into laughter, shaking his head in utter disbelief, almost couldn''t understand why


    "I mean, really? You, of all people, decided to grow a heart? What, does she remind you of a lost puppy? Is that it?"


    Atlas remained stone-faced, his breath steady. Unmoving.


    Masked Atlas sighed, dragging a gloved hand down his face.


    "I should''ve seen this coming. Maybe I have gotten rusty after all. But let''s not stop here¡ªlet''s keep this fun. After all, saving one girl? That wasn''t where it ended, was it?"


    The world lurched again.


    Masked Atlas spread his arms as if welcoming an audience. The darkness peeled away, revealing a stage. A twisted circus show. And at the center? Atlas himself¡ªfreeing slaves in Jin.


    "Ladies and gentlemen!" Masked Atlas bellowed, his voice echoing through the void.


    "Witness the benevolent merchant, the oh-so-noble schemer, saving the helpless masses!" He flourished his hand toward the scene unfolding before them.


    Atlas stood at an auction, disrupting bids, outmaneuvering slavers, and buying entire groups outright.


    Masked Atlas strolled beside him, his voice laced with mocking admiration. "Oh, the justification! The excuses! Let''s break it down, shall we?"


    A group of young boys, barely ten years old.


    "These ones? You bought them because they reminded you of yourself, didn''t they? Starving, desperate, alone. No one to save them. So you played hero. But was it really for them? Or was it for you? A chance to rewrite your own past, to create a version of yourself that had been saved instead of abandoned?"


    A teenage girl, malnourished but with fire in her eyes.


    "And her? A fighter, a survivor. You saw the defiance in her, the same defiance you wished you had at her age. Was it pity? Or were you just impressed? Did you save her because you could, or because she reminded you that not everyone breaks?"


    A crippled old man, too weak to work.


    "Ah, and this one! A true act of charity, wasn''t it? You knew he had no value. No return on investment. And yet, you freed him anyway. Tell me, Atlas¡ªwas that compassion? Or were you just proving to yourself that you weren''t completely heartless?"


    A mother clutching her child, barely able to stand.


    "Ohhh, this one''s good. A classic tragic figure! A mother willing to endure anything for her child. You saw it, and what? Felt a twinge of guilt? Did she remind you of your own two mothers, the one you couldn''t save? Or was it just convenient? A story to tell yourself at night to make you feel better?"


    A blind man, sold as worthless.


    "And what about him? A man stripped of his sight, declared useless by those who owned him. But you, oh noble one, saw potential. How poetic. Or maybe you just liked the irony¡ªhelping the blind when you yourself refuse to see the truth?"


    A group of silent women, avoiding eye contact.


    "These ones were different, weren''t they? You didn''t see fire in them. No will to fight, no hatred left. Just empty shells. And yet, you bought them too. Why? What did you see in them, Atlas? Hope? Or did you just want to believe that someone like you could still make a difference?"


    A young boy who never spoke, just watched.


    "And him. This one was interesting, wasn''t he? He never begged, never cried. Just observed. He reminded you of yourself in the worst way possible, and yet¡ªyou still freed him. Why? Did you think he was salvageable? Or were you afraid he''d turn into someone like you?"


    Masked Atlas twirled his cane, whistling. "You really went all out, didn''t you? Thirty-six souls, each one an extension of your guilt, your grief, your arrogance. But here''s the real question¡ªwas it ever really about them? Or was it always, always about you?"


    The circus stage flickered, morphing again, and suddenly they were in a forest in Jin. Off the radar.


    Atlas stood in the corner of a makeshift shelter, patching up the wounds of a former slave while others huddled together, warming themselves with the scarce supplies he had managed to obtain. Some of them whispered among themselves, wary of their new reality, while others simply watched him in silence.


    A woman, once too broken to speak, held a book in her trembling hands, trying to read for the first time. A young boy, the one who never spoke at the auction, was now teaching the others how to write. The blind man, who had been left for dead, was carefully listening to the conversations, learning names, remembering voices.


    Atlas didn''t just free them. He taught them. He gave them a future.


    "Ohhh, and now look at this!" Masked Atlas grinned wide, throwing his hands up in theatrical praise.


    "The Great Benefactor of Jin! Not content with merely saving them, you had to nurture them, didn''t you? What''s next? A heroic speech? A medal? Maybe a nice statue of yourself in the middle of the city?"


    Atlas remained silent, watching his past self move through the shelter. He had no words to refute it.


    Masked Atlas sighed, facepalming with a crazy grin "I swear, I don''t know whether to laugh or cry at you sometimes. You act like you''re some untouchable mastermind, but here you are, personally bandaging wounds, teaching the blind, playing the kind-hearted leader."


    Then, one by one, the slaves began to leave.


    The first left quietly, without a word. Then another. Some thanked him, some bowed, some simply vanished into the night, eager to start their own lives now that they were free. Atlas never stopped them.


    Days passed, and the shelter became emptier. The fire pits went cold. The books that had once been clutched so desperately were left behind, gathering dust. The blind man, the mother, the silent boy¡ªall gone.


    Until only Meyu remained.


    She stood by the dying embers of a fire, her arms crossed, watching Atlas as he silently tended to the last remnants of what once was a refuge.


    "Why?" she asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper.


    "Why did you do all this?"


    Atlas, his past self, didn''t answer at first. He continued wrapping the last roll of bandages, his expression unreadable. Then, without looking at her, he exhaled.


    "Because someone has to" he said simply.


    Meyu''s brows furrowed. "That''s not an answer."


    "It''s the only one I have."


    She studied him for a long time, eyes narrowing slightly. She had seen him lie. Deceive. Manipulate. Kill.


    But this? This was different. This was the one time he wasn''t playing a role. And that¡ªthat frustrated her more than anything.


    From the void, Masked Atlas watched, his arms crossed, his grin stretching wider. "Ohhh, now this is interesting. You didn''t do it for strategy, you didn''t do it for power¡ªyou did it because you actually gave a damn. What a tragic little contradiction you are. A fucking walking paradox."


    Atlas, watching his past self, said nothing.

 Special Chapter: War in Mind (5)

    The scene shifted violently again. Atlas subconscious state was getting used to this and unbeknownst to even himself, was finding a way to get out of this nightmare.


    Atlas was no longer by the dying fire. Instead, he was pinned to the floor, his breath shallow, his muscles rigid, his heart was racing and his body wasn''t listening to him. The dim candlelight flickered against the wooden walls of his quarters, shadows stretching like silent witnesses.


    Meyu was above him, her top half was naked. Her breast staring at Atlas. Her bottom half was still clothed, her hands gripping his collar but her body trembling¡ªnot with hesitation, but with something far more desperate. Her hands clutched his collar in a vice grip, her breath erratic, shallow, panicked. She smelled of damp silk, of cheap scented oils forced on her skin in a past life, of something desperate.


    "Stop¡ªMeyu, what the hell are you doing?!" Atlas''s voice was sharp, nearly frantic. He tried to push her off, but she clung to him, her nails biting into his skin through the fabric of his robes.


    Meyu''s eyes burned with something desperate. Something fractured. "You don''t get it!" she screamed at him, her fingers tightening around his collar. Her face becoming redder but her eyes were glassy.


    "You saved me. You own me. Isn''t this what I''m supposed to do?"


    Atlas''s breath hitched. "What? No¡ªMeyu, listen to me, you don''t have to¡ª"


    "But I do!" she snapped. Her hands¡ªsmall, trembling, too cold¡ªmoved to his waist. His body locked up as she clawed at his belt, fumbled with his robes, frantic, mechanical.


    His chest constricted. A sickness, sharp and unforgiving, churned in his gut.


    "That''s how it works, isn''t it?!" Her breathing was ragged, her entire body shaking. "


    That''s what they told me! That''s what they made me! If I don''t¡ªif I don''t give myself, if I don''t serve you, pleasure you¡ªthen what the hell am I worth?! What was the point of it all?! What was the point of me suffering for fucking years if I don''t do what I was trained for?!"


    Her voice was rising, shattering under its own weight. Her hands were shaking so violently now, it hurt just to watch.


    Atlas stilled.


    The weight of her words crushed something in his chest. The depth of her scars¡ªhow deeply they had twisted her understanding of worth¡ªbecame painfully clear.


    "Meyu" Atlas''s voice was quieter now, steadier, wanting to reassure her.


    "You are free. I didn''t save you to own you. You don''t owe me anything. You never did."


    She stared at him, her breathing uneven, her entire body shaking as if her mind was waging war against itself. Then, slowly, her grip on his collar loosened. Her fingers curled inward, then clenched against her own chest, as if trying to hold herself together.


    "Then why?" she whispered.


    "Why did you save me? Why did you¡ªwhy did you stay?"


    Atlas didn''t answer right away. Instead, he let her lean into him, his fingers running through her hair, slow and methodical.


    His voice, when it came, was quieter than ever. Gentle even.


    "I''m so sorry."


    From the void, Masked Atlas leaned against an invisible surface, watching the scene unfold, his grin less amused, more curious. "Huh. Now this? This is something new."


    Atlas, standing beside his tormentor, said nothing. Because even now, even as the memory played, he wasn''t sure how to answer.


    Masked Atlas let out a slow whistle, tilting his head as he observed Meyu and stopping the memory.


    "Well, well, well. Would you look at that? No longer some half-dead little slave, huh? She''s¡ªwhat now? 17? Either way looking better than half the princesses, queens, and concubines I''ve seen in my lifetime. And you? You never indulged. Not even once."


    Atlas''s jaw tightened, but he remained silent.


    Masked Atlas leaned in, smirking. "I mean, come on. You had the perfect excuse. She offered herself. Practically begged for it. And yet, you pushed her away. Why, Atlas? Because you''re such a saint? Or because deep down, you were afraid?"


    The world twisted again, and suddenly, the scene shifted.


    Meyu was no longer the desperate girl trying to offer herself as payment. Instead, she sat beside Atlas at a grand table, stacks of documents spread before them. The years had passed¡ªAtlas now 24, and Meyu, now 20 no longer the frail girl he had once saved.


    She was sharp now, refined. Her once-starved frame had filled out into something poised yet lethal, a beauty that rivalled queens and princesses, yet carried an edge sharper than most blades. And beside her, Atlas taught.


    "If you want to control wealth, you first have to control perception" Atlas said smoothly, tapping a ledger. "You don''t just sell a product¡ªyou sell a future, a promise, a necessity. The moment a lord believes they need you, the battle is already won."


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    Meyu leaned in, her sharp eyes absorbing everything. "And if they try to cheat us?"


    Atlas smirked. "Then you let them think they''ve won before they realize they''ve lost."


    Masked Atlas whistled from the shadows. "Oh, now this is adorable! Look at you, the proud mentor, shaping your little prot¨¦g¨¦. Turning her into another version of yourself. Isn''t that poetic?"


    Atlas ignored him, watching the scene play out.


    It wasn''t just business. Over the years, Meyu learned everything. How to read a contract the way others read lies. How to control a room with silence. How to let greed and desperation do all the work for you.


    Atlas took his lessons beyond theory. Surpassing Gregor in ways that even if Gregor was alive now, he would get outsmarted by Atlas 20 times over.


    He convinced several Jin lords to invest in him, but for the first time, he actually gave them returns¡ªnot just empty promises. He played fair, played patient, and let trust do the manipulation for him.


    His business, Ryl Trading, was no longer just a scheme. It was becoming an empire. He hired real workers, drafted legal documents, and even sent official records to the Emperor himself.


    "Ohhh, now that''s rich" Masked Atlas chuckled, twirling his cane. "So you became legitimate? You, the great scammer, decided to play by the rules? Don''t tell me¡ªyou actually started to believe in this little dream, didn''t you?"


    Atlas, standing beside him, said nothing. He didn''t know himself if he was being honest or playing a long game. Or both.


    The scene twisted once more.


    A grand hall within the Imperial Court of Jin. Gold and crimson banners adorned the towering pillars, and at the center of the vast chamber stood Atlas and Meyu, side by side, a sealed decree resting in Atlas''s hands.


    Approval from the Emperor himself.


    Meyu exhaled, staring at the document with an expression caught between disbelief and triumph.


    "We did it" she murmured, almost to herself.


    Atlas allowed himself a smirk. "Of course we did."


    They stepped out of the grand hall, the heavy doors shutting behind them, sealing their victory. As they walked down the palace steps, Meyu turned to him, her expression softer than usual.


    "How does it feel? Having something real? Something not built on lies?"


    Atlas didn''t answer immediately. He simply looked at the decree in his hands. For once, it wasn''t forged.


    It was real.


    The scene shifted again¡ªthe trading offices of Ryl Trading bustling with life.


    Workers moved efficiently, ledgers filled with profit reports, shipments departing on time, contracts negotiated fairly. The once-questionable operation of years had transformed into a powerful enterprise, one that lords, merchants, and commoners alike trusted.


    Atlas walked through the halls, employees standing straighter as he passed, not out of fear, but respect.


    "Thank you, Master Atlas!" one of the clerks called as he handed in his paperwork.


    "The warehouse team finished ahead of schedule," another reported.


    Everywhere he looked, his people worked with purpose.


    And they pledged their loyalty willingly.


    Masked Atlas let out a low chuckle, stepping beside him. "Ohhh, this is precious. Look at you. You actually care, don''t you? I mean, I get it. The Emperor''s approval? Loyal employees? A real, thriving empire?"


    He grinned. "But I have to ask¡­did you get soft?"


    Atlas exhaled, a slow, measured breath, before answering. "No. I got smart."


    Masked Atlas raised a brow, his smirk twitching. "Oh? Do enlighten me."


    Atlas gestured toward the scene before them¡ªthe bustling office, the dedicated employees, the empire he had built not through deception, but through structure and strategy.


    "Fear makes people obey. Wealth makes them listen. But trust? Trust makes them follow."


    Masked Atlas tilted his head, his painted smile unreadable. "And you think trust is something you can buy?"


    Atlas smirked. "No. But it''s something you can cultivate. Something you can manipulate just as easily as fear¡ªonly this way, they don''t even realize it."


    Masked Atlas chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were going soft. Turns out, you''re just playing the long game. Clever."


    Unbeknownst to Atlas himself, he was deceiving himself.


    He wanted to believe it was just manipulation, a long con played over years¡ªan empire built on the illusion of trust. That every life he touched, every person he saved, was nothing more than a calculated move in the grand game.


    But it wasn''t.


    He had taught them because he wanted to. Because for all his schemes, for all the silver-tongued words and twisted half-truths, he did not want to be Gregor. He wanted to be the better, the little boy who lost his family twice, he wanted to give his younger self something to proud of.


    He did not want to be the boy who once looked at the world and saw nothing but a battlefield.


    Masked Atlas'' painted smile never wavered. "Lying to yourself now, are we?"


    Atlas'' jaw clenched, but he said nothing.


    "You act like this is a game of control, but deep down, you know the truth. You don''t do this because it''s profitable. You do this because you care."


    Atlas scoffed. "Care? Now that''s a stretch."


    Masked Atlas tilted his head, amusement flickering behind those lifeless, painted eyes. "Then tell me, Atlas. Why do you remember their names?"


    Atlas'' smirk froze.


    "The child." The little girl whose hands had once trembled as she took his, not out of obedience, but out of necessity.


    "Meyu." The girl who should have been another statistic, another forgotten soul in the abyss of suffering. But instead, she was family to him.


    "Daokan." The man who had once dismissed him as just another merchant, but now looked at him with something dangerously close to trust.


    "Meilin." The one who saw him for what he was and still played the game. The one who never let him have the upper hand for long.


    Atlas inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched.


    Masked Atlas leaned in, voice soft, almost pitying. "You remember them, not because you have to¡ªbut because you want to."


    Atlas said nothing. Because even now, even as the memory played, he wasn''t sure how to answer.


    Then, the world shifted violently.


    He was no longer standing in Ryl Trading''s bustling offices. He was in the darkness of a past long buried in his memories. A memory he wanted to forget. One filled with whispers, with chains, with the scent of damp stone and desperation.


    A cell. A boy curled against the cold, bruises painting his skin, hunger gnawing at his ribs. Gregor''s laughter echoed through the stone walls, his voice sickly sweet.


    "People aren''t meant to be saved, Atlas. They''re meant to be used. You can dress it up however you like, but in the end, the strong take and the weak obey. That''s how the world works. That''s how it''s always worked."


    Atlas felt his breath tighten. The weight of iron shackles, long gone but never truly forgotten, pressed against his wrists.


    He had survived. He had escaped. And yet, somehow, Gregor''s words still clung to him like rot.


    Masked Atlas took a slow step forward, his presence suffocating. "You can build an empire, a sanctuary, a future¡ªbut at the end of the day, you''ll always be fighting ghosts."


    He leaned in, whispering.


    "Tell me, Atlas. What happens when you wake up and realize you never left that cell?"


    Atlas exhaled, steady. "Then I tear the walls down."


    For the first time, Masked Atlas hesitated.


    The void trembled, the shadows wavering as if uncertain. Atlas felt it¡ªthe moment his world shifted. The moment he shifted.


    "You¡ª" Masked Atlas began, but his words faltered. The painted smile remained, but there was something beneath it now. A flicker of something dangerously close to fear.


    Atlas took a step forward. "I''m not Gregor. I never was. And I never will be."

 Special Chapter: War in Mind Finale

    The weight in his chest lightened slightly. The shackles of the past, the voices that had haunted him, the scars that had once dictated his every move¡ª


    They weren''t gone.


    But they were no longer heavy chains.


    Masked Atlas let out a breathy laugh, but it lacked its usual amusement. "So, what now? You think acceptance will make you whole? That knowing this changes everything?"


    Atlas smirked, a mirror of his tormentor''s own expression. "No. But it means I can finally wake up."


    In the real world, Shen Xue sat beside Atlas'' unconscious body, arms crossed, watching him carefully. The others had come and gone, but she remained, unwilling to leave even as the hours stretched into days.


    Then, something shifted.


    A twitch.


    Shen Xue''s eyes narrowed. "Physician Ming!"


    The older man rushed in just as Atlas'' fingers curled slightly, his breathing deepening. The faintest flicker of movement¡ªhis eyelashes twitching.


    Shen Xue leaned closer, voice low. "Atlas¡­ wake up."


    And for the first time in weeks, his body obeyed.


    Inside his mind, the void erupted into chaos. Atlas and Masked Atlas clashed, fists colliding with sickening force. Each blow sent them spiralling through memories, shifting the battlefield with every impact.


    A punch from Atlas sent them hurtling into a dimly lit alleyway¡ªhis younger self, bloodied and bruised, stood over a merchant who had tried to cheat him. Another punch, and they were in a lavish dining hall, Atlas shaking hands with a noble while planning his inevitable downfall.


    Masked Atlas laughed through the pain, wiping blood from his lip. "Ohhh, this is fun! I have to say, I never expected you to get this bold."


    Masked Atlas snarled, swinging again. Their surroundings twisted¡ªnow a burning estate, smoke curling into the sky as screams echoed in the distance. A younger Atlas walked away from the flames without looking back.


    "Still holding onto that one, huh?" Masked Atlas mocked, dodging a strike.


    "I mean, come on, you barely even blinked back then. You sure you''re not still that guy?"


    Atlas gritted his teeth and lunged forward, tackling Masked Atlas into another memory. But Masked Atlas grinned with delight.


    A cold cell. The iron bite of shackles. Gregor''s laughter.


    Atlas hesitated.


    Masked Atlas pushing Atlas off his chest. "Ahhh, there it is. That moment. The one you never let yourself think about."


    He leaned in, voice dripping with mockery. "Tell me, Atlas¡ªif you tear the walls down, what happens when there''s nothing left to hold you together?"


    Atlas'' fist tightened. His breath was ragged. But then¡ªhe laughed. A low, bitter chuckle.


    "Then I build something new."


    And with that, he swung again.


    Masked Atlas let out a scream, not of pain, but of something raw and furious. He staggered back, then lunged forward with a strike that sent them both crashing into another memory¡ª


    Atlas stood over a grave, the cold wind biting through his coat. His father''s grave. The earth was still fresh, the funeral incense still smoldering. The air smelled of loss, of betrayal. Atlas clenched his fists as people whispered behind him, their condolences empty, their eyes calculating.


    "And what if it happens again?" Masked Atlas hissed, his voice filled with venom.


    "What if the world betrays you just like this again!?"


    Another punch sent them hurtling into a ruined home, the walls scorched, the remnants of his mother''s belongings scattered. The last place she had been before she was taken.


    "Your mother. Torn away. Used. Do you even remember her face anymore?"


    Atlas gritted his teeth, shaking off the disorientation, but Masked Atlas was relentless. Another strike, and they tumbled through the past once more¡ª


    A burning village. The bodies of his siblings lying still among the rubble.


    "Your siblings. Your blood. Dead before they ever had a chance to fight back. What did you do, Atlas? Nothing. You just survived. Like a fucking cockroach."


    Atlas'' breath came in ragged gasps, but he refused to fall. He charged forward, fist crashing into Masked Atlas'' face, but the scene shifted again¡ª


    His second mother, the woman who had cared for him when no one else did, gasping for breath as life slipped from her fingers. His hands had been stained with her blood, powerless to stop it.


    "Everyone you have ever loved has been taken from you. Every single one. And you think you''ve changed? You think the world won''t do it again!?"


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    Atlas growled, his knuckles white as he grabbed Masked Atlas by the collar, slamming him into the endless void. But Masked Atlas only laughed¡ªa harsh, mocking sound that cut deeper than any wound.


    Then, the final blow. Punching Atlas chin and dazing him while asking the most painful question of all.


    "What if Meyu dies?"


    Atlas froze.


    "What if she leaves you? What if she gets tired of your schemes, your walls, your lies? What if one day, she just vanishes¡ªlike everyone else did?"


    Atlas'' grip faltered. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.


    Masked Atlas leaned in, his painted smile stretching wide. "Tell me, Atlas¡ªcan you really handle losing her too?"


    The void cracked. The battlefield of memories blurred at the edges, distorting like ink spilled over parchment. The weight of his past pressed down on him, suffocating, unrelenting.


    But then¡ª


    A sound. Distant, but real. A whisper through the storm.


    "Atlas... wake up."


    The voice cut through the chaos. The shadows trembled.


    Masked Atlas'' grin faltered. "No, no, no¡ªyou don''t get to run away from this! You haven''t answered me! What if¡ª"


    Another voice. Stronger this time.


    "Atlas!"


    The void shattered.


    His body lurched, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat as his consciousness slammed back into reality. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed in protest, and his vision swam with disorientation.


    A month. It had been over a month.


    A candle flickered nearby, the soft glow illuminating familiar faces.


    Shen Xue was perched on the edge of her seat, eyes sharp but filled with relief.


    "Finally."


    Physician Ming exhaled, shaking his head. "A miracle. I was beginning to believe he would never wake."


    Lianhua sat closest to him, small hands curled tightly around his blanket, her wide eyes glistening with something fragile.


    Hope. Fear. A mix of both.


    Atlas'' throat was dry, his body sluggish, but he managed to rasp out a single word:


    "...Water. I want water."


    Shen Xue scoffed. "Figures that''d be the first thing you say."


    But she still reached for a cup. Then, without taking her eyes off Atlas, she called out "Xian Yue!"


    A graceful figure stepped into the room¡ªXian Yue, the leader of the servants. She bowed lightly, awaiting orders.


    "Check if my father has returned" Shen Xue instructed. "If he has, tell him Atlas is awake."


    Xian Yue nodded immediately and left without question.


    Shen Xue turned her gaze back to Atlas, studying him carefully. After over a month in a coma, he looked like a shadow of his former self. His once sharp features were gaunt, cheekbones more pronounced, his skin pale from prolonged stillness. Even his hair, usually kept in controlled disarray, was tangled and unkempt. The easy going presence he always carried had dimmed, buried beneath the weight of survival.


    Still, his eyes¡ªthe sharp, calculating gold¡ªremained the same.


    She scoffed, shaking her head. "You look like death warmed over."


    Atlas, despite the weakness weighing him down, managed a smirk but his voice still hoarsed.


    "Ah, but the important thing is¡ªI''m still warm."


    Shen Xue rolled her eyes. "Barely. You look like a half-rotten corpse who''s pretending to be alive out of sheer spite."


    Atlas let out a weak chuckle. "That is the only way to live."


    A small, hesitant voice cut through the moment. "Atlas..."


    Lianhua.


    Her tiny hands clenched the blanket, her wide eyes filled with something different now¡ªnot just fear, but recognition, trust. A sign of healing.


    Atlas turned his head toward her, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. "I''m back, kid. You didn''t think I''d leave you hanging, did you?"


    Lianhua hesitated for a moment, then, in a voice barely above a whisper, asked "Did you win?"


    Atlas blinked, caught off guard by the weight in her question. She wasn''t just asking about survival¡ªshe was asking if the fight, the pain, the suffering had meant something. If it had ended. If it ever would.


    His smirk faltered slightly, but he forced it back. "Yeah. I won."


    Her small hands tightened around the blanket as if processing his words, then, with quiet resolve, she lifted her chin.


    "My name is Lianhua."


    Something in Atlas'' chest tightened¡ªnot in pain, but in something unfamiliar, something lighter. A name. Not ''child.'' Not ''girl.'' A name she had chosen to give him.


    Before he could respond, the door slid open.


    "Lianhua!" Ren''s voice cut through the moment as he entered, eyes darting between her and Atlas.


    "I''ve been looking everywhere for you."


    Lianhua turned to Atlas, then back to Ren before offering a small, almost shy smile.


    "Ren is like a brother to me."


    Atlas arched a brow, glancing between them before sighing dramatically. "Ah, I see. So you''re already replacing me? I wake up after a month, and you''ve already found a better, younger, less devastatingly handsome mentor? How cruel."


    Shen Xue groaned. "He''s still delirious. Knock him out again."


    Atlas, still half-lucid, exhaled weakly. "Where is Meyu? And the Silver Lotus Sect?"


    Shen Xue''s expression sobered. "Meyu left weeks ago. No one could convince her to stay put. She said she had business to take care of and that you''d understand when you woke up."


    Atlas frowned slightly but said nothing.


    Ren crossed his arms. "As for the Silver Lotus Sect, they''re still holding strong. Meyu has been dealing with the mess in your absence, but from what we''ve heard, they''re managing."


    Atlas hummed, absorbing the information. His usual smirk faltered, replaced by something quieter, something almost uncertain.


    He had half expected Meyu to be here. She always was. Always lingering in the background, making a joke at his expense, keeping pace with him step for step. But now¡ªshe was gone.


    Atlas exhaled, voice softer than usual. "Figures. She always was impatient."


    Shen Xue, arms crossed, observed him for a moment before sighing. "Oh, don''t get all tragic on me. She didn''t abandon you, if that''s what you''re thinking. She left because she had to, not because she wanted to."


    Atlas chuckled weakly. "Didn''t know you were in the business of comforting people, Shen."


    Shen Xue rolled her eyes. "I''m not. I''m in the business of preventing idiots from moping themselves into an early grave."


    Ren smirked from the side. "Seems like a full-time job when it comes to you."


    Atlas groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Maybe I should''ve stayed in the coma."


    Shen Xue rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should have. Now shut up and drink your water before you pass out again."


    Physician Ming cleared his throat, stepping forward with a look of cautious intrigue. "Before you slip back into unconsciousness, Atlas, there is something you should know."


    Atlas raised a brow, weakly taking a sip of water. "This better not be a lecture."


    Ming ignored the quip. "Your body has undergone significant trauma¡ªnot just from the coma, but from something far more concerning. Your body has been absorbing Qi but the silver lining is it''s miniscule."


    Atlas scoffed. "Impossible. I don''t have Qi."


    Ming nodded. "Precisely. Which is why this is so troubling. Your body should not be able to interact with Qi at all, let alone absorb it. And yet, in your unconscious state, it has been reacting to the energy around you. Not in the way a Qi cultivator would, but in a way that is... different."


    Atlas crossed his arms. "So I''m a leech now?"


    Ming exhaled. "Not quite. More like... a vessel without a proper release. Your body takes in Qi, but it cannot channel it as others do. If this continues unchecked, the pressure could overwhelm your body entirely. Again the slightly good news is that because your body is constantly absorbing but at a miniscule rate, you shouldn''t have to worry yet."


    Atlas hummed thoughtfully, his usual humour momentarily replaced by calculation. "So, what''s the solution?"


    Ming stroked his beard. "That, I do not know yet. But if you do not learn to control this, the power you are unknowingly gathering may destroy you from the inside. We will need to study this carefully."


    Atlas sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "Fantastic. I wake up, and now I''m a ticking time bomb. Just my luck."

 The Return

    Xian Yue Rushing to the Gates


    The night air was sharp with winter''s bite, the cold cutting through her robes as Xian Yue pushed forward. Her breath curled in the wind, vanishing into the fog that clung to the mountain path. Each step was measured, light but quick, urgency pressing against her ribs like a dagger.


    She had only one task: find Master Daokan.


    Atlas had woken up. After more than a month¡ªhe had finally opened his eyes.


    A miracle. Or a warning. She wasn''t sure which.


    Her mind raced as she moved. She had spent years at Shrouded Peak Sect, a silent observer in the grand schemes of those stronger than her. She had seen warriors rise and fall, seen victories turn to ruin, seen the weight of power warp even the most steadfast. She had seen what happened when fate refused to let a man rest.


    And Atlas? He was no ordinary man.


    Xian Yue had never spoken much to him, but she had listened. Observed. He was sharp, too sharp, weaving truths into lies and lies into truths so seamlessly that even the most perceptive struggled to unravel him. But in the end, it didn''t matter how clever a man was if his body failed him.


    And his body had failed him. It had broken, cracked under forces it was never meant to endure.


    So why had he survived?


    The thought unsettled her. Some people were not meant to return.


    The towering gates of Shrouded Peak Sect loomed ahead, half-shrouded in mist. The guards stood at attention, their post unwavering despite the late hour. Before Xian Yue could call out¡ª


    She saw them. Master Daokan & his group


    They emerged from the fog like phantoms, their presence weighted by the remnants of a battle fought in the shadows.


    Master Daokan led them, his robes dark with blood¡ªnot his own, but that of Wu Long and the men who had followed him into hell. He moved with quiet purpose, the kind of stillness that only came after absolute violence.


    At his side, Yan Shuren strode forward, his usual smirk absent, replaced by something quieter. A kind of exhaustion, perhaps. Or contemplation.


    Guan Fei, the informant, said nothing. His hands were tense at his sides, his usual glibness stripped away by whatever horrors he had seen.


    And then¡ªthe woman.


    She moved like a ghost, her body present, but her soul absent. Her steps were light, hesitant¡ªlike she wasn''t sure whether she was walking forward or backward. Her hands twitched at random, curling, uncurling, reaching for something unseen. Her face was expressionless¡ªnot calm, not composed. Just¡­ empty.


    Xian Yue had seen grief before. She had seen men shattered by war, women who had lost everything, children with no home left to return to.


    But this? This was something beyond grief.


    This was a woman who had nothing left to lose.


    Xian Yue didn''t hesitate. She stepped forward, her voice carrying through the cold.


    "Master Daokan¡ªAtlas has woken up."


    The group stopped immediately. Yan Shuren let out a slow exhale, running a hand down his face.


    "That idiot actually survived?"


    Guan Fei muttered "Not sure if that''s a good thing."


    Daokan said nothing at first. His gaze lifted to the night sky, calculating, weighing.


    Then, after a long breath, he finally spoke.


    "So the world refuses to let him rest."


    Xian Yue hesitated. "Should I take that as a good thing?"


    Daokan''s eyes shifted back to her, unreadable. "It just means things are about to change."


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    He let the words settle before continuing, his tone quieter, almost thoughtful.


    "A Qi power that absorbs and returns with the same or more force¡ªbut in a body unable to regulate Qi."


    That was the truth of Atlas now.


    A paradox. A weapon without a sheath. A force of nature without control.


    Xian Yue frowned. "Then what happens now?"


    Daokan didn''t answer immediately. Instead, his attention flickered to the lifeless woman.


    She didn''t react. She just¡­ waited.


    After a long moment, Daokan turned forward, already walking. Yan Shuren fell into step beside him, his gaze sharp despite the exhaustion lining his face. Guan Fei followed, though his usual swagger was absent¡ªhis mind still lingering on the horrors they had left behind.


    Xian Yue walked a step ahead, her pace steady but urgent. "Physician Ming examined Atlas the moment he woke up," she began, keeping her tone crisp and professional.


    "His physical state is¡­ complicated."


    Daokan arched a brow but said nothing, prompting her to continue.


    "His body shows signs of prolonged atrophy, expected after a month in a coma, but what''s concerning is how his Qi¡ªor rather, his lack of it¡ªhas affected him. The energy absorption phenomenon hasn''t stopped. It''s slow, nearly imperceptible, but it''s there."


    Yan Shuren let out a low whistle. "So he''s still pulling in Qi? Even unconscious?"


    Xian Yue nodded. "Ming theorizes that his body doesn''t just take in Qi¡ªit has no choice but to. And without a natural flow of his own, it doesn''t regulate what it absorbs. That''s why he collapsed in the first place. His body was overloaded."


    Daokan hummed, contemplative. "And now?"


    Xian Yue exhaled. "He''s awake. But for how long? And at what cost?"


    The weight of her words lingered as the doors to the infirmary came into view. Daokan exhaled, his gaze distant, then finally spoke.


    "If Atlas has been absorbing Qi unknowingly for years, then his body should have adjusted¡ªslowly, subtly. But the abrupt collapse after fighting Shen Xue¡­ that suggests something changed."


    Yan Shuren, rubbing his chin, added, "Maybe it''s not just about accumulation. Maybe the fight triggered something¡ªlike forcing open a door that was barely cracked. If he''s been taking in Qi his whole life without realizing, then suddenly being flooded with it at once? No wonder he broke. More importantly, if Ming is right, his absorption is so little that even bypasses Master and my eyes?"


    He crossed his arms. "Two possibilities. One¡ªMing is right, and this is something deeply complex, a condition far beyond simple Qi imbalance, absorption and deflection. Or two¡ªMing is wrong, and this power didn''t exist before. It just manifested."


    Daokan considered this, nodding slightly. "So the question is, has this been a slow-building storm¡­ or a sudden catastrophe?"


    As they reached the door to Atlas'' room, Ren stepped forward, gripping the handle. The moment the door swung open¡ª


    Chaos awaited them.


    Shen Xue was on top of Atlas. It looked exactly like a misunderstanding.


    Yan Shuren blinked. "...Huh."


    Daokan''s expression remained unreadable for all of two seconds before he sighed, rubbing his forehead.


    "I leave him for three days, and now he''s doing things with my daughter?"


    Physician Ming, standing near the bedside, let out a long, suffering sigh.


    "Before you start jumping to conclusions¡ªAtlas rose up in a panic, disoriented from his coma. Lady Shen was trying to keep him from flailing and reopening his wounds."


    Atlas, still pinned beneath Shen Xue, groaned. "Yeah, sure. Let''s go with that."


    Shen Xue''s eye twitched. "I can make your injuries worse."


    Yan Shuren, barely holding in laughter, leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, please do."


    Shen Xue shot him a glare before turning back to Atlas, who had the audacity to smirk despite his obvious weakness. "You were thrashing like a dying fish" she said flatly.


    "I was restraining you so you wouldn''t tear your stitches."


    Atlas, still pinned, raised an eyebrow. "Is that what we''re calling it now?"


    Shen Xue exhaled sharply, pressing her forearm against his chest just enough to make her point.


    "Say that again and see what happens."


    Physician Ming cleared his throat, weary from years of dealing with stubborn warriors.


    "He was having a violent reaction to waking up after so long. His body went into shock, his muscles locked, and he almost dislocated his own shoulder. Lady Shen intervened before he did any real damage."


    Yan Shuren chuckled. "So, she saved him and now looks like she''s attacking him. Classic."


    Daokan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I did not train my daughter for years so she could wrestle a half-dead merchant in a sickbed."


    Atlas grinned up at Shen Xue. "Well, I wouldn''t call it wrestling. I''m too weak to fight back, so it''s more of a very aggressive act of care."


    Shen Xue looked like she was genuinely considering smothering him with a pillow.


    Before she could decide, a voice¡ªtoneless and distant¡ªcut through the room.


    "What¡­ is going on here?"


    All eyes turned toward the doorway, where the lifeless woman stood. Her gaze swept across the scene¡ªAtlas pinned beneath Shen Xue, Daokan rubbing his face and Yan Shuren biting back laughter¡ªwith the detached observation of someone who had long stopped expecting to understand the world around her.


    Then, with the same hollow tone, she turned her empty gaze to Daokan. "Where is the child?"


    Daokan''s expression softened¡ªjust slightly. He stepped aside, revealing Lianhua, sitting quietly by Atlas'' bedside. The little girl had been watching everything in silence, her small hands curled around the edge of Atlas'' blanket. Her dark eyes, wide but unreadable, flickered toward the woman.


    The lifeless woman studied her¡ªtaking in the thin frame, the carefully blank expression, the way her tiny shoulders remained stiff, braced for something unseen.


    After a long pause, she murmured "She looks¡­ like I did."


    Lianhua did not react. She only blinked, staring back, waiting¡ªperhaps for judgment, perhaps for something neither of them had the words to name.


    And then¡ªAtlas, in true form, shattered the moment.


    "So, uh¡­ should I be worried? Because this feels like one of those ''I adopt a kid without realizing'' situations."


    Shen Xue, finally pushing herself off him, shot him a deadpan look. "You should worry about surviving the week first."


    Yan Shuren smirked. "And here I thought you were already planning fatherhood. How responsible of you."

 Dumb Gamble

    The morning air was crisp but cold Daokan and Yan Shuren clashed in their daily sparring routine. The sound of steel meeting steel rang through the courtyard, precise and deliberate. Each strike, each step, each movement was honed from years of mastery¡ªtwo warriors sharpening themselves against each other like whetstone to blade.


    Not far from them, Ren knelt beside Lianhua, guiding her through the first forms of martial arts. The little girl watched him carefully, mirroring his movements with quiet determination. To her, Ren was not just a teacher¡ªhe was family. A steady presence in a world that had given her nothing but pain.


    "You''re doing good" Ren encouraged, adjusting her stance slightly. "But don''t be stiff. Breathe with the movement."


    Lianhua frowned, nodding as she tried again. Ren chuckled, ruffling her hair.


    "You''ll get there. It''s not about strength¡ªit''s about control."


    Shen Xue, having watched from a distance, finally stepped forward. "Here, let me show you something."


    Lianhua hesitated but nodded slowly. Shen Xue crouched down beside her, demonstrating a smoother transition between forms. Unlike Ren''s gentleness, her approach was firm, disciplined.


    Lianhua''s gaze flickered between them. She wasn''t sure what to make of Shen Xue yet. But she had seen her care for Atlas, had watched her worry over him.


    Maybe¡­ she wasn''t so bad.


    Meanwhile, in the infirmary, Xian Yue was tending to Atlas.


    "You''re still too weak to move properly" she scolded, adjusting his blankets.


    Atlas, ever the menace, grinned up at her. "I like how you assume I ever move properly."


    Physician Ming, watching from the corner, sighed. "Must you always make this difficult?"


    Atlas smirked. "It''s called building character, physician"


    Then, his expression shifted¡ªless playful, more considering. "Actually, can I talk to her?"


    Ming frowned. "Who?"


    Atlas tilted his head toward the lifeless woman. "Her."


    The woman blinked, but didn''t move. Ming hesitated before nodding, stepping back.


    Atlas studied her, his gaze sharp, assessing. "Your hands keep twitching. Not from the cold, but from habit. You were trained to hold something¡ªsomething familiar. A blade, perhaps?"


    Her fingers stilled. A flicker of recognition crossed her empty gaze, but she said nothing.


    Atlas continued, voice softer now. "And the way you step¡ªhesitant, like you''re not sure if you''re meant to move forward or wait for orders. That tells me you were always given commands, never choices."


    A long silence stretched between them.


    Then, for the first time, she spoke. "What do you want from me?"


    Atlas leaned back against his pillows, smirking just slightly. "Just a conversation."


    Ming and Xian Yue both tensed immediately. "Absolutely not."


    Atlas sighed dramatically. "Come on, I''m bedridden, in pain, and quite possibly unable to break anything expensive in this state. This is the safest I''ve ever been!"


    Xian Yue narrowed her eyes. "That''s exactly what you said before you knocked over Master Daokan''s entire shelf of medicinal herbs."


    Ming crossed his arms. "And the time before that, when you ''accidentally'' directed a stage coup in the grand hall AND paraded around like a king."


    Atlas grinned. "Alright, fine. But look at me¡ªI''m harmless! Practically an invalid!"


    After a long silence, Ming finally relented with a sigh. "Fine. Five minutes. And if I hear so much as a single crash, I''m sedating you with a punch''''


    Atlas beamed. "Physician, you wound me. Have a little faith."


    Ming grumbled as he stepped back, and Atlas turned his attention back to the woman, his expression shifting from playful to calculating. He studied her, his gaze sharp, assessing every minute detail.


    Atlas tilted his head, voice light but precise. "So, tell me¡ªwhen was the last time you made a decision that was truly your own?"


    The woman''s fingers twitched again, but her expression remained unchanged. She did not answer immediately. Instead, she stared past Atlas, as if the question itself was foreign¡ªsomething she had not considered in a long time.


    Atlas waited, patient. His sharp eyes tracked the way her breath shallowed, how her lips pressed together¡ªjust slightly. A small, almost imperceptible shift. Recognition.


    Then, at last, she spoke.


    "I never have."


    Her voice was quiet, void of weight or emotion, but the truth in it struck harder than any outburst ever could.


    Atlas exhaled, tilting his head. "Never? Not once?"


    She shook her head. "Not since I lost everything."


    Atlas studied her for a moment longer, gaze unreadable. Then he sighed, almost lazily, his voice taking on that familiar lilt¡ªcasual, sympathy, yet unnervingly sharp.


    "Lost everything, huh? Let''s see... It wasn''t just your home. If it were only that, you wouldn''t be here, standing instead of collapsing. No, you lost something deeper. Something that took your reason with it."


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    The woman''s fingers curled slightly, ever so slightly, but it was enough. There it is.


    Atlas pressed on, his tone quieter now. "You lost your family."


    The air in the room shifted. Xian Yue and Physician Ming who was listening in behind the door but said nothing.


    The woman''s breath hitched, though her expression did not change.


    Atlas'' voice softened, but the weight in it remained. "Your child."


    Her hands clenched.


    Atlas leaned back against his pillows, watching her carefully. His usual smirk was absent now. "So tell me¡­ if you''ve lost everything, then what are you waiting for?"


    A long, painful silence stretched between them.


    Atlas sighed, glancing at the ceiling. "You know, I lost everything too."


    Her gaze flickered toward him¡ªcurious but wary. She said nothing, so he continued.


    "When I was five, my family was wiped out. Not by war, not by illness¡ªbut by men in silks, men who smiled as they burned my home to the ground."


    His voice remained casual, but there was something underneath. Something raw. Sadness in his tone "My parents, my siblings¡ªgone. Just like that."


    The woman didn''t move, but something in her eyes darkened. A flicker of understanding.


    Atlas continued, his voice quieter now. "I remember the smoke. The way my sister and mom screamed for me. The way my father tried to fight back even when he was already dying. I remember how they laughed¡ªhow they said it was just business. A transaction."


    His hands curled into fists. "I was worth more to them alive. A bargaining piece. A pawn in their world of gold and contracts. So they let me live."


    A breath. Slow, measured.


    "But I wasn''t really alive, you know? I was the last thing left of a house already buried."


    The woman''s lips parted slightly. She didn''t speak, but Atlas saw it¡ªthe recognition. The mirror of loss reflected in her empty gaze.


    Atlas exhaled, forcing a smirk back onto his face. "So trust me when I say¡ªI get it. I know what it means to lose everything. To have the world take and take until you don''t even know if you''re a person anymore, or just the hollowed-out remains of someone else''s tragedy."


    The woman''s fingers twitched. She swallowed, throat working around something unspoken.


    Atlas tilted his head, voice softer now. "But here''s the thing. You''re still here. And you''re still breathing. So¡­ what are you going to do about it?"


    Silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn''t empty.


    This time, it was heavy. And for the first time, the woman truly heard the question.


    What was I going to do?


    After revealing his past, his voice shifted, lighter, almost teasing. "So that brings us here. You, me, both standing at the edge of something neither of us asked for. The difference is, I''ve decided to bet on myself. What about you?"


    She looked at him slightly, maybe the faintest of curiosity in her eyes. "Bet?"


    Atlas grinned now, sharper, more familiar. "You''re a woman with no future, yeah? Stuck in a sect where Daokan''s just waiting to see if you''ll break or if you''ll prove yourself useful."


    He tilted his head. "So why not gamble a little?"


    Her fingers twitched. "On what?"


    Atlas smirked. "On her."


    She blinked. "Who?"


    He nodded toward the small figure practicing with Ren.


    Lianhua.


    "She''s like you. Broken, lost. But she''s still here. She''s still fighting. If you can''t find a reason for yourself, why not find a reason for her?"


    He leaned forward, voice low, coaxing. "Take care of her. Teach her. And in return?"


    His smirk deepened. "You get to find out if there''s more to life than just existing."


    The woman stared at him. For the first time, she hesitated.


    Atlas pressed on, voice lilting with amusement but underpinned with something real. "High risk, high reward. You either stay a ghost, waiting for Master Daokan to kill you, or you take a chance and see if maybe, just maybe, you''re meant for something more."


    Silence. Then¡ª


    For the first time, something flickered in her dull gaze. But then, just as quickly, it dimmed. She exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "No."


    Atlas raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting.


    Her voice was quiet but firm. "She doesn''t need me. And I¡­ I have nothing to give."


    Atlas leaned back, studying her for a moment. Then, with a grin that was all mischief and sharp edges, he tilted his head.


    "Alright, then let''s make it interesting. Let''s put me in the deal."


    She frowned, confused. "You?"


    "If you''re not convinced, then let''s sweeten the pot. You help her, you teach her, you figure out if you can still find a purpose."


    He tapped his own chest. "And in return, I''ll owe you one."


    She narrowed her eyes. "Owe me what?"


    Atlas smirked. "That''s the fun part. You get to decide later. A favour, a trade, something valuable."


    He shrugged. "Or nothing at all, if you decide you don''t need it. But I think you will."


    She stared at him, uncertain. Silence stretched between them once more¡ªbut this time, it wasn''t empty. This time, she was thinking. The woman hesitated, something unreadable flickering in her hollow gaze. Then, after a long breath, she spoke¡ªher voice quieter, almost reluctant.


    "There''s no guarantee she even wants me around."


    Atlas leaned forward slightly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "No guarantees in life. But think of it this way¡ªwhat''s the worst that happens? You try, you fail, and you go back to being nothing? You''ve already been there. But if you win? If she accepts you? Then you''ve got more than you ever thought you''d have again."


    She exhaled sharply, gaze flicking toward the child outside. Lianhua was still practicing with Ren, small but determined.


    Atlas tilted his head. "And if that''s not enough¡­ let''s add another wager."


    She frowned. "Another?"


    His grin sharpened. "Your family. You lost them. But not all of them. You had a sister, didn''t you?"


    Her breath hitched. Just slightly. "How¡ª?"


    Atlas shrugged. "Call it a hunch. Or maybe just a really good read. Either way, let''s make a deal. You try. You stay. You give it a real shot. And in return, I''ll find her."


    Silence.


    A dangerous promise, reckless even by Atlas'' standards. He didn''t know if he could find the missing woman. He didn''t even know if she was alive. But he knew how to play the game, how to push just enough to make the gamble irresistible.


    Because now¡­ she had something to lose again.


    And Atlas knew he had her. All that was left was to see if she''d take the gamble.


    From just outside the room, hidden within the shadows of the hallway, Master Daokan and Yan Shuren exchanged a glance. They had been listening the entire time, silent observers to Atlas'' reckless, calculated manipulation.


    Yan Shuren exhaled, rubbing his temple. "That was the most absurd gamble I''ve ever heard."


    Daokan crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "And yet, it might be the only thing that saves her."


    Yan let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "He''s either a genius or an idiot. Probably both."


    Daokan''s gaze remained on the door. "He is lying. He has no idea if he can find her sister."


    Yan nodded. "But that''s not the point, is it? He gave her something to hope for. Something to fight for."


    A long silence stretched between them before Daokan finally sighed, turning away. "We''ll see if it''s enough."


    Just outside the infirmary, Xian Yue and Physician Ming stood pressed against the wooden door, their faces twisted in various shades of disbelief.


    The moment Atlas sealed his absurd deal, Xian Yue yanked Ming back by the sleeve, dragging him a few steps away from the door, her expression a mixture of frustration and second hand exhaustion.


    "What did we just hear?" she hissed, rubbing her forehead.


    "I thought he was just going to talk to her, not¡­ whatever that was!"


    Ming pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. "That was Atlas Ryland, being Atlas Ryland."


    Xian Yue threw her hands up. "He lied to her! He doesn''t know if he can find her sister! He just made a life-altering gamble based on pure instinct!"


    Ming exhaled, long and slow. "Yes. And she took the bait."


    Xian Yue froze, blinking. "Wait, you''re¡­ agreeing with him?"


    Ming muttered, folding his arms "I''m not agreeing but I will say that it doesn''t matter if he can actually find the sister. What matters is that he made her believe he could."


    Xian Yue stared at him. "That''s¡ª That''s¡ª That''s insane!"


    Ming sighed. "It is. But tell me this¡ªbefore Atlas opened his mouth, did she even have a reason to keep going?"


    Xian Yue opened her mouth, then closed it.


    Ming nodded, watching the door. "She wasn''t surviving. She was just¡­ waiting to be buried. Atlas? He doesn''t deal in saving people the way warriors or healers do. He deals in making people save themselves."


    Xian Yue groaned, rubbing her face. "That is the worst kind of wisdom I''ve ever heard."


    Ming smirked. "It''s effective, though."


    Xian Yue shook her head, muttering under her breath. "Daokan''s going to kill him."


    Ming chuckled. "No. Daokan''s been watching him. If anything¡­ I think Atlas just passed another test."


    They both glanced toward the door again, just as the sound of soft footsteps disappeared into the shadows of the hallway.


    They hadn''t been the only ones listening.

 A New Dawn for Silver Lotus

    The winter air was still sharp, but the worst of the season had passed. Snow clung to the rooftops of the Silver Lotus Sect, but the once-starving disciples were now well-fed, clothed, and stronger than before. Trade had stabilized the sect. Wealth had begun to flow.


    And today, it would be finalized.


    Within the grand hall, Layla and Meyu sat across from each other, tables stacked with ledgers, trade records, and financial projections. Despite the fatigue of long nights spent in discussion, both wore expressions of sharp focus.


    Meyu tapped her fingers against a stack of parchment, her usual smirk firmly in place. "You know, if someone told me months ago that a bunch of stubborn cultivators would be raking in wealth like a small merchant house, I''d have laughed in their face."


    Layla, eyes scanning a report, replied dryly "If someone told me I''d be running a sect filled with warriors and an entire economic system, I would have considered throwing myself into the river with weights tied to my feet but here we are."


    Meyu chuckled. "Oh please, you love it. The power, the control, the strategy. You''re thriving."


    Layla looked up, amusement flickering across her features. "I thrive because I plan for every possible failure. You, however, thrive on chaos."


    "And yet," Meyu said smugly, flipping through the reports, "our chaos is going to make us rich."


    Layla allowed herself a small smirk before returning to the documents. "Let''s review the revenue streams before we finalize today''s announcement."


    Meyu rolled her shoulders. "Alright, let''s break it down. First, there''s the trade from Ryl Trading. Reliable, steady flow of funds. Second, winter provisions and resource management¡ªwe cut down on waste, and now we''re self-sufficient. But the real jewel? The Silver Lotus Martial Arts Training Program."


    She leaned forward. "This is what will push us beyond just survival. We''re offering training, knowledge, and prestige. And they will pay handsomely for it."


    Layla nodded. "Go through the tiers again."


    Meyu''s grin widened. "Oh, gladly."


    The sect disciples, elders, and merchants gathered in the great hall, the atmosphere tense with anticipation. The once-struggling sect was now flourishing, and all knew the next steps would shape their future.


    Layla stood before them, posture poised, gaze sharp. "As of today, Silver Lotus Sect will officially open its doors for training. However, this will not be a free service. What we offer is skill, knowledge, and power¡ªthings that hold value."


    She paused, letting the words sink in. "To maintain structure, the training will be divided into three tiers. We have finalized this prices after long meetings."


    Meyu stepped beside her, lifting a scroll. "For those who are new to business, allow me to introduce you to money."


    A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, but Layla''s expression remained firm. "Copper, Silver, and Gold. These will define our pricing."


    Meyu unrolled the scroll dramatically. "Behold!"


    Copper Tier: 1 silver per month


    Basic self-defense, stances, discipline.


    Accessible to commoners, travelers, and young recruits.


    Silver Tier: 8 silver per month


    Advanced combat techniques, endurance, footwork.


    Designed for mercenaries, guards, and professional warriors.


    Gold Tier: 20 silver per session or 1 gold per month


    Personalized training from real sect disciples.


    Exclusive to nobles, military officers, elite fighters or anyone with that much money.


    Meyu lowered the scroll, smirking. "For those who struggle with numbers, I''ll make it simple: If you''re rich, you pay more. If you''re broke, we''ll still take your money."


    Some disciples chuckled, but Layla''s expression remained serious. "This is not simply about wealth. This is about building Silver Lotus'' name. The stronger our sect becomes, the more influence we have. If we want to survive, we cannot remain an isolated relic of the past."


    Elder Zhao Lihua, standing with Elder Jian Bo, crossed her arms. "And how do we ensure that those who pay do not use their money to exploit our teachings?"


    Layla met her gaze. "Simple. We control the system."


    Layla turned to the assembled group. "We are not selling out our techniques. We are selling training. No outsider will learn our core arts. The instructors will follow a strict curriculum, ensuring discipline and limits on what is taught."


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    She continued. "To maintain fairness, Elder Jian Bo and Elder Zhao Lihua will oversee all trade negotiations. They will ensure no noble or merchant attempts to manipulate us."


    Meyu interjected "And for security, Jiang will accompany them to make sure negotiations go¡­ smoothly."


    Jiang, who had been standing in the crowd, gave an exasperated sigh. "Babysitting merchants. Wonderful."


    Meyu grinned. "Think of it as a vacation."


    Elder Jian Bo nodded approvingly. "This is a smart move. But¡­ what of corruption? When money flows, so does greed."


    Layla''s gaze turned cold. "I have already planned for that."


    As the hall quieted, Layla folded her hands. "Silver Lotus will never become a sect of greed. To prevent that, I have created several measures."


    "The first being rotating council oversight. No single elder controls the funds. Financial records will be audited monthly by different members. If it doesn''t add up, internal investigation will be held and punishment will even be as harsh as expelling from the sect. To maintain training integrity if an instructor is caught taking bribes or showing favouritism, they will be removed immediately and banned from teaching anyone. Our instructors earn wages based on skill and time, preventing bribery and favouritism. No noble or merchant will train with the same instructor indefinitely and finally only a few nobles will be accepted at a time¡ªwe choose our clients, not the other way around.''''


    The room remained silent as her words settled.


    Bao whistled lowly. "Damn. You really thought of everything."


    Layla''s voice was calm but firm. "Power is built over time. And it is destroyed from within. I will not let that happen to Silver Lotus."


    Lin Wuye stroked his chin, nodding. "This is a wise approach. We will see it through."


    Meyu clapped her hands together. "Then it''s settled! We begin immediately."


    As the meeting adjourned, Zhao Lihua, Jian Bo, and Jiang prepared to leave for the main city.


    Meyu, overseeing the merchants, gave a final instruction. "Remember, this isn''t just about money. This is about power. Influence. The long game."


    She grinned. "So go make us rich."


    Layla watched them at records speed and hearing Zhao and Jian screaming their chest out.Silver Lotus was on the verge of something greater.


    Three days later, a messenger arrived at Silver Lotus'' gates, clad in the robes of Shrouded Peak Sect. He bowed deeply before speaking.


    "I bring word for Lady Meilin and Merchant Meyu. Atlas Ryland has awakened."


    The hall fell silent.


    Meyu shot up from her seat immediately, her chair scraping against the floor. "I need a horse. Now."


    Before she could take another step, Layla''s voice cut through the tension, sharp and measured. "No."


    Meyu whirled around, eyes blazing. "What do you mean, ''no''? Atlas is awake. I want to see him."


    Layla met her gaze, unyielding. "And what will you do when you get there? Drop everything we''ve built? Leave this entire operation half-finished just because of emotions?"


    Meyu''s fists clenched. "This isn''t about emotions! It''s Atlas. He¡ª"


    "¡ªis alive," Layla interrupted.


    "And that means he can wait. But this? This cannot. We''ve spent too much time stabilizing Silver Lotus to let it falter now. Plus Ryl Trading is our personal merchant and you leaving in a rush will set a precedent¡ªthat we abandon duty when personal ties get in the way. That is a weakness we cannot afford."


    Meyu gritted her teeth, frustration warring with reason. She knew Layla was right.


    But damn, it hurt to admit it.


    Layla''s voice softened, just slightly. "Finish what we started here. Then go to him¡ªwithout leaving behind a mess he''d have to fix. That''s the logical choice, isn''t it?"


    Meyu exhaled sharply, tension bleeding from her shoulders. "I hate you but I hate it even more that makes sense."


    Layla smirked. "I know. Now, let''s make sure when you do go, you can tell Atlas he has nothing to worry about."


    Lin Wuye sighed, shaking his head. "That''s cold, Meilin."


    Yuxe Wuye stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Meyu''s shoulder. "She only means to keep the sect stable, but I understand how you feel."


    Bao, arms crossed, nodded. "Yeah, I get the logic, but still¡ªkind of heartless."


    Before the tension could settle, the Shrouded Peak messenger cleared his throat. "There is more news. The child¡ªshe has been healing well. And she has a name now. She is now Lianhua."


    The shift in the room was immediate. Whatever frustration lingered in Meyu''s expression was momentarily replaced by relief. Lin Wuye let out a thoughtful hum, and even Layla''s hardened gaze softened at the news.


    "They took care of them both" Yuxe Wuye murmured, a small smile gracing her lips.


    Meyu sighed, running a hand through her hair, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Well¡­ at least that much is good to hear. If he''s awake, that means he''s still Atlas." She exhaled, shaking her head.


    "And knowing him, he''s probably already causing chaos."


    As dusk settled over the Silver Lotus Sect, the training grounds were alive with movement.


    Bao and Layla sparred under the watchful eye of Lin Wuye, their footwork precise, each strike met with calculated precision. Lin Wuye gave small corrections, his tone calm but firm.


    A short distance away, Yuxe Wuye and Meyu sat comfortably under a pavilion, sipping warm tea as they watched the younger generation wear themselves out.


    "You know, if she wasn''t so good at being terrifying, she''d make an excellent merchant," Meyu mused, watching Layla effortlessly evade Bao''s heavier strikes.


    Yuxe Wuye chuckled, shaking her head. "She gets that from her father. The stubbornness, though¡­ that''s all mine."


    Before Meyu could respond, Jiayi, one of Ryl Trading''s merchants, came running up to them, breathless with excitement.


    "Lady Meyu! Lady Meilin! You need to see this!"


    Meyu raised an eyebrow. "What is it now? If this is another scam attempt from a noble, I swear¡ª"


    "No! It''s something new. Something called a chalkboard¡ªand we are the first to get it!" Jiayi practically vibrated with excitement.


    "You have to see what it does!"


    Curiosity piqued, both Layla and Lin Wuye exchanged a look before following the excitable merchant into the great hall, where a massive slate board had been set up.


    The gathered disciples murmured in confusion as Jiayi picked up a piece of white chalk and effortlessly wrote across the surface. The text was clear, bold, and erasable.


    Lin Wuye''s eyes gleamed with understanding. "This¡­ could revolutionize teaching."


    Layla didn''t respond immediately. Instead, she picked up a piece of chalk, running her fingers over it thoughtfully. A slow smirk crossed her lips.


    "Oh, this is going to change everything."


    She turned to Lin Wuye. "We need to draft something. Immediately."


    Meyu, watching the excitement unfold, only laughed. "And here I thought we were done making history for the day. Where did you even get this?"


    Jiayi grinned. "Underworld market. Europe."


    Meyu''s eyes lit up with intrigue. "Oh? Now that''s interesting. Any more rumours with it?"


    Jiayi nodded eagerly. "There''s talk of a weapon¡ªa new kind, something that can pierce steel and carries the roar of heaven itself." The murmurs in the hall grew louder.


    Layla arched an eyebrow. "A sword that can do that?"


    Lin Wuye, ever the scholar, stroked his beard thoughtfully.


    If such a thing exists, it defies the craftsmanship of even the greatest blacksmiths.

 Qi = Physics?

    Shifting to the cold air and snow of Russia, Zafira enters a dimly lit study where Emery, Callum, and his students¡ªLianfei, Chen, and Feng¡ªare gathered around a massive chalkboard, furiously scribbling equations and blueprints.


    The topic? Electricity.


    The air is thick with concentration, the scratching of chalk the only sound for a moment before Callum sighs dramatically. "If I have to calculate one more energy conversion ratio, I''m defecting to a monastery."


    Emery doesn''t look up. "You''d be the first monk in history to be thrown out for excessive whining."


    Zafira crosses her arms, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Good to see you''re all hard at work. Though I assume you''ll want a break for this¡ªthe chalkboard sales are going well."


    Emery finally turns, golden eyes sharpening. "As Expected. Any interesting buyers?"


    Zafira smirks. "Two. Regime of Jin''s Imperial Court and a trading group called Ryl Trading. The latter is apparently rich enough to rival nobility."


    Emery leans back, intrigued. "A merchant house that powerful? Either they have an absurd monopoly, or they''re playing a very long game."


    Zafira shrugs, rolling her injured shoulder slightly. The bandages beneath her sleeve tightened with the motion, a subtle reminder of their last fight.


    "Wouldn''t be surprised if it''s both. We should keep an eye on them."


    Emery smirked but his eyes flicked to her arm. "How''s the shoulder?"


    She snorted. "Sore. But I''ve had worse."


    His smirk deepened, golden eyes glinting. "I broke through your ''''Qi reinforcement''''. That''s more than sore¡ªthat''s a problem."


    Zafira exhaled, but there was no real irritation in her tone. "And yet, here I am, still standing. And you''re still talking."


    Emery ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "Because it makes no sense! You cut bullets in half. You dodged shots like you saw them coming before I even fired. You shouldn''t be able to do that¡ªnot at those speeds. Not at that precision."


    Zafira smirked slightly. "It''s just training."


    Emery scoffed. "Don''t give me that. Normal training doesn''t make someone move like they''re ignoring physics. Your reaction time is inhuman. Your speed is beyond ''''Qi-enhanced'''' muscle efficiency. It''s like¡ªlike¡ª"


    "Like I was born to fight?" Zafira finished for him, tilting her head.


    "Some people are prodigies in reading. Some in math. I happen to be one in combat."


    Emery''s golden eyes narrowed. "That''s not all there is to it. Your technique isn''t just natural talent¡ªit''s structured. Refined. Borderline predictive. You fight like someone who doesn''t just react¡ªyou calculate."


    Zafira chuckled, rolling her shoulder slightly. "If you''re asking for my secret, there isn''t one. Years of training. Painful repetition. And an instinct that doesn''t hesitate. I don''t just react¡ªI read. Every muscle twitch, every shift in weight, every breath someone takes in a fight tells me what they''re going to do next."


    Zafira smirked, rolling her shoulder again, testing its limits. The dull ache was still there, but she''d fought through worse. "Alright then, genius. Since you''re so obsessed with breaking things down¡ªyour turn."


    Emery raised an eyebrow. "My turn for what?"


    Zafira gestured vaguely at her arm. "How the hell did you do it?"


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Emery tilted his head. "Do what?"


    She gave him a flat look. "Don''t play dumb, Voss. You broke through my Qi reinforcement. You actually made me bleed. Only top Qi masters or warriors at my level have ever done that. And I know for a fact that you¡ª" she jabbed a finger at his chest, "¡ªare not a Qi cultivator let alone be a warrior at my level."


    Emery''s smirk grew and gave her sarcastic tone. "Oh, you noticed?"


    Zafira scoffed. "Don''t get cocky. I want an answer."


    Emery leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. "Alright, let''s break it down, since you love tearing things apart."


    His eyes sharpened and twirling his finger into a circular motion as he began. "Let''s assume your Qi reinforcement works on a few principles: energy dispersion, kinetic absorption, and structural fortification. It doesn''t just make you stronger¡ªit prevents force from concentrating on a single point. That''s why normal attacks glance off, and why even heavy strikes don''t cause deep tissue damage. In science, I just call it your absurd physical body. You trained it so much that now most attacks doesn''t affect you"


    Zafira crossed her arms, listening. "Go on."


    Emery smirked. "But here''s the flaw¡ªall energy has a limit. You can distribute force across your body, sure, but if something hits you at a speed and concentration beyond what your ''''Qi'''' can handle in an instant, it punches through before it can spread."


    Zafira narrowed her eyes. "And that''s what the bullet did?"


    Emery nodded. "I wasn''t just shooting randomly. I calculated the angle, your movement speed, the reaction time of your force or ''''Qi''''. Then I aimed for the precise moment when your body was adjusting¡ªwhen the ''''Qi layer'''' was shifting between reinforcing and dispersing. That microsecond of instability was all I needed. Basically, the moment you stopped reinforcing your body, I took the shot. Predicting when it will"


    Zafira exhaled sharply. That was¡­ a little unsettling.


    Emery wasn''t just fighting her. He was watching, waiting, and dissecting her technique in real-time.


    "You''re saying you read my Qi like a goddamn equation?"


    Emery grinned. "You could say that."


    Zafira shook her head, a small laughter came from her mouth and her facepalming "You''re insane."


    He shrugged. "Takes one to know one."


    She rolled her eyes but couldn''t help the faint smirk tugging at her lips. "So, what¡ªyou''re saying if I want to counter you, I just have to stop moving?"


    Emery chuckled. "Sure, if you want to stand still and let me take another shot."


    Zafira snorted. "Not happening."


    Emery leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Then adapt. That''s what makes a human unstoppable. That''s why you''re still standing after all these years. You learn. You evolve. You survived this round¡ªbut next time? You might not be so lucky."


    Zafira''s smirk widened. "Oh don''t worry, Emery. Next time, I won''t bleed at all."


    Before Emery could reply, Lianfei arms crossed, her sharp gaze flicking between them. "If you two are done flirting over physics and violence, I have a question. When are the materials arriving?"


    Zafira raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. "Someone''s impatient."


    Lianfei huffed. "Excuse me for caring about efficiency. Unlike some people, I don''t enjoy wasting time."


    Emery snorted, nudging Callum. "She''s becoming like me. I''m a father."


    Callum groaned. "God help us all. First you, now her? We''re all doomed."


    Zafira rolled her eyes, shifting her weight as she crossed her arms.


    "The materials will take another ten days. Ships and horses don''t move at whatever insane speed you wish they did, Lianfei."


    Lianfei clicked her tongue, clearly dissatisfied. "Ten days? That''s slow."


    Emery raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. "Yes, because logistics across continents are just that easy, aren''t they? I really wish I could snap my fingers and summon everything here instantly."


    Lianfei ignored the sarcasm, turning back to Zafira. "What exactly are we waiting on?"


    Emery exhaled. "Copper and iron are coming from our trade routes in the western ports. Lodestone is being brought in from the northern mountains. And other components¡ªwires, insulators, precision tools¡ªare being acquired through European channels. Smuggling something as niche as this takes time, especially when we don''t want to attract too much attention."


    Lianfei''s brow furrowed, but she nodded. "And the transportation risks?"


    Callum, still lazily sprawled in his chair, raised a hand. "Bandits, weather, occasional corruption from the ports. Standard headaches. Nothing we haven''t dealt with before."


    Zafira smirked. "Unless, of course, you''d like to personally escort a shipment across frozen wastelands."


    Lianfei narrowed her eyes. "If it gets things done faster, I might consider it."


    Zafira chuckled, shaking her head. "Relax. It''s on schedule. Ten days, and we''ll have everything we need to finish the first working prototype. By we, I mean you all since I don''t know science like you."


    Emery huffed. ''''The moment it arrives, we start immediately."


    Callum sighed, rubbing his temples. "Yes, yes, because obviously, I wasn''t planning to work myself to the bone already."


    Lianfei smirked. "Glad we''re on the same page."


    Zafira watched the exchange, amusement flickering in her eyes. The chalkboard had changed everything¡ªknowledge, innovation, efficiency. And with the right minds behind it, this would only be the beginning.

 The Pieces will collide

    The grand hall of the Imperial Palace was bathed in golden light, the scent of sandalwood and ink filling the air. Shen Jinhai sat upon his throne, his expression unreadable as the court continued its usual reports¡ªtaxes, land disputes, minor border skirmishes.


    None of it interested him.


    It had been months since the Western storms began shifting. Since whispers of unnatural technology had slithered their way into his domain. First, rumours of steel-piercing weapons. Then, of underworld markets flourishing with strange new goods. And now, something tangible had finally reached his hands.


    Wei Xian, his most trusted informant, knelt before him. In the back wrapped in silk, was the object that had set the whispers aflame.


    Jinhai arched a brow. "You bring me a gift, Wei?"


    The informant smirked slightly. "Not a gift, Your Majesty. A discovery."


    With careful hands, he unveiled it¡ªa smooth black slate, its wooden frame carved with an unfamiliar seal. At its base rested a small, white fragment.


    The court murmured.


    "A board?" one official named Guangzhi scoffed.


    "You bring His Majesty a child''s plaything?"


    Wei Xian smirked. "A tool, Excellency. One that rewrites how knowledge is recorded."


    He picked up the white fragment¡ªchalk¡ªand, with a swift motion, wrote across the black surface:


    The Regime of Jin Shall Rule for Eternity.


    The script was bold, effortless. Then, in one motion, he wiped it away. Gone.


    Silence.


    The general, Zhiyuan closest to the throne leaned forward, intrigued. "Ink can be smudged. Parchment can be ruined. But this¡­ This remains clean?"


    Wei Xian nodded. "It allows for rapid planning, adjusting battle formations, perfecting strategy."


    Jinhai finally stepped down from his throne, slow and deliberate. He reached for the chalk, testing the weight of it in his hands before pressing it to the board. He drew a map¡ªsketching a rough outline of the northern borders. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he adjusted a key trade route.


    He exhaled, a smile ghosting his lips.


    "This is dangerous."


    Wei Xian bowed his head. "And already spreading."


    Jinhai turned, his golden eyes sharper than ever. "Who else has it?"


    "Only two buyers as we know. The first is a trading house known as Ryl Trading, rumoured to be operating near Shrouded Peaks."


    Jinhai''s expression remained impassive. "And the second?"


    Wei Xian hesitated just a fraction before answering. "Us."


    The court erupted. Even those who had dismissed the board moments ago now watched the Emperor with cautious eyes.


    Jinhai, however, merely ran a finger along the edge of the board, contemplative.


    "Ryl Trading¡­ and us. Interesting."


    He placed the chalk back. "Find out anything new about Ryl Trading and find who made this or trace the origins at least. If they are thinking beyond Qi, then they are thinking beyond our rule. And that¡­ makes them dangerous."


    Chunwen, the head financial advisor, stepped forward, voice measured yet sharp. "Your Majesty, if a mere trading house possesses such wealth and influence, should we not question whether they seek to challenge the authority of the throne itself?"


    A murmur rippled through the court. The idea was bold¡ªperhaps even treasonous to suggest. Yet, it could not be ignored.


    Zhiyuan, ever the pragmatist, folded his arms. "If they grow too bold, we should strike before they become a true threat."


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    Another official hesitated. "But to do so without proof risks disturbing the empire''s economic balance. They bring wealth, not war."


    Jinhai listened, his expression unreadable, as the debate swelled. For the first time in years, the empire faced an unknown force¡ªone that did not wield swords, but something far more insidious.


    His fingers tapped against the board. "Then we must decide¡ªwill we control them, or destroy them?" Jinhai''s gaze darkened, his fingers stilling against the smooth surface of the board. The court continued to debate, voices rising and falling, but he no longer heard them. His mind drifted¡ªback to a time when another force had risen, not in his empire, but far beyond its borders.


    Layla al-Zahira. The Queen of the Eternal Crescent.


    Her rise had been whispered through the halls of power, carried by merchants and emissaries like the scent of blood before a storm. He had not seen it at first¡ªno one had. A woman, ruling not by lineage but by sheer will, carving her way through the sands and forging an empire from nothing. She had wielded war, trade, and fear with equal precision, never allowing any one force to outweigh the others.


    She understood power.


    When the desert lords dismissed her as a passing shadow, she turned their own allies against them, planting seeds of doubt in their courts until their foundations crumbled.


    When the merchant clans refused to bow, she seized control of the most vital trade routes¡ªnot by war, but by something far more ruthless. She undercut their prices, collapsed their monopolies, and forced them to choose¡ªfall in line, or fade into irrelevance.


    When her own generals questioned her rule, she did not offer words. She made an example.


    Jinhai still remembered the reports.


    The General of the Eastern Tribes¡ªonce a fierce warlord, known for his brutal efficiency. He had refused to acknowledge Layla''s rule, claiming a woman could not command true warriors. He had disappeared within the week. His second-in-command took his place, swearing fealty without hesitation.


    That was Layla. She did what was necessary.


    And now, sitting in his imperial court, watching his officials argue over this Ryl Trading, Jinhai felt an unsettling familiarity creeping into his thoughts.


    This was how it had begun with her. A force unseen, a power unmeasured.


    Would she have let this go unchecked? No probably not.


    She would have controlled it. Or she would have crushed it before it became a threat.


    His fingers curled against the board.


    The echoes of the past weighed against the uncertainty of the present.


    Layla al-Zahira was dead.


    But someone else was playing her game.


    Jinhai''s voice cut through the debate like a blade.


    "Enough."


    The room fell silent. Every official, every advisor turned their eyes to him, waiting.


    His golden gaze swept across them, unreadable.


    "Send someone to Ryl Trading," he commanded.


    "A quiet presence. We will not act blindly¡ªbut we will not remain ignorant either."


    He exhaled, the decision settling like a stone in his chest.


    This was not the Eternal Crescent and I''m not Layla.


    But he had learned from her.


    And if another power was rising¡ªhe would not be caught unprepared.


    Meanwhile, in the Silver Lotus Sect, the halls were filled with a different kind of anticipation.


    Layla stood before a massive chalkboard, sleeves rolled up, eyes alight with focus. Lin Wuye stood beside her, arms crossed, watching as she refined their plans.


    The board was covered in notes¡ªplans for expansions, projected revenue streams, names of potential allies and threats. This was more than just trade; it was looking like the foundation of an empire.


    Meyu, watching from the side, whistled. "You look like a tactician scheming for war."


    Layla smirked. "That''s because I am."


    Zhu Fen, standing on his toes, squinted at the writing. "What''s all this?"


    Lin Wuye stroked his chin. "The future of Silver Lotus."


    Layla tapped a section of the board labelled Academy Development. "The chalkboard isn''t just for planning. We''ll use it for education. Ryl Trading has already started implementing new teaching structures. We''ll follow suit. Our warriors must be more than strong¡ªthey must be smart."


    Meyu grinned. "I will get more chalkboards then but a sect that teaches business, war, and martial arts? You''ll terrify everyone."


    Layla''s smile turned sharp. "Good."


    As the meeting wrapped up and the elders dispersed, Layla remained at the board, fingers trailing over the etched writing. The weight of their rapid progress pressed against her mind.


    The chalkboard wasn''t just a tool¡ªit was an advantage. A way to educate, to plan, to control.


    But as the pieces fell into place, a thought came to her, sharp and unsettling.


    She turned to Meyu, her voice low enough that only she could hear.


    "Meyu. If Atlas and your people got this chalkboard¡­ who else could have it?"


    Meyu raised an eyebrow at the sudden question but didn''t dismiss it. She leaned against the table, thinking.


    "Well, if we got it, that means it''s being traded somewhere. That means three possibilities."


    She lifted a finger. "One¡ªsomeone absurdly rich, outside of us Ryl Trading, has already gotten their hands on it. A merchant house, a private collector, maybe even a rival trading firm."


    A second finger. "Two¡ªunderground players. Smugglers, information brokers, black market boons. The kind of people who thrive on controlling knowledge rather than using it. If they have it, that means they know its worth."


    Then she held up the third finger. "And three¡ªthe worst-case scenario. The nobles. And if it reaches the right noble''s hands, then you can bet the emperor himself will want it."


    Layla''s stomach twisted. She had expected that answer. And yet, hearing it aloud made it feel real.


    She swallowed, forcing herself to remain composed. "If the emperor has it¡­"


    Meyu folded her arms. "Then he does what emperors do. He hoards knowledge. Controls who gets it, dictates who can use it. It becomes a tool of absolute authority."


    Layla''s mind spiralled through the possibilities. If Jinhai had access to this, then he wouldn''t just use it for governance. He would implement it into his military, his war strategies, his economic structure. It would allow him to centralize power in a way no emperor had done before.


    And worse¡ªhe was also a strategist like her.

 Shen Jue

    Jinhai wouldn''t just use it to strengthen himself. He would use it to weaken everyone else.


    Layla inhaled deeply, steadying herself.


    No. I have ruled under the weight of an empire before. I know how to fight men like him.


    "Then we need to ensure we''re ahead" she murmured, her fingers tightening against the edge of the board.


    Meyu tilt her head and looked with caution. "Already thinking five steps ahead, huh?"


    Layla met her gaze, steel in her voice. "We have to. Because if we''re not, then when he makes his move¡ªwe won''t be able to stop it."


    She felt a war could be happening. Layla''s grip on the chalk tightened as her mind pieced together the last fragment of the puzzle. The emperor obtaining the chalkboard was bad enough¡ªbut that wasn''t the only danger.


    Her voice was quiet, but edged with steel.


    "Meyu¡­ if the emperor has it, wouldn''t he have his own set of information brokers? And if he does, wouldn''t he already be looking into Atlas? Into Ryl Trading?"


    Meyu''s smirk faded. She wasn''t the type to be easily shaken, but this¡ªthis was a problem.


    Layla pressed on, eyes sharp. "If Jinhai even suspects that Ryl Trading is a power rivalling nobility, he won''t just watch from the shadows. He''ll send someone. And if he wants full control over the chalkboard''s origins, the smartest move would be infiltration."


    Meyu didn''t respond immediately. Instead, she turned, walking a slow, deliberate circle around the room, gears in her mind turning at full speed.


    Infiltration.


    A direct attack was unlikely¡ªJinhai wasn''t reckless. But an insider? Someone embedded into Ryl Trading, moving unnoticed until the perfect moment? That was exactly what she''d do in his position.


    Meyu exhaled sharply, her mind racing through countermeasures.


    First step: Identify weaknesses. Ryl Trading was large, but it wasn''t invincible. There were thousands of workers, merchants, and informants moving goods through the cities and into the underworld markets. A new hire, a transferred clerk, even a disguised noble could slip in if they weren''t careful.


    Second step: Secure the key personnel. If Jinhai was watching, then Atlas himself was a prime target. And since he was still in Shrouded Peaks, that meant anyone looking for him would have to go through Master Daokan first. That¡­ was both a problem and an advantage.


    Third step: Control the flow of information. If Jinhai''s informants were already moving, then Ryl Trading had to control what they wanted them to see. Smoke and mirrors.


    Meyu rolled her shoulders, her usual playful demeanour creeping back, but her eyes were sharper than ever.


    "Well, this is annoying" she finally muttered.


    "I like being the one doing the infiltrating."


    Layla didn''t smile. "What''s our move?"


    Meyu tilted her head, considering. "First, we tighten internal security. No new hires in Ryl Trading without personal vetting. Second, we feed information into the underworld markets¡ªlet them believe Ryl Trading is expanding in a different direction, somewhere harmless. Third¡­"


    She turned, flashing a grin that didn''t reach her eyes. "We set a trap."


    Layla arched an eyebrow. "A trap?"


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    Meyu smirked. "If the emperor is sending someone, we''ll make sure they find exactly what we want them to find. Let them think they''re getting close, let them get comfortable¡ªand then we find out who they are before they find out anything real about us."


    Layla considered this. It was risky, but so was doing nothing.


    She exhaled, nodding. "Make it happen."


    Meyu stretched, cracking her knuckles. "Already ahead of you."


    But even as they solidified their plans, Layla couldn''t shake the lingering dread settling in her chest.


    Because for the first time, she realized¡ªJinhai wasn''t just watching from his throne anymore.


    He was moving and if they weren''t careful, he wouldn''t just infiltrate them.


    He would consume them.


    As the sky sets and the day is about to end, the workers of Ryl Trading pack up their stuff and called over the registers to prepare for the departure.


    The caravan prepared for departure, lined with sturdy, reinforced carriages. The newly registered disciples of Silver Lotus gathered in clusters, awaiting their assignment. The variety in applicants was striking.


    There were twelve copper-tier recruits¡ªcommoners, farmers, and laborers who sought a better life or, at the very least, the ability to protect themselves. They were rough, dressed in simple clothing, eyes filled with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.


    Seven silver-tier registrants stood apart¡ªmostly young men who had previous combat experience. Mercenaries, former guards, and some wandering swordsmen looking to refine their skills. They carried themselves with confidence, some even skeptical of whether Silver Lotus could truly offer them something worth their coin.


    And then, there was one gold-tier registrant.


    Shen Jue.


    He was calm, collected, his noble robes subtly marked with embroidery only those with the right eye would recognize. Unlike the others, he had not brought an escort, nor did he speak much. He merely observed.


    As the carriages were assigned, Zhao Lihua ensured that everything was in order before stepping into the last carriage¡ªthe one Meyu usually reserved for herself.


    Inside, Jiang adjusted his seat, arms crossed as he glanced at Shen Jue. The noble sat gracefully, his hands folded in his lap, eyes surveying the carriage interior with passive interest.


    Zhao Lihua settled in, breaking the silence. "The journey will take a week. Expect rough roads and unpredictable weather."


    Shen Jue gave a polite nod. "That is fine. It gives me time to learn."


    Jiang raised an eyebrow. "Learn what?"


    The noble smiled faintly. "About Silver Lotus. I''ve heard many things. A sect reborn under new leadership, defying expectations. A place where strength and intellect both have a role."


    Jiang met his gaze, sharp. "You ask a lot of questions."


    Shen Jue chuckled. "Curiosity is hardly a crime."


    Zhao Lihua watched the exchange carefully. She could see Jiang''s unease, and she understood it¡ªthis man was too polished, too measured.


    Nobles never entered anything blindly.


    Jiang leaned back, arms crossed. "And what exactly do you want to know?"


    Shen Jue tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth. "How much of what they say is true? That Silver Lotus is changing the way sects function? That it is not merely a place for warriors, but a place where even merchants and scholars thrive?"


    Jiang studied him. "You speak as if you already know the answer."


    "Perhaps. But hearing it from someone within the sect carries more weight."


    Jiang exhaled. This journey just got a lot more complicated.


    And as the carriages rumbled forward, he had a feeling Shen Jue''s questions were only just beginning.


    The noble finally spoke. "How did Silver Lotus manage to secure Atlas of all people? And Ryl Trading¡ªan empire of its own¡ªis now your personal merchant? That''s no small feat."


    Jiang and Zhao exchanged a glance. A direct answer would be foolish.


    Jiang tilted his head, offering a lazy smirk. "Luck, perhaps. Or maybe just the right leadership."


    Shen Jue''s brows lifted slightly. "Leadership? You mean Lin Wuye?"


    Zhao Lihua''s lips curled into a knowing smile. "No. His daughter."


    That gave Shen Jue pause. "His¡­ daughter?"


    Jiang chuckled. "Surprised? You''re not the first. But she''s the one who made the deals. The one who rebuilt Silver Lotus from near ruin."


    Shen Jue studied them both, absorbing the information. "Interesting. And here I thought sects only followed strength."


    Zhao Lihua shrugged. "Strength comes in many forms."


    Shen Jue tapped a finger against his knee, considering. "Then tell me¡ªhow did you defeat the Crimson Serpent Sect? A smaller sect should have had no chance. Yet, here you are, thriving while they''re in ruins."


    Jiang exhaled through his nose. "You ask a lot of questions."


    Shen Jue met his gaze evenly. "I like knowing what I''m getting myself into."


    Zhao Lihua chuckled. "Fair enough. But let''s just say¡­ brute force wasn''t the answer."


    Jiang smirked. "The Crimson Serpent relied on strength alone. They never imagined someone would outthink them."


    Shen Jue''s eyes flickered with understanding. "So, strategy."


    Jiang nodded. "Strategy. And a leader who knew how to turn their weaknesses against them."


    Silence settled between them, the weight of unspoken truths pressing in the confined space of the carriage.


    Shen Jue finally leaned back, a slow smile curving his lips.


    Now I''m even more interested.

 A choice

    Atlas rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache settle deep into his bones. He had been careful, slipping out unnoticed¡ªor so he thought. Just as he reached the courtyard, a voice cut through the night.


    "And where do you think you''re going?"


    Atlas sighed, turning slowly to see Xian Yue and Ming standing with their arms crossed, unimpressed.


    "Ah, my ever-vigilant guardians. Fancy meeting you here" Atlas said, flashing his most disarming grin.


    Ming adjusted his sleeves. "Fancy meeting us? You mean catching you before you do something incredibly stupid. Again."


    Xian Yue squinted. "You can barely walk straight, Atlas. What exactly is the grand plan here?"


    Atlas leaned against a pillar, feigning nonchalance. "You see, I''ve grown rather fond of movement. Figured I''d test the limits of my body before it completely turns to stone."


    Ming sighed. "And you thought sneaking out at night was the best way to do that?"


    Atlas placed a hand on his chest, mockingly offended. "Sneaking out? No, no, you misunderstand. This is an experiment in self-reliance. A test of¡ª"


    "No." Xian Yue cut in.


    "Absolutely not." Ming agreed.


    Atlas groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You two really enjoy making my life difficult."


    Ming smirked. "It''s a full-time job. Now get back inside before you collapse and make it worse."


    Atlas sighed dramatically but relented, at least for now. It had been days since he first forced himself to move, to retrain his body after weeks of lying uselessly in a bed. His steps were still unsteady, his muscles still weak¡ªbut at least he could walk.


    That night, when the halls of Shrouded Peaks were silent, he sneaked out and met with Daokan as he was walking around.


    "Teach me how to release Qi freely, Master Daokan" Atlas said, his voice quieter than usual. Not arrogant, not cocky¡ªjust sincere.


    Daokan studied him, unimpressed. "I teach only those who can learn."


    Atlas smirked, rolling his stiff wrist. "Then it''s a good thing I''m a fast learner."


    But he wasn''t. Not this time.


    Daokan demonstrated how to exhale Qi, letting it disperse naturally instead of absorbing it like a sponge. He stood still, breathing in deeply, and then exhaled in a controlled release. The air around him wavered subtly, as if the very energy within him was dissolving into the world.


    "Qi is not meant to be hoarded like gold" he explained.


    "It flows, like a river. Your body, right now, is a dam with no release gate. You must learn to open it¡ªslowly, carefully."


    Atlas frowned. "And if I open it too fast?"


    "Then you''ll drown in your own power, or worse¡ªburst apart."


    Atlas grimaced but nodded. He closed his eyes and mimicked Daokan''s breathing.


    Inhale. Hold. Exhale. But instead of a smooth current, the Qi he absorb during the day clung stubbornly to his core. A faint tremor ran through his fingers. It didn''t want to leave.


    Daokan tapped his shoulder. "Don''t force it. Guide it. Use your breath to lead it outward, not expel it violently."


    Atlas tried again, focusing on the sensation. This time, a fraction of his Qi slipped away, dispersing into the cold night air. It wasn''t perfect, but it was a start.


    Atlas tried¡ªand failed. Tried again. Failed again.


    "So what, I just¡­ breathe it out?" Atlas muttered, frustrated.


    Daokan sighed. "If it were that easy, you wouldn''t need me."


    They continued for hours, and though Atlas barely made progress, he learned one thing¡ª


    It was possible. And that was enough.


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    Atlas asked with genuine curiousity ''''I never once used this Qi in my life. I didn''t even know I caused the arena in your sect to be split in half thanks to me. How come this is happening?''''


    Daokan studied Atlas for a moment before answering. "There are three possibilities."


    Atlas raised an eyebrow. "Only three? I was hoping for something dramatic, like ''You were cursed at birth'' or ''You swallowed a dragon''s pearl as a baby.''"


    Daokan ignored him. "First, it may be that your body has an unconscious affinity for Qi absorption. Not all cultivation is active¡ªsome people naturally draw in energy without ever training. If this is the case, your body has been absorbing Qi in minuscule amounts for years, accumulating it without a proper way to process or release it."


    Atlas frowned. "So I''ve been a walking Qi sponge my whole life and never noticed?"


    Daokan nodded. "That leads to the second possibility¡ªyour body adapted due to prolonged exposure. Perhaps it began as nothing more than passive accumulation, but after years of unregulated absorption, your system adjusted. That would explain why the effects were minor until now."


    Atlas tapped his fingers against his knee. "And the third?"


    Daokan''s gaze darkened. "The third possibility is that this power was dormant, only now manifesting due to external triggers. Something¡ªperhaps your battle with Shen Xue¡ªforced it to awaken violently. If that''s the case, then this is not merely an anomaly. It''s something far more dangerous."


    Atlas exhaled slowly, absorbing the information. "So I''m either a natural-born freak, an evolved freak, or an unpredictable freak."


    Yan Shuren chuckled from the side. "Pretty much."


    Atlas ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "Wonderful. Just wonderful."


    The next morning, Shen Xue dragged him to the courtyard, her grip firm and unyielding.


    "You''re moving better" she admitted, rolling her shoulders.


    "Let''s see how much."


    "You could''ve just asked, you know" Atlas muttered, rubbing his sore wrist.


    "Dragging me like a sack of rice wasn''t necessary."


    Shen Xue''s smile was all teeth. "You pissed me off. This is my revenge."


    Atlas barely had time to react before she lunged.


    She didn''t hold back¡ªnot even a little. The force behind her first strike sent shockwaves through his already battered frame. He barely twisted in time, letting the momentum carry through him rather than resisting outright.


    It was rough. His body still ached, and his Qi absorption built up faster than he could handle. But this time¡ª


    This time, he dispersed just enough.


    When she struck again, the impact travelled through him, forcing him to stumble instead of collapse. When he absorbed too much, he slammed his foot down, cracking the stone beneath them to release it in a controlled burst.


    Shen Xue narrowed her eyes. "You''re actually learning."


    Yan Shuren, watching from the side, smirked. "At least he''s not exploding anymore. That''s progress."


    Atlas exhaled, his breath unsteady but triumphant. "See? I''m a natural."


    Atlas narrowed his eyes, noticing the subtle shift in Daokan''s demeanour. The old master wasn''t easily shaken, but something about this situation clearly disturbed him. And that meant something was very, very wrong.


    Atlas exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, humour me then. If I wanted to absorb more Qi¡ªlet''s say in a life-or-death situation¡ªhow would I do it?"


    Daokan didn''t answer. But Yan Shuren did.


    "You shouldn''t."


    His voice was sharper than usual, the weight of his words immediate.


    Atlas tilted his head. "That wasn''t my question."


    Yan clicked his tongue in irritation. "Doesn''t matter. You shouldn''t even be thinking about it."


    He crossed his arms, expression dark. "You have no Qi. No natural reserves. Your body absorbs, yes, but not like a cultivator''s. We guide Qi through our meridians, train our bodies to store and refine it. You? You''re like a broken gourd with a hole in the bottom¡ªno storage, no refinement. The more you take in, the worse it''ll be when it tries to get out."


    Atlas smirked. "Sounds like a problem for future me."


    Yan''s brow twitched. "It''ll be a problem for dead you."


    Atlas chuckled but didn''t argue. He had learned when to push and when to listen. Instead, he turned his attention back to Daokan.


    The old master was still watching him, unreadable.


    "So?" Atlas pressed.


    "If I had to do it¡ªif I was in a situation where absorbing Qi was the only way to survive¡ªwhat''s the method?"


    Yan let out an exasperated sigh. "There are only a few ways, and none of them are good."


    He held up three fingers.


    "One: Direct Contact. If you touch someone who''s actively channeling Qi, your body will naturally try to absorb it. But without control, you could take in too much, too fast, and overload."


    He lowered a finger.


    "Two: Proximity. Your body already draws in Qi passively. If you were to stand in a place where Qi naturally gathers¡ªlike an ancestral ground or battlefield where cultivators fought¡ªyou''d take in more than usual. Problem is, you have no way to regulate it. You''d be gambling with your life."


    Another finger dropped.


    "Three: Forced Absorption. The most dangerous method. If you willingly allow someone to attack you with Qi, your body will instinctively try to take it in as a defense mechanism. But without a core to stabilize it, you''ll either explode or collapse from internal damage."


    Atlas hummed, nodding as if Yan had just explained the mechanics of a simple trade deal. "So basically, I''m a sponge without a bucket."


    Yan rubbed his temples. "That''s¡­ a stupid analogy, but yes."


    Atlas glanced at Daokan. "You''re awfully quiet, Master. Something on your mind?"


    Daokan finally spoke, voice slow and deliberate.


    "You misunderstand, Atlas. Your body doesn''t just take Qi. It returns it."


    Atlas stiffened. "...What?"


    Yan looked equally startled, turning sharply toward Daokan. "Master, what are you saying?"


    Daokan''s fingers twitched again, just slightly. He sighed, closing his eyes.


    "I''ve seen something like this before. Not often. And especially not in someone like you."


    His gaze flickered toward Atlas, sharp as a blade. "Qi, once absorbed, doesn''t vanish. It must go somewhere. And in your case¡­ it doesn''t stay inside you."


    Atlas processed that carefully. "So I don''t just take. I give."


    Yan inhaled sharply, realization dawning. "That would explain why he doesn''t suffer from Qi poisoning like normal cultivators would. It means he''s¡ª"


    "¡ªa conduit'''' Daokan finished.


    "A body that neither cultivates nor stores, but instead redirects."


    Atlas blinked. Then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. "Oh, now that''s interesting."

 Ambush

    Later that day, after catching his breath, Atlas stretched with a wince. "Well, this was fun. But I think I''ll be heading out now."


    Xian Yue''s head snapped toward him so fast he thought she might get whiplash. "Excuse me?"


    Ming nearly choked on his tea. "You can barely walk. Where exactly do you think you''re going?"


    Atlas flashed a grin. "Back to my kingdom, obviously. My people need me."


    Ren crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Ryl Trading is fine without you."


    Atlas scoffed. "Yeah, but I don''t trust Meyu not to have taken over half the economy by now. The last thing I need is to return and find she''s declared herself empress of commerce."


    Xian Yue sighed, rubbing her temples. "And this is a problem because¡­?"


    "Because then I''d have to stage a coup and take what is mine" Atlas said, exasperated.


    "And that sounds exhausting."


    Shen Xue scowled. "You''re injured. You need time to recover."


    Atlas shrugged. "Then I''ll recover on the way."


    Ming stared at him, deadpan. "That''s not how healing works."


    Atlas patted his shoulder. "That''s not how business works either, but here we are."


    Shen Xue muttered, "I should''ve just knocked you out again."


    Atlas grinned. "Now, now, let''s not get violent. Unless you want to carry me all the way there, I''d suggest letting me leave with dignity."


    Ren snorted. "You''ve never had dignity."


    Atlas gasped in mock offense. "And yet, you''ll all miss me when I''m gone."


    Xian Yue sighed, waving him off. "Go before I change my mind."


    Atlas grinned, already stepping toward the exit. "Finally, someone with sense!"


    Shen Xue crossed her arms. "If you pass out in a ditch, I''m not dragging you back."


    Atlas shot her a wink. "Good thing I''m rich enough to afford ditches with proper bedding."


    He found Lianhua sitting by the training grounds, watching the disciples spar. He knelt beside her.


    "You''ve been thinking, huh?"


    She nodded hesitantly, her gaze lingering on the martial artists. The sound of feet against stone and the occasional clash of weapons seemed distant to her.


    "Good. Then I''ll keep my word." His voice was softer now, stripped of the usual humour.


    "You don''t owe me anything. Your life is yours to choose."


    She hesitated for a moment. "Can I¡­ really stay?"


    Atlas smiled, a genuine, soft expression that warmed his tired face. "Yeah. And you''ll be safe here. This is your choice now, Lianhua. Nothing you do here, no step you take, will be forced."


    She looked up at him, unsure. "You''re leaving?"


    "I am" he said, glancing around the courtyard.


    "But I''ll visit. And I''ll bring you exclusive stuff every time I do."


    Shen Xue, who had been watching them from a distancem, said "She''s a child, not a customer."


    Atlas didn''t miss a beat. Ruffling Lianhua''s hair, he chuckled softly. "Could''ve fooled me."


    The girl smiled¡ªa small but real one¡ªand for the first time, Atlas felt the warmth of a genuine connection.


    Shen Xue scowled from afar, clearly not pleased with Atlas'' teasing but unwilling to interrupt.


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    "She''s still a child."


    Atlas didn''t respond to her; instead, he turned back to Lianhua, his voice soft and sincere. "I meant it. You''ll be taken care of here. But if you ever feel like leaving, making your own choices¡­ just know that the door will always be open for you."


    Her gaze flickered to the other disciples training. "What if I¡­ stay here? Can I truly belong here?"


    Atlas nodded slowly, his face soft with a hint of seriousness. "You can belong wherever you choose. And no matter what happens, this place will be safe for you. That''s a promise."


    Lianhua hesitated but nodded. "Thank you, Atlas."


    Atlas felt like he had done something right. And with that, he stood and began to leave. He had made his choice for her, and she had made hers.


    Before he departed, Atlas approached the woman who had yet to reclaim her name. She sat in the corner of the training ground, still lost in her thoughts, staring at nothing.


    He crouched in front of her, his voice gentle but firm. "You had a name once. A life. A family."


    She didn''t react.


    "You were someone''s wife. Someone''s mother. And that doesn''t just disappear."


    He hesitated, unsure if it would even matter, but said the words anyway. "Your name is Elena."


    She blinked.


    Atlas straightened up. "That''s your name now. Elena."


    He repeated the name with a soft finality. "You were capable of love. Of care. And you can find that again. Maybe not now, but someday. Through Lianhua."


    The faintest flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes, though she still didn''t respond.


    "Don''t forget it" he added, his voice quieter.


    Daokan reminds her of his promise to her as well ''''I will bear the sin of ending your life."


    Atlas sighed, rubbing his neck. "Morbid as hell. But he''s right."


    "Elena."


    She blinked again and looked up to Atlas.


    Atlas exhaled. "That''s your name now. Close to my mother''s.''''


    For the first time, something flickered in her empty eyes unknown to what it is but perhaps hope.


    The sect watched as Atlas left, his steps still slow but determined.


    Daokan, arms crossed, murmured, "That boy is going to be a nightmare for the world."


    Yan Shuren smirked. "And I look forward to it."


    Atlas stretched, ignoring the lingering pain.


    Alright, Meyu. Let''s see how much you''ve scammed while I was gone.


    The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a long, red-orange hue across the road leading back to the main city. Atlas'' steps were slow, the ache in his body unmistakable, but he refused to let it show. Every step forward was one of defiance¡ªagainst his own limitations, against the pain, against everything that tried to keep him down.


    As he adjusted the coat that hung awkwardly over his bandaged frame, he couldn''t help but feel a moment of calm. This is the road to freedom, he thought. He had made his choices, and they were his to bear.


    But just as the city walls came into view, a low voice broke the silence.


    "Look at this, a bandaged up fool trying to wander through our turf."


    Atlas stopped, eyes narrowing. He heard the sound of boots scraping against the dirt¡ªfamiliar, but unsettling. When he turned, his gaze fell on a group of men who had emerged from the shadows, blocking the road ahead.


    At first glance, they appeared to be low-tier thugs¡ªunrefined, armed with crude weapons, and dripping with smug confidence. There were five of them, but their arrogance made it seem like dozens. Atlas'' eyes narrowed, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and defiance. His body was still recovering¡ªtoo weak to fight but thanks to training with Master Daokan, he can feel his body absorbing Qi in miniscule levels. He weigh the options to tried sweettalk his way out but he had no choice. This wasn''t a fight he could avoid.


    One of them, the apparent leader, grinned. "You should have stayed at home, man. You look like you''ve seen better days" the leader taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.


    "Hand over everything you have. We''ll be merciful. Maybe we''ll even let you keep your other leg intact."


    Atlas'' eyes gleamed with unspoken amusement. The pain was still there, a dull throb, but it was nothing compared to the challenge of dealing with amateurs like this.


    The group of thugs in front of him seemed sure of their victory. Their leader, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, smirked as he raised his rusted sword, swinging it in a slow arc, clearly enjoying the way Atlas wavered on his feet.


    Atlas barely registered the leader''s words, his focus instead on how his body refused to respond the way he wanted. He was too weak, still too broken. His legs trembled beneath him, barely holding him up. His arms were sluggish, his coordination off.


    "Really?" Atlas murmured, flashing a grin that was more out of habit than confidence.


    "You think I''d be an easy mark?"


    The leader sneered. "Not even a question. Look at you¡ªjust barely standing. This''ll be too easy."


    In truth, Atlas was terrified. His body ached from head to toe, and the recent strain of attempting to control his Qi left him feeling like his insides were being torn apart. His heart hammered in his chest. He was in pain, he was weak, and he had no idea how to fight at this moment.


    But something deep inside him stirred. Panic. There''s no negotiating back, no sweettalking, their bloodlust was actually overwhelming.


    Absorb. Redirect. he told himself remembering Master Daokan teaching


    His body had been absorbing Qi all this time. The flow was chaotic, uncontrollable¡ªbut it could work. It had to. It was basically do or die.


    The sword came down, aiming straight for his chest.


    Instinct kicked in. Atlas barely twisted his body, feeling the strike land just off-center. He sucked in a sharp breath as pain flared through his side. The sword was heavy, blunt, and rusty¡ªbut the power behind it still rattled his bones.


    His body moved of its own accord, the energy swirling around him. Without thinking, Atlas redirected the absorbed Qi in a burst. He didn''t fully control it. The result wasn''t pretty. It was crude, desperate. The thug''s body jerked backward as if struck by an invisible force. He staggered, and his eyes widened in disbelief. But before he could react, he fell to the ground, twitching violently.


    Atlas stumbled back, his chest heaving. He was trembling, drenched in sweat. His head spun.


    The rest of the thugs froze, momentarily stunned by the sight of their comrade writhing on the ground. The leader''s sneer faltered.


    "You¡ªwhat the hell did you just do?!" the leader demanded, eyes narrowing in fury.

 Survive Atlas (1)

    Atlas didn''t have the energy to respond. His body was on the verge of shutting down, his absorption was ramping up and crashing his system. His limbs felt like lead, and his head was heavy with exhaustion. But he still had enough sense to focus on the remaining thugs albeit through sheer will. He had to keep fighting.


    He force his body to reached for more Qi using Yan''s warning as guideline trying to absorb it faster.


    "Two: Proximity. Your body already draws in Qi passively. If you were to stand in a place where Qi naturally gathers¡ªlike an ancestral ground or battlefield where cultivators fought¡ªyou''d take in more than usual. Problem is, you have no way to regulate it. You''d be gambling with your life."


    His body screamed in protest, but he pressed on. Another swing of the leader''s sword came at him, this time faster. Atlas twisted, his hands moving to intercept.


    Redirect.


    But the force was too much. His body wasn''t ready. The Qi was too unstable. The moment he tried to redirect it, his body jerked, and the world spun.


    The leader''s sword struck him in the side, a sharp pain exploding along his ribs. Atlas cried out in pain, but his hands shot forward instinctively.


    Absorb. Release.


    This time, it worked differently.


    The Qi he had gathered surged through him, blasting outward in a jagged, unrefined wave. The impact knocked the leader off his feet, sending him sprawling backward into a thick tree. He didn''t get up. His head bleeding and his body was spasming. Signifying he was dying.


    The other thugs backed away slowly, their faces pale. They could see it now¡ªthe change in Atlas. He wasn''t some weak, injured man. He was something else. Something dangerous.


    Atlas gasped for breath, clutching his side where the sword had struck. His vision blurred, and his legs threatened to give way beneath him.


    What the hell have I become?


    The world around him spun as he struggled to maintain control. He was breaking¡ªboth physically and mentally. But he couldn''t let them see that. Not yet.


    As the remaining thugs hesitated, unsure whether to press on or flee, Atlas forced himself to stand taller, despite the agony in his body.


    "You don''t even know what you''re messing with" Atlas muttered, eyes flickering over the remaining thugs, who stood frozen in terror.


    "You think this is your victory, huh? Come on, let''s run it"


    One of the smaller thugs, his face white with fear, took a hesitant step back. "I''m not dying for this."


    Atlas'' lips curled into a twisted smirk, though it was strained by the pain. "Smart choice. Run. Maybe you''ll get to live to see another day."


    As they turned to flee, Atlas chuckled darkly, the sound weak but edged with something else.


    "Yeah, you better run! Can''t fight something you don''t understand."


    He tried to push himself up, but his hands trembled, and his body barely responded. His legs were uncooperative, like they had turned to stone beneath him.


    "You''ll regret this!" Atlas called after them, his voice strained and hoarse.


    "Not because you fought me, but because you didn''t finish the job!"


    The remaining thugs, hearing the unshakable confidence in his voice, hesitated, looking over their shoulders with fear evident on their faces. But they ran. All of them.


    Atlas stood alone in the middle of the street, his breath ragged. He didn''t know what to think. His body was barely functioning, the Qi in his body was out of control, and the pain was unbearable. But for a moment, he had felt it¡ªthe power. And it had scared him more than anything else.


    The last of the thugs disappeared into the shadows, and Atlas slowly sank to his knees. His breathing was shallow, labored, and every fiber of his body screamed for him to stop. He hadn''t won¡ªhe had barely survived.


    His side throbbed, and he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. His vision was blurred, but the thought remained sharp.


    He had killed one of them. That much was certain. But he didn''t know if he could keep this up. Every moment that passed, he was more aware of the fragile line he was walking. The power in him wasn''t a blessing; it was a curse, a force he had no hope of controlling.


    I can''t keep walking like this.


    But he had no choice, did he? This was the path he was on now, and there was no turning back.


    Blood seeped through his bandages, the warmth of it sticky against his skin. His side burned, a white-hot flare of agony that shot through him with every shallow breath he took. His vision spun, black spots flickering at the edge of his consciousness.


    This... this is too much. I just got better from a coma and now I got ambused!? What sick fucking joke is this God? I''m hurt beyond belief.


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    His hands shook violently as he tried to push the absorbed Qi back out. It was a desperate, uncontrolled surge that he couldn''t contain. He felt it rip through him¡ªcoursing through his veins like electricity, tearing through his body, and leaving a trail of damage in its wake.


    His muscles seized, cramping painfully in protest as his system tried to cope with the overwhelming influx of energy. His heart raced faster, each beat like a hammer driving against his chest. The pressure in his skull was unbearable.


    I''m losing it. The thought flashed through his mind.


    I''m losing myself. This power... it''s too much.


    Atlas pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily. His body screamed in protest, but he didn''t listen. The city walls were in sight, and there was no way in hell he was going to let this night end with him crawling back to the sect like a beaten dog.


    Atlas pushed himself up, his hands shaking violently. His body screamed for him to stop, to give in to the darkness pressing at the edges of his consciousness. The pain in his side flared up with each step, blood staining the bandages wrapped around his torso, but he couldn''t stop. Not yet.


    I can''t... I can''t stop now. I''m so close¡­


    His legs were like lead, uncooperative and trembling beneath him. Every step felt like a thousand knives cutting through his muscles, and yet, he forced his feet to move. He had to make it to the city. He had to get back to Ryl Trading. To Meyu.


    They need me. I promised I would be there. And if I stop now...


    His vision blurred again, and he staggered. The world seemed to tilt, spinning out of control. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the grime and blood, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Every fiber of his being was on fire from the effort of just moving. The Qi inside him, still wild and uncontrolled, surged again, sending jolts of energy through his body¡ªpainful, brutal, but somehow... necessary.


    I don''t even know what I''m doing. I don''t understand this power. It''s breaking me, piece by piece.


    The city gates loomed ahead, a dark silhouette in the distance. He could see it, feel it, but it was so far away. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse from exhaustion before he even reached the city walls.


    Just a little further. Just... a little more..


    His hand brushed against the rough stone of a building as he used it for support. The city was so close, yet so far away. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees. He couldn''t do it. His mind was too fogged, his body was too weak, and the pain was too much to bear. The overwhelming pressure in his skull made it feel like it would implode. His side was bleeding freely, staining his clothes and pooling beneath him.


    Is this it? Am I really going to die here... like this?


    The thought stung like an open wound. Atlas, the man who had survived countless battles, lied to kings and nobles, who built an empire, was now broken. He had nothing left. Nothing but his will¡ªand even that was fading fast.


    No. I won''t die here. Not like this. Not after everything I''ve done.


    He forced himself up again, only to collapse onto the cobblestone streets, his vision darkening at the edges. His body was failing him. His mind was shattering. But he could still feel it¡ªthe faintest pulse of power, of Qi. It was almost like it was calling to him, urging him to take more, to embrace it fully.


    But he was terrified. Terrified of what would happen if he absorbed more. What if he exploded? What if the Qi tore him apart?


    No. I can''t. I can''t risk it...


    But the more he resisted, the more the body absorbed Qi. It surged within him. His skin crawled with the overwhelming sensation of power rushing through his veins, and it felt like it might tear him apart at any moment.


    This is it... I''m so sorry Meyu..


    His thoughts became muddled, his breaths shallow, and his body went limp. He had no strength left to fight it. He could barely lift his hand to stop himself from falling forward. His face hit the ground with a thud, his body trembling and blood seeping from the open wound in his side.


    As the world around him faded, the last thing he saw was a shadow approaching, and a voice that seemed too far away to reach him.


    Seeing Atlas in such a state was unsettling. But the worker didn''t hesitate, pulling Atlas up into a stable position. ''Don''t worry, Boss. I''m not letting you rot in a gutter.


    "Boss? You out here?" A voice broke through the fog in Atlas'' mind.


    He barely registered it. His vision was clouded, his head swimming, but the voice had a strange familiarity to it. It was rough, but it wasn''t threatening. Just concerned.


    "Master Atlas?"


    The figure knelt beside him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently while trying to heal him.


    "Master, wake up, damn it!"


    Through the haze, Atlas'' blurry eyes finally focused on the figure standing over him. A woman, her features sharp but with a look of concern that was hard to miss. She had short, dark hair tied back into a practical ponytail, and her clothes were simple but well-worn. The scent of dust and travel clung to her.


    "Don''t die on me, you idiot" she muttered, her tone harsh but with an undercurrent of... affection?


    "Eh?" Atlas rasped, barely able to form words. His body felt like it was falling apart, and his mind was struggling to catch up with the present.


    "Goddamn it" she muttered, her eyes scanning him quickly.


    "I thought we were going to lose you for sure."


    Atlas tried to lift his head but failed, his body refusing to cooperate.


    "Who¡ª" He tried to speak but couldn''t find his voice, the words caught in his throat.


    "Don''t worry about it."


    The woman pressed something cool against his head. "I''m here. You''re gonna be fine. Just hang in there."


    Atlas'' vision wavered, and he groaned in pain as the world tilted again.


    But despite everything, he managed to crack a tired grin. "Take me to the sect where Meyu is."


    She sighed, desperate in keeping him alive with what little healing she knew. "You''re not in any condition to be giving orders, Master. I''m just trying to keep you alive. Ryl Trading won''t let their biggest asset die in the street."


    "Asset... huh?" Atlas chuckled weakly. "I''m not your... asset."


    "Shut up" she shot back with a grin of her own. "You''re bleeding profusely and I''m barely holding your body from becoming some fountain blood. You''re definitely an asset. Now, stay still. Let me patch you up."


    The worker, whose name Atlas couldn''t even remember in his exhausted state, stood up and quickly got to work. She wasn''t gentle, but there was a focused precision to her movements, like she had done this a hundred times before. As she moved, Atlas tried to focus on her, on her words, on anything to keep himself awake.


    Why... why is she helping me?


    Because even in his weakened state, Atlas could feel it. The loyalty in her actions, in the way she tended to him with an efficiency that suggested she had been following him for a long time. Ryl Trading might have seen him as an asset, but Atlas knew better than to believe that was the only reason this woman was looking after him.


    She cares, in her own way.


    He hated the thought. He hated the vulnerability that came with it, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.


    "You don''t have to do this" he whispered, voice barely audible.


    The woman paused in her ministrations and shot him a look. "You think you''re the only one with a purpose in this world?" she asked, voice low but steady.


    "You saved my family once. You think I''d let you die on some random street? That''s not how this works."


    He didn''t have an answer for that. The truth was too complicated to put into words. Instead, he just nodded slowly, feeling his body relax as she wrapped his wounds and steadied him.


    "Don''t think this means you owe us" she muttered, brushing her hands off.


    "But you''re our saviour. So let''s get you back on your feet."

 Survive Atlas (2)

    Two days passed, and the streets of the main city became a blur for the Ryl Trading worker who had spent every waking moment in a frantic effort to keep Atlas alive. Her horse was a beast of endurance, but even it was nearly spent, its hooves pounding the cobblestones, dragging along the weight of Atlas, barely conscious, slumped over his saddle.


    The worker¡ªWei Lin¡ªwas barely hanging on herself. She had ridden non-stop, day and night, through every kind of terrain. Her body was covered in cuts and bruises, but her focus was singular¡ªget Atlas to the Silver Lotus Sect. Everytime they stop, he repatched Atlas, healed him the best she could and used herbs whenever necessary. Her mind buzzed with urgency, thoughts of what would happen if she failed. But she didn''t allow herself to falter.


    He can''t die.


    Her breath came in ragged gasps as she steered the horse into the courtyard of the Silver Lotus Sect. She''d barely noticed the blur of the city until now. She could see the familiar gates of the sect ahead. The horse''s hooves clattered louder against the stone pathway as she whipped the reins harder, urging it forward. A shout from a guard broke through her focus, but she didn''t slow. Not now. Not when she was this close.


    When she reached the main doors of the hall, she tumbled off the horse, staggering as the world spun around her. Blood, exhaustion, and worry were etched on her face as she struggled to keep herself upright.


    "Master....Atlas..." she gasped.


    The door swung open just as she collapsed forward, barely catching herself. Inside, the silver lotus disciples were gathering, and Meyu¡ªhaving been in a meeting with Lin Wuye and Yuxe Wuye¡ªwhipped her head around to see the worker standing there, holding Atlas in her arms.


    A sharp breath escaped Meyu. "What happened?!"


    Meyu rushed forward, her eyes wide with fear. The sight of Atlas, nearly lifeless, broken, and bleeding, sent a wave of panic crashing over her. Her hands trembled as she gently cupped his face, eyes searching for any sign of life.


    "No! No, no, no¡ªwhat happened to him?" Meyu choked out, her voice quivering as she gazed at the worker. "How... how did this happen?!"


    Wei Lin took a few staggered steps forward, her face pale and exhausted. Her body shook with fatigue, but her words were steady, though strained. "I... I kept him alive. I did everything I could. He was... he was barely conscious. We rode for two days straight... I didn''t think I''d make it... but I couldn''t... I couldn''t leave him. He''s... alive. For now."


    Meyu fell silent, her heart sinking as her eyes flicked between Atlas'' pale form and the worker''s exhausted face. She wanted to shout, to scream at the injustice of it all, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sob. She quickly wiped away the tears, trying to hold herself together. She wasn''t going to lose him.


    "Atlas!" Meyu shouted, her voice breaking.


    Lin Wuye and Yuxe Wuye, who had been standing at the back, immediately stepped forward. Lin Wuye''s usual calm demeanour was gone, replaced by a deep, unsettling urgency. He gestured for two disciples to bring Atlas to the closest room, often used for emergencies.


    "Move him" he ordered firmly, his voice low and commanding.


    "We need to stabilize him before it''s too late."


    Yuxe Wuye moved next to her husband, taking charge. Her hands were soft but firm as she helped Lin Wuye, supporting Atlas'' body with him. Her gaze was grim as she directed the disciples.


    Meyu stood there, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched them carry him away. Her hands clenched into fists, and she couldn''t stop the fear from washing over her.


    I was supposed to protect him. I should''ve stay there for him.


    Why had he pushed himself so hard? Why hadn''t he just rested? He was still recovering from the Qi overload.


    This was her fault too, for not being there for him. She couldn''t just stand here.


    "Please..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, don''t let him die."


    The moment the door to the healing chamber burst open, Layla rushed in, her expression a mix of worry and urgency. Her gaze instantly fell on Atlas, and her heart clenched.


    "Father, what''s happening to him?" Layla demanded, moving quickly toward her father.


    Lin Wuye, his brow furrowed in concentration, glanced up at her, his voice calm but strained. "He''s pushed himself too far, Meilin. His Qi is too unstable. I''m managing to keep him alive for now, but it''s not enough."


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    Layla''s eyes flickered to her father''s hands, glowing faintly as they hovered over Atlas'' chest, trying to calm the wild Qi inside him. She moved to the other side of the table, kneeling beside him, her voice soft but filled with panic.


    "We need to stabilize him. Now."


    Yuxe Wuye stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He''s right, Meilin. His Qi is erratic. We need to release it back before it consumes him entirely."


    Layla nodded, a grim determination settling in. She had to do something¡ªanything. Her fingers hovered over Atlas'' chest for a moment, unsure of what to do, before she gently pressed them down. A soft hum of energy began to flow between them, a quiet pulse of Qi that helped stabilize the internal turbulence just enough for a momentary calm.


    Her heart raced as she felt his body¡ªso fragile, so broken.


    The weight of it hit her hard, but she fought to keep control. "We can''t lose him" she whispered to herself, before turning to her parents.


    "We can''t."


    Yuxe Wuye''s voice was calm, but there was an undeniable edge of concern. "Meilin, focus. Channel your Qi¡ªlet it flow with his, not against. We need to support him, but we cannot take control of his body. He''ll suffocate under that much pressure."


    Meilin''s mind raced. She could feel it¡ªthe strain, the uncertainty. She wasn''t sure if she could handle the weight of this responsibility. But there was no choice now. She was all he had.


    Her father desperately trying to keep him alive while she has to release the Qi inside atlas.


    As her hands gently moved along Atlas'' side, she guided her Qi carefully, trying to redirect it away from his body without overwhelming him. But it felt like there was a tidal wave inside him, a storm she couldn''t stop.


    "You can do this" Lin Wuye muttered softly from behind her, his voice firm despite the uncertainty in his own eyes.


    "You have the power."


    Meanwhile, outside the circle of focus, Bao stood a little further away, his eyes on Meyu. She was standing motionless by the wall, her face pale, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her lips, trying to hold back sobs.


    Seeing him so close to death, her walls were cracking. And Bao knew it.


    He stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Meyu" he murmured, his voice gruff but gentle.


    "He''s not gone."


    Meyu shook her head, her voice barely audible.


    "I don''t know what to do, Bao. I... I thought I could protect him. But now... now I''m scared. I should''ve stayed there."


    Bao''s heart ached as he watched the woman who had always been so strong crumble. He knew Meyu''s loyalty to Atlas, but seeing her like this¡ªit hit him harder than he''d expected.


    "Everyone in this room is fighting to keep him alive" Bao said, his voice low but strong.


    "They''re doing everything they can. Trust them."


    "I never... I never thought I''d see him like this" Meyu whispered, the words breaking through her trembling lips.


    "He went into a coma and now this?... this feels like... like he''s really going to die this time."


    Bao gave a heavy sigh, his hand squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. "I know. But we''re all here. And he''s stronger than you think. He survived from being a bomb and fought his way to awake from the coma. He will survive this."


    Meyu''s lips trembled as she looked back toward Atlas'' form.


    "I don''t want to lose him, Bao. I can''t lose him."


    "Then you won''t" Bao said, his voice firm, as he glanced over his shoulder to see Lin Wuye and Yuxe Wuye working tirelessly.


    "We''re not going to let him go."


    Meanwhile, in the healing chamber, Layla was sweating, her focus unwavering as she tried to stabilize Atlas. She could feel his pulse¡ªweak, but still there. Her mind raced, but she held on to the steady rhythm of her Qi, just like her father had taught her.


    "Father... he''s too far gone. His Qi... it''s... it''s completely wild" she muttered through clenched teeth.


    "I can''t find a way to release it."


    Yuxe Wuye leaned forward, her voice calm but urgent. "Don''t force it. Guide him slowly, like you''re taming a wild river. If you flood him with too much, it will break him."


    Layla''s gaze flickered to her father, the weight of the moment bearing down on her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."


    Layla''s breath quickened as she tried again, pushing her Qi into his body, only to feel it crash back at her. "But what if he doesn''t have time?" she hissed under her breath.


    "What if he dies before I figure this out?"


    Yuxe Wuye''s voice broke through her thoughts, soft and steady. "Meilin, you''ve learned more than you realize. Trust yourself. You''re not just using his Qi¡ªyou''re using your own. Your way."


    A flicker of understanding sparked in Layla''s mind, and she looked up at her mother, who met her gaze with a gentle nod. Yuxe had always been her rock, the person who taught her to trust her instincts. And now, in this moment, Layla felt her mother''s wisdom grounding her.


    For a moment, Layla stopped, her hands hovering over Atlas. She closed her eyes, feeling the rhythm of his Qi, his life force thrumming under her fingers. His body was weak, his energy scattered, but there was still something solid inside him. Something that she could guide.


    It was then that she realized¡ªshe didn''t have to force the Qi out. She just had to make it flow, not against him, but with him. It was like finding a hidden current beneath the surface of the water, unseen but strong.


    Layla inhaled deeply, letting her Qi flow freely into her palms. She didn''t try to control it, didn''t try to shape it, but simply let it flow.


    Slowly, the turbulence in Atlas'' body began to calm. The wild energy that had been tearing at him softened, swirling instead of crashing. Layla could feel the difference¡ªthe Qi was still chaotic, but now it had direction. It wasn''t just a violent force. It was beginning to move like a stream that could be guided.


    "Father" she whispered, her voice barely audible


    "I think I''ve found it. The key isn''t forcing him¡ªit''s guiding him. His Qi¡­ it''s like a river, but it''s never had a channel before. I need to make the way for it."


    Lin Wuye''s eyes widened slightly while his hand glowing with his wife as well. "That''s it¡­ Meilin. You''ve figured it out."


    Her hands glowed faintly as she continued to channel her Qi, guiding it slowly through Atlas'' body, focusing on releasing the tension without overwhelming him. It wasn''t perfect, but it was progress.

 Survive Atlas (3)

    The past bled into the present like ink in water.


    Wei Lin remembered hunger¡ªthe kind that gnawed at the bones and made even the smallest scraps of food feel like salvation. She remembered her father''s trembling hands as he counted their last coins, her mother''s hollow eyes when she realized they had nothing left. She remembered her younger brother, Wei Jian, clinging to her arm, his tiny fingers digging into her skin as he whispered


    "Jiejie, I''m scared."


    They had been scammed.


    Their family had pooled every ounce of their wealth into a trade venture that was supposed to lift them out of poverty, a deal sealed with sweet words and false promises. But when the time came to collect, the so-called merchant vanished, leaving them destitute. Worse, the debt collectors arrived soon after, demanding repayment for loans they never took. The price was steep¡ªeverything they owned, and when that wasn''t enough, their lives. Wei Jian was kidnapped and after days of finding in desperation, they didn''t find him.


    Wei Lin stood in front of her family that night, arms outstretched, ready to fight, ready to die if it meant protecting them. But death never came.


    Instead, he did. Atlas Ryland.


    A man draped in casual arrogance, smiling like the world owed him nothing yet moving like he owned it anyway. He had no reason to intervene, yet he did. With a single glance and a few sharp words, he tore apart the debt collectors'' schemes, exposing their lies with ease. When one of them dared to challenge him, he dealt with it¡ªnot with brute force, but with the kind of calculated cunning that left them shivering. Within minutes, their family''s execution was no longer an inevitability but an afterthought.


    Then he did something that changed everything.


    He found Wei Jian. The boy had been taken as collateral, whisked away by thugs who wanted leverage. Atlas didn''t just return him; he brought him back personally, unscathed, standing proud with a grin as if he''d merely gone shopping.


    "Families should never be separated over something as pitiful as money" he had said.


    "And I don''t like owing debts, even the unspoken ones."


    Wei Lin had fallen to her knees that day, tears streaming down her face. Her family owed him everything. But Atlas only chuckled, waving her off as if he hadn''t just rewritten the fate of her entire lineage.


    "If you''re so grateful, then work for me. I need people who can hold their own" he had told her.


    "Ryl Trading is going to be more than just a company. It''s going to be a force. Be part of it."


    And she had.


    Since then, Wei Lin had pledged her life to Atlas Ryland. Not out of obligation, but out of choice. The work was tough, but it was fair¡ªno unreasonable hours, no exploitation. Over time, as her family''s finances stabilized, she climbed the ranks, eventually becoming one of the heads within Ryl Trading. Atlas never cared for gender, background, or status¡ªonly capability.


    She remembered once asking him, hypothetically, what he would think if she liked girls. His response had been instant, dismissive in the way only Atlas could manage


    "I don''t care. Can you still work? Should it bother me?"


    That was who he was¡ªa man who only ever judged worth by what someone could do, never by who they were and that was why he was worth following.


    The present came crashing back with the sound of a distant boom.


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    Wei Lin barely had time to react before the force sent a tremor through the halls of the Silver Lotus Sect. Dust trembled from the rafters as the shockwave pulsed through the walls.


    She spun, just in time to see Meilin¡ªstaggering back, her eyes wide in shock. Her outstretched hand still crackled with residual Qi, her body trembling from exertion. The air itself vibrated where the energy had been released, the sheer force of it pushing outward like an invisible storm.


    Layla had absorbed too much from Atlas¡ªand she had needed to let it out. Now.


    The result? A devastating wave of raw power that exploded outside the hall, sending debris flying and forming a concussive force that nearly knocked her off her feet. But before she could hit the ground, Meyu was already there.


    "Damn it!" Meyu cursed as she caught Layla midair, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain through her own back. She gritted her teeth, holding onto the younger girl tightly.


    Layla gasped, her breath ragged, her limbs weak. The pain was secondary. The fear was worse.


    "What the hell just happened?!" Meyu demanded, steadying herself as she gently set Layla down. "Is Atlas¡ª?"


    A deep voice cut through the air before she could finish.


    "He''s stable."


    Lin Wuye emerged from the hall, his expression as calm as ever, but his eyes sharp with concern. He stepped forward, looking down at his daughter first, then at Meyu, who still held onto Layla protectively.


    "The excess Qi in Atlas'' body was too volatile. Meilin had to expel it before it tore him apart" he explained. "The release was sudden, but necessary."


    Meyu exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening on Layla''s arm. "And him?"


    Lin Wuye''s gaze flickered toward the doorway, where Atlas remained unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. "He will live."


    Silence fell over them. Relief, exhaustion, and unspoken worries hung in the air like a thick fog.


    Layla swallowed hard, still trembling. "I didn''t mean to¡ª"


    "I know" Lin Wuye interrupted gently. "You did what you had to. Now, rest. All of you."


    For the first time since that night began, Wei Lin let out a breath she hadn''t realized she was holding.


    Atlas had survived.


    Meyu rushed in, her heart pounding as she caught sight of his unconscious form. Relief flooded her as she saw the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. He was alive. She clutched their hands together, a silent prayer of gratitude escaping her lips as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.


    She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, but the emotions refused to be restrained. "Thank you¡­" she whispered, to no one in particular, to everyone who had fought to keep him alive.


    Then, unable to hold it back any longer, she sank to her knees beside him, shoulders shaking as she let out quiet sobs of relief.


    The others, sensing the weight of the moment, silently stepped back. Even Bao, who had been prepared to speak, hesitated before gesturing for the group to leave them alone for now.


    Morning arrived with Jiang stepping through the gates of the Silver Lotus Sect, stretching his arms after the long journey. Zhao Lihua walked beside him, her usual confidence dimmed by fatigue. They had expected a calm arrival, perhaps an update on Atlas'' condition, or even just the usual sect commotion.


    Instead, they were met with destruction.


    Jiang''s jaw nearly unhinged as he took in the scene before him. The once pristine halls of Silver Lotus lay battered, debris scattered across the courtyard, scorch marks lining the walls. Several sect disciples stood frozen, their eyes wide as they whispered among themselves. Behind them, a group of students who had arrived for their morning training stood in stunned silence.


    Zhao Lihua''s face twisted in disbelief. "What the hell¡­?"


    Jiang blinked, then slowly turned his head to Meyu, who stood near the wreckage, arms crossed, looking entirely unfazed.


    "What happened?!" Jiang demanded, waving an arm toward the destruction.


    Meyu sighed dramatically. "Ah, you know. Just a minor case of catastrophic Qi overload. Nothing to worry about."


    Zhao Lihua''s eye twitched. "That is not minor!"


    Meyu grinned, rubbing the back of her head. "Okay, okay. So, Atlas nearly exploded, Meilin had to unleash a Qi wave that nearly sent her flying into orbit, and now we have a few extra holes in the architecture. But hey, the good news is¡ªAtlas survived!"


    Jiang stared at her, then at the destruction, then back at her. "¡­ I need a drink."


    Jiang immediately frowned in the realisation of the last two words from Meyu''s mouth, crossing his arms. "Atlas? He''s back from Shrouded Peaks?"


    Meyu nodded. "Yeah, he''s alive. Battered, but alive."


    Elder Jian Bo stepped forward, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "The customers we brought in¡ªtwelve in copper tier, seven in silver, and one noble in gold. Quite the mix, wouldn''t you say?"


    A slow, deliberate clap echoed behind them, drawing their attention.


    Shen Jue, the only noble who had actually paid for his entry into the sect, stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Fascinating. I was told Silver Lotus was a place of discipline and refinement. Yet, from the looks of it, it seems more like a battlefield after an explosion."


    Meyu turned, grinning lazily. "Oh, don''t worry, nobleman. We believe in hands-on education. You get your money''s worth and a little surprise or two."

 Shen Jue vs Atlas (1)

    Shen Jue''s lips curled slightly, his eyes flicking between the wreckage and Meyu''s relaxed stance. "And what exactly am I to take from this? That your sect thrives on chaos? Or that I have just invested in madness?"


    Meyu chuckled, tapping her chin. "Depends. Do you prefer a world that follows rigid expectations, or one where only the smart survive?"


    Shen Jue''s smile didn''t reach his eyes. "I prefer a world where I understand what I''m paying for."


    Meyu crossed her arms, tilting her head. "Well then, congratulations. You''re getting a front-row seat to what real power looks like."


    A murmur spread through the gathered students, especially among the copper-tier and silver-tier recruits. Some nodded in agreement, their skepticism shifting into awe. "If their warriors are this strong, then this sect must be powerful" one of them whispered.


    "Maybe this was worth the coin after all" another added, a glint of newfound respect in their eyes.


    Meanwhile, deep within the sect, Atlas stirred.


    His mind felt sluggish, his body heavy. For a brief moment, he thought he had died, floating in some void between worlds. Then the dull ache in his limbs reminded him¡ªno, he was still very much alive. He cracked open an eye, expecting some celestial afterlife, only to be greeted by the sight of Wei Lin sitting beside him, arms crossed, and Lin Wuye standing near the doorway, watching him carefully.


    Atlas groaned, his voice hoarse. "Damn. I was hoping for a more graceful resurrection. Maybe with some celestial maidens, soft music, and a feast waiting for me."


    He tried to shift, only for a sharp pain to shoot through his ribs. "Instead, I get pain, two grumpy faces, and what I assume is a very expensive bill."


    "For once, you''re absolutely right" Layla quipped as she stepped into the room, arms crossed, her usual smirk playing on her lips.


    "No celestial maidens, but hey at least you get me."


    Bao followed in behind her, arms folded. "And an explanation, since you seem to have a habit of throwing yourself into near-death experiences. Again."


    Atlas winced as he tried to sit up, groaning. "Ugh, let me guess. Something exploded, I passed out, and now I''m everyone''s problem?"


    Layla clapped her hands together, nodding with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, absolutely! Thanks to you, I had to basically play human Qi converter, suck up all that excess energy, and then, in true dramatic fashion, obliterate half the hall."


    She gave him a pointed look, hands on her hips. "So, really, I should be sending you the bill."


    Atlas sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Fine, fine. I''ll pay for it... but only if you tell me where Meyu is. And also¡ªwhy the hell do I hear so much screaming?"


    Lin Wuye exchanged a glance with Bao before stepping beside Atlas, offering an arm to help him up. "You''ll see for yourself soon enough."


    With slow, pained movements, Atlas rose to his feet, groaning at every shift of his battered body. With Lin Wuye and Bao guiding him, he walked toward the front of the sect, where the echoes of cheers and shouts grew louder.


    As they stepped outside, Atlas blinked, eyes widening at the massive explosion site. Smoke still lingered in the air, remnants of shattered stone and debris strewn across the courtyard. But more importantly, his gaze snapped to the crowd gathered in front of Meyu, cheering.


    "What... in the ever-loving hell?" Atlas muttered


    Among the enthusiastic spectators, however, one figure stood apart. Shen Jue.


    Unlike the others, his expression was unreadable¡ªhis sharp eyes focused entirely on the commotion. Not amused. Not impressed. Simply calculating.


    Atlas exhaled, then made his way toward the noble, rolling his shoulders despite the pain.


    "Alright, Mr. Rich Noble. You don''t exactly strike me as the type to join in a sect-wide pep rally. So, what''s got you standing here looking like someone just handed you a counterfeit gold bar?"


    Shen Jue finally turned to face him, voice smooth and deliberate.


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    "I was merely contemplating the value of my investment. I signed up expecting discipline and technique, not¡ª" he motioned vaguely to the destruction, "¡ªan impromptu war zone."


    Atlas smirked, but before he could respond, Shen Jue continued, his tone edged with subtle accusation. "More importantly, I was told that Silver Lotus was teaching martial arts for the cost of one gold piece."


    Atlas narrowed his eyes slightly, his mind whirring.


    Creepy.


    That was the first word that came to mind when looking at Shen Jue. Not in the way of a villain twirling his mustache, but in the way a perfectly still lake could be concealing something deep and dangerous beneath.


    He couldn''t tell if Shen Jue was genuinely probing for information or simply feeding him meaningless words to gauge his reaction. His body language was impossibly subtle¡ªso much so that even Master Daokan would have struggled to see past it.


    Atlas smirked, deciding to prod back. "Is that so?"


    Shen Jue''s gaze didn''t waver. "Strange, isn''t it? For such power to be offered so... cheaply."


    Atlas leaned forward slightly, studying him. "And who might you be?"


    Shen Jue tilted his head just enough to be deliberate. "Jian Ren" he lied smoothly, his eyes flicking over Atlas'' bandaged body.


    "Though I must say, for someone teaching power, you don''t exactly look the part either. Quite the mystery, aren''t you?"


    From a short distance away, Layla watched the exchange carefully. She had seen countless negotiations, countless men playing their games of deception and wit. Shen Jue was no ordinary noble¡ªhis words were deliberate, his body too still, his expressions too measured. She could tell something was off, but unlike Atlas, she lacked the ability to read him on an instinctual level. Instead, she relied on experience.


    Meanwhile, Meyu, though occupied with managing agreements and handling the new signees, caught sight of Atlas from the corner of her eye. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the paperwork, the crowd, the noise¡ªeverything faded. He''s alive. Her vision blurred slightly as tears welled up, but she quickly blinked them away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her composure. She wanted to run to him, to demand why he always had to be so reckless, but now wasn''t the time.


    As the formalities concluded, Jiang took charge, gathering the assembled disciples in the courtyard. "Listen up!" His voice carried authority, snapping the attention of the gathered students.


    "We begin training immediately. Copper-tier disciples, you''re under Bao. Silver-tier, with me. No slacking. If you''re here, you''re here to learn, not to waste my time and yours."


    The training commenced swiftly. Bao led the copper-tier students, focusing on foundational stances and refining their footwork. Though most were eager, a few struggled, their movements sloppy, but Bao remained patient, correcting them with sharp yet encouraging words.


    Among the copper-tier students was a farmer named Han Zhu, a man who had spent years working the fields but had never lifted a weapon in his life. The first day of training was grueling¡ªhis muscles burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his stance wobbled under the unfamiliar strain. Yet, for the first time in years, he felt something stir within him, purpose.


    He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at the other students. Some were faring better, others worse, but none were giving up. "This¡­ this is different" he muttered to himself.


    Back home, strength came from endurance, from surviving another harsh season. But here, strength was something built, sharpened, and refined.


    Maybe this is what I need. Maybe this is how I change my fate.


    On the other side, Jiang drilled the silver-tier disciples with relentless intensity, pushing their endurance with a series of rapid strikes and counters. His style was strict, efficient¡ªdesigned to weed out hesitation and force discipline.


    Among them was a former city guard named Ren Shi, a man accustomed to the weight of armor and the discipline of patrol duty. Yet, as Jiang''s strikes came at him with brutal precision, he felt something entirely new¡ªfear. Not the kind bred from cowardice, but the realization that his past training had left blind spots. Jiang was fast, too fast, and every blocked strike sent tremors up Ren Shi''s arms.


    Panting, he adjusted his stance, gritting his teeth. This isn''t like standing watch. This is survival.


    Jiang didn''t slow down, didn''t ease up. "You''re stiff. Too predictable. Drop the habits of a man who only expects trouble when it comes to him" he snapped, his next strike nearly knocking Ren Shi off his feet.


    "Anticipate. Move. You don''t wait for a fight¡ªyou take control of it."


    Ren Shi, aching but determined, exhaled sharply.


    Then I''ll learn. If I don''t, I''ll always be a step behind.


    The hours passed, and soon, the courtyard had emptied, leaving only one person still standing¡ªShen Jue. He had barely broken a sweat.


    Standing off to the side, observing intently, were Layla, Lin Wuye, Yuxe Wuye, Meyu, and Atlas. Their gazes locked onto the lone noble, curiosity and wariness in their eyes.


    Shen Jue dusted off his robes, his expression unreadable. Then, he turned toward them, his voice calm but pointed.


    "So tell me, is this what Silver Lotus truly offers? Or is there more to it that you''re keeping from the rest of us?"


    Layla thought to herself,


    Shen Jue wasn''t just here to learn. He was observing, weighing, and holding something back. The question was¡ªwhat?


    Meyu, arms crossed, finally broke the silence. "You''ll have to be vetted before learning under Lin Wuye."


    Shen Jue raised a brow, his expression cool. "Vetted? Curious. Why him and not his daughter, since she is the new leader?"


    Layla, who had been quietly watching, felt something click.


    That information isn''t common knowledge. Her gaze sharpened.


    Shen Jue wasn''t just an observant noble¡ªhe had access to something or someone feeding him information.


    Feigning a lazy grin, Atlas clapped his hands together. "Well, well. That''s quite the insight for someone who just got here. Tell you what¡ªwhy don''t I be the one to vet you instead? A fair trade, don''t you think?"


    Layla, Lin Wuye, Yuxe Wuye, and Meyu all turned their attention to Atlas, intrigued by his sudden offer. Shen Jue''s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his eyes.


    And so, the game began¡ªShen Jue, the mysterious noble versus Atlas, the wounded businessman.

 Shen Jue vs Atlas (2)

    Layla''s glare could have cut through steel. "Absolutely not."


    Her voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.


    Lin Wuye, standing beside her, nodded in agreement. "Atlas, you are still recovering. And this is our sect. We decide who gets vetted, not you."


    Meyu, arms crossed, chimed in. "Yeah, as much as I enjoy watching you talk circles around people, this isn''t a trade deal."


    Yuxe Wuye remained silent for a moment before adding, "It''s not just about Jian Ren. How we handle this sets a precedent. If you make a mistake here, it affects more than just you."


    Atlas let out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Ahh, I see how it is. I nearly die, you drag me back from the abyss, and now, suddenly, my opinions don''t count anymore. It''s like nursing a stray dog back to health only to be told to sit outside."


    Layla crossed her arms. "That''s not the same thing, and you know it."


    "Of course, it''s not" Atlas said, feigning innocence.


    "Because if it were, at least the dog would get some scraps from the table. Me? I don''t even get to peek at the menu."


    Lin Wuye sighed. "Atlas¡ª"


    "Wait, wait! Imagine this, Meilin." Atlas cut him off, eyes gleaming.


    "You''re buying a rare artifact. Do you just take the merchant''s word for it? No, you test it! You examine it! You make sure it''s not a cheap knockoff before you hand over your coin."


    Meyu exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Damn it. When he puts it like that, it actually makes sense."


    "Traitor" Layla muttered.


    "Come on, Meilin" Atlas grinned, leaning closer.


    "You trusted me to survive a near-death Qi overload, but you won''t trust me to handle one noble?"


    Layla''s eye twitched. She was still sore from being proven wrong about Master Dao''s daughter, and now Atlas was trying to take over her sect''s affairs?


    "Fine" she spat. "But screw this up, and I will personally make sure you regret it."


    Atlas placed a hand over his heart. "I always regret things. That''s what makes me a great merchant."


    The room was quiet except for the subtle flickering of lanterns. Only five people remained: Atlas, Layla, Lin Wuye, Yuxe Wuye, and Meyu. Across from them stood Shen Jue, unreadable as ever.


    Shen Jue made the first move, his voice smooth. "For a sect so dedicated to strength and discipline, it''s interesting how easily a merchant can take the reins."


    Atlas grinned. "Oh, absolutely! And if you stay long enough, maybe I''ll start running the kitchens too! I hear they need someone to overprice the dumplings."


    Meyu snorted. Yuxe Wuye didn''t react. Layla, as expected, was not amused.


    Shen Jue remained composed, but his eyes studied Atlas carefully.


    "Surely someone as well-travelled as you knows how noble houses structure their military assets. Tell me, how does House Qin train their cavalry?"


    Atlas tilted his head.


    Ah. A trap.


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    If he answered wrong, he''d be exposed as a fraud. But instead of dodging¡ª


    "Ah, House Qin? They train cavalry the same way you train your lies¡ªvery carefully, hoping no one notices when something''s off."


    For the briefest second, Shen Jue''s expression stiffened.


    Got you.


    Atlas leaned in. "Oh? You flinched. That''s interesting."


    Shen Jue exhaled slowly. "You''re perceptive. But perception alone doesn''t win battles."


    "No, but it does make you nervous" Atlas countered, watching for any subtle shifts. And then¡ªhe saw it.


    Shen Jue had never once referred to himself by name after introducing himself.


    Atlas smirked. "Tell me, Jian Ren¡­ if I were to sell you off, should I use find your real name or the one you gave me?"


    Shen Jue''s calm exterior cracked just slightly. Lin Wuye and Yuxe Wuye exchanged glances, realizing what had just happened.


    Layla, still irritated but watching closely


    He just pulled that out of nowhere? On what grounds?


    Meyu whispered to Layla, "Whatever you''re thinking, I think Atlas is just baiting him into revealing it himself."


    Shen Jue''s lips curved upward. "It seems I underestimated the great Atlas Ryland."


    "Oh, don''t worry" Atlas said, smiling.


    "Everyone does."


    Shen Jue bowed slightly, conceding defeat. But as he turned, he stopped. "One last question."


    Atlas arched a brow. "Go on."


    "Why does Silver Lotus possess the same chalkboard as the Emperor?"


    The air in the room turned still.


    Layla''s hands tightened. Lin Wuye and Yuxe Wuye visibly tensed.


    Atlas, for the first time in the exchange, went completely silent.


    Shen Jue, watching his reaction, continued, "There are only two factions with this technology¡ªthe Emperor and Ryl Trading."


    Then, his gaze settled on Atlas.


    "By my own logic, that means you own Ryl Trading."


    Atlas'' face remained unreadable. But after a long pause, he slowly grinned.


    In the span of 5 seconds, Atlas pieced it all together.


    One¡ªthis "Jian Ren" was lying about his name, yet carried himself with undeniable nobility. His attire was expensive, his demeanour refined, and despite claiming to be here to learn, his strength suggested otherwise.


    Two¡ªhe knew more about the sect than he lets on, and worse, he was probing. Not just for idle curiosity, but with purpose, like a man confirming something he already suspected.


    Three¡ªby his own logic, he deduced that I was the leader of Ryl Trading. And if he knew that much, then he probably also knew every noble I had dealt with in the past.


    Four¡ªthis chalkboard. I don''t understand its significance as of now, but the way Lin Wuye, Yuxe Wuye, and even Meilin visibly tensed tells me it was more than just a rare tool. If Shen Jue knew about it, then he wasn''t just another noble¡ªhe was someone high up in the imperial court, possibly close to the Emperor himself.


    Atlas made his decision.


    He let out a slow exhale, then chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. You got me. Took you long enough."


    Shen Jue''s eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, waiting.


    Atlas leaned back, folding his arms as if he had just been caught in some casual game of cards rather than a high-stakes battle of wits. "Yeah, I own Ryl Trading. Or at least, I''m the one pulling the strings. It''s such a hassle running a business, you know? Too many details, too much paperwork. But someone''s gotta do it."


    Meyu''s breath hitched. Lin Wuye closed his eyes briefly, as if bracing himself. Yuxe Wuye remained unreadable.


    Atlas'' grin widened. "But now I have to ask... why does a high-ranking noble from the imperial court care so much about who owns Ryl Trading?"


    Shen Jue''s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his carefully maintained composure.


    I didn''t expect a mere merchant to piece it together so quickly.


    Then, just as quickly, his face hardened. "If you don''t want the Silver Lotus Sect to burn to the ground, I suggest you don''t dig any further."


    Atlas let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Burn it down? And what, exactly, is stopping everyone in this room from killing you first?"


    His tone was light, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. "Sure, you could have forces raze this place, and it would be a nightmare to rebuild, but let''s think about this logically. You? You''d be dead before you left this room."


    Shen Jue''s mask of composure cracked as his lips curled in irritation. "Watch your tongue, merchant. You may think yourself clever, but you are overstepping."


    Atlas grinned wider. "Oh? Did I strike a nerve? I figured someone so close to the Emperor would have thicker skin. Unless¡­ you''re not as high up as I thought. Just another errand boy pretending to be important?"


    Shen Jue''s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. "You should be careful whom you mock. If you value this sect''s survival, you will tread lightly!"


    Atlas leaned back, completely at ease. "Let''s stop pretending. You''re here because your Emperor gave you a task¡ªinfiltrate Silver Lotus, learn about Ryl Trading, and bring back whatever information you can. So instead of making threats neither of us want to follow through on¡­ why don''t we talk about a truce? Like civilised people?"


    Shen Jue''s nostrils flared slightly, but he said nothing. Then, after a moment of tense silence, he exhaled and straightened his posture. "Fine. What do you want?"

 Shen Jue vs Atlas & Layla (3)

    Atlas raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? Finally willing to talk instead of making threats? That''s progress."


    Shen Jue''s gaze sharpened. "This isn''t a game. The Emperor will not tolerate interference."


    Atlas chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Please, if I wanted to interfere, I''d be running a kingdom, not a trade empire."


    He leaned back, his grin widening as he gestured toward Layla. "But I think I''ve had enough fun. This is, after all, her sect. So, how about we let the leader of Silver Lotus decide what to do with you?"


    Atlas casually handed the figurative reins back to Layla, watching with amusement as all eyes turned toward her.


    Layla, for her part, was still trying to process what the hell just happened.


    How? How did Atlas put it all together so quickly? How did he go from playing dead to figuring out that this ''Jian Ren'' was lying about his identity, that he was a high-ranking noble within the regime, and¡ªworst of all¡ªclose to Jinhai himself?


    She clenched her fists.


    He hadn''t just threatened a noble¡ªhe had mocked the Emperor''s influence like it was a street merchant peddling rotten fruit. And he had done it all with that infuriatingly casual smirk.


    Layla''s stomach churned, not from fear, but from sheer disbelief.


    What kind of man does that and thinks he can walk away unscathed?


    More importantly¡ªhow much worse would it have been if Atlas had been an enemy instead of an ally?


    Layla had already admitted to herself before¡ªshe didn''t know if she could have controlled him even when she was queen. And now, watching him effortlessly unmask a high-ranking noble, mock imperial power, and turn a potentially fatal confrontation into a negotiation, she was certain of one thing:


    It was far better to have Atlas Ryland on their side than to ever have to face him as an opponent.


    She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Enough standing in shock¡ªit was her turn now.


    Layla took a step forward, her golden eyes locking onto Shen Jue''s. "You came here to gather information, but you''ve lost more than you''ve gained" she said, her voice even, calculated.


    "If you go back now, you''ll return with nothing useful except the fact that you were bested in a battle of wits by a merchant. That''s not a good look for someone close to the Emperor, is it?"


    Shen Jue''s jaw tightened. "I wouldn''t call this a loss just yet."


    Layla smirked. "Wouldn''t you? Because from where I''m standing, you''ve been unmasked, outplayed, and now you''re being given a chance to walk away instead of being dealt with permanently. That sounds merciful to me."


    Meyu grinned from the side. "Damn, she''s good."


    Ignoring the remark, Layla continued. "Here''s what I propose. You walk out of here alive and with a choice. You can report what little you''ve learned and hope your Emperor sees the value in that¡­ or, you can align with us. Work with us, rather than against us, and you''ll find that we can be far more useful to you than you initially thought. You probably already know this, but Ryl Trading is our personal merchant. That means opposing us is the same as opposing them. And let''s be honest¡ªdoes your Emperor truly want to cut ties with the biggest economic force in the region? The one responsible for keeping trade routes smooth and the market thriving? If you report back that Ryl Trading stands against him, what do you think happens next? Do you think he''ll thank you for putting him in a position where he might have to make an enemy of the force keeping his economy stable? Think hard on that, Jian Ren."


    She let the words settle, her gaze unwavering. "I leave that choice to you, Jian Ren."


    A quiet chuckle came from the side. Atlas, now comfortably laid down across Meyu''s lap, tilted his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper.


    "She''s kinda good" he mused, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.


    "Can see why you were interested in her."


    Meyu, caught between mortification and amusement, smacked his shoulder lightly. "Shut up. You''re supposed to be half-dead."


    Atlas just grinned, unfazed. "Exactly. Let a dying man have his observations."


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    After some time, Lin Wuye and Yuxe Wuye came outside the chamber and stood frozen in place, their mouths so wide open they looked ready to swallow an elephant. The weight of what had just transpired hit them like a tidal wave.


    "Our Meilin¡­ our sweet, baby Meilin¡­" Lin Wuye whispered, voice trembling.


    "She just signed a deal with a high-ranking noble?!"


    Yuxe Wuye clutched her husband''s sleeve, equally dumbfounded.


    "A noble directly tied to Jinhai! What just¡ªwhat just happened?!"


    Jiang, passing by, raised an eyebrow at the two utterly bewildered elders. With a sigh, he gently closed both their mouths with one hand and patted their heads like comforting lost children. "Master Lin, Lady Wuye, let''s get you both back to your quarters before you pass out from shock."


    Still dazed, they let Jiang guide them away, muttering under their breath about how their little girl had just outmaneuvered a noble.


    Back inside, Atlas gave Layla a slow clap, still sprawled across Meyu''s lap.


    "Congratulations. You''re now officially a leader worthy of Silver Lotus."


    Layla turned toward him, expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she softly punched his shoulder.


    "Ow¡ªhey! What was that for?" Atlas groaned.


    "For nearly getting us all killed, you absolute idiot." Layla huffed, crossing her arms.


    "Your plan was so risky the sect could''ve gone up in flames."


    Atlas only scoffed, completely unbothered. "But it didn''t. And it never would have. I never get it wrong."


    Layla rolled her eyes, exasperated. "One day, you will. And I hope I''m not there to see it."


    Late into the night, the sect was quiet, its members having retreated to their quarters. The weight of the day''s events had settled, leaving only the distant hum of the wind outside.


    In one of the private rooms, Meyu wrapped her arms around Layla, holding her close in the dim glow of a lantern. They had slept together for the entire month of December, a habit neither had seemed eager to break.


    Meyu sighed contentedly. "What a day, huh? Never thought we''d be making deals with high-ranking nobles before bedtime."


    Layla hummed, too exhausted to offer much of a response. Just as she was about to drift off, a third voice interrupted.


    "You two are so warm. I might never leave."


    Layla''s eyes snapped open. Slowly, she turned her head¡ªonly to see Atlas nestled on the other side of Meyu, hugging her like a damn body pillow.


    A moment of stunned silence.


    Then¡ª


    "ATLAS, GET OUT!"


    Atlas groaned, tightening his grip on Meyu.


    "Nope. Always slept with Meyu. You''re the intruder here."


    Layla sputtered, her face heating. "Wha¡ªyou¡ªMeyu, say something!"


    Meyu, the traitor, only smirked. "Well, he''s not wrong¡­ we have always sleep in bed together."


    Layla''s face turned even redder. "THAT''S NOT WHAT I MEANT!"


    She glared at Atlas. "Explain yourself!"


    Atlas, completely unbothered, nestled deeper into Meyu''s side and sighed.


    "Look, I almost died, Meilin. Don''t I deserve a little warmth after everything I''ve been through?"


    Layla''s eye twitched. "You¡ª! That has nothing to do with this!"


    Meyu chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation far too much. "You know, he''s got a point. Nearly getting killed is exhausting. Maybe you should let him stay just for tonight."


    Layla gaped at her. "Meyu! Whose side are you on?!"


    Atlas grinned, tightening his hold on Meyu.


    "The side of comfort, obviously. And you should be grateful¡ªI could''ve just taken your side instead."


    Layla turned completely red. "OUT! NOW!"


    Before Atlas could retort, the door slid open.


    Jiang stood there, arms crossed, an amused look on his face. "You know, I was just passing by, but this is not what I expected to hear."


    His eyes landed on Atlas, still shamelessly hugging Meyu like a pillow. Without hesitation, Jiang walked over, grabbed Atlas by the back of his collar, and lifted him effortlessly off the bed like a sack of rice.


    "Alright, you''ve had your fun. Let''s go."


    Atlas flailed. "Meyu, help me! Betrayal! Treachery! I''m being kidnapped!"


    Meyu just smirked, turning over and pulling Layla into a hug instead. "Mmm, goodnight, Atlas."


    Layla, still flustered, refused to look at him. "Serves you right."


    Jiang carried Atlas out without a shred of effort, completely ignoring his protests. As they reached his own quarters, Jiang slid the door open and tossed Atlas inside¡ªright onto another bed where Bao was already lying down, half-asleep.


    Bao cracked one eye open. "...Do I even want to ask?"


    Atlas groaned, lying sprawled on the floor. "No. Just let me die."


    Jiang patted his shoulder. "Goodnight, Atlas."


    Back in Meyu and Layla''s room, the warmth between them remained as Meyu gently ran a hand through Layla''s hair, calming her down after the chaotic night. Layla exhaled, letting herself relax for the first time in hours.


    "You know" Meyu murmured


    "I really am grateful for what you did today and yesterday."


    Layla scoffed, but her fingers absently rubbed over Meyu''s hand in quiet agreement. "You say that, but it was reckless. Atlas had no plan, and we could''ve lost everything."


    Meyu chuckled. "That''s just how he is. Infuriating, but never wrong."


    A pause.


    Then, Layla frowned slightly. "Why didn''t Atlas bring Lianhua back?"


    Meyu sighed, guessing the answer. "Because he probably gave her the choice. You know how he is by now. He would''ve let her decide, gave her a choice and he probably insisted that Shrouded Peaks was safer, more comfortable than traveling with him."


    Layla was quiet for a moment, then hummed. "Hmph. That does sound like him."


    Meyu smiled, hugging her a little closer. "Get some sleep, Meilin. The madness will just get worse with him here now."


    Layla remained silent for a moment before speaking. "Does he seriously waste money like that? If the person he saves is truly innocent or worth saving, I get it, but¡­ he spent two gold on Lianhua."


    Meyu hummed in thought before answering. "That''s just how he is. There was a blind man¡ªan old slave. Logically, he had no real value left. Even I thought so. But Atlas? He didn''t care. He bought him, nursed him back to health, fed him, clothed him, treated him like a human being."


    Layla blinked. "And?"


    Meyu sighed. "And then, after a few months, the man left. Just walked away. Atlas never stopped him. Didn''t demand repayment, didn''t try to keep him, nothing. Just let him go."


    Layla stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "That''s¡­ ridiculous."


    Meyu smirked. "Welcome to dealing with Atlas Ryland."

 Underground Network in Russia

    The morning light filtered through the cracked walls of the Silver Lotus Sect, casting long shadows as the dust of the previous day''s chaos finally began to settle. The air was still thick with the weight of unspoken thoughts, lingering tension, and the undeniable reality that their sect was now entangled in a much greater game.


    Atlas, of course, had other concerns.


    "I don''t see what the big deal is" he said through a mouthful of roasted duck, sprawled lazily across a wooden bench.


    "Jian Ren isn''t an idiot. He''s not going to run off to his Emperor and tell him, ''Hey, turns out the random merchant I just met runs the most powerful trade network in the East.'' He''d rather keep that to himself."


    Layla facepalming herself. "Atlas, you are eating gold-dusted dumplings. Right now. After nearly getting the sect burned to the ground. I don''t know what bothers me more¡ªthe fact that you don''t care, or the fact that you actually carry food this expensive around like it''s dried rations."


    "You say that like being prepared is a bad thing" Atlas said, waving a dumpling in her direction.


    "What if I got stranded in a place where all they served was boiled grass? I''d starve."


    Bao, who had just walked in, eyed the dumplings with interest. "Are those gold-dusted?"


    "Indeed they are, my dear Bao" Atlas grinned, holding up the tray.


    "Want one?"


    Bao didn''t hesitate, snatching one off the plate and biting into it with a pleased hum.


    "You know, Meilin, you complain a lot, but this is actually good."


    Layla stared at him in betrayal. "Not you too, Bao."


    "What? Free food is free food." Bao shrugged, already reaching for another.


    Meyu smirked. "At this point, I''m convinced Atlas could buy the loyalty of half the sect just by feeding them."


    Atlas wiggled his eyebrows. "And yet, some people continue to resist my generosity. Truly tragic."


    Before Layla could retort, another voice joined in. "Oh, what''s this? My, my, Atlas, you really do spoil everyone, don''t you?"


    The group turned to see Yuxe Wuye, Meilin''s mother, gracefully stepping into the room. Without hesitation, she plucked a dumpling from the tray and took a delicate bite, humming in approval.


    "Mmm. You have good taste."


    Layla gaped at her. "Mother!"


    "What? It would be rude to refuse" Yuxe Wuye said smoothly, picking up another.


    "Besides, why should Bao get all the good food?"


    Bao, still chewing, gave a thumbs up. "Agreed."


    Atlas smirked. "See? Lady Wuye has excellent judgment."


    Layla buried her face in her hands. "I hate all of you."


    Lin Wuye, seated beside her, looked as if he had aged a decade overnight. He let out a long sigh, rubbing his forehead. "I''m still trying to process that my daughter¡ªmy sweet, innocent, flower of a daughter¡ªjust negotiated with a high-ranking noble like it was a mere business deal."


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    "Father, please¡ª"


    "And did not tell him to leave!" he continued, ignoring Layla''s interruption.


    "She let him stay! To learn from me! What am I supposed to do with that?!"


    "Teach him?" Jiang offered, before reaching over and gently closing Lin Wuye''s mouth, which had fallen open again in shock. He gave the elder a few reassuring pats on the head, much like one would soothe a child after a tantrum.


    "Come on, Master Lin. Let''s get you back before you start spiralling again."


    As Jiang guided Lin Wuye away, still muttering about nobles infiltrating his peaceful sect, the rest of them turned toward the training grounds where Jian Ren¡ªShen Jue¡ªstood waiting.


    Shen Jue''s expression was unreadable as he faced Lin Wuye, awaiting instruction. Though the noble had shed his more formal robes for something more practical, his air of refinement remained.


    "I will warn you once, and only once" Lin Wuye said, his usual gentle demeanour replaced by the weight of his authority.


    "If you have come here to learn, you will learn. But if this is merely a ploy for information, I will break you before you have the chance to regret it."


    A challenge.


    Shen Jue met his gaze steadily. "I expect nothing less."


    Atlas, still watching from the sidelines, leaned toward Meyu.


    "So, what do you think? He gonna cry, or is he gonna break a rib first?"


    Meyu smirked. "Depends. How much do you want to bet?"


    Layla groaned. "We are not gambling on this."


    Layla watched intently, her stance firm as she analyzed the fight before her.


    Shen Jue and her father were evenly matched, their movements precise, calculated. Each strike was countered, every step met with an equal force.


    But then Lin Wuye got a little serious.


    In a blur of motion, he shifted, his Qi surging as he struck with enough force to send Shen Jue flying¡ªstraight into a thick tree, splitting it clean in half. The sound of cracking wood echoed through the training grounds.


    A beat of silence.


    Atlas, completely unbothered, casually turned to one of the disciple nearby. "Alright, go ahead and collect that."


    One of the disciples blinked. "Uh¡­ collect what?"


    Atlas gestured lazily. "The tree. What? It''s wood. I can use it for your sect''s rebuild anyway. Waste not, want not."


    The disciple hesitated, glancing at the massive tree trunk. "Uh¡­ I don''t think I can carry that."


    Before he could say anything else, two Ryl Trading workers stepped forward and, with zero effort, lifted the tree as if it weighed nothing. They casually hoisted it onto their shoulders and started walking away without breaking a sweat.


    Shen Jue, still recovering from the blow, turned his head slightly, watching the feat with wide eyes.


    That was unnatural. His mouth opened slightly in disbelief.


    Atlas, noticing his expression, smirked. "Oh? Something wrong, Jian Ren? I thought you nobles had seen everything."


    Shen Jue looked around, expecting similar reactions of disbelief¡ªbut none came. Not from Layla, not from Meyu, not from the other disciples.


    One of them shrugged. "You get used to it. We''ve seen these Ryl workers do far more ridiculous things."


    Another disciple nodded. "Miss Meyu could probably carry that log herself if she really wanted to."


    Shen Jue turned his gaze to Meyu, who merely smirked and rolled her shoulders. "Eh, it wouldn''t be the hardest thing I''ve lifted."


    He blinked. "...You''re all insane."


    Atlas clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. "Oh, Jian Ren, my dear sheltered noble. Welcome to reality."


    Hours later, Atlas slipped away into one of the more secluded halls of the sect, where a single figure awaited him.


    "Xiuying" he greeted, watching as the sharp-eyed woman stepped forward. Clad in a dark robe with a silver hairpin glinting in the dim candlelight, she exuded an air of quiet precision.


    "Master Atlas" she said smoothly.


    "I bring troubling news."


    Atlas sighed, stretching his arms above his head. "Is it more troubling than a noble trying to dissect my trade empire from the inside? Because I gotta say, my standards for ''bad news'' are really high this week."


    Xiuying didn''t react to his humour. She never did. "The Emperor''s enforcers have been gathering at your main Ryl Trading outpost in the capital. They have begun pressuring noble houses to cut ties with you. None have done so. Yet."


    Atlas stopped stretching. "...Huh."


    "Additionally" Xiuying continued, "There are whispers in Russia. Strange weapons. Something that pierces steel with ease. Something that roars like the heavens."


    Atlas scoffed. "Oh, what, someone chucked a really angry dragon at a fortress? Happens all the time."


    Xiuying merely blinked. "Eyewitness reports confirm the destruction."


    Atlas frowned. "And?"


    "It is linked to a vast underground network" she said.


    "One that has been growing in secrecy. Whoever controls this weapon is no mere warlord."


    Atlas rubbed his chin, thinking. "The West, huh? If it''s true¡­ that changes a lot."


    He turned back to Xiuying. "Start preparing contingency plans for Jian Ren. And dig deeper into the Emperor''s bloodline. I want to know who he''s met, who he''s dealt with, and what skeletons are in his closet."


    Xiuying nodded, vanishing into the shadows as quickly as she came.


    As Atlas turned, ready to move on, he suddenly felt a presence¡ªfamiliar, fast. Before he could react,


    Meyu caught him.

 Plans for the future

    For a moment, she just held him. Tight. As if grounding herself in the reality that he was still there, still breathing. And for the first time that day, she didn''t have to play the composed second-in-command or the fearsome warrior.


    Atlas saw it¡ªthe real Meyu, the one she rarely let anyone see.


    With a rare gentleness, he wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace. "...Sorry."


    Meyu buried her face into his shoulder. "Don''t say that."


    Atlas exhaled a small chuckle. "Fine. But I won''t promise it won''t happen again."


    She pulled back slightly, glaring at him. "Atlas."


    He smirked, squeezing her shoulder. "I will try not to die so often within the course of a month. That''s the best you''re getting."


    Meyu let out something between a laugh and a frustrated sigh before hugging him again, if only for a fleeting moment.


    After a pause, she pulled back slightly, searching his eyes. "And what of the child? Lianhua?"


    Atlas exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "She''s safe. Stayed at Shrouded Peaks. I gave her the choice, and she wanted to stay there rather than follow me into my usual brand of chaos. Can''t say I blame her."


    Meyu studied him for a moment before nodding. "And? That''s not all, is it?"


    Atlas hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second, but long enough for Meyu to catch it.


    "Elena" he finally said, the name rolling off his tongue like a weight he wasn''t ready to drop.


    "A lifeless woman."


    Meyu frowned. "Who?"


    Atlas chuckled dryly. "Someone I made a stupid gamble on. Thought I could break through to her, wake her up from whatever shell of existence she was stuck in. Turns out, I might not be as good at reading people as I thought."


    Meyu raised an eyebrow. "That''s a first."


    "Yeah, well" Atlas shrugged.


    "Turns out, not everyone''s looking to be saved."


    Meyu pulled back slightly, searching Atlas''s eyes. "What did you bet on?"


    Atlas sighed. "Three things. First, that she could find her purpose through Lianhua. Second, if she didn''t, Master Daokan would kill her himself¡ªhe promised her that much."


    Meyu''s expression hardened. "And the third?"


    Atlas scratched his cheek. "Uh¡­ I may or may not have told her I''d find her lost sibling."


    Meyu narrowed her eyes. "You don''t even know her real origin..do you?"


    Atlas gave her a sheepish grin. "Yup. That''s why it was a stupid gamble."


    Meyu let out a sharp breath, looking both concerned and slightly irritated.


    "Atlas¡­ why do you do this?"


    Atlas shrugged. "Because someone has to. And if I get it right, sometimes¡­ just sometimes¡­ people actually find a reason to live."


    Atlas then pats Meyu''s head "Even if I do fail in finding her sibling, I''m hoping that she would have already found the purpose and love she once lost."


    Later that evening, Atlas found himself standing in front of the strange chalkboard that had become the symbol of mystery in the sect.


    "Alright" he said, arms crossed. "Explain."


    Layla, standing beside him, grinned wickedly. "Oh? The great Atlas Ryland doesn''t know something?"


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    Meyu was already laughing.


    Atlas narrowed his eyes. "I feel like you''re mocking me."


    "Wow" Layla deadpanned. "That perception of yours is truly unmatched."


    Atlas scowled. "You know I can see through people, not¡­whatever this is!"


    Layla sighed dramatically. "You see, Atlas, this¡ª" she gestured at the board "¡ªis called writing."


    Meyu had to physically turn away to stop herself from collapsing into laughter.


    Atlas glared at them. "I hate both of you."


    But even as he said it, his mind was already moving ahead. This chalkboard¡ªthis supposed Western technology¡ªwas something he had underestimated. Layla, smug as she was, had thought the same thing he did. This was dangerous.


    He exhaled and crossed his arms. "Alright, fine. But if this thing is as valuable as I think it is, what''s the plan if the Emperor finds out? Even if it''s not through Jian Ren?"


    Layla''s smirk faded just a fraction. "I was wondering when you''d ask that."


    Meyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We don''t have a plan. Yet."


    Atlas scoffed. "Yet. Fantastic. You do realize that if he decides this little sect has something he wants, we''re all screwed, right?"


    Layla shrugged. "Then I guess we better figure it out fast, huh?"


    To Atlas'' genuine surprise, he raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "You don''t know it yet? You''re the leader, no? I even heard from the disciples around here how you won the battle against the Crimson Serpent and only almost lost to Shen Mu¡ªif not for Master Dao stepping in. But still."


    Layla exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "That''s exactly why it''s hard, Atlas. It''s not about winning fights. It''s about what comes after. You can''t just punch a problem and hope it disappears. The moment the Emperor decides he wants something, it doesn''t matter how many battles you''ve won."


    Atlas, his curiosity piqued, tilted his head. "Alright, but what if the Emperor finds out not just about Silver Lotus, but also its connection to Ryl Trading? And worse¡ªShrouded Peaks? What then?"


    Layla''s smirk disappeared entirely. "Then we have a much bigger problem than just defending a sect."


    She met his gaze evenly. "If he finds out, we''re no longer just a sect with a powerful merchant backing us. We become a threat to imperial control. Ryl Trading already disrupts his grip on the economy. Shrouded Peaks holds power that even his armies don''t fully understand. If he connects the dots¡­"


    She inhaled sharply. "Then he won''t just send spies or pressure nobles. He''ll send armies."


    Layla who has been making plans in her mental note has already started for weeks now on how to handle this. It''s not easy to go against an army of thousands with just hundreds especially a sect that''s recovering. Her plans is slowly taking form in her head as she looks at Atlas who was also in deep thought.


    Atlas realising this, sets up his own plans now. One that will come in fruition in time.


    As the night settled over the sect, the Copper and Silver-tier disciples began retreating to their quarters. Among them were familiar names¡ªHan Zhu, the farmer who had taken his first steps into martial arts, and Ren Shi, a former city guard who had joined seeking purpose beyond patrolling streets.


    Atlas, moving like a shadow through the halls, intercepted them one by one.


    Han Zhu was the first. The man had a strong build from years of working the fields, but his posture still lacked the sharpness of a trained warrior. He paused as Atlas approached him, brow furrowed. "Merchant Ryland? Something you need?"


    Atlas grinned, offering him a small pouch. "Consider it a gift. Good food, a bit of coin for necessities, and¡ªmore importantly¡ªa request."


    Han Zhu hesitated before accepting the pouch. "And what would that be?"


    "I want you to keep an eye on someone for me. Jian Ren discreetly."


    Atlas'' voice was calm, but there was an undeniable weight behind it. "You''re observant. You see things others don''t. I need that."


    Han Zhu shifted, thoughtful. "And if I say no?"


    Atlas chuckled. "Then enjoy the food and consider it a friendly donation."


    He patted the farmer on the shoulder before stepping past him. "But I think you''re curious enough to pay attention either way."


    Han Zhu watched him go, gripping the pouch tightly.


    Next was Ren Shi. Unlike Han Zhu, the former guard''s stance was always firm, disciplined. He wasn''t as easily swayed. When Atlas found him near the barracks, he was sharpening his blade.


    "You come to test my loyalty?" Ren Shi asked, not looking up.


    "Nah, that''s boring." Atlas leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.


    "I''m just here to offer a job. The kind that pays well."


    Ren Shi snorted. "I left the city guard because I was tired of taking bribes."


    Atlas smirked. "Good thing this isn''t a bribe then. It''s an opportunity."


    He tossed Ren Shi a small token marked with the insignia of Ryl Trading. "Keep an eye on Jian Ren. You''re sharp, experienced¡ªyou''ll notice if he does anything strange."


    Ren Shi examined the token, rolling it between his fingers. "And what do I get in return?"


    Atlas'' grin widened. "You''ve got ambition, Ren Shi. You don''t want to be just another fighter in a sect¡ªyou want influence. Stick with me, and I''ll make sure you get it."


    Ren Shi studied him for a long moment before slipping the token into his sleeve. "Fine. But if I find out you''re playing me, merchant, I''ll be the first to cut you down."


    Atlas clapped him on the back. "That''s the spirit. Now get some sleep. Big things are coming."


    Far away, in a dimly lit chamber, a man worked with unrelenting focus. His hands, covered in soot and metal dust, moved with practiced precision. Pieces of metal were connected, fused, reshaped.


    Sparks flew, bright, sharp, alive.


    Something ignited¡ªenergy, raw and untamed, crackled between metal. A pulse of something new filled the space, illuminating the dim room for a single moment.


    Then, as the last spark faded, the man stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow.


    And with a gleam in his eye, he whispered one word.


    "YES!"

 Emerys Heart (1)

    The storm raged over the Russian landscape, the sky a swirling mass of dark clouds and electricity. Wind howled through the valleys, rattling the underground lab where Emery worked, his fingers stained with chalk and ink. The lanterns flickered, casting jagged shadows against the stone walls.


    His mind, however, was clear.


    By the end of winter, he will change the world.


    Emery adjusted the final connection on his device, a crude energy storage unit built from a mixture of glass, metal plates, and conductive wiring. His assistant, Callum, watched with skeptical eyes, arms crossed.


    "You''re telling me this jar is going to hold lightning?" Callum asked.


    Emery didn''t look up. "Not lightning¡ªcontrolled energy. We''ve seen it before in nature. Now, we tame it."


    With a steady hand, he connected two terminals. Sparks crackled as the device absorbed static charge from a manually operated mechanism. The first attempt failed¡ªtoo much energy at once, causing the wires to snap.


    "Damn it¡ªadjust the resistance" Emery muttered, already recalculating.


    The second attempt was more controlled. As Callum turned the crank, the device held the charge this time. A faint glow appeared between two connected wires¡ªa steady arc of energy. The room filled with the sharp smell of ozone.


    Emery stepped back, eyes gleaming. "It works."


    Callum swallowed. "So... we can store power now?"


    "Not just store it" Emery said, gripping the edge of the table. "We can use it."


    "Then we have to test its limits" came a confident voice from the back.


    Emery turned to see Lianfei, arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the experiment.


    Lianfei learned how to speak English thanks to Emery and Callum. She struggled alot at first but since her raw IQ was almost the same as Callum, she adapted fast and in weeks just like Callum who knew mandarin, she now can speak English well.


    "If we can use it, we need to know how much and for how long. Power without control is just chaos."


    Callum snorted. "She''s got a point. No use in making sparks if they burn out instantly."


    Emery smirked. "Then let''s find out. Lianfei, get the others. We''re going to push this as far as it''ll go."


    The chalkboard was filled with calculations, rough diagrams, and theoretical applications. The storm still raged outside, but inside, a different kind of storm brewed¡ªone of discovery.


    "If we can store electricity," Emery mused, "then we can transport it. If we can transport it, we can use it for more than simple sparks."


    On the board, he outlined his next steps:


    Energy Storage ¨C Perfecting the electric capacitor (a version of the Leyden jar).


    Sustained Power ¨C Creating a stable energy source (a version of the first battery).


    Light and Heat ¨C Applying energy for illumination (arc lamp experiments).


    Magnetism and Motion ¨C Discovering electromagnetic forces (key to motors and dynamos).


    Energy Conversion ¨C Turning stored power into usable force (electric generators).


    "You''re insane!" Callum said, watching the rapid expansion of plans.


    "No, I''m right" Emery countered, chalk dust coating his fingers.


    "And if I''m right, this¡ª" he gestured to the messy board "¡ªis the start of a new era."


    Lianfei, arms still crossed, narrowed her eyes at the board. "That''s great and all, but how do we even build this generator? We don''t have limitless materials, and we''re not exactly sitting on a factory."


    Emery smirked, pointing at the first set of calculations.


    "We don''t need a factory. We need precision. Here''s how it works."


    He tapped the section labelled Energy Conversion.


    "First, we take a coil of copper wire¡ªthe thinner, the better¡ªand wind it around a rotating iron core. That core sits between two opposing magnets. When we spin the core, it disturbs the magnetic field, creating an electric current in the wires. That''s the principle of electromagnetic induction."


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    Lianfei followed along, nodding slowly. "So we''re stealing power from magnetism?"


    "Not stealing" Emery corrected.


    "Converting. It''s the same principle that lightning follows¡ªnature is full of energy, and we''re just redirecting it into a controlled system."


    Callum leaned in, frowning. "And how do we spin the core? If we have to do it manually, that''s not exactly efficient."


    Emery grinned, flipping to another section of the board. "That''s where mechanical motion comes in. A hand crank, a wind turbine, even a steam engine like Layla''s one¡ªanything that can apply rotational force can power the generator. But for now, we start with a simple crank. Once we prove the concept, we scale it up and we so happen to be sitting on a big engine thanks to Queen Layla before."


    Lianfei huffed. "So, if we get this working, we''re making the first ever electric generator?"


    Emery crossed his arms, confidence radiating from him. "No. We''re making the first power grid. One that won''t need fire, coal, or manpower¡ªjust science."


    Over the next weeks, Emery built, failed, refined, and improved.


    The development of the energy capacitor became a collaborative effort between Emery and Callum, with Lianfei contributing key insights. The first iterations were crude¡ªglass jars lined with metal sheets, connected by thin copper wiring. Their initial tests resulted in inconsistent storage; sometimes the charge dissipated too quickly, other times it surged and shattered the containers.


    "We need better insulation" Lianfei pointed out, rubbing her forehead


    "If the energy escapes too fast, we''ll never maintain a steady current."


    Emery nodded. "Right. We refine the layering¡ªglass as the insulator, metal for conduction, and we control the discharge rate through adjustable resistance."


    Callum adjusted the wiring, connecting a refined capacitor to a manually operated charge mechanism. He turned the crank, slowly building voltage. Sparks danced between terminals, but this time, the charge held.


    Emery grinned. "This is it. We can store power for longer periods. Now we move to controlled output."


    Callum chuckled. "First, let''s make sure we don''t electrocute ourselves."


    Emery wiped sweat from his brow, eyes gleaming. "One step at a time."


    Using chemical reactions, he developed a crude power cell, stabilizing voltage for the first time. This time, however, he wasn''t working alone. Chen and Feng, two of his more enthusiastic but initially clueless students, had been working alongside him.


    "I swear, if you two mix the wrong chemicals again, I''m sending you back to counting grain sacks" Emery muttered, watching them measure out the solution.


    Chen scowled. "Hey! We''re learning!"


    Feng nodded in agreement, though he was squinting a little too hard at the measurement lines on the beaker. "Yeah, and we only almost set the lab on fire once this week. That''s progress."


    Lianfei, standing nearby, sighed. "Slightly less dumb is still dumb."


    "But we''re learning!" Chen insisted.


    Emery pinched the bridge of his nose but smirked despite himself. "Alright, then, prove it. Explain what we just did."


    Feng perked up, straightening his posture. "We combined the right metals and solutions to create a controlled reaction that releases electrons, which¡ª"


    Chen finished for him, "¡ªflow through the circuit to create a steady current."


    Emery clapped his hands. "See? That''s what I like to hear. Maybe you two won''t blow yourselves up after all."


    Callum smirked. "That''s debatable."


    The two grumbled, but their growing understanding of electricity was undeniable. A month ago, they had been simple students who only knew martial arts¡ªnow they were helping make history.


    He experimented with coiled wiring and magnetic fields, discovering the relationship between electricity and motion.


    And then came the breakthrough.


    "Magnetism and electricity¡­ they fuel each other" Emery whispered to himself as he adjusted a small coil near a rotating magnet. The moment it spun, energy surged¡ªself-sustained.


    He had just invented electromagnetic induction.


    Callum, staring, asked, "Did you just¡­ make power from motion?"


    "WE made power from power" Emery corrected, breathless.


    "This is the foundation of something greater."


    For a moment, the lab was silent, save for the soft hum of electricity in the air. Then¡ª


    "Holy shit!" Callum muttered, pulling back his hair in disbelief


    "We actually did it."


    Chen and Feng, eyes wide, looked between each other before grinning. "Wait¡ªso this means we actually made something that works? Like, properly?"


    Lianfei crossed her arms, exhaling sharply. "Unbelievable. A few weeks ago, you two barely knew the difference between metal and stone, and now you''re part of a breakthrough."


    Feng puffed his chest. "Yeah, well, we had a great teacher."


    Chen elbowed him. "And by ''great teacher'' you mean Mr Emery screaming at us every time we almost blew something up."


    Emery, still catching his breath, smirked. "You''re damn right I did. And look where it got us."


    By the end of the week, the lab had transformed into a chaotic workshop of wires, coils, and experimental devices. The air was thick with the scent of burning metal and ozone, the remnants of countless failed attempts and minor successes. Zafira (Ezra) and Seraphine arrived, watching in cautious awe as Emery made his final move, their expressions unreadable.


    Callum wiped the sweat from his forehead, eyes darting between the chalkboard filled with frantic calculations and the mess of cables surrounding them.


    "This is it" he murmured. "Months of work, failure after failure, and now¡­ this."


    Lianfei, arms crossed, exhaled sharply. "We built something no one else has. No one in history has ever come close to this."


    Chen and Feng exchanged nervous glances. "Are we actually about to make history?" Chen whispered.


    Feng swallowed. "Either that, or we blow up the lab."


    Emery let out a breath, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the final connection. He looked at his team¡ªCallum, who had been at his side through every failure, every breakthrough; Lianfei, who had grown from an observer into a full-fledged scientist; Chen and Feng, once clueless apprentices, now standing at the edge of something revolutionary.


    At the center of the lab sat Layla''s engine¡ªthe one Emery had perfected, a mechanical masterpiece waiting for true power. He had spent weeks refining the pressure ratios, ensuring that when connected to the dynamo, it wouldn''t just function¡ªit would thrive.


    Emery''s voice was steady, but his heart pounded. "Final checks. Callum, voltage?"


    Callum scanned the readings. "Stable. No surges. We''re within safe limits."


    "Lianfei, connection points?"


    "Secured. Conductors are wrapped and insulated. If it fails, it won''t be because of the wiring."


    "Chen, Feng?"


    The two stood by, tools at the ready. "Ready when you are, boss" Feng said.


    Emery nodded. His fingers hovered over the switch. "This is it. The first electric-powered engine. If it works, the world changes tonight."


    Zafira crossed her arms. "Are you sure about this?"


    Emery grinned. "Never."


    With a flick of the switch, the dynamo engaged. The copper coils spun, the iron core rotated, and for a breathless second, nothing happened.

 Emerys Heart (2)

    The engine roared to life, humming with pure, harnessed energy. The first of its kind. The future, unfolding before them.


    The entire lab was bathed in flickering light as the energy surged through the circuits. Callum let out a disbelieving laugh, while Lianfei stared, wide-eyed. Chen and Feng actually cheered, gripping each other''s arms as they watched their creation work.


    And then¡ª


    "YES!" Emery roared, his voice echoing off the stone walls, filled with pure, unrestrained triumph. He threw his arms up, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he stared at the roaring engine, its hum a testament to his life''s work.


    His mind raced through the years, the sleepless nights spent buried in theories, the countless failures, the ink-stained fingers scratching notes in dim candlelight. Every frustration, every setback, every painstaking hour of research¡ªworth it for this one moment.


    For months, he had examined Layla''s engine, tearing it apart, rebuilding it, refining every flaw until it wasn''t just functional¡ªit was perfect. He had stared at those gears and pistons, memorizing their patterns, knowing that one day, he would give them life beyond fire and steam.


    And now, here it was. Electricity coursed through it, a heart beating without coal or flame, a machine powered by the very force of nature itself.


    Callum ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "Holy shit!"


    Lianfei pressed a hand to her forehead. "Oh...my...God!!"


    Chen and Feng, still gripping each other''s arms, were nearly vibrating with excitement.


    "We actually did it!? Like, properly!?"


    Feng''s voice cracked. "We¡ªWE MADE HISTORY!"


    Emery''s breathing slowed, his fingers trembling as he reached out, feeling the soft vibration of the machine beneath his fingertips. This wasn''t just an invention. It was revolution.


    A slow grin stretched across his face. His entire body felt light, as if the weight of years of failure had been lifted in an instant.


    Emery clenched his fists and punched the air, his entire body surging with exhilaration.


    "YES!" he roared again, his voice bouncing off the stone walls, raw and victorious. It wasn''t just celebration¡ªit was years of struggle, failure, and relentless effort bursting free all at once.


    His breath came in sharp gasps, his heart hammering in his chest. He had spent years chasing this moment. Every equation, every late night scratching theories onto parchment, every moment of doubt¡ªit had all led here.


    His hands trembled, not from exhaustion, but from pure adrenaline. He had done it.


    They had done it.


    Zafira, who had remained silent through much of the chaos, stepped closer. She studied Emery¡ªthis was rare. She had never seen him like this, never seen him so utterly lost in the moment. With a small smirk, she reached out and patted his head.


    "Congratulations, genius."


    Emery blinked, momentarily stunned, then scowled. "What the hell are you doing?"


    Zafira chuckled. "What are you doing?"


    "Touch the engine" Emery said without thinking, letting his intrusive thoughts take over.


    Zafira raised an eyebrow and did just that¡ªonly for a sharp zap to crackle against her fingertips.


    She yelped, immediately yanking her hand back. "WHAT THE¡ª?!"


    Emery smirked. "Congratulations. You''re the first person in history to be electrocuted."


    Callum burst into laughter, while Lianfei shook her head in disbelief.


    "Of course he''d turn history into a joke."


    Chen and Feng, still caught between awe and amusement, grinned.


    "Can we call it Ezra''s Shock Test?"


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    Emery, his triumph still burning in his chest, just laughed. The future was here.


    That night, Zafira threw a celebration party in honour of Emery and his team. The underground lab, usually filled with the scent of burning metal and ozone, was now filled with the rich aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and the rare luxury of fine wine. Lanterns flickered with warmth instead of necessity, casting a golden glow over the tired but victorious group.


    Callum, still in shock from their success, sat back with a drink in hand. "I still can''t believe we actually did it. We just changed the world, and now we''re eating like kings."


    Lianfei smirked, raising her glass. "You can thank Commander Ezra for that."


    Chen and Feng were stuffing their faces with food, both grinning ear to ear. "I''m never questioning science again" Feng mumbled through a mouthful of roasted duck.


    "If this is what success tastes like, I''m gonna start worshipping Emery."


    Emery rolled his eyes. "Please don''t."


    Just then, the doors to the lab swung open, and Haoran and Renshu stepped in, sweat still clinging to their skin from their sparring session with Jun. The two martial artists looked around in confusion at the scene of celebration.


    "What''s going on here?" Haoran asked, crossing his arms.


    Zafira turned to him, her smirk widening. "Oh, nothing much just that Emery just harnessed electricity, reinvented energy production, and laid the groundwork for a revolution. No big deal."


    Renshu blinked. "...He did what?"


    Haoran, despite himself, looked genuinely impressed. "You mean to tell me that all these months of scribbling on boards and playing with metal actually led to something?"


    Callum chuckled. "Oh, it led to something alright. We just created the first functioning electric engine in history."


    Renshu let out a low whistle. "So that''s why you all look like you''ve just won a war."


    Emery, still basking in the moment, leaned back with a smirk. "A war against ignorance? Absolutely. And we won."


    Zafira laughed, raising her drink. "To the mad genius and his team!"


    The room erupted in cheers, voices overlapping as everyone toasted to their success. Callum nudged Emery with a smirk.


    "This might be the first time in history that science gets celebrated with a feast instead of a lab fire."


    Lianfei chuckled, sipping her drink. "Give it time. Knowing Mr Emery, we''re one experiment away from disaster."


    As the laughter and conversation filled the space, Seraphine''s sharp eyes caught something unusual¡ªone of the men from the crew quietly slipping out of the party, his steps too careful, his posture too stiff.


    She silently followed.


    Through the dimly lit corridors of the underground facility, Seraphine moved like a shadow, her breath steady. The man stopped near a secluded chamber, pulling out a small scroll. He unrolled it, scanning its contents before scribbling something down.


    A spy. Siphoning information.


    Seraphine didn''t hesitate. Two swift movements¡ªa blade across the throat, a dagger through the heart.


    The body slumped, the scroll slipping from his fingers. She grabbed it, eyes scanning the contents.


    Her stomach twisted. The Regime of Jin.


    Clutching the evidence, she wiped her blade clean and moved swiftly back to the party. Spotting Zafira, she handed her the blood-stained scroll.


    "We have a problem. Internal betrayal."


    Zafira''s expression darkened as she unrolled the note. The celebration carried on around them, but in that moment, the weight of reality crashed down again.


    "So it begins" she muttered under her breath.


    The celebration had long ended, the echoes of laughter and clinking glasses fading into the quiet hum of the underground base. In the dim glow of a lantern, Zafira and Emery lay in the same bed, neither asleep nor speaking, just existing in the strange, charged silence between them.


    Neither of them were honest with each other¡ªnot fully. But there was an unspoken understanding that neither pushed past.


    Zafira finally broke the quiet. "Someone was about to betray us today."


    Emery, lying on his back, turned his head slightly. "Seraphine took care of it?"


    Zafira handed him the scroll, which he unfolded with slow precision. His eyes scanned the scribbled notes, his mind piecing together the implications. Giving information to the Emperor.


    "If there''s one," Emery said after a moment, "there''s more. Spies don''t work alone."


    Zafira sighed, shifting to lie on her side, facing him. "Logically, we should clear them out. If they''re in deep enough, they''ll know about the engine soon¡ªif they don''t already."


    Emery exhaled sharply, pressing the bridge of his nose. "I know. But I don''t like the idea of killing unnecessarily. There''s always another way."


    Zafira studied him. "Even now, after everything?"


    "Especially now" he murmured.


    "Because we''re about to change the world, and if we start by gutting everyone who might be a threat, then we''re no better than the people trying to control it."


    Zafira didn''t respond immediately, but after a beat, she let out a dry chuckle. "Idealist."


    "Pragmatist" he shot back, smirking despite himself.


    She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "We''ll do it your way. For now."


    Emery remained silent for a moment, then turned to face her, his mind already working through the problem. "If we want to root them out, we need a way to make them expose themselves. We can''t just wait for another slip-up."


    Zafira raised an eyebrow. "And you have a plan for that?"


    A slow grin spread across Emery''s face. "We leak information. Something big, something tempting enough that any remaining spies can''t resist passing it along. We tell them that I''m working on something even greater¡ªelectrical motors and lightbulbs. It''s still theoretical, but to them, it''ll sound like another impossible breakthrough."


    Zafira exhaled, considering the idea. "You want to bait them out with something too valuable to ignore."


    "Exactly. If they''re reporting to the Emperor or any other interested party, they''ll have no choice but to make a move. And when they do¡ª"


    "We catch them" Zafira finished, nodding.


    "Jun and Seraphine will watch for any movement over the next week. Anyone who takes the bait gets captured, interrogated."


    Emery leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I don''t want to kill them if we don''t have to. Information is more valuable than blood."


    Zafira smirked. "Well, let''s hope they''re as careless as the last one. Otherwise, you''ll be making lightbulbs with a knife in your back."

 Emerys Heart (3)

    The following day, Emery gathered the entire crew¡ªscientists, engineers, workers, and guards. The underground lab, usually a place of controlled chaos, now buzzed with curiosity as everyone waited for his words.


    He stood before them, hands in his coat pockets, gaze sharp. "We''ve achieved something impossible. But we''re not stopping here."


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Callum, Lianfei, Chen, and Feng exchanged glances and their monologues thought of the same thing.


    What could possibly be more ambitious than what they had already done?


    Emery turned to the chalkboard and with deliberate movements, began sketching a new design¡ªone that even his own team had yet to see.


    "Our next step is to create electrical motors and lightbulbs. We''re talking about machines that move without steam or manual labour¡ªpure electricity converting into motion. And for illumination? No more torches, no more oil lamps¡ªcontrolled light from raw energy."


    The silence in the room was palpable, as if he had just declared himself the ruler of the world.


    Lianfei furrowed her brows. "Wait. We¡­ we haven''t even cracked how to stabilize energy output on that level. You''re saying you already have a plan?"


    Emery smirked. "A theory. And theories, when tested, lead to reality. That''s what we do here."


    The science team nodded, intrigued, while others were stunned into silence.


    However, as he continued his explanation, his eyes flickered toward a select few individuals in the room¡ªpeople who were too attentive, too rigid, their fingers twitching slightly as they absorbed the details.


    He didn''t need to say anything. He saw them. And he knew.


    From the corner of the lab, Seraphine, Jun, and even Zafira stood watching. Not at Emery¡ªbut at the ones who had begun to write.


    One by one, as the meeting concluded and people dispersed, those individuals slipped away into the corridors.


    Jun cracked her neck. "Got ''em."


    Seraphine, expression cold, nodded. "Let''s see who they''re working for."


    Zafira folded her arms, smirking slightly. "And just like that, the rats expose themselves."


    The trap had been set. And now, it was time to spring it.


    One by one, the spies were caught, their attempts to slip away cut short by the watchful eyes of Jun, Seraphine, and Zafira. Within hours, they were rounded up, bound, and dragged to the underground arena¡ªa place normally reserved for training, now repurposed for something much darker.


    The vast space was empty, save for torches flickering against the stone walls. The captured traitors knelt in a line, wrists tied behind their backs, fear creeping into their expressions as they faced the unknown.


    Emery stood at the center, hands in his coat pockets, Callum at his side. The two men watched in silence as the last spy was thrown to his knees.


    Callum let out a low whistle. "Damn. Didn''t expect this many."


    Emery exhaled, his gaze steady. "There''s always more than you think. We got lucky."


    One of the spies glared up at him. "What do you want from us? If you''re going to kill us, get it over with."


    Emery tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Kill you? Who said anything about that?"


    He turned to Callum, his tone suddenly lighthearted. "You know, I made that whole announcement about electrical motors and lightbulbs¡ª"


    "¡ªOnly to bait out rats" Callum finished with a knowing smirk. "Brilliant."


    Emery grinned. "I thought so too. But we are going to do it later."


    Callum''s smirk fades and sighs ''''Right...''''


    The captured men stiffened, realization dawning upon them. They had been played.


    Emery stepped forward, crouching in front of the closest spy. "Now, here''s how this is going to work. You''re going to tell me who you work for, how much they know, and in return¡ªwell, let''s just say your lives are in my hands. And I''m feeling generous.''''


    Zafira, arms crossed, chuckled from the shadows. "You''re going to make them sweat first, aren''t you?"


    Emery''s smirk widened. "Absolutely."


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Before the kneeling spies could react, Zafira stepped forward, pressing the cold barrel of a gun against the back of one man''s head. The sharp click of the hammer being drawn back echoed through the otherwise silent arena.


    The man tensed, his breathing ragged.


    Emery crouched in front of him, tilting his head slightly. "Name."


    The spy clenched his jaw but remained silent. His knuckles whitened against the restraints.


    Emery sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if this were a minor inconvenience. "Alright, let''s start with something easier. Did you tell the Emperor about the gun?"


    The man''s shoulders barely shifted, but Emery caught it all. The brief, involuntary flinch at the word gun, the slight tightening of his jaw, the minuscule twitch in his fingers. His breathing, though shallow, stuttered for half a second too long.


    Lies were louder than words.


    Emery''s eyes gleamed as he leaned in just enough to make the man sweat. "You hesitated. You twitched. You reacted exactly how someone guilty would. I don''t even need your words to tell me¡ªyou already did."


    Emery let the silence stretch, watching the man''s breathing grow more erratic under the weight of his scrutiny. Then, with deliberate slowness, he asked "How much did they pay you?"


    The spy swallowed hard. His gaze flickered to the others, then back to Emery. "F-Four gold pieces a month. More if I provided details on specific developments."


    Callum let out a low whistle. "They must really want to know what we''re up to if they''re throwing around that kind of money."


    Emery hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. "Four gold¡­ That''s decent. Not life-changing, but enough to keep someone comfortable. Makes me wonder if you''re just a desperate man trying to survive, or if you actually believe in the people you''re selling us out to."


    Before the man could stammer out a response, Zafira grabbed his face roughly, forcing him to look up at her. Her fingers dug into his jaw, and for the first time since he had been caught, the spy''s mask of defiance cracked. His breath hitched as he was forced to meet her burning gaze.


    "I know you" Zafira muttered, voice low but filled with betrayal.


    "You think I wouldn''t recognize my own people? My own men? Your name is Jian. I took care of you and your family. I made sure your father had work, that your mother never had to beg for food again. I pulled you out of the gutter and gave you a purpose."


    Her grip tightened, her nails pressing into his skin. His face starting to bleed from the cuts "And this¡ªthis is how you repay me? By betraying not just me, but your own flesh and blood? Did they even know? Did your family know what you were doing!?"


    Jian''s lips trembled, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts.


    Regret flooded his eyes, but it was too late.


    "Do you have any regrets?" Zafira demanded, voice sharp as a blade.


    For a long, unbearable moment, silence stretched between them. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Jian choked out, "I... I thought I had no choice. But now... I regret everything."


    Emery before he could utter the world ''''Alright I get it''''.


    A single gunshot echoed through the empty arena.


    Jian''s body jerked violently as the bullet tore through the back of his skull. For a fleeting second, his lips parted as if to speak again, but only a final, sickening breath escaped before his lifeless form slumped forward.


    The silence that followed was deafening.


    Zafira slowly lowered her pistol, her expression unreadable as she stared down at his corpse. "People who betray once will always do it again" she said coldly, voice carrying through the dimly lit space.


    "They don''t deserve second chances."


    She exhaled, a slow, measured breath, and crouched beside the body. Gently, she pressed a hand against Jian''s cooling shoulder. "Your family did nothing wrong. They''ll be taken care of" she murmured.


    "That much, I can promise."


    Then, without another word, she stood and turned away, holstering her weapon as she strode past the other captives¡ªeach one now trembling in silent terror.


    Before she could take another step, Emery grabbed her collar and yanked her back, his grip tight, his jaw clenched.


    "What the fuck was that Ezra!?"


    Zafira barely reacted, only tilting her head toward him with an icy expression. "What needed to be done."


    Emery''s eyes burned with fury. "We were supposed to interrogate them! Not turn this into an execution."


    Zafira ripped his hand off her collar and stepped closer, voice low. "And what? Let him slither out of it with some pathetic plea? Let him live so he can betray us again the moment he gets a better offer? No, Emery. Weakness like that gets people killed."


    Emery exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. "And you think this makes us better than the ones we''re fighting? Just pulling the trigger when it''s convenient? He could''ve given us more¡ªthey could all give us more."


    Zafira scoffed. "And you think a man who chose to sell us out DESPITE having a family, would ever give us anything worth keeping? Wake up, Emery. People don''t change. He had his chance to be loyal, and he threw it away."


    The tension between them was thick enough to choke the air out of the room. The captives watched in stunned silence, too afraid to move.


    Callum, standing beside them, cleared his throat. "Not to interrupt your moral debate, but maybe this isn''t the time to have a full-blown fight over corpses."


    Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.


    Finally, Emery let out a bitter sigh, stepping back. "Fine. But this? This isn''t happening again. Next time, we do it my way."


    Zafira gave him a long look before shrugging. "We''ll see."


    Before the tension could settle, another spy was dragged forward by Jun, trembling. Unlike the first, his expression wasn''t one of defiance¡ªit was resignation.


    Zafira pressed the barrel of a gun against the back of his head, the cold metal making him shudder. Emery stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as if loosening up for another round.


    "Alright" Emery exhaled, his tone sharp. "Your turn. Name."


    The spy swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between Emery and Zafira. "Han" he muttered.


    "I won''t lie. Not after¡­" His eyes darted briefly to the corpse beside him.


    Emery tilted his head. "Smart choice. Now, tell me¡ªdid you pass information to the Emperor?"


    Wei Han nodded slowly. "Yes."


    Emery''s sharp eyes scanned every detail of the man¡ªhis posture, his breathing, the way his fingers twitched slightly in the ropes binding him.


    There was no hesitation, no defiance. Just acceptance.


    "How much did they pay you?" Emery asked, voice devoid of emotion.


    "Three gold pieces a month" Wei Han admitted. "And an extra five for confirmed reports on any major discoveries. They didn''t trust me enough for more."


    Callum let out a low whistle. "So they''re paying less than the last guy. You got swindled, my friend."


    Han let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, I figured that out too late."


    Emery hummed, tapping his fingers against his arm. "And what do you think happens now?"


    Han hesitated, then let out a slow breath. "I assume you''re going to kill me."